#Kims a stray city dog with a lot of smarts

[oodlesodoodles]

[austennerdita2533]

A/N: Just a Literati trifle in celebration of GG’s 20th Anniversary Week. I still have another chapter or two to write but I wanted to get this out before the event officially ended. (Canon compliant + OS + divergences)

Also here: (AO3)

Enjoy! 

xx Ashlee Bree

An Archive of Words Between Us

One day, many weeks into it but still no closer to clarity about what it is between them, Rory does what she does best: she makes a list.

Marked at the beginning, from when she and Jess first met, she soon starts to add to it with frightening regularity. A new entry comes any time there’s news, insight, questions, or growing confusion to report. She writes it all down. Out. She compiles everything in a beat-up old notebook she’s taken to carrying around.

Over the years that follow it becomes a confessional of sorts for her, a still developing story. She reaches for a pen whenever the mood strikes, and writes…then writes some more…

Committing to paper all the things they’ve said to each other over the course of their history, as well as many of the things they didn’t.

- i. things we said when we were strangers -

“Hey, Dodger, wait a minute,” she calls out before he disappears behind the gazebo. “Is this a gimmick of yours? Do you always write margin notes in the books you steal from strangers?”

Jess stops. Casts a cursory glance over his shoulder before turning back around with hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Depends, I guess.”

“On?”

“Does it matter?”

Rory shrugs.“You could be a literature-defacing miscreant on the lam for all I know. Your face might be tacked to Wanted posters all over New York City. I’ve got to edge my bets, protect my assets.”

“What,” he says, “you aiming to sentence me without a trial or something?”

“Thinking about it.”

“Wow. I can’t believe you’re going to bust out the cuffs already, Judge Judy,” he chuckles, raising his hands in supplication before rocking backwards on his heels like he’s been shot. “That’s not very neighborly.”

“Sounds like there’s evidence to be had if I dig a bit.” A pause. A teasing quirk of an eyebrow. “Is there?” she asks.

Though he stays silent at this, a spark of something catches deep in his dark eyes as their gazes meet, and Rory's stomach flips.

“Well?”

“You tell me,” he says, all smooth and inscrutable and James Dean cool as hell.

“I’m no Agent Scully at the FBI, but the truth is out there. Don’t think I won’t uncover it,” Rory replies, her wit flowing strong and sure. “If I think it’s warranted I could hire Kirk to lay chase for a while…he likes detecting. Takes payment in Skittles, too. Boxes of which I will have no trouble acquiring, I assure you.”

“Who the hell’s Kirk?”

“Let me worry about that,” she beams back at him coyly, bouncing the book he’d pilfered earlier against her hip.

“Save your Skittles, concerned citizen. I’m clean.”

“Oh, yeah? And why should I believe you when I hold proof to the contrary?”

“Because—” Ambling backwards in the middle of the street, a crooked smirk forms along the corner of Jess’s mouth as he gives her one last idle loll of his shoulder. “I only leave notes for people who might appreciate them. Start with the one on page three, by the way,” he adds with a farewell salute. “It’s a doozy.”

Curiosity piqued, Rory ignores the warmth in her chest as she watches him turn to leave a second time. Instead, she buries her nose in the margins of Howl and peruses. Losing herself in his tiny blocked script the whole walk home.

- ii. things we said because we were lying to ourselves -

Pacifying the town's fears about their friendship isn’t easy.

Especially not after Jess outbids her boyfriend at the basket-bidding festival to win an afternoon of her company. Or the night he shows up on her doorstep unannounced, bearing food and intellectual discussion after she swears to everybody else she wanted to spend the evening alone. Or when he wrecks her car on their way back from a spontaneous hunt for ice cream cones.

Then there’s the time she misses Lorelai’s graduation because she’s stuck on a bus next to some scruffy-looking creep who spits chew into a soda can while he mumbles the names of state capitals under his breath in an Appalachian-sounding litany, Rory having skipped town impulsively to visit Jess in the Big Apple after Luke had sent him packing because of an accident that had no real bearing or blame. At least not unless it was half hers to share in, too, in any case.

She expends a lot of energy defending what they are to people. Clarifying what they’re not.

Pretty soon a truncated version of the truth skips from her mouth like a message she’s spent months concocting, memorizing, and then recording, with her smart enough not to speak it aloud until it sounds convincing. And it does. She makes sure of it.

Tensions abate after that, for a time. Mostly because of the distance.

Mom and Dean, in particular, seem to breathe easier with so much of it stretched between them. They’re much happier once Jess is no longer there to lurk around Luke’s, or clog the aisles of Doose’s, or stake out chalkperson outlines on the sidewalks of town where he can draw her closer to him. Too close for comfort, as far as anyone else is concerned. Even if his only aim in doing so had been to imbibe her in intellectual conversation.

Rory finds it funny how his absence from Stars Hollow makes it both easier and harder for her to placate everyone’s misgivings. The words may be simple to say, but the meaning behind them feels deflated. Half-bodied at best.

Like calculus, it causes her headaches. Forces her to work twice as hard to make everyone believe she doesn’t care that he’s gone and likely never coming back again. That the vacant space he’s left behind doesn’t sting whenever her gaze passes over it, remembering.

Exhausting though it is, however, she does her best. She makes the effort.

She starts by dolling out extra attention and assurances to Dean about her commitment to him. To their relationship. Then she pivots around mention of Jess’s existence to her mom because she knows she doesn’t approve of him let alone agree about any of his good qualities. With Lane, she focuses on school and Mrs. Kim and music they can add to her floorboard collection. And in front of Luke, so as not to burden him with more disappointment, she acts as if nothing is different. Pretends that nothing much has changed.

Omission quickly becomes a habit for Rory. A way of life.

Only once does exposure threaten to spoil everything when her mom confronts her openly one afternoon about a placeholder that’s slipped out of her copy of For Whom The Bell Tolls.

“It’s nothing,” Rory says as she makes a quick grab for it in the kitchen and blushes.

“Really? Because nothing to me looks a hell of lot like a paper plate fragment. One that’s smudged in pizza grease and blue scribbles.” Laughing, completely unaware of her daughter’s wide-eyed discomfort and humiliation, Lorelai hands it back to her without inspecting it closely. “I’m surprised by your choice is all. Messy and makeshift isn’t your typical bookmark M.O., hun.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when Paris accosts you at the break bell. You drop things. People jump, drinks spill. Beloved bookmarks go soaring…”

“Ah. I take it she was yelling in dog decibels again?”

“More like she put out an APB on all aliens living a few hundred million lightyears away and then gave them exact shouting coordinates for where to find her. So same difference, really.”

Her mom snorts. Passes over the ranch dressing.

“She’s a pill, that one. I’m telling you Pink wrote that song with her in mind.” Shaking her head, Lorelai closes the fridge behind her as she bites into another French fry. “So how’d you come by the plate?” she asks, her mouth full.

“It was spontaneous. I was running late so I nicked it from the cafeteria on my way out,” Rory lies, knowing full well Chilton never dispenses paper or plastic dishes for dining.

“Oh.” Her mom considers this. “Well, I suppose there were times even Madeleine Albright couldn’t find anything better to use in a pinch. That was very…replateful of you.”

“What can I say,” she exhales with relief, feigning amusement as her fib is accepted with alacrity, “the Forks was with me.”

“Only the Forks? Don’t tell me you’re leaving out the spoons and the knives. How could you?” says Lorelai, aghast, as she scoops stray kitchen utensils to press them against her chest in a bodily cuddle. “It’s cutlery discrimination!”

“No, it’s punning.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” A pause. A nibble of pizza. “Also, Shakespeare would agree.”

“Psssh, Shakespeare! That old killjoy,” her mom says dismissively, rolling her eyes in good humor as she tucks a box of strawberry Pop Tarts under her armpit and motions toward the living room. “What’s that you have written on the inside there, anyway? French? Calculus? Rolling Stone lyrics? A blueprint for the evil plan you’ve hatched to shoot Grandma to the moon? I’m dying to know.”

Waving her off, Rory tucks the shard back into the spine of her book where it belongs. Hiding it from view. “It’s for school,” she assures her as they settle onto the sofa.

“So tell me about it. I don’t care if it’s boring.”

“Pass.”

“Come on! I could use a good Chilton-instigated snooze.”

“Too bad. No beauty naps for you.”

Lorelai pouts, fake affronted. “Rude!”

(Turns out that ‘shard,’ that ‘thing for school’ which is stuck between the pages of Rory’s Hemingway, isn’t boring at all. In fact, it has a history. A story. The truth is it’s a souvenir she’s saved ever since she and Jess talked books over pizza at Antonioli’s on basket-bidding day.

Toward the end of the meal he’d ripped off a piece of plate so he could jot down his phone number and a quote. Only sliding it into her hand, folded in half, crinkled up like a note passed between desks at school, in the moments before they parted ways and headed home.

It’s stupid she’s kept it. She realizes that now. Stupider still to slip it between the pages of each new book she reads or unfurl it in the privacy of her bedroom to puzzle out if the line he’d included from A Moveable Feast is meant to have double meaning:

“We ate well and cheaply and drank well and cheaply and slept well and warm together and [liked] each other,” it reads.

Stupidest of all, she can’t seem to bring herself to stop looking at it. To throw the darn thing away. A note…a number…a greasy sliver of paper plate!)

“Like I said, Mom,” Rory swallows before smiling over at her convincingly, “it’s nothing. Really.”

- iii. things we said on the verge (of something) -

In early June, Sookie’s wedding day arrives.

Things are static again. Serene. Normal.

Granted, slight changes do sprinkle into the mix here and there because of her dad’s presence, because Dean holds her a little tighter around the waist now than he once did, but mostly it’s the same here as it’s always been. Pleasant people fade into gossip and nonsense while fun blurs into peculiarity.

Life feels simple once more. A tad plain and colorless, maybe, but simple.

Then Jess returns to town on a whim or a fluke or a who the devil knows what he’s thinking and everything goes sideways, pear-shaped, belly-up-and-down in seconds because this is the last thing she’d been been expecting and suddenly the only thing that registers is the length of the grass plus the number of steps it will take to close the distance between them. All that matters is he’s here, he’s back, he’s near enough to touch, and she’s smiling so hard she can hardly breathe as she drinks him in from head to foot like a glutton: her pulse leaping, her heart lurching free from the cage of her chest.

The whole world tilts. Collapses. The pale yellow of the sun shines down like a spotlight so it’s only a rippling alcove she sees. Just him, just her. Just them canopied beneath these flittering fronds of green.

Any rational thought Rory possesses scatters across the wind with the pollen. And then before she knows it, the ground tilts out like a ramp underfoot.

It pushes her forward. Outward. Sliding her toward him until she’s thrust and tangled in his arms with no memory at all of how she got there, or why their mouths feel so hot and wanton like this, so damn unsatisfied. It all seems impossible considering they’re still pressed together in a kiss that can only be described in one way: illicit.

“Not a word,” Rory pants when they stop and Jess pulls back, his jaw taut, his expression shuttered, to nod once understanding.

“Okay,” he says.

“Promise me.” The huskiness of her voice feels at odds with this demand, with the trembling fist she still has curled in the lapel of his jacket, but she cannot think about her stinging mouth or his tongue right now so she clings to desperation instead. “Can you do that?”

“Okay,” he repeats, all eyes, eyes, eyes. And with that single look, she forgets to breathe let alone digest anything he’s promised.

In the end, it’s an impulse that overtakes them not a decision. It’s a moment of clandestine passion they share, not a confession that will alter the circumstances any.

And yet it’s guilt, not regret, that begins to pull like an anchor in her belly until she’s running in shoes that chafe the back of her heels. It’s terror and confusion, not apology, that ripples along her nerve endings until she’s dashing through the trees like a coward or a swindler because she needs to believe behind her there’s still a haven of black and white she can cross with both feet.

Only when Rory stops does she feel the change. Does she discern the difference. It takes one sting, one breathless stitch in her side, for her to know she’s tumbled forward into color without noticing.

Looking down, and there it is. His name already singed across her chest in scarlet letters.

- iv. things we whispered on the hood of your car -

“Tell me something no else knows.”

“About what?” he asks around midnight the following April, the two of them sprawled on the hood of his car at a deserted rest stop off the I-95 on their way back from a concert in the city.

“You, silly.”

“Funny you’re thinking about penning my biography already, Churchill. I’m honored, truly, but aren’t I too young for that sort of enumeration?”

With a roll of her eyes plus a protracted har-har, Rory lifts their intertwined hands, watching, mesmerized, as their fingers thread then unthread as they lay side-by-side parked beneath the Big Dipper in this forsaken parking lot. Though they’ve been together about six months now, prying Jess open has been slow work. It’s like taking a crowbar to cement: one chip, one crack, one crumble at a time.

“Stop deflecting, Mariano,” she warns. “Evasion’s for chumps.”

“Fine,” he sighs. She presses a kiss of reward against his knuckles before curling tighter into his side. “How about this: every year roughly sixteen hundred people in New York City are bitten by other humans.”

“Bitten?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“That’s just it,” he says in his best horror story voice, “could be vampires, could be cranky commuters, could be urban mania or road rage…nobody knows.”

“Oh, please. As if I’d let you off the hook with that obvious dodge. You’re killin’ me here, Smalls!” Rory says with an elbow rib and tsk. “Second of all, you so made that biting thing up.”

When she edges her head back onto his shoulder to look at him, Jess drags his pointer finger down her forehead before bopping her affectionately on the nose, his expression neutral.

“Didn’t you?” He shrugs in that cute off-the-cuff way of his then smirks into her hairline. “That’s unbelievable!”

“It is what it is.”

“So, what,” she says as she throws her leg over his hip to lug him closer, her arm already stretched out across his middle, “is there a case of zombiepox going around that the CDC has neglected to inform us about? Because I’ve got to tell you if that’s so then I’ll need an inoculation ASAP, mister! Frazzled, bloodshot, and half-rotted is not a good look for me. It just isn’t.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Hey!” she exclaims.

“No offense, critter of Frankenstein,” he chuckles, absorbing her retaliatory swat with a grunt and rolling her further on top of him, “but I’ve seen you pre-coffee. It isn’t pretty. We’re talkin’ bolts out your neck, monster glares, frothing purple mouth and everything.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep up your running tally and you might find I bite you next. Rory the Ripper does have a nice alliterative ring to it—you best remember that,” she warns all narrowed eyes and silky breath and arms folded under her chin.

Jess cocks his left eyebrow, brushes his thumb over her bottom lip. “Idle threats don’t scare me, Gilmore.”

“They should.”

“Maybe.” A lazy grin forms at the edges of his mouth. “But yours don’t.”

“Fine,” she blows out a breath. With her head resting in the center of his chest, Rory fixes him with one long steady look, her voice dropping an octave lower as it drains free of sarcasm to assume a more serious edge. “Name one thing that does then. That scares you, I mean,” she says.

He doesn’t answer right away. In fact, he fidgets so long beneath her that by the time he settles with his hands clasped behind his head, lost in thought and translation, peering up at the sky, she’s half convinced that silence or deflection is the best she can hope to expect from him in reply.

Reticence is a quality she’s come to recognize in Jess. It’s one she can reflect back at him in part because they’re both cut from the same quiet, introspective cloth. However, it’s also one that restricts her access to his thoughts and feelings when she most wants it, and that can take a toll. Makes her wonder if they’re parked at different weigh stations in this relationship or not.

It’s bizarre to reconcile how she can understand him so well in some contexts, to the point where she can predict his next reaction or sense a good joke hanging in the periphery that's about to descend; while in others, he’s a total head-scratcher. Like a Sudoku puzzle with numbers that don’t add up to anything.

The silence between them continues to stretch. It becomes an awkward, formless wall.

The stillness, too, which is illuminated only by the light of the moon and the faint din of the car radio, hangs between them until he draws her up his body and folds her over him with a green plaid blanket. His fingers tracing languid strokes up and down her spine.

“Swans,” he says at last, his tone subdued. Scratchy. “Swans scare me.”

“What else?”

“Tennis balls. They’re too small and fast as they zip past. I hate how they can leave imprints on your face like ugly yellow snitches.”

“Okay then. Weird but fair. What else?” Rory asks all warmth and eagerness, her eyes searching his for something he wouldn’t want to slip free.

“Pennywise.” Though she snickers at that, it’s a valid fear. Clowns unsettle her, too. Evil ones especially. She’d had nightmares for eight months after she’d read Stephen King’s It for the first time, and had taken to sleeping with the bedside lamp on for years.

“Anything more?” she asks.

“Cricket bats.”

“Ooh-ho!” Poking him, “So Mrs. Kim got to you, did she?”

“Listen, I tried to be cool and unaffected but who knows what would’ve become of my head if she’d taken a swing with that thing?” Jess shudders at the same time she imagines Humpty Dumpty and laughs. “Jeez.”

“Things would’ve gotten messy,” she adds honestly.

He stalls a moment, then blinks back at her all wariness to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “How messy are we talking here?”

Rory cocks her head and bites the corner of her mouth, musing. “Think pumpkins.”

“Smashed ones?”

“Yep.”

“Figures,” he mutters miserably.

With an encouraging pat, “Don’t worry, I would’ve stepped in before Mrs. Kim buried your handsome yet indignant face beneath the floorboards or behind a brick wall in the catacombs with Fortunato. It’s the least I could do since I sort of like you and all.”

“Sort of?” Jess asks.

“Yeah. I’m no unreliable narrator girlfriend who'd escort you to your doom, you see. I’d much prefer to keep you,” she says with an adoring grasp and swivel of his chin, which he deflects by tickling her breathless as she bends down over him.

“Gee thanks, Casper. Nice to know you care about me.”

“Not about you exactly,” she teases, her flip-floppy giggles still piercing the air. “Just your head.”

That stops him. “My head, huh?”

“Sure.” Still a little breathless, she reaches toward him to fist her fingers through thick black tendrils along his nape. “It’s pretty.” She gives the strands a little tug. “Full of thoughts I’m hoping to pilfer for further study.”

“You know, I always thought there was some hoodlum in your DNA. Now I’m convinced,” he says as he leans over to commence the tickling again. “And you will pay."

The two of them continue to roll then thump against his windshield all elbows and knees until the levity starts to leaden and transform. As Jess reaches over to cup her cheek, their gazes meet in the silvery darkness and hold, kindling like flint.

Quiet washes over them again for a moment. Only this time, it’s bloated; it’s heavy. It’s a mess of a hundred thousand decipherable something’s teetering on the precipice of expression.

A flicker of alarm passes over his features as he frames her face with his hands, palms flat against the car. He hovers aloft, unsure. Indecision mixes with fear to tangle with retreat even as gravity beckons him nearer, his head dropping low enough for their foreheads to touch.

“I sort of like you, too, you know,” Jess breathes softly, his lips lowering to press against her mouth in a quick but lingering kiss. “A lot.” His jaw clenches. “Maybe too much.”

Suddenly there’s a tightrope pulled taut and vibrating in every direction because there’s no shrinking back from the dense electricity pulsating between them. There’s no more room to dance around unnamed emotion whenever it identifies itself in blown pupils, in a bobbing Adam’s apple, in hands that slip and slide until they fit together like aligning planets.

In that instant Rory knows. She knows right then and there she’s falling in love with him, that she’s half fallen already. And it’s both a revelation and a fact so natural she can feel the truth of it whistling from deep in her bones.

Looking nervous, vulnerable, more fragile than she’s ever seen him, he swallows hard then shifts to squint out at the shadowy tree line while scratching at his nape. “It’s just…so many people have treated me like garbage that all I know how to do is spoil things. I destroy, Rory—ruin what’s good. It’s what I do best. It’s all I know. I’m trying here and all, but I…don’t know how to do this,” he says, gesturing lamely between them. “How to do us right.”

“Hey now,” she thumbs his cheek, tries to turn his head back toward her but it won’t budge, and neither will he. “That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about. Go easy on him, will you?” He nods into her palm, softening a little. The tension leaves his body as he gathers her in his arms again, her head conforming to the crook of his neck, but she’s not convinced all is well yet.

“There’s no rulebook or anything,” Rory says placatingly. “We’ll figure it out together, okay? You and me.”

“Yeah.”

“We will,” she says with an emphatic, assuring squeeze. “I know we will.”

With a caustic laugh, a heavy sigh, he runs his teeth over his lip, “I’m a screw up, Rory.”

“Hey. Not true.”

“I am.” Jess sounds so resigned, so convinced, it ties her into knots thinking he sees himself that way.

“Not to me, you’re not.”

“No,” he says with a deadened inflection, with a sad downturn of his mouth. “Not to you.”

Frowning, she feels his cynicism, his self-deprecation, descend like a slash across the gut. Helpless to do anything but try to be a soft place for him and his insecurities to land, she pulls him toward her, embracing him, quieting him, caring for him more with each passing second even though a warning gong goes off in her heart when she leans in to steal another kiss.

“Maybe I’m not a screw up to you yet,” he whispers, “but I could be at another time. On another day.”

“Stop,” Rory declares forcefully, holding her finger against his lips so he knows she means it.

Jess relents. “Okay,” he sighs. “Just know I’ll get it if you change your mind.”

- v. things we cried out at a crossroads -

Strained.

Silent.

Distant.

Those are the best adjectives to describe the status of her and Jess’s relationship as the bus pulls away from the curb a couple weeks later. After the party from hell. From her place on the sidewalk, her chest full of a heaviness she can’t name, Rory stares after it - after him - with little to no regard for the hour’s lateness or for the morning bell which signals the start of homeroom.

It’s the middle of May. That means finals, graduation, and summer loom on the periphery but she doesn’t care. None of it resonates. In the background she can hear Paris barking orders at a few trembling freshman and minted sophomores, but she does nothing to intervene. She makes no move to prevent her frenemy’s yellow journalistic splatter from crushing the innocents to smithereens.

Instead, she watches the hum and bump of the vehicle’s dusty rubber wheels as they roll down the street. She tracks the plume of smoke swirling from the exhaust pipe into the sky, which clouds over with blacks and grays instead of with clearing blues and radiant yellows. She waits until the bus turns left, its engine loud, roaring, to putt around the corner. Disappearing from view.

I hope he calls later, she thinks with a pang, with an iota of hope. We need to talk soon.

Rory’s eyes want to keep traveling with him long after he’s gone. So do her feet. They seek to follow along wherever Jess has gone, to ride beside him until they’re able to make sense of this mess between them and fix it. Fix them again.

Unfortunately for them both, they don’t. And it’ll be some time before they can, let alone before they do.

[mortaljin]

Two Shadows of a Broken Promise | Prologue

Word Count:1765 Warnings: Mentions of violence, weapons, and death || Warnings will be added as necessary. Genre: Angst and Romance. Potential for future smut || Mafia!Au | Friends-to-Lovers!Au | Enemies-to-Lovers!Au Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem!Reader || Side pairings will be added as necessary.

Summary: The crevices that shadows cling to between—and in the corners of—buildings are not something that you fear. Neither you nor Kim Taehyung had any fear of the dangers lurking in the night. Still, you promised to walk away. But five years is a long time to remain aware of a broken promise to a man who could very well be in the shadows himself. 

Masterlist | Prologue | One | 

© VISUAL SHOCK

Darkness was not something you were born into. It was not a life that you had expected to be led into either, but danger can happen to anyone and for any reason. At first it was simply because you and Kim Taehyung, best friends since freshman year of high school, got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. One job to make up for a loss of profit and the two of you could start your senior year of high school scotch free. Maybe even get the courage to confess the undying love you’ve had for him since the moment you laid eyes on him.

But then Bang Sihyuk saw potential and you saw an opportunity.

Sitting next to Taehyung on top of a water tower, you grimace knowing that he followed you into this. Because where Bang Sihyuk saw potential in you, he also saw it in Kim Taehyung. And Kim Taehyung saw an opportunity just the same.

“Can you believe it?”

You hummed in response to his inquiry as you signaled with a flashlight towards the abandoned back street below. A handful of men slipped through the shadows, disappearing into the corner of two adjacent buildings. You sighed in relief.

“This is our last job, and then we’re out,” he said, forlorn and looking into the distance.

You threw your head back in silent laughter, still mindful of your goal for the night. “You act like we’ve been doing this our entire lives when in reality it’s only been a year,” you chided quietly.

The expression that flickered across his face was instantaneous and understandable.

“A lot can change in a year, Y/N…” muttered the young boy, worn with sorrow yet still somehow innocent.

There’s a lot of things that Taehyung says under his breath that you aren’t supposed to hear, but you always do anyway. There’s a reason you’re Bang Sihyuk’s favorite member to put on lookout duty.

“Death happens to everyone, Tae,” you sighed, counting the last man to disappear out of sight.

“Not like that though,” he said flatly. “People should die peacefully in bed not with their he—”

You clamped your eyes shut to force the scarring image out of your head. “I get it, Tae!” You hissed the words through gritted teeth, and he flinched.

Taehyung locked his eyes on the eerie lack of life below, his jaw locked and shut tight in irritation. Wetness pricked at your eyes, but you did not relent to the memory. You shuffled closer to him with a huff and placed your head against his shoulder. He stayed rigid, but only for a moment before he acquiesced to the skinship and wrapped his around the top of your shoulders.

“We’re just two stupid teenagers that got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, Y/N.”

You nodded in agreement. “We also needed the money.”

A figure appeared from the shadows, flashing their own light at you from the ground. You broke away from Taehyung’s embrace and signaled back and forth between the men coming out of nowhere, it seemed.

But you knew in that little corner was the perfect entrance into a warehouse containing crates upon crates full of weapons and drugs. Crates of weapons and drugs in a warehouse that was not yours.

“Yeah, who knew college was going to be that expensive.”

Your throat went a little dry at the thought. “Maybe we could have gotten scholarships if we had joined all those clubs that universities look at.” You lifted your head, no doubt revealing weakness in your eyes. “Maybe we never had to continue this in the first place.”

The gleam of metal caught your eye from your left and you snapped your head in that direction. He remained silent at your side, lips parted in the ghost of reply; his right hand rested in wait at his side, while the flashlight you currently held in your hand flashed once in warning.

After a moment of sitting idly, two stray dogs appeared out of the alley. The metal gleam was the shine off of a tossed pan, no doubt from the restaurant next door, that the dogs scavenged.

Your flashlight’s singular flicker said that the warning had passed. The last man to leave signaled the completion of the job when you heard the sound of tires, screeching against the pavement, in the distance.

Taehyung pulled his swinging legs from the edge of the water tower and stood quickly. He offered you a hand, and you took it. When he lifted you to your feet, you stumbled slightly but he caught you without incident.

“One more thing to do and we’re done,” he said in a heavy breath. “We walk across the stage tomorrow and we don’t have to do this anymore.” He had turned the stumble into an embrace and you couldn’t help but giggle into his shirt.

You stepped away by a hair, but he kept you locked to his chest for a moment longer than you assumed necessary.

“Tae?”

He pulled back, placing a rough, calloused hand on your cheek. Your breath hitched, and you swore that he could hear your heart beating out of your chest from the proximity.

“I need you to promise me something Y/N.”

You stammered against the severity of his voice, but he gave you no opportunity to reply.

“I need you to promise me that in five years, you’ll meet me here. You’ll meet me here as a college graduate and not some drug runner for the Mafia, okay? Promise me that you’ll walk away from this tomorrow night like we planned.”

His eyes shifted back and forth, skimming over the expression on your face. When you looked back into them, you searched for the implication laced in his words.

“Promise me, Y/N!” His eyes were pleading and his voice was frightened.

“I-I promise!” you said, hurriedly, ignoring the burn rising to the back of your throat. “But you need to promise me too, Taehyung. We’re walking away from this together.”

He nodded his head, dropping the hand from your cheek. The loss of heat made your heart ache, but you were able to breath evenly now.

“Five years from now,” he whispered. “I promise.”

He was the first to climb down the metal ladder, careful and precise so not to make a single sound. The scuffing of his shoes against each rung fell on no ears but your own. You watched as the muscles in his forearms pulled taut as he lowered himself to the ground, and you could faintly smell his cologne lingering in the atmosphere.

The corners of your lips quirked up into the hint of a smile as you looked out farther over the silent city.

Perhaps we’ll finally have a chance.

“Y/N, come on! Jin is going to be waiting for us!”

The reminder snapped you out of your revere, and you shook your head to clear the thoughts. You made the mental note to have a heart to heart with Taehyung tomorrow night, when the two of you have stopped being petty pawns for the mafia.

You climbed down the tower with haste, putting a slight jog into your step once your feet hit the ground. The two of you had snuck between buildings for only a minute before you heard shouts behind you.

It was likely that the owners of the warehouse had been alerted of commotion within the warehouse, and if the volume of the noise behind you was any indicator, the owners had already arrived. Only they would have arrived to an empty warehouse.

Taehyung grabbed your hand, pulling you along the cracked, concrete sidewalks. Running wasn’t new to the two of you and your blood didn’t race quite the same as it used to. You knew the darkness like the back of your hand, but Taehyung always said it was your arrogance that kept you alive. You knew you were good, that you were aware. But where Taehyung lacked in emotion, you supplied it. The gun that Bang Sihyuk issued you was nothing more than show, a weapon you wanted no part in.

You learned how to shoot of course, but you made it a point not to get involved with the violence.

“Quick, they’re over there!”

Normally, you and Taehyung had to find your own means back to the base. Tonight though, the job was a little more complicated than normal. A sleek black car came to a harsh stop, and you only had ten seconds to get in.

It only took you eight.

Heavy and labored breaths could be heard in the silence of the car as it tore through the street, headed towards the other side of the city. You blinked sweat out of your eyes and glanced at Taehyung who grinned back at you.

Before your heart could even try to swoon, a voice came from the set of seats in front of you. “You guys made it an entire year without getting shot at, what kind of shit is that?”

Kim Seokjin, Bang Sihyuk’s second in command, stared at the two of you with warm, humored eyes. The street lights were casting inconsistent glows on his face, illuminating the mouth watering features every few seconds.

If it weren’t for your complete and utter obsession with the man next to you, only you know what you would’ve done to Kim Seokjin the moment you turned eighteen.

“Shut up, Jin,” said the one next to him.

“What?” He said with a pointed glare, “I almost died two months after I got here!”

A couple of the other men in the vehicle snickered at the exaggeration. “The bullet barely hit the flesh of your arm. Besides,” the other man countered, “you had been pushing rocks for years before we found you. Not about to graduate high school.”

You laughed, long since desensitized at the mention of drugs or injury. Jin had rolled his eyes and begun pestering the smart aleck man.

A finger tapped on your shoulder, and you spun around to see Park Jimin staring at you.

“What’s up, Jimin?”

Jimin was quiet. Deadly, but quiet.

“Wish you didn’t have to leave, the two of you make a good team for us.”

You gave him a forced, closed-lip smiled. The car came to a halt, and everyone began to file out of the car.

“No Jimin,” Jin said as everyone stepped back into the cool night air. “Two good souls like theirs don’t need to run around in the shadows any longer than necessary.”

[mygospelsoulmagazine]

My name is Kimberly Relford and I go by the moniker, K-mor (Kim-messenger of rap). I am a youth activist: fighting against child marriage and sex trafficking. I am also a gospel rap recording artist under my moniker. It is an honor to be chosen to write articles that will spotlight exceptional youth and adults who dedicate their lives to youth. Future articles will include youth and youth workers from around the world, who are making a difference in their home, church, school, and community. I look forward to bringing you content that the entire family can enjoy.

When I was in pre-school, I could hardly wait to get home because there was something that I loved to do. I would gather all of the pencils and papers in my house; then I would go to my neighbors’ houses and ask if their child or children could come and play school at my house. Back then, it wasn’t as scary to walk down the street to play with your friends. I would save up my Lemon Heads, Boston Baked Beans, Red Hots, and Now & Laters to use as rewards. I was often the youngest out there, but I was always the teacher! Hey, my house, my rules; even at the tender age of five. We would go over math facts and spelling. I was always a very smart child, who loved to learn. When I grew up and was in 4th grade, I would finish my work fast and proceed to talk to whoever was nearest me. My teacher did not like this, but because I was so smart, she decided to just speak with my mother to find a better solution than punishing me. She explained that I wasn’t a bad kid, but because I completed my work so fast, I would become bored and disturb the other children. My mom informed her that I loved working with children, so the teacher had an idea. She decided to allow me to go to the kindergarten class to assist the teacher when I finished my work each day. I loved that! That embedded in me the desire to work with children as a career. ”Teaching is an action for success; learning is success in action.” K-mor My family moved a lot! After one move, I became more interested in pets than teaching. I dreamed of becoming a veterinarian, zoologist, or kennel worker one day. I remember when I was about 10, my brother Shawn and I helped to fix a poor little stray puppy’s leg once, and I felt like a real animal doctor. I would walk to the library to get books to research on careers involving animals. I would walk down the street with a trail of dogs following me, because I often fed strays. Some people called me the dog lady, and that was just fine with me. I also developed a fascination with birds after winning 1st prize for my science project in fifth grade. I won a wonderful book that included all of the birds of North America. I was so fascinated that I would sit for hours in the yard and listen to them communicate. I would try to mimic them and hoped that they would respond. Eventually I was able to precisely mimic them and birds would come near and communicate back to me. I was a real life Dr. Doolittle. “Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭84:3‬ ‭KJV

‬‬

As I grew older, my passion for working with children returned. I reflected on my best teachers, Ms. Owens, Ms. Hansen, Ms. Caster, Mr. Duerr, and Brother Haynes. They each put a spark into me to not only teach, but to be one of the best at it. Later I had two professors, Ms. LoDato and Mrs. Baethe who further boosted my passion for teaching. I taught pre-school for nearly seven years and after-school for five and I’ve tutored, mentored, and worked as a youth minister for decades. I starting rapping at the age of 16. When I gave my life to God, I knew that I could no longer do the type of rapping that I used to do because it didn’t glorify my Father God. One day I went over to my dear friend Lawanna’s house to practice a new song (she was our church’s musician). I remember jokingly telling her, “How about I do a rap about God instead”. Her mother, Sister Batts, told me: “Why not?! Y’all rap for satan, why not rap for God?!” I remember how powerful those words were to me, because I indeed had given my gift to satan for years. That day, I wrote my first gospel rap and I’ve been writing them ever since for over three decades! I have been blessed to travel around Houston and surrounding cities, sharing the good news of Jehovah God. I thank my husband Andre Sr., my daughter Shaquaria, and my son Andre Jr. for always speaking life into me and giving me that boost to keep going even when I sometimes want to stop.

Outreach is my Favorite

My First CD

I realize that God sent me here to enrich the lives of His children. I love my assignment and I will continue to make a positive impact in the lives of youth until God calls me home.

Meet K-mor: Writer for My Gospel Soul-Youth My name is Kimberly Relford and I go by the moniker, K-mor (Kim-messenger of rap). I am a youth activist: fighting against child marriage and sex trafficking.

[all-about-wannaone]

Wanna One as Princes [Part 3]

Before my school holidays come to an end today, this also marks the conclusion to this requested “Wanna One as Princes” series. :’) This is actually my first time attempting this kind of scenario writing due to the fact that I tend to write either full-on scenarios or simple categorisations with a rationale. Hence, thank you @theresnowarinbasingse for requesting and I really did have  a lot of fun writing this. :) For this time around, I had less of a “writer’s block” and hence ended up with a relatively long bullet list for the remaining members of the band. ^^;; Nevertheless, thank you all for your support and I wish you guys another happy reading experience for the third and final part to this series. :) 

PART 1: Yoon Jisung, Ha Sungwoon, Hwang Minhyun, Ong Seongwoo

PART 2: Kim Jaehwan, Kang Daniel, Park Jihoon, Park Woojin

Bae Jinyoung:

Will definitely be mistaken for a scholar, tutor or an extremely young government official because his head is always in the books.

Even when he is walking around town, his head will be buried in a new book every 3 days.

Probably developed a skill of walking without bumping into people when he is too absorbed in the text.

Brings about an aura of gentleness and intelligence; all the ladies seem to take notice of him, especially with the way he looks and his decently tall height.

Gets flustered when people bow and greet him, but returns the greeting with a smile and a nod (which leads to a bunch of squealing girls behind him)

Has hidden spots in the city which only he knows of and they are extremely scenic; loves to go to those places to clear his mind and forget his worries for a while.

Also needs a personal bodyguard because of his tendency to wander to these scenic areas.

Always deep in thought thinking of new ways to improve the people’s lives and is pretty innovative.

Delivers without needing to be asked and this leads to a peaceful, hopeful and happy community that he takes care of.

Word will reach him on the success of his new project; if it works, he will smile to himself and heave a sigh of relief. If not, he will go down on site to find out a little bit more with a positive attitude and can be counted on to make the necessary improvements.

Has an extremely friendly relationship with his community and they would casually invite them to their houses for a chat over tea or even a meal.

Loves children and animals; tells the children interesting stories of all the books he has read and is always seen caring for the dog in the city centre.

Probably writes novels or children’s books when he is free under the alias “Prince”.

All in all, he is gentle, sweet, thoughtful and hardworking despite his young age, showing his maturity to be worthy of a prince.

Still, it is recommended not to fool around with this prince, because he is also capable of dismissing incompetent, lazy and untrustworthy officials.

A little clumsy with the sword as well but has a deadly affinity with unconventional weapons and probably has a better knowledge of poisons than actual swords.

Still tries his best anyway and forces himself to read a bit more into the history of swords to aid his appreciation.

His awkward and slightly nervous nature would definitely be brought into his love life, because of the response that he might get.

Prefers to observe first before striking up a casual (and awkward) conversation to get to know her better.

When he wants to tell her, he’ll probably go “Would you possibly, maybe, likely go out with me? Only if you want to of course!” before getting all red faced; probably said this looking at the floor smh.

Has to repeat it because she could not hear and he inwardly cringes as he tries again, only to be greeted back with a grateful smile and a shy kiss on his cheek.

 Lee Daehwi:

Similar to Woojin, he would also be mistaken to be a young and innocent teenager who seems too pure in such a cruel world.

Looks too young for his own good; people have doubts about him.

Shocked when they find out that he is actually the true prince and soon start treating him with the respect he deserves.

Returns the greeting with an enthusiastic bow and a bright smile, confusing others because he bows lower than the people themselves when they greet him.

Full of hope, optimism and only sees the good in people; always seen with the brightest smile which definitely brightens up someone’s day when people see him.

Earned the nickname “Walking Sunshine”.

Definitely has a personal bodyguard because of his naive personality, making sure that he does not get into any sort of trouble.

The older people treat him like he’s their own son and often give him homemade snacks and sweets, or perhaps cook him a simple homecooked meal.

Always grateful and is a great listener, whether it’s to the elderly, teenagers his age, the adults or toddlers, and everyone has a friendly relation with him.

Will go back to the palace to see how problems can be solved and will discuss them with his officials with as much seriousness as he can muster.

Luckily, all his officials are level-headed and are free of corruption, realising that the prince has quite a bit to learn but give their input anyway to the best of their ability.

Will try his best to rectify any issues, from basic necessities to solving neighbourly conflicts.

Might not always work, but is always seeking new, efficient and effective ways by reading up on history, writings passed down by generals and society.

Recognised for his hard work and determination by his teachers, parents, government officials, friends and the community.

The community turns out to be relatively peaceful, grateful and hopeful too; mirroring exactly what they see from the prince.

Is often seen taking care of stray animals which lie around the palace grounds or joining the teenagers for a game of football to de-stress.

Sometimes, he wishes that he was not born in a royal family because of the many rules and the requirements and often turns to his eunuch for deep conversations about life and how to overcome his personal obstacles.

Sweet, kind, positive, resilient and has an appreciation for objects and trinkets hand made by the local people (or the Arts in general).

Does not like combat classes because he hates to be involved in conflict which might hurt others; still trains with a wooden sword until he is ready to take on a real one.

With his pure, naive and happy nature, he is probably bound to confess by accident.

When the girl does something such as being clueless about simple things or cracks a really bad joke, he would say, “Why do I like you again?”

Gets all surprised when he realised what he said and plays it off; hoping and praying that the girl would like him back. (of course she would omg he’s such a smol so why not)

Lai Guanlin:

Possibly the youngest official prince that anyone has ever known and even the people are still surprised that he is their prince.

Might be young but is mature for his age and looks the part; extremely noticeable that he is a part of the royal family.

Doesn’t speak very much and occasionally nods in acknowledgement when people greet him, giving a small smile.

Extremely tall so no one really picks or doubts him in any way; looks confident in the way he carries himself and people look up to him (both literally and figuratively)

Usually finds out about the community’s issues from a lady who sells homemade snacks and sweets.

Treats him like he’s her own son too and he is always patronising her stall (he’s a young boy who loves treats like hers)

Gives some form of input but spends most of his time listening as he eats; a great listener to the people’s concerns and issues that they want to change.

Pretty well read and is a quick thinker; able to rectify issues in less than 3 days.

Everyone’s role model, especially for the sons in the community and they are encouraged to sign up for the examinations to become a government official.

Quick to spot incompetence, deception and possible hidden agendas so nobody dares to fool around under his watchful eye.

Only becomes a kid around children (whom he entertains physically) and animals (especially dogs) and shows his more childish side.

Usually found in the palace garden’s main pavilion doing his work and reading; finds his state of calm there.

Serious prince most of the time, but has his moments when he wishes that he could be like ordinary kids (but doesn’t show it)

Another perfect package and is one of the favourite students; good learner, caring personality, smart, appreciates the little things in life and is always willing to perfect his skills.

Adores his younger brother (ahem seonho ahem) and takes care of him extremely well.

The community follows after him; family-like, hard working and incredibly resilient because they can trust their royal family.

Does not really have any sentiments towards combat classes but he just sees it as something that is absolutely necessary if he wants to become a strong and dependable prince for his people.

Not exactly the best when it comes to handling weapons but practices tirelessly under the guidance of his palace guards and sensei.

When it comes to the girl he likes, it will probably be one of those normal confessions (because he is young and does not know very much apart from being completely honest).

Would be quiet and lowkey, but would show more of his inner self i.e. smiling more, opening up and just being at ease for once.

When he’s comfortable, he will ask the girl first because to him, it is less scary that way and he would be able to better judge his reactions depending on the answer.

If she says yes, he will smile extremely brightly and go, “Great, because I like you a lot too.” and if not (why would you do that to such a puppy), he will just nod and move on eventually with a mature mindset.

And with that, I have officially come to the end of this series! ^^ Once again, I would like to thank you all for keeping up with the series and actually having the patience to read through this entire imagine. :) Honestly, I never expected to get that much attention from this blog, considering how many other great Produce 101/ Wanna One blogs there are out there. Now, I stand at a total of 455 notes across 30 posts and 89 followers strong! ^^ Thank you for all your support once again and I don’t know where I would be without you guys leaving your notes and reblogs. :) They might seem small, but they sure make an impact on the writer. :) 

Finally, as for requests. I will be taking them in all the way until Sunday, 1st July 2017. To request, simply head over to drop them via messaging or my ask box if you would like to see more of these “Wanna One as ______” posts! ^^ Hope to see you guys there soon and I hope you guys have had a fun time so far imagining the boys in royal garments as princes in an alternate universe. :) 

Goodbye for now and see you guys again soon with more requests! ^^