#but yah driving to work in the morning is a pain in the neck

[wp100]

i sound like a masochist here but i cant wait to work the holiday period. sure, might get shitty customers but driving to and from work is so NICE during this period

[hisunshiine]

𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 & 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔼ℝ |𝕛𝕛𝕜|

♡ au, friends to lovers, jungkook x reader

♡ fluff, god the cavities you will get from this, camping related injury, sfw

♡ for #btsfluffofjuly writing challenge

“Camping? I don’t think that’s such a good idea...”

“Please, you’re my best friend, you have to go with me.”

Jungkook’s doe eyes stared up at you through his long hair that was falling across his face. You shook your head, sighing as you gave in. Of course you would give in. Being hopelessly in love with your best friend would do that to you. 

“Fine...”

“Ah, you’re the best Y/n!” Jungkook punched his hands up to the sky before he pulled out his phone. You couldn’t help but stare at the flexing muscles and the way the veins popped out as his fingers rapidly flew across the screen of his phone. “I’m texting the guys. We have fireworks, and oh! Those pretty sparklers you like, and the view from the campsite of the city firework show is perfect. We’re planning to go to the camping site tomorrow morning and don’t worry; Yoongi hyung made sure to grab the beer.”

You roll your eyes at the thought of the yellow yeasty piss, and yell out after Jungkook walks out of your bedroom in your shared apartment.

“You owe me liquor at least!”

--

Camping. You were not necessarily against camping, on the contrary, you had always wanted to do it. But you had been trying for months now to reign in your feelings for your best friend. And yes, you know that’s hard to do when you live with him, but living alone? In this economy? You weren’t stupid. 

So here you were, climbing out of the Hyundai Palisade Jin had driven you, Jungkook, Namjoon up to the campsite in, luggage in the back and in the trunk of the other car that held Hobi, Yoongi, Jimin, and Taehyung. You took in the area, noticing the dense woods surrounding the clearing that looked like it was often used by campers. That made you feel a little safer about wild animals and such. Not that you were so far out in the wilderness. You were only about a 20 minute drive from the city, up a small incline that barely could be considered a mountain. It was more like a hill. But the elevation in this campground was definitely higher than the city, and you could see the edge that led to a drop where the river cut through, revealing the city on the other side of the rushing water. The fireworks were always done at the river, and from here, you had an uninterrupted view. It really was perfect. 

Going over to the hatchback, you start helping Jungkook unload the camping supplies and duffel bags piled in the back; the others grabbing the items and dispersing them to their areas for set up. You feel your cheeks warm when your hands collide reaching for the same bag, your hand grasping his before you pull away, laughing a quick apology as you avoid his gaze. Those deep brown eyes full of galaxies have the power to drown you if you’re not careful. 

“How many tents are there?” you ask, trying to figure out the sleeping arrangements. You figure you should have asked yesterday, but you forgot, too worried about being in a secluded camping site with plenty of alcohol, the love of your life who didn’t know it, and your 6 friends who definitely did. 

“Um.. like 3 I think.” Jin answered, rifling through the cooler for a bottle of water.

“So, what game are we doing to see who’s sleeping with snore-machine Namjoon?” Jimin giggles at your question, covering his mouth and unsuccessfully disguising it as a cough when Namjoon turns his eyes on him in a glare. 

“Ah, well, we drew straws already, so it’s actually already decided.” Yoongi answered, deadpan. “Sorry smalls, but you and Jungkook are with Namjoon.”

You dramatically fall to your knees, cursing the sky above you with shaking fists.

“Nooooooooo!”

The guys all begin to laugh, except Namjoon who walks over and flicks your forehead as you yell with your eyes closed. 

Everyone gets back to setting up the campsite, and you rub your forehead before stealing Jin’s water bottle to ice your hurt head.

--

“Koo, can you and Sweet cheeks go gather some fire kindling?” Hobi was stoking the fire, shooting daggers at Taehyung. Tae had forgotten to grab the bag with the extra kindling sticks, and making smores over a lighter flame would not work. You didn’t really care for smores; it was the 4th of July, hot as fuck outside, and you were not a fan of being even hotter with a full bonfire raging. You look up from where you and Jungkook were laying on an inflated air mattress you had yet to move into your tent as he played animal crossing on his switch, a little upset that you had finally worked up the courage to lay your head on Jungkook’s chest so you could watch him play and not even 5 minutes later your comfy position was ruined. 

Jungkook let out a sigh, the air sending a shiver down your spine at the proximity of him.

“I guess, hyung. And only I can call her Sweet cheeks,” he replies before looking over at you. “Come on sweet cheeks, let’s go.”

Jungkook set his switch down and once standing offered you his hand to pull you up. You grasped it, enjoying the way his large and warm hand engulfed your own smaller one, pouting once he let it go to head off into the woods. You saw him check his watch, mumbling something like ‘3:53 in the afternoon do we really need a fire now?’ as you trailed behind him.

--

“Jungkook, are there like… snakes or spiders in here?” 

Jungkook smirks at you, fully aware of your fear of wild snakes and spiders. 

“You’ll be okay. The closest hospital is like… maybe 20 minutes away. No worries.”

“Not comforting JK, not at all.” You cut your eyes at him, then give his shoulder a shove as he steps over a fallen log. He laughs, noting the way your shove did nothing to throw him off balance.

Without thinking, Jungkook retaliates by pushing your shoulder back, only this time, you trip, stumbling over the same fallen tree that he had easily cleared, and in your attempt to catch yourself, you overcorrect, and feel the pain of your ankle rolling.

“Ahhhhh!” 

“Fuck! I’m sorry!” 

You sat on the damp grass, hands gripping the grass in an attempt to quell the pain. Jungkook was crouched next to you, low-key panicking as he saw your eyes tear up. 

“Oh god, fuck! I’m so sorry Y/n!” He was staring wide eyed at your ankle, which no longer looked like your ankle. You were deformed. 

“You fucking… strong ass… you giant bunny!” You yell out, tearful. 

Jungkook tugs at his hair, his eyes wide and scared. It’s very clear to the both of you that you cannot bear weight on this foot, as it looks like it’s broken to you. 

“I’ll piggyback you!” He turns quickly, still crouched and you sniffle turning on your bottom as you adjust to cling like a koala to him. The movements cause your ankle to bounce, pain running through it and more tears fall.

--

“Ahh, it hurts Koo,” you tuck your face into his neck as he tries his best to walk smoothly but quickly back towards the campsite. Unfortunately, you had nothing to hold your ankle still from moving with each step Jungkook took, so every few seconds you felt the sharp pain shoot up your leg. It had swollen, you could feel the way your shoe was constricting it, but it was best not to do anything until it was looked at.

“I’m gonna take you to the ER. Seriously, it’s really like 20 minutes away. God, I can’t believe I hurt you, sweet cheeks.”

You shake your head, still sniffling as you tightened your hold across his chest. His chest was so firm, muscles tight from the way he was holding his arms to secure you to his back. You couldn’t deny that getting hurt didn’t put you in a great position, straddling his back, his hands spread to grip you firmly under your thighs; the pain didn’t prevent you from thinking indecent thoughts of him holding your thighs in a different angle. Preferably while thrusting deep inside you.

“Sweet cheeks? Do you forgive me?” Jungkook turned his head to try and see you better; you blink your eyes as you freeze. His lips were so close, you could just lean in and kiss him. Mere centimeters separated your lips from his… Just one kiss, gentle and fleeting, it was all you wanted… You leaned closer to him.

“Jungkook-ah! What did you do to her?”

Namjoon ran over, his hands grasping your face as he smoothed your loose strands of hair back away from your face. You can see his eyebrows knit together, worry over your red rimmed eyes and clearly dried tears tracks on your cheeks.

“I’m okay Joonie, I rolled my ankle.” You smile, trying to calm him so that the others don’t react the same way, but it was too late.

“Yah! You were supposed to get wood, not trip over it!” Hobi yelled from where he was kneeling by the fire pit.

“I’m taking her to the ER. I think it might be broken. Yoongi, can I get the keys?” Yoongi nods, walking over to the car with you both to open up the door so you can be seated. 

Jungkook leans down, bending his knees so that you can slide off of his back and scoot into the passenger seat. A part of you is sad that you are no longer holding onto him, while another part is chiding you for using this to your advantage to cuddle into him on the trek through the woods.

“I can take Smalls if you want, Guk-ah,” Yoongi offers, but Jungkook shakes his head, producing his hand for the keys. 

“No, hyung, I did this. I’ll take her. If there’s anything we forgot to pack, text me and we’ll stop and get it before we come back up. No more hunting for firewood for this one.”

Jungkook climbs into the car and soon you’re traveling down the dirt path back out of the woods. Jungkook reaches over, his free hand grasping yours. You look up at him, eyes wide at the gesture. 

“Y/n, I really am sorry. We’ll get you patched up soon.” His thumb lightly traces circles into the top of your hand, and you continue to watch him long after his gaze has returned to the road; attention to the highway he’s speeding down to get you to the emergency room.

--

“Ankle dislocation?!” You and Jungkook both have your mouths open, shocked to hear the diagnosis. It sounded way worse than a fracture or broken foot. In fact, the doctor said it hurt worse than one too.  

“Yes, your boyfriend here did the right thing bringing you in. Dislocation can be dangerous if it’s left out of place for too long, causing long lasting nerve damage. To avoid this, we’ll be skipping the X-Rays. It’s clearly popped out of place, so we’ll just pop it back in!”

You heard some of what the doctor said, but really, when she called Jungkook your boyfriend, most of your body just malfunctioned. Especially when he didn’t correct her. Granted, he still was in shock, as were you, but then you saw the very buff nurse walk in wheeling what looked like an oxygen tank, except it was blue, and focused on that.

“Now, Y/n, we’re gonna give you some Nitrous Oxide, it will help with the discomfort as we reduce the dislocation,” she turned to face Jungkook, “Boyfriend, come over here and hold her hand. After we finish, we’ll let her rest while we get a boot and crutches for her as well as the discharge papers, okay?”

Jungkook nods, eyes still wide in shock that a simple push had led to this.

“I need you to monitor her, okay? 5 minutes after, take the mask off her. While we get everything ready, she’ll be a little loopy from the N2O… it’s laughing gas, but after another 5 minutes, it should pass.”

You had already had the male nurse place the mask on your face when you heard the doctor say laughing gas. It was too late to decline it; you could feel yourself relaxing into a stupor of content, the pain gone. 

Jungkook’s hand felt nice. So warm, you thought. And attached to such a beautiful man. Wow. You wince a little when the orthopedic doctor and male nurse pop your ankle back into place, but once it’s over, you sigh as you sink into the pillow.

“Jungkooooo..” you turn your eyes to him, admiring the way his hair frames his face. God, you love that man.

“What’s up, Sweet cheeks?”

“Koo… you’re so pretty.”

He blushes, ears turning bright red along with his cheeks.

“Sweet cheeks, hush. Just relax.”

“No seriously, Koo… you’re beautiful. I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/n,  you're my best friend.”

“No Koo,  I like, really love you.  Like I want to have your babies love you.”  You turn your head to the side, cheek resting on the pillow as you gaze longingly at your best friend. He was staring at you now no longer in shock from the ankle injury; it now seemed he was dealing with disbelief at the words you were saying.

“God Koo, I've loved you for so long,” you sigh as you reach out to grasp his hand; his hand feels clammy but you're too high on laughing gas to notice. You have no way of knowing that his heart is beating fast in his chest, so fast he feels like it might pump its way straight out of his body.

“You love me? Not, like, as a best friend, but more?”

“Practically since the day we met, remember that day, Koo?  In art class?” 

“How could I forget?” Jungkook replies softly.

You giggle, remembering being paired to work together on the 8th grade art project, and you were so in love with the bunny-smile-having desk mate, yet so afraid to befriend him. That project had gotten you both a good grade, but had changed the course of your life. You found your best friend in that bunny smile, the mole beneath his bottom lip, the scratch in his cheek.

Jungkook stands, moving to you and grasps the mask that is over your nose.

“Time to take this off, sweet cheeks. 5 minutes are up.”

As he leans over and removes the mask from your face, you can’t help yourself. You grasp his shirt and pull yourself up to meet his lips with your own.

Magic. Fireworks. His lips are softer than you imagined, soft as the Cloud 9 you are floating on as you slot your top lip between his lips, pulling his plump bottom lip into your mouth. The kiss feels perfect, and you pull away after a few seconds, falling back onto the pillow behind you. 

The nitrous oxide has made you feel relaxed and calm, and you close your eyes, content. You miss the way he stands there watching you, having felt his whole world shift, coming into focus with you at the center. 

3 hours later from leaving the campsite and Jungkook has you in the car, fitted with a boot and crutches, a prescription for painkillers in your lap that had just finished getting filled at the pharmacy, and some kindling. You had a slight headache, the side effects of the Nitrous Oxide, as well as impaired memory and increased sleepiness. You had been drifting in and out of sleep since you had been given a pain killer when the doctor arrived back to give you the boot and crutches, discharge papers and the prescription to fill. The ER was busy as you were wheeled out of it by Jungkook, who headed towards the pharmacy. You could see people in all states of injury, sporting small burns, a few broken bones here and there, and the wildest was the man with a barbecue fork in his hand wrapped in a kitchen towel. The fourth of July was one of the busiest days for Emergency Rooms, and this year appeared to be no different. 

You barely registered when Jungkook parked the car and turned off the engine, peacefully napping with your head against the cool glass of the window. He looked over at you after he unbuckled his seatbelt, reaching out to sweep your hair back away from your face.

“Sweet cheeks,” he said softly, attempting to wake you. “Hey, we’re back at the campsite.”

“Hmm?” You turn your head slowly opening your eyes as you take in his proximity, his face inches from yours as his hand continues to remain on your skin; palm to your cheek as his thumb gently strokes your cheek.

“We’re back Y/n, let’s get you in our tent so you can rest.”

“Okay,” you mumble, reaching sleepily to undo your seatbelt and open your door. Jungkook pulls away and rushes to get around the other side of the car to help you. The campsite was empty, but he could see some of the boys fishing down by the river and hear the laughter of the others nearby. Normally Jungkook would be wanting to join them, but today, he didn’t want to leave your side. He carried you from the car to your now tent, the air mattress that had previously been outside was placed inside next to Namjoon’s, and he knelt down to lay you on it. You were surprised to feel him slide in next to you, grabbing the thin sheet to put over you both. He wrapped an arm tentatively around your waist and pulled your back to his chest, and you fell asleep like that, feeling safe in his arms.

--

“Hey, guys, the fireworks are gonna start soon!” Jimin’s excited voice pierced through your sleep, waking you up from your nap. You try and roll over, but are pinned down by the heavy arm of your favorite person.

“Jungkook! Get up! Fireworks time!” You’re loud, and he finally wakes, groggy sleep eyes as he deciphers the words you are saying to him. Jimin runs off, and you can hear the boys laughing as the sounds of sparklers and poppers go off, the patter of their feet as they chase each other making you want to go out and join them.

It takes you a few minutes to get situated and meet everyone over by the edge to watch the fireworks, but Jungkook doesn’t leave your side and you are grateful. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close so you can lean on him, and he’s so buddy staring down at you that he jumps when the first fireworks go off. 

“It’s so pretty, Koo, look!” you point out an exceptionally bright purple shimmering firework in the sky.

“Yea, it is.” You don’t notice at first that he’s not looking at the sky; he’s looking at you.

When you do notice, you turn away from the light show and meet his eyes, the fireworks reflecting in them.

“Koo?”

“I love you, Y/n.”

You freeze, muscles tense as you stare at him, baffled.

“Wha--?”

“You… I know how you feel about me. And I wanted to tell you I feel the same. I love you. Like in a ‘kiss you under the fireworks, someday have my babies’ kind of way.”

Your face is warm, heat rising to the surface of your skin as you attempt to duck your head, but his free hand gently grasps your chin while the one around your shoulders guides your body to face him and rests on your back.

“Can I?”

You don’t know what he’s asking, but you could never say no to him. Not when his floofy hair was framing his face, his doe eyes were pleading with you, and he was so close…

You nod, and a breath later his lips are on yours. 

The sounds of the fireworks don’t drown out the whooping and whistling you hear from your friends as they witness the blossoming of a relationship they all knew was inevitable. But all you hear is your heartbeat, pulsing in time with Jungkook’s as he wraps both arms around you and pulls you closer to him. 

Pulling back from him, you have a weird sense of deja vu, and tell him as much.

Smirking, he looks down into your eyes and reveals that this indeed was not your first kiss.

“When did we? How?”

“In the hospital. You grabbed my shirt and pulled me to you for a kiss when I removed your laughing gas mask.”

Your brain is able to recall some of what Jungkook is saying, but before you can be embarrassed he leans down your ear, his lips grazing the outer edge as he whispers.

“Sweet cheeks, don’t worry, I’m glad you did it.” He kissed the tender spot below your ear. “It felt right. I think I’ve always known it’s you… I just didn’t know how to approach it.” Another kiss to your jawline. “But I love you. And now you’re mine.”

His eyes sparkled as the last of the fireworks burst in the air.

“I’m yours.”

[susiequaz12]

Carrot Top- 1: Captured

Ya’ll, I’ve written something new! This is the beginning part of a new whump fic that I’m writing, with some old characters that I love. A lot of it is written already, so I’ll probably a post a lot more parts once they’re all edited (cause I don’t read through my stuff, who likes editing anyways?) I’m calling it Carrot Top for now, cause that’ll come into play later. 

Some background: It takes place in a world of people called peculiari, who are essentially people with elevated kinds of powers. There’s four main different types, Superhuman, Nature Bender, Shape Shifter, and Mind Reader. Andrew is a Shape Shifter, but that’s all you need to know. If you do have questions about the world or the background, let me know!

Also gonna tag @imagination1reality0, cause I actually posted it! So there yah go, you can read it now.

CW: Manhnadling, tied up.

Andrew knew he shouldn’t have yelled at Ali and Justin. 

He knew he shouldn’t have argued with them, and called Justin spoiled and entitled, but he was frustrated. He was frustrated and tired of being looked down on, tired of being the third wheel with those two, and tired in general of everyone feeling bad for him.

He knew he should have taken the ride to their apartment that Justin had offered instead of walking, but he needed to clear his head.

He knew it was a bad idea as soon as the car they were in drove out of his view. 

And he knew that he shouldn’t have let himself wander outside at night, alone. Letting himself be an easy target.

But that thought didn’t occur to him until he noticed the same minivan drive down the street he was on for the third time. Until he saw the tall shadow that had been following him for the past three blocks. 

The thought didn’t occur to him to pull out his phone and call Justin or Ali, until his arms were grabbed and he could no longer reach his pockets.

"Hey! What's going on, let me go!" He cried. 

But it was no use. His arms were pinned to his sides as the van pulled up to the side of the road. The sliding door of the van was thrown wide open and Andrew immediately could see a menagerie of ropes and chains littering the floor of the vehicle. From what he could observe, there were three men. Each dressed in black, with masks covering their faces. One in the driver’s seat, one in the back of the van untangling the ropes from each other, and the other holding Andrew’s arms behind his back. His face was shoved against the side of the car as he heard metal and chains clanging about. 

Handcuffs. Were his first initial thought. 

He threw himself backwards, trying to come out of the man's grasp, and thankfully it worked. He was distracted. Andrew used so much force that it sent himself reeling into the front door of the old shop that stood on the side of the road. The door clattered underneath him, jingling a bell that hung from the top: but the lights were off, and there was no one around to see him. Dazed, he quickly regained his footing but it was enough time for the man to grab him by the wrist again. Using all his strength, he threw Andrew against the side of the car, causing it to creak on it’s wheels. 

Now Andrew may have been a good few inches taller than the man, but he was scrawny. And the other guy was well built, as if this kind of stuff was his day-to-day job. (Which it probably was.) As Andrew tried to pull away once more, his right wrist was quickly held tight and locked into a handcuff that attached to the armrest of the car seat. 

"NO!” He shouted, trying to pry his hand away. 

The other wrist was soon locked in in a similar fashion, and with a boot to the chest he was forced backwards into the seat. His legs kicked about and he lurched forward, but a piece of rope wrapped around his neck, pulling him backwards. The harder he struggled, the tighter it was pulled and he didn't want to risk losing any oxygen, so he sat back. The rope wrapped around his neck, once, twice, three times before it was tied behind him, attaching underneath the headrest of the seat. 

Andrew was not going down easily, so he kicked about, thrashing his long legs everywhere, knocking one man in the forehead with his knee as he had bent down to buckle Andrew in with the seat belt. 

The man grunted out in shock and pain, before being handed another piece of rope that he used to tie Andrew’s ankles together. 

"You guys can't do this!" He screamed, continuing to wiggle about as much as the bonds would let him. “Let me out!” He cried.

He pulled and tugged at the bonds, making his wrists raw and red, straining the muscles in his legs, but it was no use. The man stood back, leaning out of the truck with his arms folded, admiring his work.

"He's a feisty one." He said to the man in the driver's seat. 

The driver spoke up. "Yeah, he's also loud, so finish it up. Let's go." 

Andrew was being loud, screaming and shouting, hoping some passerby with poor choices at 1 in the morning would hear him and come to his aid. The man stopped looking so smug, and grabbed a grey rag from the other man in the van. 

Andrew saw the rag, and could only assume that this was for one of two things. One of them a much more unpleasant experience. As the man came for his mouth, Andrew was correct in assuming that it was the less pleasant of the two options. As Andrew cried out his protests, the gag was shoved deep into his mouth, causing him to cough on his own spit. Another rag was wrapped around his gaping mouth, trapping the foul fabric inside, so all of the sound was thoroughly muffled. A blindfold was quickly added to complete the ensemble, tying tightly behind his head, tangling his curly red hair. 

Andrew shook his head in fury. More frustrated above all else, rather than annoyed or frightened. 

Amidst all the panic, Andrew seemed to forget that he had the use of his powers. There were many a time he had used them to get out of similar sticky situations, but his mind was only focused on one thing: "Get away." It was once the man began to shut the door that Andrew finally remembered the abilities he had once so desperately relied on. But a whole year in hiding without any training had suppressed them quite a bit. He no longer kept them in daily use, for his own safety. To avoid exact situations like this one.

Funnily enough, the most important time he needed them, his abilities failed to come back to him.

He tried to focus, head spinning and heart pounding but only managed to loosen the handcuffs enough to slip one wrist out, before the man sitting next to him noticed.

“Oh no, that won’t do.” 

He grabbed Andrew’s hand as he struggled with the blindfold and pulled it back down, locking it back in place, tighter this time.

He called towards the driver, who handed him a short, thick stick, like that of a police baton. He quickly raised it over his shoulder, and in one fell swoop, knocked Andrew on the side of the head. All it did was shove his head to the side, and cause a muffled "oof" to come from underneath his gag. 

"He still awake?" The man asked. 

Andrew couldn't respond, and for a moment he considered faking unconsciousness. But the pain in the side of his head was too much, and he couldn’t help the quiet groan that came out of his mouth. 

"One more time." The man stated. The driver nodded, and with another thud, and a louder groan, Andrew was out cold. The minivan drove off, away from the dark street, and towards their destination.

[wonbabyho]

Bad Day, Good Day — Minhyuk (Part 2)

read the part 1 here before if you haven't

wc : ~2k

The doorbell rang a few times already. However, the two guys were still arguing in one of the bedrooms about who was going to open the door. Jooheon tried to wake Minhyuk up when he could just open the door by himself. "Bro, wake up. I'm scared" he said to Minhyuk. Minhyuk groaned and rubbed his face then looked at the small alarm clock beside his bed. "It's fucking 11 in the morning. Why are you scared?". "Someone is in front of the door" Jooheon answered. Minhyuk patted his forehead. Why he must have a housemate like this? Without wasted a time, he stood up and went towards the door. "Wait!" He said as the doorbell rang again and opened the door while rubbing his left eye. His eyes widened when he saw someone he knew very well. "Y/n? What brings you here?"

"I want to talk to you" you said as showed him your nervous facial expression. "Why you didn't call me first? We can set up a plan and go out somewhere else" he asked and gave you a stare seems like wanted to tell you something. You cursed at yourself and opened your mouth as you realized something. "Ah, Jooheon is here right?". He nodded. "I'm sorry. You can get ready first. I'll wait at the nearby cafe we usually go" you added, giving a light smile and he just nodded again before you left him.

--

Both of you had the drinks already but still did not said anything yet. Before the situation getting more awkward, Minhyuk decided to start the conversation between both of you. "So.. what do you want to talk about?". "I just want to thank you for last night." . "And I'm sorry" you continued before he was about to answer your thank. Minhyuk looked confused at you. "Sorry for?" . "Sorry for make you come to my apartment at fucking 12 am" . "And seeing you drunk like that?" he added before laughed at you a bit. You were overwhelmed with embarrassment at that time and hit his arm, looked down, closed your eyes.

"Yah, it's okay. You don't have to be shy. Come on, it's just me" Minhyuk laughed at you again. "Stop laughing, Minhyuk. Everyone is staring" you told him to shut up but he didn't listen. You sigh. But suddenly, he stopped laughing and gazed at you when you were sipping your drink.

"Why? You get jealous when people staring at me?" his sudden question with a flirty tone made you almost choked on your drink. "Well, don't be surprised. You said you like me last night" Minhyuk said as he gave you a don't-you-remember face. You just kept yourself silent and avoided looking at his eyes. "Hey, I'm just joking" he was trying to get your attention back and said "I'm sorry" when he saw you looked very uncomfortable. 

"Shut up, Minhyuk. You know I was fucking drunk last night and this morning feels like hell when I woke up with a heavy head and found out that my phone is broken" . You sigh after let it out to Minhyuk then covered your face with both of your hands. Minhyuk nodded himself, realizing why you didn't contact him by phone.

He grabbed both of your hands, stopped you from covering your face. "Let's go". You looked at him and asked, "Let's go to?". "To save your day from feeling like hell" . He smiled and you both stand up, went out of the cafe and he drove you to somewhere else.

--

"Are you kidding me, Minhyuk?" you asked as you stepped in. Minhyuk shook his head and smiled at you. You widened your eyes, looking at him as you still didn't believe it. "Go ahead" he said, directing his hand towards some new phones on the table at the store. "Seriously?" you asked him again. He just nodded. 

"It's okay. No need. I'll buy the new one next time. Let's go" . You said as you grabbed his right wrist, wanted to drag him and yourself out from the store. He stopped you by holding both of your shoulders. "No, It's okay. It's all on me" He dragged you back and walked towards the person who worked there.

"Yes sir, may I help?" a tall pale-skinned man asked Minhyuk. Minhyuk pushed you forward, closer to the person, and said "She wanted to find something". You slapped Minhyuk's arm and answered "Um, anything latest?". "This way" the man asked you to follow him to the other side of the store. "Wait for it. I'm gonna get the expensive one" you whisper to Minhyuk then sticked your tongue out at him. 

"Go on. I'm not doing this for you if I got no money, stupid" . "Don't call me stupid!" You hit his arm again and increased your speed, stepped closer to the man. Minhyuk just watched your action from your back and grinned.

After done buying a phone, you two decided to call it a day at first but when Minhyuk was driving you home, both of you had a slight conversation and, "I'll join then" he said as he looked at you and gave you a bright smile . "NO" you disagree with his decision. "Why? I guess it'll be bored if you do it all alone. Am I right or am I right?" he raised his left eyebrow. You shook your head. "You're right but if it is you, I prefer being bored" . 

"Y/n, come on" . "What? Do you think it'll be easier if you're joining?". Baking a cake with Minhyuk? You can't imagine how problematic it's gonna be. (dude, did you remember he spilled water on an iPad? i'll never forget that).

"Pleaseeee" he begged while his eyes were looking for a space for the car to park. You don't answer him until he finished parked the car. "Unlocked the door". "No, until you say that I can join you baking the cake" he raised both of his eyebrows while his left hand was holding the handbrake and the right one was still on the steering. You rolled your eyes and sighed. "Fine, you can join me". "Yeayyy" he shouted happily then unlocked the door for you.

--

“Okay so.. we have to put 600 grams of cream cheese, 1 cup of sugar and 3 tablespoons of flour” you mumbled while reading the recipe, checked on the ingredients after you pre-heated the oven. “What cheesecake you’ll be making?” a voice started to disturb you. “Blueberry” . “But y/n, I only see strawberries here”. You raised your face, looked at him and snapped your fingers. “Exactly, Minhyuk. You’re brilliant”. “I know” He smiled. 

“Alright we have to mix these things but we have to bake the crust first”. When you were about to take the pan, Minhyuk got to hold it first and, “I’ll do it”. He said while he was holding a spoon in the other hand. You nodded, agreed to leave it on him. “Make sure to press it well” you said, with a finger pointed at him. 

While you were doing your thing, the mixer stopped itself out of a sudden. You lifted it up till it was right in front of your eyes and looked at it confused. You patted Minhyuk’s shoulder beside you and pointed your finger at the plug. “Is it still on?” . He glanced at it for a second, looked back at you, and nodded his head. You stared at the mixer and hit it a few times. 

“Oh fuck” you swore, startled as the mixer was working back to normal. But, you turned the power button of quickly when you found out a few drops of the batter were stuck to Minhyuk’s face with his eyes closed.

You straightly grabbed a piece of tissue and stood at the tip of your toe. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry” you said as you wiped the thing off from his face. He was just staying there quietly when his nervousness started to overwhelm his entire body because your face was so closed to his. You didn’t notice that your left hand was suddenly in the back of his neck as you were focusing only to clean his face. 

He clasped your right hand, stopped you as he opened his eyes and licked his bottom lip, swallow a drop of the batter that stuck to it. You were shocked by his sudden actions and looked into his eyes as he gave you a deep gaze and started to step forward, brought him closer to you. You gulped and stepped backward. It continued until he suddenly put his right hand at the back of your head to avoid the wall from bumped onto your head and locked you there, between the wall and him. You gulped again.

You widened your eyes and felt like your heart was about to explode when Minhyuk’s lips finally pressed into yours. He kissed you very gently. You closed your eyes and hand grabbed on his arm when you started to fall for it as he tilted his head, deepened the kiss. However, when you were about to hug his neck, kissed him back, the little ‘ting!’ sound suddenly appeared, reminded us that the crust was already baked for 8 minutes. It made Minhyuk came back to reality and opened his eyes, pulled his lips away from you, and took a few steps back. 

He breathed heavily and looked very nervous, not believed in what he just did. 

He groaned, rubbed his face and flipped his hair back. “I-I’m sorry. I did- didn’t m-mean to-”. “Minhyuk..” You cut him and wanted to make he calmed himself as his voice was trembling. “I think.. I like you” you continued. “W-what?” he stuttered. “I like you” you repeated and looked down to your feet as embarrassment ran through your body. 

“I know I was drunk at that time but.. I think I do” you tried to give him an explanation as he gave you no response before. “Why don’t you tell me earlier?”. “I’m scared” . “Because?” 

“Because you’re my bestfriend. And, I’m scared that I’ll hurt you” you raised your face, looked into his eyes. “Why would you that?" he asked you confusedly. “I just broke up and I’m scared if this feeling has just come because you’re always there for me anytime I need someone” you sighed as your heart was beating fast. “So you feel like you’re gonna end up using me to heal your pain and you don’t like me actually?”. You nodded when you realized that he got your point. 

“And everytime I asked myself If I ever like you or not, I feel stupid” you added. “You do?”. You nodded at him again. “Well, I do too. All the time” Minhyuk added. “What?”. “I like you too" . You stood stunned there, surprised by his confession. “Yeah, it wasn’t a lie too. Don’t be too surprised.” he said before chuckled at your reaction.

"S-since when?” This time, you stuttered as he did before. “Long time ago, stupid. Even before you met that fucking asshole” he answered. You gave him a hard slap on his arm. “Stop swearing, Minhyuk”. He hissed and let out a slight laugh. 

“Okay, okay let’s continue what we were doing” he said and held your wrist. “W-what?” you asked, a little bit nervous. He looked at you confused. “What do you mean by ‘what’? The cake, of course”

You let a relieved sigh. “Ah! Y-yeah.. The cake. Yeah y-you’re right” and gently tapped your temple. Minhyuk was still locked his eyes on you, figuring out what you meant. “Don’t look at me like that” you said. 

He tilted his head, “Y/n, were you thinking about....” , “NO! Haha I mean, nope. Let’s- Let’s bake the cake since the crust is ready” you cut him and got your wrist off from his grasp, headed to the kitchen back. 

He laughed at your reaction and called your name a few times but you just continued walking. “Yah! I mean, we can continue that after the cake finished!” He followed your step while still chuckling. 

[darknytemare]

No Words -pt 2

BTS - V Imagine - Tall Girl - Interracial - Dirty-ish

This was the most grueling assignment she could have received. She wouldn’t regret one single moment of it. How could she? A music lover who had drowned herself in every genre she could from a young age. It had been a dream to intern with the company responsible for BTS’ current tour. 

It had been an even bigger shock when she was allowed to work alongside the production team. That one tour, turning into two tours that spanned the globe. She wound up living out of a suitcase, surviving on coffee, 4 hours of sleep a day, and more recipes to spread out cup ramen than she’d ever imagined.

She was still the odd girl on staff, unfortunately. She stuck out like a sore thumb where-ever they went. For one thing, she was taller than most of the females on the team. Let’s not get started on the males.

She tried to make herself as small as possible and failed miserably. The darker skin complexion, curly hair, and blue eyes gave her away. She was dependable, prompt, and thought outside the box. She learned to communicate thanks to the patient staff, lots of apps, and tenacity.

She didn’t like being obvious - but what could be done? It was always easy to find her. When she missed home, they’d find her in a kitchen in the wee hours of the morning reliving Southern and family comfort foods. Let’s just say there was an even trade of food culture.

But, like with any dream situation - there’s always something that threatens to ruin its perfection.

Sometimes it wasn’t a situation - sometimes it was a person. That person happened to be one Kim Taehyung.

30 days post kiss.

Everything was seemingly normal! They had avoided being caught by staff that night. There was a lot of alcohol consumed that night. These things happen, right? She kept telling herself that as the month zipped by. There were still moments that she could swear, his eyes lingered too long in her direction.

There was no awkward behavior between them. Everything was fine.

45 days post kiss.

Comeback season was in full swing. The schedules were tight and to the second. The boys were exhausted, and it showed. People kept energy bars, drinks, and towelettes on them at all times. Wipe sweat, coax a bite, a sip, offer the fan, and encouragement. It was hard to see them like this, practically wilting the moment they were out of the view of fans. The weather wasn’t making anything easy, either. It was sweltering and humid, and even she found herself with spare batteries to keep that small fan going. Her hair was pushed into a messy, frizzy, puff atop her head.

“Fuck this weather.” She growled softly. Tugging at the linen shirt threatening to cling at the collarbone. She heard a beep through her headset denoting the count time for end shots. The countdown echoed as they listened to the calls for a job well done. The Army wished them well with cries, cheers, and waves of the army-bombs.

80 days post kiss.

The boys kept smiles, waves, and proper idol etiquette on display until they disappeared beyond the staff doors. That door closed, and it was pandemonium. They were either bent over with hands-on knees, sliding down to the floor against walls, or leaning on a staff member. Everyone was sweating, there was no escape from it.

The fact that she wound up under Taehyung’s arm with another member didn’t matter. They were panting, hot, and suffering signs of dehydration. She could see their pulses throbbing in their necks.

“We need to cool them down.” The head PD came in with towels wrapped around ice-packs. There was a flurry of motion to get them out of layered outfits. Luckily, they had a desperately needed two-day break.

It took an hour to get them hydrated, calm, and mobile.

Everything went off without a hitch. Everything was seeming…normal.

Taehyung held a bottle of cold water against his neck. The world passed by in a hazy blur as they made their way back to the hotel. His head seemed to loll to the side. The city lights flickered in his gaze. The fabric of his sweats bunched in his hand the only thing keeping him lucid.

His nostrils flared as he tilted his head to the side, her scent still there. He could again feel her skin against his from under her shirt. The trail of sweat along the column of her neck, he remembered it visibly. It gave her a glow, a sheen - a brilliance, even. They had been too busy for him to make any moves.

The shadows played along her skin, a peek of cleavage had him gulping the rest of his water down. He pulled the hoodie over his head and let the sound of the drive lull him to sleep. The fresh air in the van was enough to ease his frazzled nerves.

90 days post kiss.

The night blurred into a stumbling trip to his room. His clothes were haphazardly tossed to the floor as he pushed into the bathroom. He wanted the shower to rid himself of the day. He tried to lay naked on his bed and sleep. Taehyung ran his fingers through waterlogged strands of hair. The shower was hot enough to ease his muscles. His hands braced against the wall as the shower spray pelted his skin.

Massaged his skin? A groan slipped from his mouth at the sensation of fingers, kneading the knots from his shoulders. Fingers? Foreign hands. Small hands. “I don’t know who you are bu-…” He whipped around, pressing against the shower wall. There wasn’t a chance to finish the sentence. Taehyung’s nostrils flared as his lips were captured.

His fingers slid against smooth skin, the taste of peaches, and the soft mouth that tangled with his own. The kiss broke as he pulled back, confused. “N-noona?” Her lips formed a heart as she smiled. Her arms slid around his neck as he dared to let his hands settled into the wet nakedness of her body.

Her head tilted up to him, “Kiss me again, Taehyung.” When did the shower get hot? There was so much steam. He could scarcely make out his own hand in front of his face. It was better than the first time. Nothing was holding them back. She didn’t try to stop as his tongue pressed against hers. The scrape of his nails against the curve of her ass as he pulled her closer. She was so soft, responsive, as he pushed his hips into her.

Perfect.

Everything about her, to him, was perfect. He loved the way her skin felt beneath his teeth. The length of him pushed between her legs as he shuddered at the clench of her thighs around him. His fingers dug into her skin as tongue and teeth nibbled, licked, and marked her. The heat didn’t bother him at all. She clung to him as he pushed between the squeeze of her thighs. He was going insane with want. His hands slid over her ass, and he pulled her against him. The squelching noises as he slipped between the folds of her sex, not entering - Not yet. All he had to do was angle himself, just a little. She bit into his collarbone, and he knew there’d be a mark.

Taehyung didn’t care, not one bit. He spun her into the corner pinning her hips. She bit her lip as their eyes locked. He tilted his hips down, just so, causing the throbbing head of his cock to slip between those folds. Finally. Finally.

His tongue swept his lips as he held her firm. His whole body trembled with the effort to maintain control as he slipped upward.

…and inward.

“V.” A breathy, far away sound.

His brow furrowed as she repeated it. “V.”

There was a sudden flash of cold air that nipped at his ankles. “V!”

Taehyung sat up too quickly in the back of the van. The staff member had tried calling to wake him up. But, the side door opening and the violent shaking did the trick.

“G’damnit?!” He growled, snatching his arm away from the staff member.

“Sorry, V. I called you for ten straight minutes, and you didn’t move.” The guy looked crestfallen at his reaction. Tae ran his hands through his hair, thankful for dark clothing.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I’m just…I’m exhausted.” The PD nodded softly moving to the side to let the taller man out.

“Just get upstairs and get some rest. We’ll send the usual up.” The PD clapped Tae on the shoulder with a sad smile and made his way inside. Taehyung’s dark eyes narrowed as he was left, momentarily, alone.

His hands were jammed deep into the front pocket of his hoodie. He was doing everything he could to keep that massive erection hidden. Everything was painful - the air, breathing, the clothing against his skin; all of it pissed him off. He held his cock in one hand, under cover of his hoodie, pulling his bag behind him with the other. He just needed to make it to his room.

Tae got his room key from the front desk and made his way to the elevator. He rolled in, slamming the keycard against the reader. The elevator dinged as the doors began to close. He groaned as his head slammed into the back elevator wall. He could feel his pulse in his hands as he squeezed himself.

“Hold on a sec!” A voice, far away, called out as the elevator began to squeeze shut. Taeyung turned around to face the corner, trying to school his face into something less malicious. The door popped open for a hot second and was allowed to close. “Thanks for -” A female voice began cheerfully before pausing. “…V, is that you?”

Taehyung’s nostrils flared at the sound of that voice. His eyes popped open to catch her reflection, full of trepidation, in the silver of the elevator interior. The look he shifted over his shoulder caused her to press into the corner of the already small space. She suddenly noticed the length of his fingers as they wrapped around the bar lining the wall. It had been three months since that kiss. She had been doing everything in her power to avoid being alone with him.

The subtle way, of course. She dipped in making sure to say her piece and evacuate the area. Business as usual; everything normal.

And yet, it wasn’t.

She found herself staring at the resource monitors too long. There were times she could feel him staring her down from afar. It made her skin itch. The sound of beeping was so loud in the silence of that elevator.

“Yah, Noona.” He turned to face her leaning back against the cold metal wall. “You’re really here, aren’t you?” She furrowed her brow as he looked at her from the fringe of his bangs. “This isn’t a dream, right?” “V …are you alright? You don’t look so good.” They had all been suffering from this late-season heat. The night time cool-down had been a welcome relief. She ignored the alarms ringing in her head as she moved forward to place a hand on his forehead. “Jesus, you’re still burning up.”

Her hand was soft, cold, and real. Tae could smell the heat of her again. That scent of sweet something floral, and the slight musk of sweat. He turned his face into her palm with a heavy exhale against her wrist. She sucked in a breath pulling her hand away.

Well, she tried pulling her hand away from the iron grip of his fingers. “I have to make sure this is real. If this is another dream…” Tae offered a bitter laugh as he pulled her against him. “V you nee-” She spoke on a rushed breath before he interrupted her.

“That’s not my name.” He tugged her into the corner, spinning and pinning her hands above her head. They were eye to eye; nose to nose. It was just like in his dream. That one kiss gave him the blueprint to her proportions, and she was perfectly snug against that wall. Her eyes went wide at his obviously aroused state.

“V- T-Taehyung. You need to rest. You’re overheating.” A thick swallow as she corrected herself. The grip on her wrist eased at the use of his name. They were both breathing heavily as the elevator continued to beep along steady to the topmost floor.

“I know what I need.” He was leaning in again. There was nowhere to run this time. There was nothing but time and fifteen more floors before they reached the top. Taehyung tilted his head as he leaned in. “…I need this,” spoken against her lips as her chest bumped into his. Her lashes lowered as her gaze went to his mouth.

A moan broke the sudden silence, causing him to momentarily pause.

She didn’t mean to, it slipped out. It was the contact of their bodies as he crushed her against the wall. Tae smirked against her mouth, “And you need it too.”

14 floors left to the top…

[childofthenight2035]

Letters To Who You Were

A/N: This is a Chan fic that I thought of writing for a helluva time now, so enjoy! Don’t forget to check out my masterlist! Unrequested

Pairing: Bang Chan x gn!Reader

Summary/Prompt: You receive letters from someone you’re sure you don’t know.

Genre: Angst, Confusion, Time travel, Fluff(?)

Word Count: 12.6k

Warnings: Mentions of death, depression

-

Bloody Mondays. You hated them.

Chucking the alarm across the room and satisfying yourself with the sound of the battery falling out, you heaved yourself onto your elbows, staring at the pillow groggily.

“Why?” you whined, throwing off the covers and sitting up.

You squinted at the curtains, knowing the sky was too dark to get up, but you had to. You had class. Anthropology of all things. Eight o’clock. Ugh. You loved the subject, but not at six in the morning.

Your bus was at four past seven. You needed to get the heck up.

After a quick shower and a banana, you stumbled out of the apartment, still pulling your shoes on. You set your foot down and realized that you were not, in fact, standing on the cement floor of the landing. You were standing on something else. Paper. A couple envelopes lay under your shoe. Cursing, you bent down to retrieve them and continued your dash to the bus stop.

You managed to catch the bus, after all. Quite the day’s work.

Huffing, out of breath, you collapsed into a window seat towards the middle of the bus. The letters were still clutched in your hand. Flipping them over, you observed what was written on the front. One had the stamp of the Water Authorities on it. Clearly your water bill. You didn’t even want to know. Stuffing it into your backpack, you focused on the other one. It wasn’t official. Your address was handwritten on it. No sender’s name. No return address on the envelope. Hm.

You tore it open. In (somewhat) neat handwriting, was a letter. Addressed to you.

Y/N,

You’ve probably forgotten me. But you’ll remember—through these letters.

 What the heck? You’ve probably forgotten this person? Childhood friend? Okay…

 We’ve been through so much in the year that we were together. It seems like only yesterday. It’s already been a year but I don’t think that I could ever forget you. Not the way you sleep with your limbs splayed out like a starfish; not the way your eyes crinkle when you smile; not the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re nervous. I could never forget all that.

 Whoa. Wait. Smiling and chewing your lip was one thing; but you did sleep like that. Who could possibly know—was this your old roommate or somebody, pranking you? What did they mean, in the year we were together?

 You’ll think I’m crazy. I know. You’ll claim that you don’t know who I am. But I’m not crazy. I’m the sanest person in the room right now.

Have you gotten that raise yet? I may be a little off, but if you haven’t, then I think you’ll get it within the week. It looks like a good week, huh? I know getting an A in your anthropology class isn’t easy. I’m proud of you.

I realize you must be confused now, but I promise you that you’ll understand. Just give me some time, for once. You were always so busy. Is that why we couldn’t make it? Is that why you couldn’t afford a second chance?

Read these letters now. Someday we’ll meet.

Chris

 Hold up. You didn’t know any Chris. Your previous roommate definitely didn’t go by Chris. Maybe Gail, when she was drunk, but Chris? Who’s that? Also, when had you ever gotten an A in anthropology? It wasn’t that easy, especially not for you. And you’ve never gotten a raise yet. What the fuck was going on?

You read the last paragraph again. Just give me some time, for once? Well damn. Ouch. Sorry. Is that why we couldn’t make it? Make it? Make what?

This was going to drive you crazy the whole day, you just knew it.

You slowly closed the letter, troubled. Were your friends pranking you? Was that what this was? Putting it into your bag, you zipped it shut and stared out the window. Youngjae had asked you for your address recently. Hey, maybe that was it! So he was pranking you, huh? Maybe they were all in it together? You relaxed. That’s what it is. Idiots.

…

“Yah, Youngjae.” You plunked a hand onto his desk and pointed at his face. “What do you think you’re playing at?”

His eyebrows disappeared into his bangs, grabbing your finger and twisting it so you squirmed in pain. “What do you think you’re playing at, huh, disrespecting me?”

He let go of your finger and you slid into the seat next to him.

“It’s a weak idea, bro. Come on, why prank someone if they can tell it’s a prank right away?”

He looked confused. “Prank? What prank? On who?”

You tsked. “Come on, man, April Fools’ is months away. Give up.”

He stilled, glancing around like he thought you were crazy and wanted a quick escape. “I honestly don’t have a clue what you’re saying.”

Your smile faltered. “You didn’t send that letter? Or Jisung? Or Minho? Or even Yeji?”

“What letter? Y/N, are you okay?”

You searched his eyes for any sign, his lips for an uncontrolled twitching, his hands for nervous fiddling. Nothing. You silently brought out the letter and showed it to him, crossing your arms and watching for a change of expression as he read it. Nope. Only confusion.

“What the heck is this?” he asked you curiously. “Who’s Chris?”

You slumped. “I thought one of you guys might have sent that as a prank.”

He handed it back to you. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you asked for my address last week!” you defended.

He threw his hands up. “That was for the ad you asked me to put in the campus paper for a roommate!”

“Oh.” You pouted, sitting straight, facing the front of the class. Your anthropology professor hadn’t yet come in, and the students were being loud. As usual.

“And besides,” he added, nudging you in the ribs (‘ow!’), “I wouldn’t go as far as even imply you got an A in anthropology, like, what even—hey!” You swiped his pen from where he was doodling on his notebook.

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m telling the truth. You know it. Give me my pen back.”

“Silence!” A voice boomed. The entire class rushed back to their seats or straightened up or shut their mouths. Youngjae took the chance and stole his pen. Your professor gazed around at all of you, her expression stern and disapproving. “I have your exams graded.” A collective groan sounded around the room. “The overall performance is lower than usual—“ your heart sank, “—but some of you have done better than I thought.” She proceeded to sit at her desk and call out the names. She also had the irritating habit some teachers have of announcing the grade as well. Your heartbeat was already picking up pace.

“Jacob! B, better than I expected, good….Eric! C, you can do better than this….Kevin.” You cringed at her expression, feeling desperately sorry for him. “D. You didn’t open your book at all, did you?”

Four names later, “ Youngjae! A, good work.”

“As usual,” you grumbled, but feeling proud of him nevertheless. He worked for it. You squeezed his arm when he came back to sit with his paper.

“Y/N!” You stood, hearing Youngjae whisper a ‘good luck’. You made your way to the front of the class, heart pounding. Your professor looked up at you and you winced apologetically for the abomination that was your paper. “A.”

What. Wait, what?

“What?” You accidentally blurted out. She smiled thinly.

“Well done. Keep it up.” She handed you your paper and you traipsed back to your seat, your head throbbing, unaware of the eyes on you.

“Oh my gosh you got an A,” Youngjae muttered, seizing your paper and staring at it like he couldn’t believe his ears or his eyes.

“I did. I got an A.” Your voice came out awed, in a hushed tone, drowned out by the sound of your classmates meeting their fates. A particular sentence, scrawled onto paper, read on a moving bus, flashed from your memory banks. You gasped. “ Youngjae!”

Yanking the letter from under your desk, you spread it out on the table. Youngjae understood what you meant just from glancing at it.

It looks like a good week, huh? I know getting an A in your anthropology class isn’t easy. I’m proud of you.

“Whoa.” He was shocked, too, but quickly composed his flow of reason. “Someone saw your grades. That’s the only explanation.”

“It’s still creepy,” you countered, falling silent and putting both papers away as your professor stood to teach. Still weird.

…

“I asked the others if they sent any letter; they didn’t,” Youngjae informed you, huffing as he and Jisung caught up with you on the way to Sociology after his Korean language class. You groaned.

“It’s not my old roommate Jeongyeon either, I called her.” You scratched the back of your neck. “This feels weird! Someone who’s close enough to know how I sleep? To notice me so well that they know how I smile? How I chew on my lip?” You shuddered. “Do I have a stalker? This is scary now. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Well, someone could know you sleep like that from that pic of all of us sleeping on Minho’s Instagram,” Jisung suggested. “But what if it was a one-time thing? You’re right, I think you have a stalker.”

You grabbed Youngjae’s arm. “Could you stay with me, then? Until I find another roommate?”

“Wait, but what if your new roommate turns out to be your stalker? Oh, that would be epic.” Jisung pressed his hands together and rubbed them.

“Jisung, not helping!”

“Y/N, you know we hostel people aren’t allowed to stay anywhere else without permission unless it’s break,” Youngjae explained patiently. “One night might be okay, but if it’s more than that, they’ll chuck us out and honestly, I don’t think I could afford off-campus housing right now. And my parents wouldn’t like it.”

“I’m technically broke now, so…” Jisung trailed off. “You know my parents aren’t sponsoring me this year since I told them I’m dropping English and taking Music. Until I prove that I’m good at it.”

“I know, I know,” you sighed, regretting having brought it up. “It’s okay. It’s probably just Jeongyeon and she doesn’t want to admit it. But then, how did she know I got an A?”

…

Two days later, you practically flew into your Anthropology class, to find Youngjae.

“Whoa, what happened, calm down!” he exclaimed as you dropped into your seat. “What happened, Y/N?”

You steadied your breathing, a hand on your heaving chest. “I…I got a raise.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious?” When you nodded, he broke into a smile. “That’s great news! I thought that coffee place never gave anyone raises!” You didn’t react. He faltered, looking at your tense expression. “What’s the matter—oh.” You pursed your lips. He finally remembered. “The letter.”

“How could anyone have known that?” You were chewing on your lip again and Youngjae tapped your chin, reminding you to stop before you tore the skin open.

“Does anyone there know a Chris?”

“The manager’s sister has a son named Chris, I asked. But,” you added quickly so Youngjae wouldn’t overreact, “they live abroad. And how would they know me?”

Youngjae sat back in his chair, thinking. “Hmm. Whoever’s writing it knows English well, but from the seals of the post office, I don’t think it’s international mail.” He waved it away. “Don’t think about that now. Did you put up the flyers in the coffee shop?”

“Yes, sir, I did.” You were grateful. “Thanks for getting Yugyeom to make them for me. Although I guess you should be thanking me for a chance to go to him, huh?”

“What?” he spluttered, smacking your arm. “I said I don’t like him, okay?”

“I know.” You smiled smugly, satisfied at the red blush dusting his cheeks. “You love him.”

…

On Thursday, it happened again.

Your classes were only in the afternoon, so you didn’t rush. But the floor in front of your door presented you with another letter. You brought it in, curiously. You hadn’t thrown away the first letter, even though you had the strangest urge to do so. Instead, you kept it in a box on top of your fridge.

You tore the new letter open. In the same handwriting, it read:

Y/N,

Yesterday was my sister’s wedding. I had no idea that she had invited you, but now that I think of it, I’m not very surprised. She was always fond of you. She took your side even when we fought, did you know that?

I don’t think you saw me. I got one glimpse of you and I ran. I’m a coward. But, did you, perhaps, know somehow that I was there and that I was looking for you? Were you looking for me?

Disgrace. That’s what my mother said to me. That I’m a disgrace. Just because I didn’t have the courage to greet guests and risk you seeing me, just because I can’t stick to something for long, because I’m a loser. And I don’t blame her.

Is it just me? Am I the only one hurting? Seeing you so happy hurts me. It makes me think that this fight isn’t affecting you at all. I can’t help it. I’m selfish.

My sister says that you were so polite and wanted to see me. She says that if only I had come out to talk to you, things would have been alright. Now I wish I had. Maybe I wouldn’t need to write anymore letters if I did.

I wonder if you kept that painting you said your friend gave you on your birthday. And speaking of birthdays, I hope you have a terrific one. You deserve nothing but the best.

It’s difficult. It’s like talking to a person with amnesia. Writing to a person who doesn’t know who’s writing to them is confusing. I know. There are things that I can’t say. But you’re smart. You’ll figure it out eventually.

Chris

 You were beyond confused now. You were thoroughly disturbed. You had not gone to a wedding. You knew no girl whose brother was called Chris. You had not received any painting for your birthday. It was next week, so maybe you would? But how would Chris know that? If he even was called Chris?

Beyond all that, what scared you was that you felt this. You could feel the hurt in it. You could feel it as if it was…your own.

The words that called himself a loser, a coward, a disgrace…you understood. But what was the next part about? Him asking if the fight was only affecting him but not you? What fight? What on earth was going on? He wished he had talked to me; he wouldn’t have needed to write any more letters if he had?  And that last paragraph? It’s difficult. It’s like talking to a person with amnesia. Writing to a person who doesn’t know who’s writing to them is confusing. I know. There are things that I can’t say. But you’re smart. You’ll figure it out eventually.

So he knew that you had no clue who he was. From the last letter, you assumed that it was a person you had forgotten about, but this one implied that you had never known him? There were things he couldn’t say? You would figure it out eventually?

What?

…

From the look on your face, Youngjae knew something was up. When he asked, you only pulled out the letter. He groaned.

“That ass wrote again? This is some elaborate prank, huh?” He took the letter, still chuckling, but as his eyes scanned the paper, his smile disappeared.

You didn’t speak, upset that you didn't understand what was going on, upset that someone was clearly having some fun at your expense, but also upset that, at the same time, it didn’t feel like a joke. This felt personal and…real.

“Oh my god.” His little whisper had your attention on him.

“What? What is it?”

Youngjae didn’t seem to hear you. “How the hell…who could have known about that…”

“ Youngjae, what’s wrong?”

He reluctantly pointed at a sentence in the letter. “That’s…that’s me. I’m that friend. I just bought you a painting for your birthday next week. How the hell….” He trailed off, astounded.

You were speechless. Okay, that was scary.

“Damn it,” he spat, banging his fist on the desk, startling some students in the class. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“ Youngjae, I still haven’t seen it, so it is still a surprise,” you reassured. “And I think that’s not as important as the fact that this person might be stalking you too.”

Youngjae had his focused face on, probably thinking who could have had the chance to see what he bought for you. “Minho wouldn’t do that, right?” he asked quietly, referring to his roommate at the dorms, the second oldest in your group. You shook your head.

“Minho’s petty, but I don’t think he would go this far for a joke. No one else knows about the painting?”

“Other than the guy at the store, I don’t think so.” He ran a hand through his hair, agitated.

Both of you were too disturbed to communicate throughout the lesson, you almost blacking out when the prof asked you something.

“It’s not even details like that,” you told him after class, walking across campus to his dorms. “ Youngjae, when I read that letter, I felt it. It hurt me. It was like I knew this person, but my brain is struggling to remember who he is. It felt real.” You grasped his arm. “I haven’t been in like, some accident and lost my memory, right?”

Youngjae laughed at your comment, some of the tension dissipating. “Of course not, dumbass. As if we would let you.”

…

Another letter was waiting for you on Tuesday. The weekend had flown by with your coursework and your job, but luckily you had managed to complete everything.

You tore open the letter, glancing at the other two in the box on the fridge; two letters you had read over and over again, hoping for some meaning to this. The third letter wasn’t addressed to you by name.

 Red.

That was my favourite colour.

The moments until the ice broke between us were so awkward and cliché. You even popped the favourite colour question. I’ve never understood why that question became the standard first when getting to know someone. Can you automatically analyse a person  based on their favourite colour?

You told me yours and then asked for mine. I scoffed at you. I didn’t feel like telling you, right? Don’t you remember? I told you, “Guess.” And then I had to endure you following me around and naming random colours. And then you asked me why.

 His favourite colour was red. Nothing very special in that. But he was talking to you with such a sense of familiarity, as if the two of you had actually been close once upon a time. There was such…nostalgia in what he said. And he was asking if you remembered? No, Chris, you didn’t.

 Red showed me passion. It showed me heat and power and rage: just like the sun. Because I wanted to shine. I wanted my name on billboards and neon signs, spelling it out in fierce red letters. Red reminded me of the deep maroon stain on the carpet in the living room, the stain that you made by dropping a scented liquid candle on it in your first year. Red showed me blood and it reminded me of my heartbeat and how I’m still alive.

 You let out a shaky exhale at the words, both awed by the poetry in them and frightened at the fact that there was, in fact, a stain on the carpet in the living room made by you dropping a candle on the floor. This person knows you here, knows you now. And that was scarier than ever. Up until now, you had the chance that he was someone you knew long ago who decided to fuck with you with knowing your grades, had a pull with the coffee shop owner and saw your best friend buying you a painting. But now…the paper crinkled from how tightly you were holding it. This person knows you in this time of your life. He’s been to your apartment and knows how you sleep. And yet…as much as this makes you afraid, you can sense that he’s hurting. He doesn’t mean harm.

 Red reminded me of your blush.

Red is no longer my favourite colour. It stopped being so when you walked out the door with your suitcase and your tears. And without my apology.

My favourite colour is grey.

I see nothing but it nowadays. There’s no black or white anymore. It’s only grey. No clear differences, just a mess of confusion. Who was right? Were my actions justified? Were yours? What have you believed in the year you refused to speak to me?

Stagnant. Disinterested. That’s what my life is like without your presence. How did I ever think I could manage without you?

I’m weak. Too weak.

Chris

 Against your will, a tear escaped the corner of your eyes.

“Why am I crying?” you mumbled, wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater. Your heart ached; your mind was searching again, searching for a face, an identity, but you were clawing blindly in the dark, only gaps where information should have been.

You and Chris had clearly fought. You walked out with your suitcase and your tears…and that meant you lived together. Was it here? In this apartment? You definitely haven’t had a roommate called Chris. Briefly, you wondered if this was addressed to another Y/N who had lived here with him long before you came, but the details proved otherwise. This person was watching you, here, now.

His life was stagnant without you. Was this person delusional? Crazy? Was your presence just in his head? What did he think of you, exactly? What was the nature of your relationship with him, in his head, at least?

You didn’t know. And if he was insane, you weren’t sure you even wanted to know.

…

Your heart broke at lying to Youngjae. When he asked you if you had any more letters, you shook your head.

“Maybe he’s given up,” you said cheerily, aware of the way Youngjae was observing you.

Well, maybe you should have known that lying to your best friend doesn’t get you very far.

“I’m not pressing you for information, Y/N,” he said gently. “I’m just saying, we’re all here for you. You don’t have to do anything alone.”

…

 Your birthday party passed in a haze. It wasn’t really a party, just you and your circle of friends chilling at your apartment, and them emptying your kitchen of food.

Youngjae gifted you a Van Gogh painting. Or, a copy of a Van Gogh painting, you should say. It was clear that both of you remembered Chris’ letter, but you laughed it off, saying that at least Chris didn’t tell you which one it was.

Jisung presented you with a track he had composed for you in his class. He winced, knowing that he was being cheap, but you hugged him gratefully all the same. You would’ve done so even if he hadn’t given you anything. Their presence was enough.

Minho, unfortunately, couldn’t show up, since he had a dance routine due that day, but Yeji showed up, bringing you food that Minho had made the day before, and although it served your friends more than you, you thanked them for it. You blew out a weak candle you had found somewhere in the kitchen while the others sang, your only wish being that you wanted answers to the letters you had been receiving. You cut through a rice cake and stuffed a piece into each of their mouths. And in return, of course, like the great friends they are, shoved a whole rice cake into your mouth and smashed another one on your head.

You didn’t mind. Not too much, at least.

After all, what were friends for?

…

Saturday. You had work in twenty minutes. It was only a five minute walk from your apartment, but you decided to leave early.

You were hardly surprised at a letter on the floor in front of you. It was more of anticipation. Anxiety. Fear. But you picked it up nevertheless.

It was a dull cloudy day that reminded you of the winter that was to come. As much as you were excited about snow days and Christmas, the cold was really a bitch. Ripping the envelope open, you pulled out the letter and began your walk to the coffee shop.

 Y/N,

There are fifty thousand things I want to tell you, but nothing more than this: I miss you.

Don’t you remember?

You would force open my door at two in the morning and wallop me with your pillow because I was snoring so loudly that you couldn’t sleep. But hey, you were worse. I remember you one night, yelling in your sleep that you needed a pencil. Were you dreaming about your finals? I don’t know. You had no memory of whatever it was the next morning.

 Despite the cold, despite your nerves, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at his words. You’d been told before, that you sometimes talked in your sleep, but couldn’t recall ever yelling for a pencil. No one had told you that, at least. This definitely confirmed that you had shared living space with him, whether as a friend, or as a roommate, or even…a boyfriend? Your eyes ran over three words again: I miss you. And then he asked, don’t you remember?

“I wish I did,” you whispered bitterly. “I really wish I did.”

 I still remember the night you found the courage to come to me because it was a terrible thunderstorm and you were scared. I wanted to make fun of you, but the look on your face stopped me. I’m glad I didn’t. That night you began to trust me. We stayed up all night through that storm, do you remember anything? There was the loudest clap of thunder and the power went out. Neither of us said it, but I knew we were afraid. We sat there on the sofa in silence, in the dark, until you suddenly spoke: “Please tell me we’re not going to die.” And I started laughing. And that was all. The ice was broken.

 “Oh.” You were probably just roommates. That night you began to trust me. “Wait, what am I saying?” you questioned yourself. “I’ve never had a roommate called Chris. Why am I acting like I do?” You smacked the side of your head. “Snap out of it.”

But even still, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you did know him.

 But I never got around to telling you it. When the thunder died away, I forgot that there might be more storms to come. I never told you we weren’t going to die. And now I think that I’m going back on that promise I never made.

I can see those thunderclouds again, Y/N. I hate this. I hate my life. I hate a life without you.

Chris

 You were outside the shop now. You swallowed your emotions down, taking a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. Calm down, Y/N. It’s just some deranged psycho writing letters to someone he thinks he knows. Relax. You don’t know him.

.

Seungmin, another barista, waved to you as you entered. You returned the gesture, stowing your jacket away and putting on your apron.

“You okay? You look sick,” he commented as you washed your hands.

“Just the cold, I’m okay.” You glanced at the your flyer pinned to the bulletin board across the room. Seungmin noticed where your eyes were.

“Oh, by the way,” he continued, gesturing to the ad, “you know my friend Hyunjin, right?” You nodded. “He’s kinda looking for a place to stay.”

Intrigued, you perked up your ears. “Yeah? Tell him to call me.”

“Are animals allowed?”

“No. My landlord is pretty strict about that.”

“Ah.” His shoulders slumped. “Never mind, then. Hyunjin won’t leave his dog behind.”

You smiled gently, recalling the time Hyunjin had brought his little black and white puppy into the coffee shop for about fifteen minutes before the manager saw and threw them out. “It’ll work out somehow. He’ll find a place.”

“Hm. I guess so.”

The ringing of the bell indicated someone had just walked in. Taking a glance at the door, you smirked. “I think you should take this order, Seungminnie. I’ll be out back.”

Seungmin looked up from where he was trying to solve the crossword (which he simply never can) and saw Jeongin, a freshman that he had been long crushing on. He threw you a dirty look that didn’t hide his blush and reluctantly moved to the counter to take the kid’s order—hopefully without making himself look like a fool.

You busied yourself in the kitchen, making way for the deliverers bringing the day’s pastries. Half your mind was on the letter and every time you thought about it, a weight pressed down on your chest. It was a horrible feeling. You couldn’t wait to get to the bottom of this. None of the others knew you had been receiving more letters. Youngjae probably sensed that you had, but you weren’t about to involve him in it. This felt too personal to share with even him.

You sighed. This entire ordeal was eating you alive and you felt helpless in it.

…

There was no letter the next week. Chris seemed to have finally fallen silent. And you didn’t want to admit how attached you had already gotten, from just four letters. It was a sort of feeling you couldn’t control. You wanted to be scared, you wanted to burn the letters and pretend they never existed, but something warned you not to. Something told you that you might need them, sooner or later.

He took up most of your time; most of the thoughts in your brain had something to do with him. You wondered what he might look like, what kind of person he was. There was a lot about you in the letters, but precious little about him. He was observant. He was lyrical. Poetic. Emotional. Ambitious. What did he like to do? What was his passion? What relationship did he think the two of you had? You couldn’t help but wonder.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you sometimes addressed him when you talked to yourself around the apartment. For you, he was associated with only you, only these rooms. Maybe that was one reason you didn’t share this with the others. Chris seemed to belong to only you. Only known to you. And at some point, you would begin to feel like you only belonged to him. Whoever he was. You wished you only knew.

…

The next Saturday was a work day for you. There was no letter in front of your door when you left, but when you returned after a hectic day and rude customers, just wishing for peace, you were surprised to see an envelope with familiar writing scrawled across it. Snatching it up immediately, you dashed inside to read it.

 Y/N,

Do you remember the first time you spoke to me about your parents? It was so sudden. I didn’t know what brought it on. One moment you were busy around the kitchen and the next you were on the floor crying. The only thing that I could understand was that they had called, your mother said something and you were upset.

You went into a pathetic rant about how your parents had locked you in the four walls of your home, not bothering to listen to you, emotionally abusing you because they wouldn’t listen to you about your stress. I honestly didn’t know what to do. I could only hold you as you cried your heart out on my shirt.

 Your breath hitched.

This…this was real. This was too real. That was exactly how you felt. Even you couldn’t have organized your thoughts so well. How does Chris know me so well? Who are you? Already tears were forming at the corner of your eye at the emotion you felt from reading those sentences about your parents.

 Would you believe it if I saw you as cold and distant until that day? We were always civil, but you seemed shut off, closed to me. I know that you didn’t mean it. I realized that you were scared to open up. I can understand how hurt you must have been when your parents refused to care.

I can only say the same thing that I said then: They may never understand you, they may never accept you, but it doesn’t matter. There is enough love in the world that you are not at all restricted to seeking support from your family. That’s why humans can pack bond. There are people who know what you’re going through, and if there isn’t anyone else, I will be here. I always will.

 You choked back a sob. Whatever your rational brain said, you knew that Chris wasn’t out to hurt you. It was as if he knew what you were going through, and wanted to reassure you despite you not knowing him. You were grateful for that, regardless.

 Is it weird? Is it awkward that you know me but at the same time you don’t? Will you not be suspicious when you see me? I don’t even know if you will. I don’t know if I’ve messed things up by writing this. But even if I have, it’s okay. If it means that you’ll be alive, then I’ll be okay not having you as a friend. Even if we’re awkward and don’t get closer, it’s okay. I’m scared of what will happen if we do. I’m scared of getting stuck in this vicious cycle. It’s better if you stay away and survive than get to know me and ruin your life.

Chris

 Wait. Wait. Let’s try that again.

Is it awkward that you know me but at the same time you don’t? Yes. It is awkward, Chris. Am I living in some parallel dimension where I don’t know you but you’re living in the other side where I do know you?

Will you not be suspicious when you see me? When, you noticed. Not if. You paused, staring at the paper in your hands. When I see him? So you were right? You’ve never seen him? Or at least, you haven’t seen him recently? Yes, Chris, it will be suspicious. If I ever do see you, you better have some answers. How do you know all this when we haven’t met?

I don’t even know if you will. I don’t know if I’ve messed things up by writing this. Okay, now he doesn’t know if I will see him. What does he mean by messed things up? What has he messed up other than my sanity?

But even if I have, it’s okay. If it means that you’ll be alive, then I’ll be okay not having you as a friend. You noticed that your fingers were trembling. You tried to calm yourself, to understand what he was trying to say. Even if he has messed things up, it’s okay. He will be okay not having me as a friend if it means I will be…alive? Am I not alive?  Your parallel universe explanation popped up again. Am I not alive in his dimension? What?

Even if we’re awkward and don’t get closer, it’s okay. I’m scared of what will happen if we do. So he thinks we’re friends? And he’s scared about my life if I’m his friend? Is he a gangster or mafia leader or something? He’s okay with us not getting closer?

I’m scared of getting stuck in this vicious cycle. Vicious cycle. What cycle? You ran those words through your head, over and over again, trying to make sense of it. They sounded oddly familiar, but you just couldn’t place it. You felt like they were associated with Youngjae, for some reason. But why?

It’s better if you stay away and survive than get to know me and ruin your life. So he’s scared that I’d ruin my life if I got closer to him. And yet, you could almost hear the undertones in that sentence. The bitterness. He wanted to be close to you, desperately. But he was too scared to.

“Why do you have to be so fucking cryptic, Chris?” you mumbled.

You shook your head. You still had no idea what was going on.

…

That afternoon, Minho and Jisung came over to your place without any prior warning. You raised your eyebrows at them when you saw them shivering on your doorstep, backpacks on. They pushed past you into your living room and relished the warmth with loud exclamations of relief.

“Can I help you?” you asked, knowing your idea of peace was shattered. You closed the door before the cold could get in and make things worse.

“ Youngjae hyung kicked us out,” Jisung said, pouting. “He has a math test on Monday and he said he would fail if we kept disturbing him.”

You remembered telling Youngjae so many times to think again before taking math, but then, each to his own. “And you couldn’t stay in your room because…”

“Felix has his boyfriend over,” he explained. “And I’m not particularly fond of watching.”

“So we thought you’d be the best option.” Minho pulled his jacket off and tossed it onto the sofa before trudging to the kitchen.

“What makes you think I’m okay with watching you two?” you retorted, following Minho. You could already hear Jisung turning his laptop on, probably to play a game or watch a movie.

“You’ve been okay with it for seven years now,” Minho shot back, opening the fridge and closing it again in dismay. “You don’t really have much choice.” He stood on his tiptoes to grab at the box on top of the fridge, and you snatched it away in horror.

“What are you looking for?” you snapped, cradling the box in your arms. “You know you can just ask.”

“Don’t you have, like, real food?” He opened the cupboards and, finding a box of pretzels, turned to you in disgust. “Seriously?”

“You don’t have to eat it, you know.”

“Nah, I will. Food is food.” He reached into his backpack, brought out a packet of unpopped popcorn and set it on the counter. “Pop this, will you?” He gathered up the pretzels and the cereal box he found and walked out. You carefully set the box back on the fridge and let out a groan of frustration.

You reluctantly shoved the packet into the microwave and stared at it, still enjoying the ‘pop’ sounds it made. Your mind drifted back to the box on the fridge. You had to admit, you thought about this mysterious Chris more often than you liked.

“Who are you, Chris?” you muttered, eyes still on the spinning paper, your words drowned out by the noise. “Where are you?”

.

You found Minho and Jisung curled up on the sofa, intently watching what you assumed to be a movie. Plopping down on it and carefully setting the popcorn on the table, you peered around Minho at the screen. You were surprised to see that the movie was over halfway done.

“How did you guys watch it this far so fast?” you questioned, settling back into the cushions.

Without even taking his eyes off the screen, Jisung replied, “We were watching this at the dorm when hyung kicked us out.”

Nice. “What are you watching?”

“The Lake House.”

Not very helpful. “What’s it about?”

As Jisung opened his mouth to answer, Minho reached over and slammed the space bar, pausing the movie. Obviously he was irritated at the interruptions. Jisung held his hand to calm him down.

“It’s like this time-travel thing,” Jisung began, but Minho cut him off, choosing to explain in his quick, no-nonsense way.

“A house by the lake. Two people accidentally corresponding by writing letters but they’re actually two years apart in time.” He shrugged. “So things that she,” he pointed at the screen, “writes about haven’t actually happened for him, because he’s two years in the past. It’s trippy. Watch it sometime.”

“Ah.” You nodded and they resumed the film. You tuned out the dialogue from the laptop, mulling over what Minho and Jisung had just said. Corresponding by writing letters. Things that she writes haven’t happened for him because he’s in the past…

Time travel.

You sat up, the significance of that concept weighing heavily down on you.

The sound shut off once again. “You…okay?” Minho asked uncertainly.

You didn’t know how to respond for a moment. You barely heard him, blood pounding in your ears. All that was in your mind were the letters and Jisung’s voice: It’s like this time travel thing. You swallowed the revelation and the sheer possibility down.

“Yeah,” you gasped, “I just….” You stopped, the rest of the sentence dissipating into thin air.

Vicious cycle.

Those were words from your textbook.

You could still remember your professor lecturing your class on the beliefs that humans have had over the years. There was even a story, a legend, a myth, about time travellers. The class had erupted at that, referencing old pictures of people that bore eerie similarities to people living now. Social media made fun of them, calling them immortals and time-travellers. The story in your book spoke of a person who kept trying to change the past and alter the future and ended up going in circles with no result. Moral: don’t mess with things beyond human comprehension.

Vicious cycle.

“Y/N?” Jisung’s concerned voice broke you out of your thoughts. “Are you okay?”

You looked over at them, your eyes blown wide. Worry was etched on their faces. You forced a smile.

“Yeah, I just…I just remembered I have a paper due Monday.”

They laughed at your shock, and when you gestured to them that you’d be in your room doing that, they waved you away, calling out their thanks for letting them stay. You nodded absently, quietly padding to the kitchen and retrieving the letters from the box. Five of them in all.

The boys were immersed in their movie and didn’t even notice you slipping away into your room. You locked the door, finally allowing yourself to breathe.

You looked at the letters with a shaking heart. Was that what was happening? You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t want to believe it. You sat down on your bed, taking out the first letter and scanning through it. You put the idea into your head.

Time travel.

Could it be true?

Maybe it was. It would make a lot more sense with regard to the letters.

That’s how he knew, you thought. If he was your future roommate, he would know how you slept. He would be around you enough to notice how you smiled and that you chewed your lip when you were anxious. He would know that you recently got a raise and an A once in your class. He would know that the painting that hung on the living room wall was one that your friend gave you for your birthday. He would know that the stain on the carpet was your fault—and a candle’s. You could almost see yourself telling him all that.

It would explain how he knew you sometimes talked in your sleep and got scared of thunderstorms. He would know about your feelings towards your parents. Of course he would.

I realize you must be confused now, but I promise you that you’ll understand. You did. At least, you hoped you did. If that was even possible. You couldn’t see how time travel existed, but what other explanation could you give this?

It’s difficult. It’s like talking to a person with amnesia. You saw how it would be. If this was indeed future Chris writing letters to past you that didn’t know him yet…you understood how it would be difficult. There are things that I can’t say. But you’re smart. You’ll figure it out eventually. Have you? Have you figured it out?

It would explain why he said you had attended his sister’s wedding when you knew for sure that you hadn’t—yet. It would explain his anguish at the fight you were to have. His pain was contained in all of the letters you had received so far. Was the fight that bad? You couldn’t help but wonder what it would be about. Evidently it split the two of you—or, it would split you beyond repair. Chris was clearly hurting very much without you.

I never told you we weren’t going to die. And now I think that I’m going back on that promise I never made. This line still spooked you. Was he dying? Were you dying? What was going on? If he was really from the future, what was happening there that had him contact the past? Did he think he could change it?

Today’s letter made much more sense.

I don’t know if I’ve messed things up by writing this. But even if I have, it’s okay. If it means that you’ll be alive, then I’ll be okay not having you as a friend. Even if we’re awkward and don’t get closer, it’s okay. I’m scared of what will happen if we do. I’m scared of getting stuck in this vicious cycle.

He wanted to change the past? In a way that didn’t involve the two of you anymore? Wait. So, in his past, the two of you had evidently been quite close, as friends? more than friends? you didn’t know. But because of that, your fight had been severely worse? And that led to the fight breaking you up for good? And now, he couldn’t handle it, and he wanted to change the past so you didn’t become close, you didn’t fight and nobody got hurt? Was that it?

You rested your head against the wall, stunned by the turn of events. What was going on? What was happening?

…

 Your two-week winter break had you bidding Youngjae, Jisung and Yeji goodbye and sent them off home on the train. Minho’s family had gone to Japan to visit friends, and besides, he had his dance performance to think about. He confessed to you that he would much rather stay at the campus than waste his time in Japan seeing people he couldn’t care less about. Rather than be stuck in an empty dorm for the week, he decided to move in with you briefly, helping out at the coffee shop when he wasn’t practicing. You were grateful for his presence. Alone, he never got on your nerves. And he could cook better than you could.

“Why not stay at Jisung’s place for the holidays?” you asked him one evening in the kitchen.

“I didn’t want to intrude.” He sighed, pushing his glasses up with the back of his hand. “Jisung deserves some time alone with his family.” He cleanly chopped up an onion and tossed it into the pot simmering on the stove. “Don’t ask about me when you haven’t gone either.”

You threw a piece of pepper at him, which he caught and ate. “I hate travelling in the cold. That’s all. You know that.”

“I do know that. And you would have been very lonely.”

“Aww, you stayed for me?”

“Shut up and cut the vegetables. I can still leave, you know.”

“I know.”

…

Two nights later, you received a text from Jisung.

you seduced my man to move in with you huh I see how it is

You rolled your eyes. as if. he was begging me to let him stay

Jisung’s reply was quick. whatever that’s not what I wanted to tell you

okay what is it

felix has new neighbours and theor son is joining the university for the next sem and he doestn have a place to stay so

You raised your eyebrows. This was news. oh okay then ask him to call me then

okay I will I wasn’t sure I shud be giving ppl your number without telling you

You smiled. Jisung was considerate after all. thnx sungie

You had just placed the phone down when the thought occurred to you. A thought that had been haunting you a while ago. Chris was apparently your roommate at some point in the future. Was this person…Chris? You tapped out another message for Jisung. wait sungie whts the guys name

idk lemme ask felix hold on

You waited impatiently, anticipating (or dreading?) the reveal of the person’s name. You became alert when Jisung started typing.

flix doesn’t know hes asking his mom wait a sec

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Really? Does it have to have so much suspense? But what if it was Chris? What were you going to do? Were you going to tell Jisung not to give him your number? Or were you going to let Chris into your life anyway, despite all the warnings? The ‘ping’ of your phone startled you.

his names chan smthg

You relaxed. Oh. Well then. It wasn’t Chris. That decided things for you, then.

okay give him my number then

will do

You shut off your phone screen and lay back onto your pillows. Maybe Chris was right. Maybe by sending you the letters, he had changed time and now he wasn’t the person being your roommate. If the letters hadn’t been sent, would Chris be the one ready to call you?

That’s not how time works, you thought. No one is told what would have happened.

But you sure wished you were.

…

The next letter arrived in the morning, when Minho stepped outside the house to buy some breakfast. He didn’t think about picking it up, just shouting ‘you’ve got mail’ into the apartment before continuing on his way to the store.

You dashed to the front door and snatched it up, tearing it open once in your room. You had to know. Maybe he would finally crack and tell the truth instead of hiding things in code.

 Y/N,

I’ve never seen darkness like this.

I saw you again today—on the train back to Seoul. Where had you gone? I pretend like I don’t care, but I do. Deep down, you know I do, right? Honestly, I’m so tired of this. I’m tired of this existence. Why are we even fighting anymore? I know that you’ve forgiven me—you told my sister at her wedding. I want to forget it, too. I’m just too anxious to face you.

 You couldn’t help but feel like your suspicions were true. Back to Seoul. Where had you gone? Maybe back home? Where had Chris gone, if he was on the same train? From what he said, both of you wanted to patch up the fight but didn’t have the guts to?

 Did you see me? I felt like you did. Your eyes ran over me as if I didn’t exist, but I felt even more broken than I already am. Is this just a stand or do you really hate me now? Do you really not want to see me anymore? I don’t blame you.

I could have spoken to you. I could have stopped this feud but I’m a coward.

 Maybe you did see him. You could feel the ache in your heart as usual, but this stung a lot more, for some reason. Is this just a stand or do you really hate me now? I don’t blame you.

“I don’t hate you, Chris,” you whispered.

 You were sitting by the window, like you always do, wearing that sweater your mother bought you years ago, the one you thought was silly because it was orange and green. I agreed with whatever you said about it because I didn’t know colour schemes very well. But what I never said was that it looked good on you.

 “Sap,” you muttered, laughing under your breath. “Of course you would think that stupid sweater looks good on me.” The sweater in question was tucked deep in your wardrobe. It hadn’t seen the light since you first moved in. You wondered how Chris would know about it.

 I realized again that you’re so beautiful. I used to have a crush on you, you know? Back in the year we first met. You were such an odd character. You never did what you didn’t want to and you said what you meant. You were never good at hiding your emotions. You closed off a lot—I understand it was because of your parents—but I’m glad you finally opened up. I wish I were half as good at expressing myself. Y/N, can you promise me one thing? Even if after all this, I still show up at your apartment, even if we still become friends, even if we do fight, could you knock some sense into me?

My life is despicable and worthless without you. I’ve hurt you so much. But I can die in peace knowing that I’ve spent a year in your company. Even after I’ve wasted away, keep smiling.

Chris

 You couldn’t help the tears that escaped your eyes. Why was it that you felt such raw pain from these that you had to cry?

He used to have a crush on you. So that confirmed it, didn’t it? You were only friends. You could hardly imagine the depth of that friendship to end up like this from a fight. In your books, only one thing could break you apart from a relationship: betrayal of trust. Was that what happened? Or, what would happen?

You were such an odd character. You never did what you didn’t want to and you said what you meant. You were never good at hiding your emotions. True. Perfectly true.

Y/N, can you promise me one thing? Even if after all this, I still show up at your apartment, even if we still become friends, even if we do fight, could you knock some sense into me?

If you show up, you thought. But you’re not going to…right? Chan is. But you couldn’t tell anything. Maybe Chan wouldn’t last very long. Maybe the person to come after Chan was this Chris. But you were too weak.

“I promise, Chris.” You closed your eyes.

Even after I’ve wasted away, keep smiling.

You did.

…

 Monday came around again. But this time, you didn’t particularly hate it. It was the day after Christmas. Still the holidays. Classes wouldn’t start up until the next week.

Minho idled on the sofa, using his laptop, headphones around his neck, a true picture of professionalism. He could be doing anything for all you cared. Seated at the dining table, you were busy typing out an essay due for your anthropology class when break was over. Little by little each day. You simply forced yourself to not procrastinate until Saturday.

Your phone vibrated. An unknown number was calling. You picked up.

“Hello?”

A voice you were not familiar with spoke. “Is this Y/N?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Yes. Can I help you?”

“I was, um, calling to ask about the opening for a roommate?” the male voice answered hesitantly. Thick accent.

“Oh! Are you Felix’s neighbour? Chan…something?”

“Yes, I am!” he sounded relieved. “Bang Chan. But you can just call me Chan.”

You scribbled his name down on your notepad. “I suppose you’d like to see the apartment?”

“Yes, I would, um…” A pause. “When could I come over?”

“Um…” You thought about it. Youngjae and Jisung would be back on Wednesday and Minho would clear the area by then. “Is Friday okay? I assume you will be starting your classes on Monday?”

You heard the rustling of paper. “Yeah. Yeah, I am starting on Monday. Friday’s cool. Um, what—what time?”

“Any time is fine. I’m free all day on Friday.” You wrote down Friday on the paper. “We can talk about splitting the rent then.”

“Rent won’t be a problem,” Chan replied. You raised your eyebrows. Rich, huh?

“Very well. I guess I’ll see you on Friday.” You noticed Minho looking over at you. You rolled your eyes. “Take care. Bye.” You hung up the call, feeling like this Chan was someone you weren’t going to get along well with.

“What’s up?” Minho asked.

“Candidate for roommate,” you told him, setting down you phone and turning back to your essay. “Mister Bang Chan.”

“Ah. You got me safely out of the way first, huh?”

You winked at him cheekily. “Of course. The number one spot goes to you. I didn’t want him to feel incompetent.”

…

The next day, Minho packed his bags and left. You were sad to see him go, but you knew he had work to do. Youngjae was coming back tomorrow, and he would most definitely have a heart attack if he saw their dorm room in the state that Minho had left it in.

And speaking of work, you had enough as well.

Your essay was halfway done and you stepped outside the flat to take a break, get some fresh air, maybe get a coffee or hot cocoa or something. But of course, fate had it in for you.

You sighed at the all too familiar handwriting lying on your doorstep and brought it inside, opting to read it before going out. It would make you upset for sure, why not get it over with and then grab some coffee?

You slit the envelope open. The first thing you noticed was that handwriting was different. Shaky, almost.

 Y/N,

You’re not going crazy, I’ll tell you that. I am.

I heard the news today. I couldn’t believe it at first, I was in shock. But it’s true. It happened.

Had you really been drinking? That’s what they say, the police and the doctors. That’s what they reported in the paper.

I still can’t believe you’re gone.

 Wait, what? What do you mean, I’m gone? Your heartbeat picked up tempo.

 Was it just a car accident? Or was it suicide? Why had you been drinking? I don’t understand anything. My world is slowly spiralling into darkness and these letters are my only hope. My one chance, the only chance.

 The words spun around your head. Car accident? Suicide? Drinking? These letters are my only hope. The only chance.

 I haven’t spoken to you in almost a year, but it was comforting to know that at least you were alive and breathing the same air that I was. But now you’re gone and I can’t breathe anymore. I’m trying to grasp what happened and I’m trying to convince myself that it couldn’t possibly be true. But it is.

Reading all these letters, I know you might have understood what’s going on by now. You were always so smart. I’ve put the newspaper cutting in the envelope. I don’t know if you can see it or if I’m breaking the law.

Don’t ever drink and drive. Promise me.

Chris

 You stayed motionless, just standing there in front of the sofa, clutching the letter in your hand. Did…did you die? Your fingers fumbled around for the envelope, shaking it open. A piece of paper slid into your palm. The envelope fell silently to the floor.

Your face was staring back up at you.

You didn’t dare to read it, but some phrases registered in your memory before you could turn away. Killed in a car accident. Drunk driving. Research assistant. Road safety. Enquiry. And your name.

You shuddered, sinking onto the sofa, world swaying under your feet. Your hands were shaking badly and you squeezed them together, trying to release some of the tension. You were in shock. This proved everything. He was trying to contact you from the future.

“Oh my gosh,” you finally broke, burying your face in your hands.

So this was it. This was the reason he was writing to you. I don’t know if you can see it or if I’m breaking the law. Of course, the laws of nature. Don’t meddle with time. He thought he could have prevented your death? If only you two weren’t fighting?

Don’t ever drink and drive. Promise me.

Perhaps.

Maybe things had changed.

Chan was coming over on Friday after all. Maybe he should stay.

…

Wednesday saw Youngjae and Jisung stopping by your place with food that their parents had sent along for you. Thanking them profusely, you stored the dishes carefully away in the refrigerator. Since Minho had gone, you knew you would be facing a shortage of food. You wondered how well Chan could cook, if he could at all.

“Missed us?” Jisung asked, launching himself at you in a tight hug. You laughed, patting his head.

“Of course I did, Sungie,” you murmured fondly into his hair. He could be such a pain sometimes, but only when he was gone did you realize how much you all depended on him to keep the mood light. “My sunshine baby.”

“Aishh, stop it!” he whined, pulling away from you. “I’m not a baby.”

You giggled, ruffling his hair. “You’ll always be my baby.”

Youngjae engulfed you in his arms, rocking back and forth. “Your parents are a tiny bit mad that you didn’t come home, you know.”

You squirmed out of his hold. “I guessed. I just didn’t feel like visiting at the moment.”

He squeezed your shoulder comfortingly. “I know, Y/N. I know.” Briefly you considered telling him about the letters and your conclusion, but you thought it might sound rather far-fetched for rational Youngjae. Especially after what happened yesterday.

“Hey, did that guy ever call you?” Jisung interrupted, stealing a carrot from your fridge and gnawing at it. You pursed your lips.

“He did.”

“Who are we talking about?” Youngjae was confused.

“Felix’s new neighbour’s son is attending uni here and he called asking if he could check out the apartment.”

“Oh. Hm.” He seemed wary about this new person. “When is he coming? Or did he already?”

“Friday,” you told them. “So I don’t want any of you near this place, you hear? I’m keeping it spick and span. You are not ruining this for me.”

Jisung pouted, the food in his cheeks only making him look cuter. Youngjae put his hands up in surrender. “Understood.”

…

By the end of the night, the apartment was relatively tidy. At least, clean enough for a college student. You hoped Chan wouldn’t mind too much.

Thursday morning was cold. Just. That’s all that came into your mind when you woke up. Stretching around on your bed, instead of relief, you were hit with the strangest sense of foreboding. Something…you didn’t know what, but something told you there was a letter today. You jumped out of bed and raced to the front door.

You heart stuttered when you saw the envelope, addressed to you in his handwriting.

 Y/N,

Today was the funeral. I couldn’t bear to see you. I waited until the coffin was lowered to come near the vicinity.

 The funeral. Your funeral. You felt odd inside, reading about your own funeral, but felt even worse at Chris’ plight. He couldn’t bear to see you.

Your parents are devastated. Can you blame them? You left them around seven months ago and you haven’t spoken to them since, have you? I don’t know what to feel. I can only pity them but I feel so helpless inside, so guilty, like I could have prevented all this.

 You left your parents seven months ago? And didn’t speak to them after that? You placed a palm over your heart. Why? Did you fight with them, too? You couldn’t imagine the pain that must have caused. To not even say a good word to each other before you died? Chris felt guilty. Could he have prevented this?

 Today I thought a lot about the first time we met. Do you remember? You heard my name and went into a rant about some letters I had apparently written to you. I had no idea what you were going on about, but now, I realize it must have been these. I asked you to show me those letters, but you said you had thrown them away. Have we been stuck in that cycle forever?

 Your eyes darted to the box safely on the fridge. No wonder you had felt the urge to throw them away. Time was wired that way! In Chris’ past, you had thrown them away and when he showed up, you had gone off on him about the letters. But since he hadn’t written them yet, he had no clue what you were talking about.

Vicious cycle.

It made sense now.

 I saw your friends today. They say you were celebrating one of their promotions, and that you refused to go home with them. You had become reckless, they said. Ever since… They didn’t say anything about���us. They didn’t need to. I could see it in their eyes, the blame piercing into my heart. This is all my fault.

 My friends? Did he mean Youngjae? And Jisung? Minho? Yeji? They blamed Chris? And Chris blamed himself for your recklessness? He thought that if you hadn’t fought, you wouldn’t have attempted to drink and drive? You wouldn’t have attempted….suicide?

 Couldn’t I have stopped this? If only I had tried a little harder, if only we both had made a little more time...Wouldn’t things have changed?

I can’t breathe. There’s nothing but darkness in front of me now. There’s this horrible weight pressing down on my chest.

 “But what did you do, Chris?” You couldn’t help but ask. “What did you do that was so unforgivable that I killed myself over it?”

 Y/N, by the time you finish reading this, I will be dead.

 You gasped, clapping a hand over your mouth. No. No, no, no!

I know I’ve never said it to you very often, but you mean so much to me. I’m sorry that I let things come to this.

I’ve hurt you in the worst possible ways. But didn’t we deserve a chance? Just one more chance? Just one more chance and we could make it, couldn’t we?

I don’t deserve you and you don’t deserve anything I’ve given you. Even if I don’t deserve a chance, you do.

 “You do deserve a chance, Chris,” you choked out, openly crying now. “You deserve everything.”

 I can’t do anything but this. I don’t know how many forces of nature I’m breaking to get these letters to you. Everything is in your hands now, along with this letter.

I’m dying, Y/N.

I’m dying now because I can’t live without your presence. I’m dying now because my presence killed you.

I’m dying now to save you.

To save us.

Chris.

 Your blurry eyes fixed on the full stop after his name. He never did that before. You knew why he did it now. He was done. No more letters. This was it.

You clutched the paper to your chest, legs giving way, sinking to the floor with your back against the door, sobbing uncontrollably. You didn’t know him, but you felt it deep in your heart. In your soul. You felt just as you would if one of your gang had committed suicide. Y/N, by the time you finish reading this, I will be dead. And the oddest part? That weight on your chest had gotten heavier, but now you felt empty. He really was gone. You were the past, and he had destroyed the future. Everything is in your hands now, along with this letter.

You cried until you had no tears left.

You cried until your head spun from dehydration.

But in the end, against the cold door, you calmed yourself.

He’s alive. It was his future self that had died. This was the past. Or now, the present. He was most certainly alive.

You didn’t know where he was. Where he would come from. But hopefully, your paths would cross some way or other. At least, they would pass close by. You would find him. Whatever the cost, you would find him. Just to observe him from afar. Just to know if he was safe.

You swallowed thickly, rubbing the dried tear tracks off your face.

You would find him.

Sooner or later, he would come to you.

…

By the time the sun came up on Friday morning, you had composed yourself. Or at least, until Chan came and left. The apartment was pretty presentable, from your point of view.

You half-hoped Chan didn’t like it, so there would be a chance that Chris would show up. But then again, would that be playing right into the cycle you were trapped in? What if Chris coming to you ended up in misery whichever way the tape played? Maybe you should just keep him away and let Chan be your roommate.

You tugged at your hair in frustration.

When the time comes, I’ll know what to do.

Someone knocked twice on the door.

You immediately panicked. Fuck.

You cleared your throat, letting out steady breaths.

Cautiously, you opened the door.  

A pale-faced (you didn’t think it was from nerves) young man stood on your doorstep. At first glance he was quite ordinary. Dark brown hair, plaid button-up over a white tee, under a black overcoat. Jeans. He looked like any other college student. He had the type of face you could certainly get used to seeing. Seeing you, the corners of his mouth turned up in the sort of forced awkward ‘first meeting’ smile reserved for situations like this.

You returned the smile. “Chan, right?” you confirmed.

He nodded. “That’s me.”

You opened the door wider for him to enter, shivering slightly at the draft sneaking inside, and shut the door as soon as he came in. You noticed that he had been careful to shake the snow off his shoes before he stepped inside.

Considerate, you thought. Time to get to business.

“Nice to meet you, Chan,” you welcomed him, extending a hand. “Y/N.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He took your hand and both of you gasped at the shock that travelled through your forearms, jerking apart at once. He laughed nervously. “Weather does that sometimes, aye? The shocks.” He stuck his hand out to try again. This time you were able to shake it properly. “It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

You nodded and as you drew apart, you didn’t bother to tell him that summer storm weather caused the shocks. Not winter. It didn’t matter anyway.

“You can hang up your jacket there,” you offered, gesturing to the hatrack in the corner. He obeyed after a moment’s hesitation. You noticed his physique as he shrugged his jacket off. “Um,” you weren’t sure how to go about a tour. “You can look around, I suppose. Take your time.” You pointed to the kitchen. “I’ll be here.”

He gave you a thumbs-up that he seemed to instantly regret. Turning away, you watched as his figure disappeared down the hall into the spare bedroom.

You sighed, planting your hands on the kitchen counter. You didn’t know what to do. Despite your curiosity about Chris, you figured that it probably wasn’t smart to risk both of your lives by insisting that Chris live here.

After all, he had said himself that he might have messed things up. That he might have changed his past. Your present. Chris might be anywhere. He could be a world away. He could be down the street. Maybe it was safer that way. You technically didn't know him, anyway. You only thought you did because of the letters. You didn’t know what he looked like, his personality, his past. You didn’t know how he would treat you. And what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you.

Maybe you should just let it all go. Chris is probably safe now. Sooner or later, you would forget about him. Why not sooner? You raised your eyes to the box on the fridge. One day, you wouldn’t need them anymore. One day, you would be fine with throwing them out, with burning the memories that wouldn’t exist because the past was changed. But until then…you would wait.

“It’s a nice place.”

You were so deep in your thoughts that you hadn’t heard Chan enter the kitchen. His eyes roamed the small room, a dopey smile on his face.

You allowed your expression to soften.

“You look upset,” Chan observed. “Is something wrong?”

Yes, something was wrong. But how do you tell this beautiful stranger your story? Where to begin? You shook your head. “You know how time breaks friends apart?”

He winced. “Only too well.”

The two of you stood there in silence, his gaze trying to reassure you. You didn’t need to say anything at all. He understood. Maybe you could get used to having him around. Maybe Chris was right. Maybe staying away was the best decision.

“So,” you broke the silence. “You like the apartment?”

He nodded. “I really do. But…um, how far is the university from here?”

You shrugged. “Fifteen minutes or so. There are buses from here direct to uni.”

“I have a car,” he informed you. “Hey, I could drive you there. We could go together.”

You felt warmth in your chest despite the cold weather. “We’ll see.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’ll bring my stuff over tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

He teetered on the edge of speech but then turned away as if to leave the kitchen. But then he stopped. “You’re—from abroad, right?”

“I am.” You tapped your fingers on the counter. “Aren’t you, too? You have an accent.”

“Yep.” He pressed his lips together. “You can call me by my English name, you know. If it’s more comfortable with you. Chan is my Korean name.”

In hindsight, you had no clue what you walked into, no idea where things were going.

“But I don’t know your English name?” your voice carried a questioning lilt. “Felix didn’t mention…”

In hindsight, you were ashamed that you didn’t consider the possibility.

In hindsight, you should have known better.

He smiled broadly.

“Chris.”

.

The smile fell off of your lips at once. And so did his.

Chris.

Suddenly the name was all you could hear over the blood throbbing in your veins.

Chris.

And all you could see was the name, scrawled on the bottom corner of paper in handwriting that you had become all too accustomed too.

Chris.

You heard him too well.

I’m dying, Y/N.

I’m dying now to save you.

To save us.

 His expression morphed to one of confusion. “Um. Y/N? Is…Is there something wrong?”

You turned your face away, so he wouldn’t see the droplets running down your cheek.

“No,” you breathed out, trying to keep your voice steady.

Even after I’ve wasted away, keep smiling.

Despite your suffocation, through your tears, your lips curved upwards.

“Not at all.”

…

fin.

[monstablaq]

Noona, You’re So Pretty (Chapter 2)

Due to requests, I’ve decided to make this a multi-chapter story. Please enjoy chapter 2! More to follow :)

Chapter 1 is here 

Chapter 2

It had been a week. Her phone had been relatively quiet since the party. The group was filming a new music video and she was extremely busy with work. Besides the occasional message, she hadn't communicated with the group very much. She usually spent her Friday nights hanging out with Minhyuk but she hadn't heard from him. It was now Saturday morning. She laid in bed, feeling the exhaustion from the week hitting her all at once. Just to make sure she hadn't missed anything, she scrolled through her messages again. 

She stopped for a moment, remembering she had never responded to Wonho. While all he seemed to send was a simple ‘Hello’ accompanied by an emoji, she wasn't sure what to say. When she thought of him, it put her in an odd place. She knew she had left things a little awkward.--The Morning After She woke up with a pounding headache. The sun beamed right in her face, forcing her to awake. She rubbed her eyes and spotted an alarm clock beside her. It was about 11 am. She rolled to her side and put on her glasses to look around the room. Shownu was sprawled out on his bed with his head slightly hanging over the edge. She could hear him snoring. Hyungwon was curled up in a ball on top of his covers. She didn't remember them being there when she fell asleep, realizing they must've wandered in at some point throughout the night. She sat up and noticed the shirt she was wearing was not her own. Her panties still scrunched to one side felt rather uncomfortable and risqué so she quickly adjusted. She quietly slid out of the covers and stealthily made her way to the bedroom’s bathroom.Her reflection was quite the sight. Her mascara created scary dark bags under her eyes and her lipstick somehow made it to her ear. She searched the medicine cabinet for some face wash and pain relievers. She thoroughly scrubbed the makeup off and washed her face. She grabbed the pills and drank water from the faucet to swallow them down. She already felt a million times better.She made her way back into the room and searched for her clothing. She gathered them all in a pile and set them on the bed. She wanted to change but realized she'd look crazy wearing that outfit in the daytime. She looked around and noticed a pair of sweatpants hanging out of Wonho’s dresser.“I'm sure he won't mind if I borrow these,” she thought. She slipped them on and gathered her belongings. She spotted a gym bag and put everything inside then quietly snuck out of the room. She slowly shut the door behind her. She tiptoed into the living room, noticing Wonho knocked out on the couch. He laid there in his boxers, shivering in the air condition. She spotted a nearby blanket and covered him up, feeling really guilty for stealing his bed. She made her way to the front door, until she heard a voice. She froze.“We won't leave a mess they said,” she heard someone mumbling in the kitchen. They were cursing each of the member’s names. It was Kihyun. He was furiously scrubbing the counter with a dish sponge. She set the gym bag down and went up to him.“Good morning,” she said in a rather weak tone. She didn't realize her voice had almost disappeared. He stopped and looked at her.“Hey.” His frustration was temporarily halted.“Is everything okay?”He sighed. “Yes. It's just really annoying when no one else understands the term ‘drink in moderation.’ I woke up to find liquor and snacks spilled everywhere. I'm pretty sure Jooheon threw up in the garage too. Besides me, you're the only one that's woken up.” She patted his shoulder in sympathy. “I'm sorry you're stuck cleaning everything. I can help you now if you want.” He sighed again. “No, it's not your fault this place is a wreck. It was your birthday but I think you created virtually none of the mess. Besides you cleaned when we were away.”She smiled. “Thank you Kihyun, for being the responsible one. I only clean to help lessen your burden.” He chuckled. “They would be so lost without us.” He went back to cleaning as she checked the time again. It was getting close to 11:30. Her stomach began to rumble as it craved breakfast. She wasn't sure if she should wait around for everyone else to wake up or to simply leave on her own. She decided it was better to not bother anyone. She went to grab the gym bag again.“Kihyun, can you do me a favor?” she asked.“Sure, what's up?” “Could you let everyone know I headed home? I'll come back for my presents later.”He nodded. “Will you be okay getting home?” She forgot she was picked up. “Yeah, I can take the bus.” He set down the sponge and walked her to the door.Their footsteps woke up Wonho. He rubbed his eyes and saw her pass by. Kihyun opened the door. “Text me when you get home,” he said, sounding like a concerned mom. She smiled“Thank you for cooking and everything yesterday.” She gave him a hug.“I'm happy you liked it.” They waved goodbye as she headed out the door. As the door slowly closed, she locked eyes with Wonho. He realized she left. Kihyun headed back to the kitchen as Wonho gathered himself together. Kihyun noticed Wonho’s odd expression.“What's with you?” Wonho pushed back his hair trying to come back to his senses. “Where's noona going?” He played dumb.Kihyun looked at him. “She headed home.”Wonho sighed. “She didn't say goodbye..” he mumbled, feeling a bit heartbroken. Kihyun shook his head. “I wouldn't say goodbye either when you're looking like that,” he teased. “I'm sure she didn't enjoy seeing you drool on a pillow while only wearing boxers. That's probably why there's a blanket on you now.” He threw a pillow at him. “Yah, so what? I still look good.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyways, since you're up, you get to help me clean.” He grumbled. “Damnit.”--The phone rang. She was surprised to see Shownu’s number. She picked up.“Hello?”“Hey, hello, annyeong.” It was definitely Shownu. “What's up?”“So uh..” he scratched his head. “Minhyuk wanted me to call you and let you know he broke his phone.”“Eh? When?” “We filmed around water Thursday and his phone flew into a puddle. It was actually pretty funny.” “Oh no!” She could just picture Minhyuk panicking. It did seem a little amusing.“He's headed to the store to get it fixed and he asked me if you could meet him there.”She sighed. “Sure, just text me the address.”“Ah okay.” He hung up and sent the message. She looked up the address and saw the store was about 20 minutes away. She rolled out of bed, finally starting her day. She skimmed her drawers and looked for something to wear. All her favorite outfits were piled up in her laundry basket. She settled on a pair of jean shorts and a loose fitting, low cut blue v-neck. She applied just a little bit of makeup, making the focus her pop of pink lipstick. She put on her glasses and flats, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door.The drive was quick and uneventful. The roads seemed their normal flow of traffic for a Saturday. As she approached the location, she noticed it was an array of small boutiques. The shops were stacked on each other in a rather random fashion. She found a spot to park and wandered around. She couldn't seem to spot the shop. She checked her phone again. Was this right? As her eyes focused on the map, she felt arms wrap around her back. “Noona!!” She could hear someone sobbing “My phone won't turn on.” He learned his head against her shoulder. “Aww I'm sorry..” she patted his head like a puppy. Minhyuk let go and ran around in front.“They can fix it right?” He held her hands. “I have so many pictures I haven't saved on my computer.” She nodded to reassure him. “Everything will be okay.”Just then, she could hear someone grumbling behind her. She turned and was surprised to see Wonho there. His arms were crossed as he pouted and stared at the ground. His ball cap casted a shadow over his eyes, making him look like a serial killer from a drama. She could feel his anger. “Ah yeah..” Minhyuk remarked. “Since my phone won't work I can't use my GPS and you know how I get lost easily so Wonho said he'd drive me.” Wonho shot lasers out of his eyes. She hesitantly approached.“Hoseokie…” she stuttered. “How was the video filming?” She tried to change the subject.He didn't respond; his eyes said enough. Minhyuk tugged her arm and whispered to her.“He's been grumpy all week. Don't mind him.”She bit her lip nervously, taking a long breath. “Let's uh… get your phone fixed.” She faced the building and started to walk. Minhyuk jumped in front to lead the way. Wonho lagged behind.They walked up the stairs to the cell phone store on the 3rd floor. The store was empty besides a few employees walking about. Minhyuk ran to the service counter.“Can you save my phone,” he pleaded as if his life depended on it. She decided to stroll around the store and look at the cell phones. She knew finding him a possible replacement would be the most helpful. The latest Iphone caught her eye, sitting near the wall. She picked up the model and began to play with it. As she flipped through the apps, she felt Wonho coming close. He leaned on the wall beside her with his arms still crossed and the ball cap still casting a shadow. He stared at her with disgust on his face.“Are you just going to ignore me?!” he snapped. The room grew silent. Even Minhyuk looked at them in curiosity. She felt as if she sank into the floor. Wonho regretted speaking so loudly. He grabbed her wrist and took her out of the store. He took her to a secluded spot in the stairway. She curled into the corner.“I wasn't ignoring you..” she stared down at her feet. “I just..didn't know what to say.”“Didn't know what to say?” He took off his hat. His eyes were full of despair.“You couldn't even say hello? Are you that ashamed of me?” His heart ached. She felt guilty.“No it's nothing like that! I just don't know... what we are.” They grew silent. He scratched his head, not sure what to say. Suddenly, they heard Minhyuk approaching. They both gave a sigh of relief when he appeared.“What happened between you two?” he asked in concern. They both kept their eyes away.“I uh..” Wonho stuttered. “We were rehearsing lines.” She couldn't help but snort at the terrible lie. Wonho nudged her, giving a side eye. “Ah yeah…” she pretended to jog her memory. “He wanted to show me a scene.”Minhyuk was still confused but had other things on his mind.“Anyways, they said they can't fix my phone, but they can recover all of my data.” He seemed a bit relieved. “Ah that's...good to hear!” She put on a smile. Minhyuk sighed. “The only problem is it’s going to take a long time.” “How long?” Wonho asked.“Maybe.. 2 or 3 hours?” Minhyuk felt bad. “I feel like I should stay here..but maybe you two should go walk around.” They looked at eachother. “Are..you sure?” she remarked.“There’s lots of great shops and it’s nice outside. I know a great boutique you both would probably like.” They had no choice but to agree. They nodded and left Minhyuk by himself to take care of his situation. They headed down the stairs back onto the main street. She started walking in one direction and Wonho followed. The aura between them was still strange. She wanted to fix things. “Hoseokie..” she turned to him. He let go of his tough stature. “I’ll buy you coffee.” He smiled softly.They headed for a small cafe on the end of the street. The patrons generally looked to be mid 30s to 40s, making the odds of Wonho being recognized fairly low. She ordered an Americano and a Green tea latte, along with a small assortment of pastries. They found a spot close to the window and away from the crowds. Wonho took a sip of his Americano and grabbed a treat. “Thank you, noona,” he quietly said. His heat had finally cooled from earlier. He couldn’t help but glance at her. She looked beautiful as she split open her croissant. Her shirt draped gracefully, hugging her chest and gently touching her other curves. Her plump lips were drawing him in again like they were that night. He couldn’t stay mad at her. She wasn’t wrong to be confused because he was too. He just knew he wanted her.“So about the other day..” she started to speak. “I didn’t mean to just disappear. I felt weird being around everyone so I wanted to go home.” Wonho leaned back in his seat. “Usually the guy leaves the next morning,” he joked. “It’s not usually the other way around.”She laughed a bit. “I really liked those fishnets you know..” “I liked those sweatpants you took,” he teased. She took a sip of her latte. “I promise I’ll bring your clothes back. I still have to pick up my gifts.” “Oh yeah..” he glanced out the window. “Well..even though you left..it doesn’t explain why you didn’t text me back.” He playfully pouted. She poked his knee. “I told you I didn’t know what to say.” He nodded silently. She leaned in closer to him. “You know Hoseokie..” his ears perked up, hearing her say his name. “I wasn’t lying when I said I liked you. I had an amazing time that night.” He was pleasantly surprised. “It was..good?” He was curious. She blushed hard. “It was the best sex I’ve had.” He broke into his signature laugh. His confidence shot through the roof. “I was surprised to learn noona liked it from behind,” he smirked. She shot him a look. “I didn’t know you had a kink for mesh.” He choked on his drink and she laughed. “I could've died you know,” he joked.The atmosphere became much better between them. They playfully poked at each other’s kinks while enjoying their drinks. Finally, they knew what they had to do. Wonho finished his drink and looked straight at her. “Let’s be friends with benefits.” After only about a minute, she agreed. It seemed to make the most sense between them. “I think I can go for that.” She reached in her purse and pulled out a bottle of water. “Does anything know about Saturday though?” She took a drink. He shook his head. “I haven’t said a word.” She thought for a minute. “We really have to be careful to keep things a secret. I don’t want to risk your career or for me to lose my friendships by us getting caught.” “You do have a good point.” He crossed his arms again. “Our manager thinks you’re a godsend.” “He does?” she giggled. “Well I do seem to make everyone happy.” “In more ways than one,” he winked and bit his lip. She kicked him. “I’ll only do it if you promise to keep things a secret.” He extended his arm. “It’s a deal.” They shook each other's hands and she kissed his cheek. They cleaned up the table and thought about what to do next. Suddenly Wonho remembered what Minhyuk had mentioned.“Let's go find that boutique.” He picked up his phone and pulled up a map. He found a 5-star boutique located upstairs in the next building. “This must be where Minhyuk is talking about.” He got up, tucked in his chair, and headed that way. She followed behind. The boutique was upscale and spacious. Beautiful clothing lined the white walls, leaving the middle of the store open for bright red furniture. A corner of the store was filled with lingerie and intimates, while another held a collection of shoes. Wonho headed to the wall with the men's clothing and started sorting through leather jackets. She stood beside him, unsure of where else to go. He glanced to her and smirked. “Do you need me to dress you?”She made a face. “I mean I.M dressed me the other day.”Wonho got a bit jealous. “He did...okay..” he lied. “But I can do better.” He took her hand and led her over to the dresses. He checked her out from head to toe, trying to imagine the perfect out. He scanned the racks, spotting a ruby red bodycon dress. He held it in front of her, eyeing the shape. “Here.” He shoved the dress towards her. “Uh..sure..”He continued down the line, sorting through the racks, piling on multiple outfits on her arms. When the pile got heavy she told him to stop. “I think this is enough..” She walked towards the dressing rooms. The dressing rooms were almost as spacious as the store itself. There were 5 dressing rooms lined up in a semicircle. In the center space was an ottoman matching the furniture in the main store. Between each dressing room there was a set of mirrors. Wonho took a seat on the ottoman as she seeked an attendant. She looked around but only spotted a teenage girl leaning on the counter. Her head was buried in her phone. “Excuse me..” “Yeah?” the worker responded; her eyes not leaving the phone.“Can you open the dressing room for me?” The girl reached below the desk and handed her a key. “There you go.” She walked back to the rooms and unlocked the middle one. She took the pile and went inside.“Show me each one,” Wonho remarked. “I’m gonna make you bangin.”She first tried on a silver skater dress. The bottom of the dress reached just below her thighs and flowed out gently. Without looking in the mirror she opened the dressing room door. Wonho glanced up from his phone. “Ehh..” his reaction was less than desired “Next.”She went back in to change. “You picked it out,” she mumbled. She tried on a blue romper next. She did the same thing as before, asking his opinion first. “That looks pretty good,” he remarked walking over to her. He adjusted the romper belt making the outfit hug closer to her curves. She blushed a bit at his fingertips grazing her hips. He smiled at himself approvingly. “That's better.”She changed again, placing the romper back on the hanger. She continued to try on clothing, stacking the rejected outfits on the door and the approved on a wall hook. She finally arrived to the bodycon dress. She took one look and felt a knot in her stomach. “There's no way I'm going to fit in this,” she thought out loud. She opened the door and waved over Wonho. She held out the dress.“This is way too small.” “It's supposed to be tight.” He handed the dress back to her. “Give it a chance.” She rolled her eyes but went back in. She grabbed her pile of rejections and tossed it out to him. “Put these back while I try to squeeze into this.” She wiggled the dress on and pulled it down. It fit her like a glove. She feared looking at her reflection knowing it would put every imperfection on display. She shyly opened the dressing room door.“Hoseokie…” His eyes widened as he admired her from head to toe. He licked his lips approvingly. “Noona, you look like a Goddess,” he smirked slyly. She took a few steps closer and looked in the mirror. She was amazed at herself. He stood behind her and checked the reflection, adjusting a few little bunches. As he checked her out one more time, his lust growing for her. He hesitated to make a suggestion, thinking it was just his dirty thoughts creeping in. She could tell he was holding back.“What is it?”He leaned in close, wrapping his arms around her hips. She stood there confused. He took a breath then whispered in her ear. “It would look even better without a bra.” Her jaw dropped in shock, still, she couldn’t argue. The bra could be seen too clearly through the dress. It ruined the aesthetic of the outfit. “Okay let's see.” She went back in and started to undress. Wonho leaned his back against the wall waiting for her to come out again. She took off her bra and slipped the dress back on. She cracked open the door, summoning him to enter. “Eh?” he looked around. The dressing room area was empty. She pulled him in. “How does it look?” She posed for him. He bit his lip hard. “Fucking sexy.” He couldn’t hide his excitement. He kept his hands behind his back, restraining himself from running fiddling with her dress. “Hoseokie...you must be proud of yourself.” “What do you mean noona?” “You got me wearing just want you wanted.” He smiled wide. “Well you like it don’t you?” “Mm..maybe,” she teased. “I have to admit you have good taste.” “I’m the fashionista king!” He bragged, showing off with a flex. “Hmm..” she looked over his outfit, wanting to make a smart remark about his own clothing choices. When she looked down, she couldn’t ignore the bulge in his black athletic pants. She slid her dress up above her thighs and kneeled on the carpeted floor. His eyes widened in confusion. “Noona, what are you doing?” She tugged at his waistband. “My friends with benefits duty calls.” His jaw dropped looking down at her. He was as turned on as ever. She pulled down his pants and boxers at the same time, revealing his hard cock. He brushed her hair back, admiring her beauty in this naughty angle. She slowly traced his entire length with her tongue. He breathed out with growing ecstacy. Her hand gripped the base, positioning his cock in front of her lips. She teased his tip, putting her lips around it and popping it off. He laughed. “Are you trying to torture me?” “Maybe,” she smirked. She moistened her mouth and sucked on his tip; her tongue swirling circles around it. She slowly moved her mouth further up, taking him in deeper. She tugged down his pants and boxers more as it was getting in the way. Suddenly, she noticed something she hadn’t before. She took her mouth off and looked at his thigh. She sat back on her knees. “Why didn’t you stop,” he whined, pouting his lips. She giggled. “How did I miss your tattoo?” She scratched her head. He laughed. “I mean, it was dark and you were pretty drunk. I actually have two more.” “I’ve seen the one on your foot but where’s the other one?” She was so curious. “My other one is here.” He showed turned to the side and showed her his right butt cheek. Her eyes grew wide. “You have an ass tattoo?” She couldn’t believe it. “I mean the flower is rather pretty.” He smiled. “I thought hard about getting them. I’m glad they didn’t scare you off.” “Tattoos are super sexy. It makes me like you even more.” She smiled again, waiting to play with his cock. He bit his lip; his body begging for the action to continue. His cock was already leaking precum from this sudden excitement. She slowly licked it off. He moaned at her tongue poking his slit. She smirked up at him and took him fully into her mouth. She sucked hard, sliding up and down his shaft. Her hot breath made his cock tingle sending shivers up his body. His hands grabbed the back of her neck with his head leaning back. His eyes closed as her throat closed around his thickness. He wanted so bad to face fuck her but he worked hard to hold back. He tightened the muscles in his thighs to fight the urge. She moved a bit closer, gripping his thighs to balance herself better. She noticed how tight they were and giggled, making the sensation even greater. He began to moan louder and grip her neck tighter, pushing her throat even further. She coughed a bit at the sudden added length. Her hands moved up further and around to his firm behind, grabbing it full force. He started sweating from the pleasure and removed his black shirt, exposing his muscular torso. Her eyes gazed up his naked body, making her own body hot. She spread her legs, rubbing her clothed pussy against the carpet. She wanted him in her so bad.She needed to catch her breath from working on him so hard. She leaned back against the wall and took a break. He dropped down on the floor beside her and got close. He kissed the corner of her lips and put his arm around her tummy, wanting to make her feel comfortable. She started to laugh to herself.“What's so funny?” he smiled, pulling her in closer.She looked at the dress. “I should probably buy this first before ruining it.” He chuckled.“You're going to buy it right?” She searched for the price tag. Her eyes grew big. “Wow this is...too much.” She started pulling it off. He grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the wall.“I'll buy it for you.” He nodded in the direction of the other chosen clothes. “I'll get all of those for you too.” She was taken aback.“No you don't need to do that.” She shrugged him off. He thought up an excuse.“I still owe you a birthday present,” he insisted. “Plus I picked them all out for you.”She sarcastically sighed. “I guess I'll let you buy them for me.” She thanked him with a kiss. She finally caught her breath and crawled onto his lap. Her arms were around his neck and she smiled looking into his eyes. He knew what she wanted. He reached for his wallet, hoping to find protection. Sadly, there was none to be found. He groaned in frustration. “The one time I need it and I don't have one. Damnit.” She rubbed his chest. “I suppose if this is our thing, I'll look into birth control.” She slid back onto the ground and jerked him off. “I won't leave you hanging.” He watched as she continued; her head back to bobbing on his cock. He could feel himself coming closer with each swallow. He put his hands behind his head and thrusted to bang the back of her throat. As he was just about to warn her he was about to cum, his phone rang loudly. He panicked and dove for his pants pocket, dragging her along with him Without thinking, he answered.“Where are you guys??” a concerned Minhyuk asked. “I've been texting you forever!” Wonho quickly looked at his inbox. He somehow missed 20 messages. He put his mouth back to the phone. “I'm so sor- ahh.” Just as he spoke, he came hard; his load filling her mouth with his filthy white liquid. She smirked at him, swallowing it whole. Amazed by what he saw, he dropped the phone. He snapped out of his daze and picked it back up to hear Minhyuk yelling ‘hello.’“Hey we’re at the boutique. We can meet you in a few.”Minhyuk smiled. “Actually I'm right outside. I'll meet you inside!” He hung up the phone. Wonho jumped to his feet fast. “Minhyuk is here.” He tripped trying to hop into his pants but managed to put them on. She wiped her mouth and stumbled to her feet. She had to come to her senses.“You need to get out of here now!” She opened the dressing room door and practically shoved half naked Wonho out of the room. She tossed his shirt to him and slammed the door. He put it over his head just as Minhyuk spotted him.“Always showing off,” Minhyuk laughed, oblivious of everything. Wonho turned bright red. He finished getting dressed and caught his breath. Minhyuk glanced around. “Where did noona go?” Just like clockwork she came out. Her normal clothes were back on. She brought out the outfits and showed them to Minhyuk.“Look at all the clothes Hoseokie is going to buy for me!” “Wow really?” Minhyuk was so confused but happy for her. He couldn't help but smile. “I bet you look great in them all, noona.” The three of them headed to the register. Minhyuk and her chatted while Wonho paid for the clothes. He handed her the bags and they headed out of the store. They found a spot outside and stood in a circle. It was time they said goodbye. “Thank you for meeting up with us noona.” Minhyuk gave her a hug. “I want to hang out longer but the process took forever. Now we have to head to dance practice.” “I completely understand,” she reassured him. “Next time let's spend more time together.”“I'll call you tonight, okay?” She nodded. She said goodbye and headed to her car. As she walked away, Wonho realized he was missing his hat. He recalled wearing it last in the cafe.“I forgot something. I'll be right back.” He jogged to the cafe and stopped by the table where they sat. He checked under the seat and found his hat on the floor. As he reached to grab it, he spotted something right beside. It was a condom. He picked both objects up and headed out.

Click for Chapter 3

[not-so-secret-nerd]

The Weirdo Club

Basically wrote this off my own prompt (Give me stories where the girls come across a gang of kids viciously picking on a wee Holtz and chasing the aggressors off). Just a fast and loose little snippet of our favorite Ghostbusting ladies as kids. Have fun!

“Yeah, you better run, you sons-of-bitches!” eleven-year-old Abby Yates shouted at the retreating backs of three older bullies, one of them pinching the bridge of his broken nose, blood staining his fingers red. She contemplated chucking a rock at them when they mounted their bikes to further drive home her point but figured the good smacking she’d schooled them with had been poignant enough.

Behind their fuming, centurion friend, Erin Gilbert and Patty Tolan ditched their backpacks and rushed over to the motionless form on the ground. From a distance, it looked like a discarded pile of brightly colored clothing accented with a poof of blonde hair that appeared more wig than natural locks. Then the huddled mass jerked sharply against a hard, wet cough, revealing the skinny, spindly body beneath like a turtle coming out of its shell.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Erin squeaked when she knelt to get a good look at the small blonde girl starting to uncurl from her self-preserving tuck against the chain-link fence. The wee thing must have just regained her bearings because the second her eyes focused on Erin she skittered back with a whimper, eyes huge behind her funny-looking yellow glasses.

“Hey shorty, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt yah,” Patty soothed, crouching next to Erin. She showed the little thing her hands so she’d know neither of them were a threat. “They got you pretty good, didn’t they? Anything broken?”

The girl didn’t answer, dragging the sleeve of her obnoxious orange shirt across her face to clear away the tears, mud and blood marring her puffy features. A hard sniff worked a wince free that made Erin’s heart clench. The girl looked no older than maybe nine or ten, but it was hard to accurately gauge around her baggy, ill-fitting clothing and yellow glasses that made her look like an alien, eyes wide and green behind the lenses.

“Christ, those guys were pricks. I hope they—“ Abby pulled up short when she saw the sad state the bullies left their latest victim in, her anger draining away like a Millar balloon left out in the cold. “Oh damn.”

“Can you please stop cursing?” Erin soured, already tense from the altercation. “You’re scaring her more.”

“Sorry,” Abby shrugged, peering over Patty’s shoulder.

“That’s a nasty scrape you go on your forehead,” Patty tisked, trying to draw the girl’s attention away from Abby’s sudden and brusque appearance. Understandably, she was as skittish as an outfoxed rabbit and looked poised to bolt. “Erin, don’t you have a first-aid kit in your backpack?”

Brightening, Erin nodded enthusiastically and jumped up with renewed purpose, but a gravely, “I’m fine,” from the girl stopped her short.

“But—“

“I’m fine,” she reiterated a little more firmly, standing on wobbly legs. Clutching the fence, she stooped with a barely hidden wince for her silver duffel lying next to her, trying and failing to hide the reddening embarrassment crawling into her cheeks. Without looking at the staring trio, she began her slow limp away—hand pressed against a particularly tender bruise— tail proverbially tucked between her legs.

Glancing desperately between Patty and Abby, Erin tried to decide what to do, but Abby beat her to the punch.

“Hi Fine, I’m Abby,” the shortest of the three friends suddenly said, jogging up beside the limping blonde and sticking out her hand as both a greeting and a way to keep her from leaving.

The girl looked down at the offered hand and back up at Abby, brows wrinkling. “Did you just dad-joke me?”

“Uh, yup. Yup, I did. Names Abby Yates, and these are my best friends. Erin Gilbert,” Abby gestured to a shy-looking Erin who offered a little wave, “and Patty Tolan.” Patty nodded with a friendly half-smile, standing to her full height next to Erin. “What’s your name?”

“Why are you being nice to me?” the girl cautioned, not taking the bait but at least lingering long enough to talk.

Abby threw up her shoulders in a sharp shrug. “I don’t know. Seems the thing to do when you meet someone new.”

“No one’s nice to me,” the blonde said off-handedly, casting her gaze down at her threadbare shoes. She’d fixed them this morning, getting the noxious green Duct Tape just right over the holes. Now they were scuffed and dirty. All that work had been for not. It made her heart sink further into her stomach. Couldn't she go two days without the Decker brothers giving her trouble?

“Seems you been hanging out with the wrong type of people,” Patty declared, planting her hands on her hips, giving the girl her best ‘mom look’.

The blonde offered up a wan smile that lacked the ability to reach her eyes. “I only hang out with ghosts. Dead people like me more than the living do.”

She thought the off-color comment would be the final blow and drive these strange vigilantes off, but she was shockingly mistaken. She watched with confused fascination as Abby whipped around to look back at a distinctly startled Erin, the two sharing an unreadable look.

“No shit?” Abby breathed excitedly, turning back to the newcomer. “You really see ghosts? Like distinct spectral entities?”

“If you count the weird old guy that stands under my streetlight every night, then yeah,” the girl shrugged, the motion sending an unforeseen lance of pain through her shoulder. Hunching against the white-hot sensation, she dropped her duffle, hissing through clenched teeth.

“You might have dislocated it,” Erin suggested timidly, craning her neck like she’d be able to see for herself. “I’d see a doctor if I were you.”

“Mom and dad can’t afford one,” the girl husked a reply, doing her best to rub the sore spot. “But like I said, I’m fine.”

“That’s such a weird name, but okay,” Abby teased lightly, stooping to pick up the silver bag between them. The girl must have caught the motion in her periphery because she spun and snatched it back with a shout, clutching it to her chest like it was her only life-preserver. The outburst made everyone freeze.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I wasn’t going to take it, I swear,” Abby reassured, raising her hands once again and stepping back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The blonde remained locked in semi-petrification—eyes a little wild—weighing Abby’s sincerity. Eventually, she loosened with a ragged sigh and a single word pushed past her swollen lips. “Holtzmann.”

“What?” all three asked in unison.

“My name. It’s Holtzmann. Holtz for short.”

“Wicked,” Abby grinned. “Well, Holtz, my gran was a nurse for a couple of years. She could look at your shoulder for you.”

“No,” Holtz shook her head sharply, blonde curls swinging. “I need to get home.”

“We’ll walk you then,” Erin suggested, retrieving her backpack from the ground.

“Why would you do something like that?” Holtz asked, wrinkling her nose as if prolonged exposure to her presence was something unsavory. Then again, ask anyone at her school and they’d tell you you’d catch something from the weird street urchin if you strayed too close. Apparently, they thought poverty was contagious.  

“That’s what friends do, baby,” Patty grinned, getting her backpack too.

“I don’t have any friends.” It wasn’t said in a combative or aggressive tone: instead closer to mystified. Holtz looked between the three girls, one of which had successfully chased off three of her worst bullies singlehandedly, unsure what she should do.

“Well, you do now! Us weirdos need to stick together!” Abby declared, clapping the smaller girl on the back only to belatedly remember she’d just recently been kicked into a self-preserving ball. “Sorry.”

“Ow…” Holtz winced, fighting to uncoil her shoulder blades.

“Here,” Erin offered shyly, finally stepping next to Holtzmann and digging something out of her pocket. It was a bright pink band-aid with hearts on it, the only one she’d found in her first-aid kit. “Can I put it on your forehead? The cut looks nasty.”

Blinking in obvious surprise, Holtz removed her yellow glasses—squinting at the blue harshness rushing into her exposed sockets—and allowed Erin to sweep aside her curls and lightly place the band-aid across the abrasion.

“There,” the brunette beamed with pride when the errand was done, admiring her work. “Not really good as new, but it’s something.”

“Thanks,” Holtz mumbled, reaching up to touch the band-aid’s slick surface, aware her ears were starting to burn with a flush that would soon make it into her cheeks if she didn’t look away.

“I like your yellow glasses,” Erin prompted bravely, falling into step when the four of them started walking out of the alley. “Do they help with your headaches?”

At that, Holtz stuttered to a standstill, mouth agape. “How did you know?”

“Girl, Erin’s our little Miss Medical Dictionary. She knows all kinds of weird things on account she a hypochondriac,” Patty laughed good-naturedly.

“I am not!” Erin protested. “I just have a delicate disposition.”

“You have allergies. That’s literally it,” Abby added over her shoulder from the front of the procession. “And the only reason your armpits itch is because you don’t shave them.”

“Mama said I wasn’t allowed until I was thirteen,” Erin muttered, face literally on fire and eyes glued on her shiny black dress shoes. Holtz couldn’t help but laugh, the sound drawing looks from the other girls on account it was more snorts and giggles than an actual laugh.

“My mom said the same thing, so I burned my hair off.”

“No way,” Abby gasped, spinning so she was walking backward. “You so did not.”

“Totally did,” Holtz countered. “I used my dad’s blowtorch and a can of hairspray. Caught the curtains on fire, but that’s beside the point. See?”

Setting down her silver pack, Holtz hurriedly shed her funny gray jacket that looked more like an oversized lab coat, hiked down her overall straps and pulled off her orange top with the nonchalance of someone who didn’t give a flip about public nudity. Then again, in the right light, Holtz could be mistaken for a boy with how flat she was…so it might have not mattered.

Sure enough, her armpits were devoid of hair but the trio wasn't looking at the smooth skin under Holtz’s arms but rather the literal skin and bones the girl seemed to be. They could count ribs just below the bud of her nipples and were sure if she turned around there would be vertebra visible.

“Ppft, you won’t get me out of my top that fast. At least not for free,” Abby jested stiffly, breaking the ice forming around them with a joke, but they were all sharing concerned looks Holtzmann thankfully didn’t catch.

“I’ll remember that,” Holtz grinned and winked, pulling her clothes back on.

“Man, you all are weird,” Patty huffed.

“But you love us,” Abby sleazily smiled, bumping her shoulder against the taller girl.

“Unfortunately. Hey…” she hedged, glancing back at the newest member of their group. “I’ve still got food left over from lunch, and Mama will whoop me if I come home with leftovers. Any of you want them?”

Erin and Abby caught on immediately and both shook their head.

“No, I’m still full from lunch.”

“Nah, I’m fat anyway,” Abby laughed, poking her stomach. “Plus dinner will be ready when I get home. Holtz?”

The smaller girl thought about it for less than a New York minute before nodding, trying and failing to hide the hunger just below the surface. “Sure. If it’ll help you out.”

“Man, you a lifesaver, girl. Thanks a bunch.” Patty handed over the contents of her lunchbox, the three pretending to miss how eagerly Holtz dug into the food, wolfing it down in hurried gulps.

“Hey Holtz,” Abby called from the front. “Tomorrow we’re gonna get together at my house and watch the new X-Files episode. You wanna come? I’ve got plenty of room.”

Holtzmann’s eyes lit up, Abby apparently striking a very wide nerdy vein in the smaller child. “Hell yeah, I would!”

“Awesome! We’ll meet after school, okay? I’ll give you my number so your mom can call my mom. That cool?”

“Definitely.”

“Awesome. Welcome to the weirdo club then!”

[jwminssi]

puzzle pieces

If they told him he would be hopelessly in love with a boy with rosy cheeks and small hands, he would have straight up punched them. But now, as Jimin laughs in his ear and places the occasional kiss on his neck, Jungkook has no doubts that this is exactly where he is supposed to be.

jikook // 1.8k // bad boy!jk and sweetheart!jm // rated t

(read on ao3)

Jimin is only half surprised when he’s abruptly woken up in the middle of the night by someone banging repeatedly on his front door. He stumbles out of bed in a hurry, body moving at its own accord to the living room as he rubs his eyes and tries to gain some consciousness. There’s one more hit to the door before he opens it and the house falls into silence again.

“Hey, angel.” Jungkook pants, a tired smile on his face as if he had ran there just to see him.

But Jimin knows the truth. Can see it when Jungkook is just barely holding himself up, one arm wrapped around his waist, and his face is covered in soon-to-be-dark bruises as his nose and knuckles bleed just enough for Jimin to worry about the carpet as he pulls the other boy inside.

He remains quiet as he guides Jungkook to his room – he gave up trying to argue about his behavior after the fifth or sixth time he had showed up to him in that same state – and hopes that his mother, by some miracle, is still asleep as he retrieves the first-aid kit from the bathroom.

Jimin takes the time to lock his bedroom door and turn on the lamp on his nightstand before sitting cross-legged on the bed facing Jungkook, noticing that he had taken his shoes off while he was alone. He frowns as he rummages through the box in his hands, thinking that he should refill its contents before his parents notice he’s been using way too much of it lately.

He collects everything he needs and sets to work, still not uttering a single word as he bites his bottom lip and wishes Jungkook would just stop with the fighting. Jimin doesn’t mind taking care of him – in fact, he loves that the older is so keen on letting him do it – but it’s not easy for him to worry about Jungkook all the time, aware of how explosive he can be. Still, Jimin knows he can’t force him to change, so he just sighs and does his best to keep Jungkook together.

“You know, I never had a nurse before you…” Jungkook breaks the silence when Jimin focuses on his hand. “Think I’ll start getting into more fights just so you can take care of me.”

“Please, don’t.” Jimin says, and it sounds pained. He worries too much about Jungkook, even though the older always tells him not to. “I hate seeing you like this.”

They go back to not talking and Jimin swallows as he cleans his knuckles and wraps a bandage around them. He can feel Jungkook’s eyes on him the entire time but refuses to look up, knowing all too well that he will cave in and his hard façade will slip from him.

It’s a bit more difficult when he has to tend to Jungkook’s nose. He checks if it’s broken – it’s not – before moving to clean the dry blood running down his face; Jimin doesn’t react even when Jungkook nuzzles against the hand that’s holding his jaw in place and keeps his eyes trained to what he’s doing. He hates the smile that appears on Jungkook’s lips when he realizes what’s happening.

“You’re pretty.” Jungkook says it like it’s nothing, that damn smile still in place, and Jimin is thankful for the darkness in the room hiding his pink cheeks.

“You’re ridiculous.” He whispers as he shakes his head and finishes up, throwing the bloody cotton balls in the trashcan under his desk and putting the first-aid kit aside, already softening up and giving up on his attempt at looking disappointed.

“Why do you put up with me?” Jungkook asks as he leans in and wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist, pulling him into his lap.

“I have no idea.” Jimin answers against Jungkook’s lips and his arms wrap themselves involuntarily around his neck. “How are your ribs?”

“Fine.” Jungkook kisses Jimin softly then, but the younger pushes him away.

“Can you breathe properly?” He insists, small hands coming down to touch the expanse of Jungkook’s chest and abdomen, checking his reaction to make sure he wasn’t playing it down.

“I’m fine, Jimin.” Jungkook grabs both Jimin’s hands in his and kisses his knuckles; the pure white of his skin is an ugly contrast to the black and blue under his boyfriend’s eye and over his cheekbone. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I wanted to see you.”

Jimin sighs as he brushes Jungkook’s hair away from his eyes and settles himself more comfortably on his lap. “I’d rather you come here where I can patch you up than some place where you won’t take care of yourself.”

“My own personal angel.” Jungkook smiles as he leans in for a kiss, rejoicing in the way Jimin melts instantly against him at his touch. “Do you think your parents heard me?”

Jimin shrugs. “My dad could sleep through a war, really, and if my mom had woken up she would’ve come here by now.”

Jungkook only hums and doesn’t say anything for a while before his hands grab at Jimin’s hips and he moves them so that he’s lying in between his legs. He licks his lips when Jimin’s sweater rises up and he’s graced with the sight of his boyfriend’s perfect thighs, marveling at the way they feel so soft under his calloused hands.

“Why don’t you ever wear pants to sleep?” Jungkook asks as his fingers trace an invisible path to his hips. “Not that I’m complaining.” He adds with a smirk as he leans down to bite just under Jimin’s ear.

“It’s too warm, I told you.” Jimin answers breathily, body already craving more. He whines when Jungkook sucks a hickey right on his jaw, visible for the world to see. “How am I supposed to hide that?”

“You’re not.” Jungkook breathes out a laugh on Jimin’s neck and the younger shivers, biting down on his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning when cold fingers meet his nipple.

“Jungkook-ah… Stop.” Jimin gasps and weakly pushes at his boyfriend’s chest. Jungkook’s reaction is immediate, and he sits back with wide eyes looking for any sign of discomfort that he may have caused, but only finds a blushing Jimin trying to cover up his face. “My parents will hear.” He whines again, just because he can and because he knows it’s Jungkook’s weak spot.

Jungkook sighs and lies back down in between Jimin’s legs, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss. “Yeah, we both know how loud you are… Actually, I think everyone that lives in my building does.”

“Yah!” Jimin slaps Jungkook on the chest and the older laughs quietly, taking his hands and pinning them above his head.

“You’re so fucking beautiful…” He says, staring right into Jimin’s eyes. “How is it that you’re my most impossible dream come true?” Jimin squirms under his touch, dying to cover his blushing cheeks in embarrassment, never one to take Jungkook’s words easily. “I don’t deserve you, Park Jimin.”

“Of course you do.” Jimin whispers, looking away. “Even better.”

Jungkook lets go of him then and sits back up, pulling Jimin with him. He uses one of his hands to pull his boyfriend’s chin up so they’re facing each other. “There’s no better than you. Not for me.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a while and Jungkook doesn’t think he can add to his words without turning them into a cliché mess. It hadn’t been easy, letting Jimin in his life when they belonged in completely different worlds, but it had been possibly the best decision he had ever made for himself in his entire life. He’s still impulsive and hotheaded and just as much of an asshole as he was six months ago when they met; the difference is that now he has the encouragement to change and the motivation to be better.

Jimin awakens something in Jungkook that he can’t name, has done it since that one afternoon when they bumped into each other while Jungkook was running from someone he doesn’t even remember the face of and worried about his wounds without asking where they came from. His own personal angel, Jungkook has called him from the start, and it couldn’t be more truthful.

“I love you.” Jimin says, interrupting Jungkook’s reminiscing, and it rings loud in the quiet room. He seems hesitant about the words, as if Jungkook is going to reject them even after everything he just said, but he forces himself to maintain eye contact anyway.

“And I have never loved anyone as much as I love you.” Jungkook answers without missing a beat, one hand going to cup Jimin’s face as he takes in everything this moment represents. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Jimin pulls back and the look in his eyes would be hilarious if it wasn’t so adorable. “It’s past three in the morning!”

“Exactly. There’s no one in the streets now and we can go as fast as you want.” Jungkook touches the tip of Jimin’s nose with his fingers and resists the urge to crush him into a hug when the younger scrunches it in response. “I’ll bring you back in an hour or two, I promise.”

“Okay.” Jimin’s smile is enough to light up the dark room.

They sneak out through Jimin’s window, after he gets dressed and makes sure his door is locked so his mother wouldn’t walk in and not find him there, and into the cold night. Jungkook’s motorcycle is parked just in front of the house and he climbs up, turning the engine on as Jimin sits behind him, hands firm around his waist and face pressed close to his neck.

“Ready to fly, angel?” He asks before taking off, not wasting a minute before picking up speed until the wind is messing up their hair and he feels what being free is like.

If anyone had told Jeon Jungkook that he would be carelessly driving around in the middle of the night after getting beaten up and feeling better than he had ever felt in his 22 years of life, he would laugh at them in the face. If they told him he would be hopelessly in love with a boy with rosy cheeks and small hands, he would have straight up punched them.

But now, as Jimin laughs in his ear and places the occasional kiss on his neck, so warm pressed up against him, Jungkook has no doubts that this is exactly where he is supposed to be.  

[kpoptrashforall]

Last Resort: Leo X Reader Chapter 5

WARNING: Violence, blood, Semi-detailed things involving labor. 

“What’s the plan Boss?” Ravi asked, looking over at Leo on the other side of the van.

“We go in in three teams. N and Hyuk, you’re going in first to take out the first wave of guards. Ravi, you’re with me looking for ______. Ken and Hongbin, you’re looking for Krikor.” Leo said, seeing all of them nod.

“What do we do if we find him?” Hongbin asked.

“Contact me, and bring him to me. But you are not to kill him,” Leo said, loading his gun, “Krikor is mine.”

The others gulped and nodded in understanding. Once they got to their destination, they hid the van and started their rescue mission. The first team went in and got rid of the guards, then the other two teams followed. Once inside, they split up to go on their separate ways. Leo and Ravi quickly and quietly went through the halls, checking every room as they went, picking off guards and members of the gang left and right.

“Hyung, this place is huge,” Ravi said after taking out another guard, “How are we gonna find her?”

“We’ll keep looking until we do.” Leo said, determination written across his face.

Ravi nodded and they continued to look. After another fifteen minutes of looking, Leo’s phone rang.

“______?!” He answered.

“Taekwoon, are you in the house,” she asked, sounding scared, “I thought I heard the sound of a fight but I’m not sure….”

“Yeah, we’re here. Where are you?”

“I’m in a room on the first floor. It has a huge padlock on it so you can’t miss it.”

“Wait, a padlock?” Leo said, looking at a door down the hall from where he was standing.

“Yeah. That’s how he’s keeping me in here.”

“I think we’re in front of the door,” Leo said as he and Ravi ran over to the door, “Get as far away from the door as you can and cover yourself. I'm going to shoot the lock.”

“Ok.”

He waited for a minute before she confirmed she was away from the door and pointed his gun at the door. He shot the lock twice and it fell to the ground. He yanked the door open and he felt relief spread through his body as he saw ______ curled up in the corner.

“______!” He said, running over to her.

She looked up at him and tears started to pour down her face as he took her into his arms.

“Taekwoon I was so scared!” She cried, burying her face in his neck.

“I was too…,” he whispered, holding her tighter, “But I’ve got you now…. You’re safe.”

She sniffled and nodded, pulling away and wiping her tears. She let Leo pull her to her feet and she smiled when she saw Ravi, hugging him as well.

“We were so worried about you!” He said as he hugged her.

“Thanks for coming to get me.” She said, smiling.

He smiled back and nodded, looking to Leo. Leo nodded at him and he raised his hand to his earpiece.

“We’ve got her.” Ravi said, the other five hearing him.

“We have Krikor.” Ken voiced.

Leo raised his hand to his earpiece and said, “Where are you?”

“In the sitting room.” Hongbin replied.

“Stay there.” Leo said, a look of anger flashing in his eyes.

They quickly went to the sitting room and saw Krikor scowling in his chair as Ken, Hongbin, Hyuk, and N pointed their guns at him.

“Stay with Ravi.” Leo said to ______, starting to walk towards Krikor.

“Leo.”

He stopped and looked back at ______, a questioning look on his face.

“Are you going to kill him?” She asked.

He paused before nodding. She walked up to him and took his gun out of his hand, surprising all of them.

“______, what are you—” Leo started, but was cut off.

“He tortured me for three and a half years of my life,” ______ said, a pure look of hatred on her face, “So if he’s going to die, it’s going to be by my hands.”

Leo was shocked to say the least, but at the same time he understood.

“Fine,” he said, walking up to her, “But you’ve never shot a gun before, so we’ll do it together. Plus I want to kill the bastard too.”

______ smiled and nodded. They walked over to Krikor together and once they stood in front of him, ______ raised the gun to his head. Leo stood close behind her, ready to instruct her if she needed it.

“You don’t have the guts to kill me,” Krikor snarled up at ______, a smirk taking over his lips, “You won’t kill your own husband.”

______ laughed through her nose and said, “You’re right, I won’t kill my husband. Because you are not my husband. You are the man who held me against my will; tortured me physically, mentally, and emotionally; and raped me. You were never my husband, nor were you ever the man I loved.”

Leo looked at Krikor’s face and saw that he was extremely pale, a panicked look spread across his face.

He looked back at ______ and asked, “Are you ready?”

She looked up at him and said, “I’ve been ready for four years.”

He nodded but saw that her hand was shaking, causing the barrel of the gun to move ever-so-slightly.

He placed a hand on her waist and asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes…,” she said, taking a shaky breath, “I need to do this. Otherwise I’ll never win against him.”

Leo nodded and gently pulled her against his chest. He wrapped his hand around hers on the gun, stopping it from shaking, and pressed the barrel against Krikor’s forehead. He slowly moved both of their fingers to the trigger and paused for a moment, letting her take a deep breath, before they squeezed the trigger. A loud ‘bang’ echoed around the large room and Krikor’s body slumped in the chair, blood dripping down the back of the chair. Leo stepped back, letting ______ do the same and he gently pulled the gun from her shaking hand, handing it to N before pulling her into his arms.

“I’m finally free….” She breathed, leaning against his chest.

“You don’t have to hide anymore.” Leo said, kissing her forehead.

______’s body stiffened suddenly and she quickly grabbed on to Leo’s shirt.

“Taekwoon…!” She said, sounding panicked.

He quickly looked down at her face and asked, “What’s wrong?!”

Her breathing was extremely uneven and she said, “M-my… my water just broke…!”

“What?!” Taekwoon exclaimed, looking down.

And sure enough, he saw a large stain on the carpet beneath her along with a few wet spots down the front of her dress.

He looked back up at her with wide eyes and said, “B-but the doctor said the baby wasn’t due for another two weeks!!”

______ swallowed hard and said, “The baby decides when it’s time and he says he wants out now!”

Taekwoon gulped, eyes still wide and nervousness filling his body.

“Ken, go get the car, now!” He said, looking back at the brunette.

“What’s wrong?” N asked, coming over to them.

“______ is going into labor!” Taekwoon exclaimed, visibly nervous.

Everyone started panicking just a little bit and Ken sprinted out of the room, running past some members from the other gang as he screamed, “OUT OF THE WAY!! SHE’S GOING INTO LABOR!!!”

The others came over to ______ and started asking what they needed to do.

“Just get me into the car and to the hospital!” ______ said, a slightly pained expression coming over her face.

“Right!” They all yelled and Leo swept ______ up into his arms.

They all ran out front just as Ken was screeching to a stop in front of the door. Ravi ripped the door to the back open and Hyuk and Hongbin jumped in before Leo got in carefully with ______ still in his arms. Ravi quickly crawled into the back with them as N hopped into the front seat with Ken.

“Ken, get me to the hospital now!” ______ yelled, her first contraction hitting her.

“On it!!” He yelled back, hitting the gas.

“Yah, be careful,” Leo scolded, “Drive fast, but be careful! We don’t want to encourage the baby to come out in the car!”

Ken nodded and started driving more carefully. ______ groaned in pain as another contraction hit her.

“Fuck, my contractions aren’t that far apart…!” She said, gritting her teeth.

“N, how far away are we?” Leo asked, looking up at the slightly older male.

N checked the GPS and swore.

“We’re almost half an hour away!” He said, sounding worried.

“Ugh,” ______ whined, “Taekwoon, I don’t think I'm gonna make it that long! The baby really wants out!”

Taekwoon didn’t know what to do. Thoughts ran through his head a mile a minute and he had absolutely no idea what he needed to do or could do.

“Fuck, someone call Alyx now!” ______ cried, another contraction hitting.

Hongbin nodded and pulled his phone out, dialing their friend.

“She’s not answering!” He said after getting her voicemail.

______ buried her face in Taekwoon’s chest and groaned out, “She’s working right now! Call the hospital and ask for her!”

Hongbin nodded again and did as he was told.

A nurse answered and he quickly said, “I need to speak with Dr. Johnston immediately! It’s urgent!”

  “Dr. Johnston, there’s a man on the phone asking to speak to you,” a nurse said, popping her head into the breakroom where the doctor currently sat, “He said his name was Hongbin and he said it was urgent that he speak with you.”

Alyx nodded and stood up, following the nurse to the phone.

She picked up the phone and said, “Yeah Hongbin, what’s—”

“______ IS IN LABOR!!” Hongbin yelled.

“Wait, what,” Alyx asked, obviously confused, “I thought she wasn’t due for another two weeks?!”

“She wasn’t but—”

His voice cut off and Alyx got confused again.

“Alyx,” ______ growled, now the one with the phone, “The baby wants out, now!!”

“Tell me what exactly is going on.” Alyx said, needing to know everything.

“Long story short, Krikor kidnapped me this morning, the boys came to get me, Leo and I shot Krikor in the head, then my water broke! Now I'm having contractions and they are not that far apart at all!” ______ said.

“Fuck.” Alyx swore.

  “Put me on speaker.”

______ pulled the phone away from her ear and hit the speaker button.

“You’re on.” ______ said, swearing as another contraction hit her.

“Leo, where are you guys?”

“We’re in the van on our way to the hospital but we’re still about twenty minutes out,” Leo said, looking down at ______ worriedly, “But she doesn’t think she’s gonna make it that long.”

Alyx sighed and said, “There’s a good chance she might not. If the baby wants out, the baby wants out.”

“So what do we do?!” Ravi exclaimed, clearly concerned.

“Which two of you are the least easily grossed out?” Alyx asked.

The boys all looked around at each other before Leo answered, “N and me are I guess….”

“Then I need you two down at the vagina.” She said bluntly.

“Wait, what?!” Leo exclaimed, blushing lightly as he stared down at the phone.

“She’s already in labor so Leo, I need you to check some stuff and I need N with you just in case.”

N swore again and hoped into the back of the van with the others.

“Hyuk, get your ass in the front seat,” ______ said, pointing to the front, “You are not seeing my vagina.”

The poor boy turned bright red and scrambled into the front seat.

“Ravi, Hongbin,” Alyx said, “I want you two to sit with ______ and help her through everything. One of you sit behind her and hug her and the other one needs to hold her hand.”

The four males in the back of the van shuffled around until Ravi sat with ______ between his legs with Hongbin next to them holding her hand. Leo and N were both sitting on their knees by ______’s legs and N took the phone from ______.

“Ok Alyx, we’re all where we need to be.” He said.

“Great. Leo, take her panties off.”

Leo swallowed hard and looked up at ______ for permission, and she groaned.

“For fuck’s sake Leo, it’s not the first time you’ve done it!” She yelled, not caring what she said anymore.

Leo blushed more as everyone who wasn’t driving looked at him shocked. He glared at them and they all went back to what they were doing before he reached under ______’s dress and gently slid her panties off.

“Ok, they’re off.” He said.

“I need you to look and tell me what you see.”

“Um…,” Leo said, swallowing hard again before looking between her legs, “I… I don’t see anything! Just her… ya know….”

“Good. Do you guys have any hand sanitizer?”

Hyuk opened the glovebox and said, “Yeah, I've got it.”

“Ok, toss that to Leo.”

The youngest did what he was told and tossed it to Leo.

“Now what?” Leo asked.

“This is where we get a little physical,” Alyx said, making Leo lose a bit of color, “Leo, I need you to check to see if her cervix is opening yet.”

“You want me to do what?!” Leo asked, eyes wide.

“I need you to reach in, and tell me if her cervix is opening.” Alyx said again.

Leo’s face turned bright red.

“God damn it Leo, just Purell your finger and stick it in there! This is not the time for you to be so fucking shy!” ______ growled, glaring at her boyfriend.

He nodded quickly at her words and quickly sanitized his finger.

“O-ok, I'm checking….” Leo said.

He reached between her legs and gently slid a finger into her, feeling around.

“Is it opening?” Alyx asked.

“I-I don’t know…! What am I feeling for?!” He answered, feeling around some more.

“Trust me, you’ll most likely know if you touch it. It feels different than the rest of her vagina. If you can’t tell or even if you’re just unsure, as awkward as this is, have N check too. I know it’s uncomfortable since he’s a close friend, and he probably never imagined that he’d have to do something like that either, but you know it’s nothing sexual.” Alyx said.

Leo looked over at N before looking at ______.

“I don’t care if he checks, just figure it out!” ______ said, another painful contraction hitting.

The two nodded and N purelled his finger. Leo pulled his hand away and let N check.

“Shit, I think it’s open,” N exclaimed, looking slightly horrified, “Leo, check again, more to the right side.”

Leo nodded and they switched places again. Leo checked a second time and did as N said, feeling more to the right.

“Ah, I feel it,” he said, slightly shocked, “It’s definitely open!”

“How open?” Alyx asked.

“Wide.” They both said together.

“Shit,” Alyx swore, “You guys might have to do my job for me.”

“What?!” All of the guys yelled.

“He wants out,” ______ growled, “And he wants out now!”

“Leo, N, you guys are probably going to have to deliver the baby.” Alyx said.

The two mentioned males looked at each other panicked.

“Alyx, we don’t know how to—” Leo started to say before he was cut off by his girlfriend.

“I don’t care who does it or if they have experience or not, someone just get this baby out of me!” ______ screamed, struggling against Ravi.

The red-haired male held her tighter and tried to calm her down, succeeding after a few moments.

“______, how far apart are your contractions?” Alyx asked.

“Ugh… a few minutes apart I think….” ______ answered, burying her face in Ravi’s shoulder.

“Ok, I need you to—”

Alyx was cut off by another voice on her end of the line and she swore.

“I have to go,” Alyx said, sighing, “We’ve got a lot of patients coming in soon.”

“Wait, you can’t go! We have no idea what we’re doing!” Leo exclaimed, panicking.

“Just pay attention to her contractions. When they’re two to five minutes apart and last for a minute to a minute and a half each, tell her to push. Make sure you pull over if it gets to that. And if you make it that far, google the rest. Good luck, and get here as fast as you can.” Alyx said before hanging up.

N and Leo stared at the phone in shock before looking at each other.

“Leo,” N whispered, “Do you really think we can do this?”

Leo took a deep breath and whispered back, “We might have to.”

[littlebitoffanfic]

Honourable part 3

Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean Character: Hector Barbossa, Jack Sparrow Relationship: Barbossa/reader Request: Can you please please do another Barbossa one for the series Honourable… just whatever your brilliant mind can come up with. Part 1 - http://littlebitoffanfic.tumblr.com/post/159049471079/honourable part 2 - http://littlebitoffanfic.tumblr.com/post/159388056834/honourable-part-2 You sat at the bottom in the stairs that lead up to the upper deck, a bottle of rum in your hand. Some of the crew had asked you if you were okay, to which you glared and even let out a snarl before taking a swig of the bottle. It was your 2nd bottle and you were nearly done. You had no doubt in your mind that Jack would scold you for this despite his addition to the liquid but you didn’t care. How else were you meant to mend a broken heart? Not even mend, just numb. Fresh tears filled your eyes and you tried to blink them away and took a swig of the bottle. Only 3 hours before you had been the happiest girl in the world. You had had everything in the world. A brother who would do anything for you and a lover who adored you. Or you thought he did. But, if you were honest with yourself, you should have known it would never have worked. It had started with you overhearing Jack and Barbossa fighting. You had been going to see Barbossa with the hopes of retrieving a kiss from your lover, but stopped when you heard raised voices. “Then how did she get your ring?” Jack growled, his voice filled with an uncharacteristic anger. “what ring?” Barbossa matched Jacks tone. “The one on the neckless!” “How in blazes should I know?!” Barbossa retorted and your hand flew up to your neck. You had looped the ring Barbossa had given you as a proposal around a golden chain Jack had given you for your birthday many years ago. “Maybe she stole it. She is a pirate, after all.” You felt your heart break slightly. How was it easier for him to brand you a thief than to say he loved you. Not that you weren’t, but to steal from the captain was cause for death. Would he rather condemn you to that than admit his feelings to your brother. ‘Because he doesn’t really love you.’ A voice whispered from the back of your mind. The voice you thought you had silenced a long time ago. “She isn’t a pirate and don’t call her that again!” Jack snarled, only adding to your pain. Both were normally quite calm but from the sounds and tones of their voices, they had been at this a long time. “then whats she doing aboard a pirate ship?” Barbossa snapped. “She wasn’t supposed to be here that long!” jack retaliated. “Then how long was she?” “Not that longer with the likes of you. I’ll leave her at the next port!” “Fine!” “Fine!” They both shouted at each other and you couldn’t control your anger and hurt. “Fine!” You shouted through the door, slamming your fist against it as your other hand ripped the neckless off and dropped it to the ground, the ring rolling off it. There was silence from inside as you turned on your heel and stormed across the dock, tears brimming in your eyes. you had taken refuge at the bottom of the stairs solely because you knew neither would come down here. The crew were mostly sleeping apart from a few who lay awake in their hammocks. But neither would risk waking the crew for a heart to heart with you. “If they even have hearts.” You mumbled to yourself as you took another swig of the rum. They wanted you gone, then fine. The ship was sailing near a village on the shore that you had visited once before not too long ago. Close enough to row a boat to but not the to dock the ship. The plan had been to go tomorrow to restock on items such as water and food but you weren’t waiting for then. You got to your feet and ran to your hammock and quickly packed up your things, which didn’t take much time before your eyes searched for one pirate you could trust. You found him, asleep in his hammock. “Gibbs? Gibbs?” You shook him, your voice breaking from the crying you had just been doing and was obvious even when you were whispering. “Good god, whats wrong?” He shot up, hearing your voice break and seeing your tear stained cheeks in the soft glow of a candle. “I need you to help me get one of the rowing boats down.” You turned your face away from the light as much as possible. “Why?” He asked, his eyes darting across the cabin, looking for trouble. “I have to leave.” You kept it vague but you saw him about to ask questions. “Jacks going to throw my off at the next port anyway. Please, I want off this ship tonight! Please, Gibbs. They cant see me leave.” He instantly understood who you were referring to. He could tell by your voice you were serious and he reluctantly agreed. The two of your snuck up on deck after he called to you that neither Jack nor Barbossa was around. It was late or maybe early morning, you really couldn’t tell when you and Gibbs lowered one of the row boats in to the water. You swung your bag over your shoulder as you climbed over the side and to the top step of the step ladder. “What should I tell them?” Gibbs suddenly asked, coming to stand opposite you. “Tell them nothing. You didn’t see me. You didn’t have anything to do with this.” You told him, not wanting him to get in trouble. Gibbs gave you a sad smile. “I wish we could have parted under better terms.” He chuckled, making you smile. “me too. When you come into the town tomorrow, meet me in the Old House. It’s a pub. I owe you a drink.” You smiled, wanting to say a proper good bye to the one person on this ship who had never said a bad word against you. He nodded, smiling at you. With that, you descended and climbed into the boat. Setting your bag in front of your feet, you picked up the oars and started to row. ---------------time skip ----------------------- You had found the Old house and rented out a room. The gent behind the counter asked for how long you would be staying, so you just said tonight and then decide tomorrow. It was late when you got to bed, not that you slept much. You had spent the last god knows how many nights in the arms of Barbossa, cuddling to his chest and feeling the warmth that radiated from him in the coldest weather. But now you lay in a cold bed. Eventually you did drift off between fits of crying. But you were woke the next day by someone knocking on your door. “Yes?” You called out. “Someone downstairs askin’ for yah, miss.” A member of the staff called to you. You said you would be down in a minute and they left. You shoved on a dress and quickly gave yourself a once over, not wanting Gibbs to think he made the wrong choice by helping you. You left your room and walked quickly into the pub area of the Old house. You glanced around, not seeing him at first until you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you down into a seat. You blinked a little but saw it was Gibbs, who gave you an apologetic smile. You quickly understood why. You were now seated across from Jack and Barbossa. Turning to Gibbs, you glared at him, pursing your lips and frowning hard. But before you could say anything, he got to his feet and shot to the bar, leaving you stuck at the table with the two men you hated right now. “[y/n]…” Jack started to try and speak to you but you whipped around, ready to fight him. “DON’T YOU DARE! Either of you. I heard what you said about me last night! Well, you don’t have to worry about me getting in the way of you and your fancy fucking ship.” You snarled at both of them. “I didn’t mean it like that!” Jack tried to defend himself, his voice a little more high pitched than normal. “Yes you did! You always have done. I was never good enough in your eyes. You would pick me up and drop me off where ever your heart decided. I was never good enough to sail with the ‘great jack sparrow’. You always have done this, ever since we were children. You would run off and play pirate but the second I tried to join, you would say I ruined it. Well, guess what Jack, im better than you at some things. And that drives you crazy so you fob me off every chance you get.” You kept your voice low to avoid making a scene because you had no intentions of staying here. Seeing Jack was hard enough, but Barbossa as well. You hated that you loved him so much. “He started it!” Jack cried out, pointing to Barbossa who rolled his eyes slightly. If it were any other time, you might have giggled or even laughed, but this was different. You stood up abruptly, turned on your heel and left at a quick pace. You heard a chair scrap and boots following you. You sped up, fumbling with the key for your room as you turned a corner and went to your room. “[y/]?” A voice called for you, sounding broken and desperate before Barbossas hand grabbed your upper arm. You ripped yourself from him and continued to your room. You knew he would catch back up with you when you unlocked it and you were right. You could feel his powerful presents behind you as you unlocked your room and opened the door. You tried to dart inside and close the room over but he wedged his foot between the door and the door frame. You growled, but stepped back, allowing him to enter. He closed the door behind you and you took the chance to turn away from him. “[y/n].” Barbossa said your name like a prayer as you heard him step closer to you. “You know as well as I do that stealing from the captains a hanging offence. You’d really rather see me hung than tell my brother about us?” You asked over your shoulder. Your voice was a lot softer with him than with jack. But Jack had got the brunt of your anger which had now turned into hurt. “Nah, love. That’s not what I intended.” Barbossa said softly to you, stepping closer. “Or maybe you never planned to tell him at all. You didn’t seem to protest to me being dumped at some port, anyhow.” You shrugged, tears cascading down your cheek as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Love-“ He started. “Don’t call me love.” You half growled, half sobbed. “Im so stupid! God, I should have known this was how it would turn out. I should never have let myself fall in love with you!” You scolded yourself, gripping your elbows as you shook your head. “Sparrow came in, accusing me of playing with you. We started tah bicker and it escalated. I didn’t think you would want him finding out in a fight with me, so I denied it. I just wanted to stop so I could come and get you.” Barbossa stepped closer till he was right behind you. “When I heard you shout, my heart dropped to the bottom of the ocean. And when I found the ring on the floor and you were nowhere to be found, I realised I couldn’t be without you for even a day.” He whispered in your ear, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you against his chest. You closed your eyes, hating yourself for feeling so warm in his embrace. Shaking your head, you dropped your hands to his and pulled them apart so you could walk away from him and over to the window. “Are yah certain you wont return ta the pearl?” Barbossa asked you. You frowned and closed your eyes. “yes.” You called over your shoulder. You were so scared of what he was going to do next. You wanted him to beg for you to come back, to tell you how much he needed and wanted you. You wanted, just for a second, for him to stop being a captain and just be your lover. But you knew that would never happen. “I’ll stay with yah.” You spun around, your eyes wide as you stared at him. Had he really just say that? “Wh-wh-what?” You stammered. “I’ll stay here, with yah. I aint going back to that ship without you.” Barbossa looked you in the eyes as he spoke and you searched for any sign of deception. You couldn’t find any so you shook your head, looking away from him. “No you wont.” You whispered, closing your eyes tight as tears ran down your cheek. “Aye, I will.” He walked up to you. Your eyes fluttered open and found his own. “But, you’re a pirate.” You tried to rationalise. Barbossa hook his finger under your chin and bringing your face up to his. “So are you.” He mumbled. It broke you. Tears cascaded down your cheek uncontrollability as you tried to cover your face with your hands. Arms wrapped around your body, pulling you back into his embrace. He was dead set on staying here with you. He adored the sea, it was where he had lived, grown up, he belonged there. Sobs raked through your body as you lowered your hands from your face to bury yourself into his neck. Your hands gripped at the front of his coat. You pulled away for just a moment to lean up and kiss him. Barbossa was taken back by your sudden action but quickly kissed you back, deeply. He leaned down, dipping you back a little and you honestly felt like he desperately needed you. He had offered to stay, to give up the sea, the pearl, everything just for you. You jumped when the door slammed open and jack stumbled in. He had a bottle of rum in his hand and his hat tilted forward over his eyes but you still jumped back from Barbossa. “Listen, [y/n]. I don’t want you getting’ hurt, allllll right. I aint wanting you out there with them and them hurting you. You gotta be safe! If I could take you with me and know you were safe, I would!” He spoke loudly and slurred, obviously drunk. You quickly ran in front of him before he bumped into something or fell out the window. Because of the way he moved, he ended up with his back to Barbossa and you in front of him. “Shh, its okay.” You hushed him, trying to calm him. You moved his hat back so he could see. “I wasn’t gonna throw you out. I was just trying to get Barbossa tah admit he was takin’ advantage of you!” He gestured wildly with your hands as he swayed from side to side, as if he was on a ship and not dry land. “Jack, listen to me. Me and Barbossa, there has been something going on. For a while now. But I assure you, he isn’t taking advantage of me. He treats me really well, a lot better than anyone else ive been with. He respects me, he cares for me and I really care for him. I love him, Jack.” You told him, realising you were staring at him as you said you loved him. You were all too aware you had never actually said the words to him, it was more implied than anything else. Your attention was quickly drawn back to Jack, who was staring at you. “You love him?” He asked, sounded slightly disgusted but curious. You nodded. “Right, well, I think im gonna go find him and have a word with him.” Jack nodded to himself, looking past you. You gave Barbossa a subtle hand gesture to move out of his line of sight as Jack turned and took long and purposeful strides to the door. He left without another word, but you knew he’d be back when he remembered that Barbossa had followed you. You stared at the door which closed over by its self as you smiled to yourself. “That wasn’t so bad.” You mumbled, tilting your head to the side as Barbossa let out a laugh. “Nah, you’re right, lass.” He chuckled as he walked over to you, his arms instantly wrapping back around you. “We’d better get back out to the pearl. God knows what will be happening with both captains gone AND Gibbs as well.” You mused, feeling Barbossa freeze for a moment. “You’ll come back?” He mumbled, and you saw his eyes sparkle. “Yes, Neither of us really belong on land, anyway.” You shrugged, making Babrossa let out a soft chuckle before ducking down for another kiss. You were happy enough to kiss him back, feeling the nights burdens lift from your shoulders and your heart mend. “I love yah.” Barbossa mumbled against your lips, making your heart skip a beat. “Really?” You pulled back a little, your voice filled with a child-like hope. “I wouldn’t have asked yah to marry me if I did-nay.” He smiled down at you before he pulled away and reached into his pocket to pull out two items. His ring and your neckless. You gasped at the sight of them, instantly feeling immense guilt for leaving them but you reached out and took them from him. You fiddled with the ring for a moment, debating whether or not to put it on the chain again. Barbossa let out a low chuckle before reaching out and taking the ring from you so he could slid it onto your ring finger. You smiled as he did so. You offered him the neckless, which he took and you spun around, lifting up your hair so he could put the neckless on for you. Once he was finished, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your exposed neck, making you shiver slightly. “We’d better go find Sparrow.” Barbossa half sighed as you turned back to him. You saw a small smirk on his lips as he offered his arm to you. You quickly grabbed your bag and hook your arm around his, smiling at how proud he looked. Even just walking down the small streets, he held his chin high, something he normally did but this was different. You found Jack yelling at a rather confused looking gentlemen on a side street. “Come on, Jack.” You hooked your free arm around his and hauled him away. The second the two men looked at each other over your head, you felt the tension rise. “Just get along for 5 minutes till we get back to the ship. Please?” You signed, and of course neither could disobey you. You learned later that you had a lot of the crews loyalty, more so than you could have ever though. The morning after you left, demanded to know where you were and if you were safe. You couldn’t help but laugh at the fact these murderous pirates showed so much concern over you. Gibbs apologised to you for telling, but you assured him you were glad he had done it and you still trusted him with your life, which he seemed very proud of. you quickly realised that just because you stepped on land, it didn’t take the pirate out of you. You belonged to the sea, much like both Jack and Barbossa. Jack and Barbossa seemed to ease off each other slightly, or maybe just when you were around. They both just wanted you to be happy so if it meant a tense truce, then so be it. You promised yourself one thing when you stepped back on the ship: that you would never leave the sea again. And as you felt an arm around your waist, Barbossa made himself a similar promise. He would never see you unhappy again.

[tayegi]

Lake of Fire Pt. 2 (m)

Sequel to In Bloom and Lake of Fire Pt. 1

Warning: Graphic wolf!Jungkook smut

Word Count: 12,457

Dedicated to the misogynists who tried to ruin my passion for this series. Couldn’t have done it without y’all :) 

The next few Tuesdays pass in rapid succession.

The very next day after the accident with Jungkook on the full moon, Jiho breaks up with you. He simply goes up to you at your desk the next morning and tells you that you should break up. It’s so blunt that you almost feel offended. Like the last few months didn’t exist. But for some strange reason, you can’t bring yourself to feel one ounce of indignation, and you accept with a simple nod of your head. And when Jiho storms off, strangely furious, you realize that he had been expecting you to grovel for his forgiveness. That your reaction wasn’t what he had expected at all.

And that’s when you realize that you desperately need a change of scenery. So you go to your boss’s office directly after work and beg for a transfer to a different branch. She’s hesitant at first, utterly dumbfounded over the fact that anyone would want to return to Busan after a high ranking position in Seoul. But she has no choice but to grant your request when you make up a heartbreaking story about ill relatives.

So nearly a decade after your move to the big city as a naïve little teenager, you find yourself moving back to your hometown.

Your parents are utterly bewildered when they find their fully-grown, adult daughter on their doorstep that weekend with just a suitcase in hand. They’re worried at first, but when they begin to piece together the details of your breakup, they decide not to ask any questions. Your father mutters under his breath about your overreaction as he leads you to your childhood bedroom, but of course, he doesn’t know the specifics of Jungkook’s role in the breakup. And you don’t correct him.

The phone calls and texts from the wolf boy decrease in frequency as time passes, but they never cease entirely. He still has his Tuesdays, after all. But you’ve learned to delete the messages without looking at them.

You already know that he loves you. You are reminded every time you look in the mirror and see that ghastly puckered scar on the base of your neck.

Twenty-five Tuesdays later, you arrive home from work to find your mother outside, working in the small vegetable patch in the backyard. You quickly run upstairs to change, stopping briefly to greet your father in the kitchen, before rushing outdoors to meet her.

It’s August, and even this late in the afternoon, the sun scorches your bare skin. So you grab a wide-brimmed gardening hat out of the shed before joining your mother at the garden.

She smiles at the sight of you, “How was work, honey?”

You shrug, more interested in the rows of squash plants, “Fine. Boring as usual.”

“The Busan branch of your company is pretty tiny, huh?”

“Yeah… They have nothing for me to do. I work for an hour, then surf the internet for the rest of the day... This job’s a joke.”

“It seems like your work in Seoul was more fulfilling,” Your mother carefully comments as she tugs a weed from the soil.

You playfully roll your eyes, “Oh come on, Mom. Not this again…”

“Your father and I just don’t really understand why you would give up such a nice job.”

“I didn’t give it up,” you correct her, “It’s still waiting for me when I get back.”

“Alright… It just doesn’t seem like you to do all of this just because of a boy. We thought you were a bit tougher than that.”

You pause in the process of examining a leafy green plant, hurt by her comment, “If you want me out of the house, I’ll leave. I’ll go apartment hunting in the morning.”

“Oh, don’t do that, sweetie. Of course you’re welcome to stay for as long as you’d like. It’s nice to have you back… We just don’t like the reasons why you’re back.”

You have no response for that. Your mother’s right, after all. Hiding from a man after a breakup… it’s a cowardly act. It’s not like you at all.

But at that moment, your phone rings, alerting you of a phone call. You take one look at Jungkook’s name flashing across the screen, and reject the call without hesitation. And here’s the real reason why you’re hiding in Busan.

“Shouldn’t you take the call?” Your mother asks, confused by your brusque response.

“Nah. It’s fine.”

“Who was it?”

“No one important.”

“Who?”

“… Jungkook,” you finally admit.

“Ah, Jeon Jungkookie?” the older woman repeats, her entire face lighting up in delight at the mention of his name, “Aish, I was supposed to have lunch with his mother last week, but something came up! How is that boy?”

You wince at the mention of the wolf boy, “He’s… he’s fine.”

“I haven’t seen him in months!” Your mother exclaims, oblivious to your distress, “Maybe I should invite him over for a weekend.”

“Mom!” You cry out, “That is not a good idea!”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “What’s wrong? The two of you were inseparable as kids! Did anything happen?”

“No. That’s not it,” you quickly lie.

“Then what is it? Is it the fact that you’re both adults now? You don’t want to ruin your reputation for future suitors by spending so much time with such a handsome young man, huh?” she teases.

“Mom!”

“Don’t worry, I have an easy solution for you,” she continues, undeterred, “Just marry him! You’ll save your reputation and make him happy all at once!”

Your stomach drops. She’s just teasing… But her words are surprisingly insightful, “Stop it,” you mutter, dropping your gaze to fixate on a stubborn dandelion weed, “We’re just friends.”

“Sure you are,” your mother laughs, but your glare shuts her up, “Ok, ok. I’ll stop teasing you, sweetie. Though you really should invite Jungkook over for a visit.”

You say nothing, turning your attention back on weeding the vegetable patch again.

However, at that very moment, your father shatters the brief moment of peace by sticking his head out the screen door and yelling, “What are you guys saying about my future son-in-law?!”

You groan and bury your face in your hands.

On the twenty-sixth Tuesday, you receive a bouquet of roses from Jungkook on your front doorstep. You hurriedly pull off the card and leave them in front of your neighbor’s house before your parents can notice. On the twenty-seventh, you receive an enormous teddy bear that goes directly into the toy drive donation box at work. And so it continues until the thirtieth Tuesday, when your parents miraculously intercept the fruit basket that arrives a few hours late.

You walk through the front door to find the two of them enjoying fresh pears at the kitchen island and your heart drops. “Mom!” You exclaim in horror, “Dad! Where the heck did you get that from?!”

“It’s from Jungkook,” your father explains as he pops a grape into his mouth, “What a thoughtful kid.”

“Yah, you lied to us, ____!” your mother grumbles, “I knew you were dating! Why didn’t you admit to it?”

“We’re not!” You screech, rushing over to grab the elaborate basket from the counter, “Stop eating that!”

“Ah, don’t be selfish and share with your poor parents,” your father complains loudly, “Jungkook would want his in-laws to eat well.”

“Stop saying that!” Your ears have turned bright red at this point, and you slap both hands over them in shame, “We’re not dating and we never will.”

“Why not?” your mother bemoans, “It’s clear that he likes you, ____. And he’s such an excellent match: handsome, good job, good family. What else could you possibly ask for?!”

“Just date him,” your father adds, hastily wrestling back the fruit basket so he can shove another grape in his mouth, “You’re getting to that age, anyways.”

“Yeah. And it’s not like you can do any better.”

Your heart sinks to your stomach, “W-what?”

Your mother simply rolls her eyes, “I’m surprised that Jungkookie even likes you. He’s so handsome and successful and you’re so…” she clears her throat loudly, “You should just jump on this opportunity before he changes his mind.”

She’s not serious. You know this. Your mother just has a caustic way of talking and she doesn’t mean it. But you can’t help the pain that explodes across your system like a punch to the gut. You swallow tightly and shake your head, “N-no. It’s more complicated than that, mom.”

But she snorts, “I don’t see why you young people need to make things so dramatic. You’re too old to be playing around anymore. Stop messing around and accept Jungkook already. You’re hurting his feelings!”

You bite down on your bottom lip, “Is that all a daughter is good for?”

Your parents look up at that, surprised that you’ve dared talk back to them, “What did you say?”

You lower your eyes to the ground, “I just… I don’t think you’d be saying this to me if I was a man instead.”

They gape at you with their jaws dropped to the ground, unable to process this unexpected outburst from you, but by then, you’ve already walked away.

Later that night, guilt fills your stomach as you recall your immature outburst. How could you have reacted that way, at your age? You’re not a whiny little high schooler anymore, but a mature, adult woman. You should’ve just kept your thoughts to yourself and meekly agreed with whatever your parents were saying, even if they were wrong.

But as it is, your parents weren’t exactly wrong. You do have strong feelings for Jungkook. These feelings haven’t always been romantic, but they’ve always been there. There’s no doubt about that. So what’s stopping you?

You can’t express it in words, but there is something weighing you down, turning your stomach at the very idea of a relationship with the wolf boy. You’ve always thought that it was because you were afraid of ruining your friendship with your best friend. Relationships never last and you refuse to ruin the one good thing you have in your life with messy feelings. But could it be that you’ve just been lying to yourself?

Your mother is wrong, at least. That much you know for sure. There is absolutely nothing wrong with having some fun in your youth, and you resent any hint of slut-shaming, but this is not the reason you’d reject Jungkook. It’s much too petty for someone you care as your second half.

So why are you running away from him? What are you so afraid of?

You flip over in bed and pull the covers over your head, as though you can hide from your painful thoughts.

On the thirty-seventh Tuesday, you find your resilience rapidly melting away. Your mother had asked you to clean out your closet for the clothing drive, but after picking apart your old things for a few hours, you stumble upon a box of old trinkets from grade school. And you’re not surprised to find that most of it is saved memorabilia from times spent with Jungkook.

There are countless birthday cards, ticket stubs, and little bits of cheap, broken jewelry that haven’t stood the test of time. There’s that lopsided teddy bear Jungkook won for you at the seventh grade fair. There’s that now-unsticky sticky hand that Jungkook used to torment you with in fourth grade. There’s that coaster imprinted with the logo of the bar the two of you had your very first drink in the moment you came of age. There have been so many memories shared by the two of you that you can’t untangle him from your past. The two of you had been inseparable, like two halves of the same whole.

It’s been months since you’ve last spoken to him. Months. In the past, you’d be lucky to endure with the silent treatment for over a day… You miss him.

You feel empty without him in your life, as though your barren chest is missing its heart.

You’re still not sure how you feel about him and the whole mate situation, but one thing is clear and that is you can’t live without him. You need to go to Seoul.

You stand outside Jungkook’s apartment on the thirty-eighth Tuesday, hand poised to rap on the door, then you freeze. Your heart is pounding in your chest so hard that you’re afraid that he can hear you even through the thick walls. Sweat has collected at your temples and under your nose, and your knees won’t stop wobbling. You’re so nervous that you could die.

Your hand trembles like a leave in the wind, but somehow, you muster the courage to lower your fist to the wood. It’s a soft knock, barely audible to even your ears, but you know his sharp wolf senses can easily pick it up. Struggling to swallow the knot in your throat, you step back and wait.

No more than thirty seconds could have passed, but it feels like a lifetime before the door swings open. And then you’re faced with Jeon Jungkook for the first time in over four months.

His hair is longer than you remember, dark strands running into his eyes, and he’s not as clean-shaven as he usually is, stubble running from the bottom of his face down to his neck, but the handsome covered by the hair is still the same. And sharp brown eyes fixate on you so intensely that you can’t help but drop your gaze.

You drink in his simple outfit of sweats and a loose t-shirt instead, trying to collect your thoughts as the tense silence drags. But the familiar outfit reminds you of that fateful night last February when everything changed and you can’t breathe again.

You don’t know how long you stand outside, quivering on his front door step, but when a particularly vicious gust of wind threatens to knock you over, Jungkook quickly jumps to action, “Come in.”

A shiver travels the length of your spine at the sound of his voice for the first time in so long. You nod your head then meekly follow him inside. Jungkook stops you in the living room and gestures for you to take a seat.

“Would you like something to drink?” He asks, but the breathless, rushed quality of his voice reveals that it’s just for politeness’ sake. He’s much too impatient for that.

You nervously shake your head, “No, I’m fine.”

Jungkook nods and doesn’t say anything for a moment, his teeth sinking deeply into his bottom lip. You try to stare forward to avoid the intensity of his gaze, but you can’t help but notice the way his hands twitch in his lap. He hasn’t said anything but formalities, but you can tell that he’s dying to touch you. Even after all this time, it’s evident that his feelings have not changed one bit.

“D-did you,” his voice cracks and he has to clear his throat before trying again, “Did you get my gifts?”

You awkwardly nod your head, “Yes… They were nice, but very unnecessary.”

“I understand… I’m just glad you liked them.”

You can feel the excitement radiating off of him from where he sits next to you on the couch. You can hear his harsh breathing and the restless shaking of his legs. He’s basically vibrating. Suddenly, you’re brought back to those three long days when he was chained up from head to toe in the same bedroom mere yards from where you now sit. The way he had looked at you, straining against his binds and begging you for relief… The way he had emanated pure need and desire… It’s the same energy you’re feeling right now.

It’s contagious. You feel light-headed and murky, like cotton’s been stuffed in your skull. You want nothing more than to touch him, run your fingers through his long hair and scrape your nails against his scratchy beard. You want to kiss him so badly. But you know better than to simply jump in bed with him again. That’s what got you in trouble in the first place.

“We need to talk.”

He eagerly bobs his head up and down in agreement, “Yes,” he breathes, “We do.”

You bite down on your bottom lip as you mull over your next words. This whole situation is unbelievably tense and embarrassing. It takes you a considerable amount to muster the courage to voice your next words. But finally—

“I’ve missed you.”

He heaves an exhale, and like a dam bursting, his emotions come flooding out all at once, “I’ve missed you, too, ____. I’ve missed you so damn much, you have no idea. It hurt, ____-ah. It hurt so fucking much being away from you.” He lunges forward as though to embrace you, but you’re so surprised by his sudden action that you flinch away, so he settles for grasping your hand in both of his and ardently pressing his lips to the palm.

“Ah, Jungkook I—”

“But it’s okay,” he hastily interrupts, “I forgive you. Even though I was in so much pain that I thought I would die, I forgive you. At least now you’ve finally come to your senses,” he says, moving forward again.

“Wait, what?” you exclaim, holding up your arms to shield your face when it finally occurs to you that he keeps trying to kiss you.

Jungkook whines in protest and tightens his grip on your hand, “I love you,” he blurts out, heaving the statement out like a drowning man gasps for air, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Hearing those words in person after so long makes your heart flipflop. You stare down at the way his hand clutches yours so hard that his knuckles turn white. But his grip is too tight and you feel suffocated.

“And now you’re finally mine,” he whispers before lurching forward again.

You fall back against the couch in surprise, shoving a hand against his mouth just in time to ward off his unwarranted kisses, “Stop it, Jungkook!” you cry out, lying flat against the cushions and twisting your head to the side.

He falls motionless at that, bewildered by your reaction, “What’s wrong, baby?” he groans, pressing his mouth against the back of your hand instead, “I missed you so much. You have no idea how much it hurt being away from you. But it’s okay. Because you’ve finally come to me.”

“Wait, Jungkook, I think you’re misunderstanding!” You exclaim, yanking your hand out of his grip and scrambling back on the couch to gain a bit of much-needed distance between the two of you.

He pauses to stare at you through hooded lids, “_____... Don’t do this… Just admit that you love me too.”

“But I…” you nervously wring your hands together in your lap, “I’m not sure if I do…”

His eyes darken, “Do you even understand what you’ve done to me? What I’ve been through for the four goddamn months?”

You swallow tightly, terrified by the pitch black of his gaze, “J-jungkook—”

“I felt like I was going to die, ____. All because you were too damn stubborn to admit to your feelings,” he growls, eyes flashing red at this point. For a moment, you’re afraid that he might transform, “Seriously, grow up and stop this bullshit.”

It feels like a slap in the face. You’ve had your fair share of arguments with Jungkook over the years, but none like this. Never has he been so downright cruel with you. “Jungkook, I’m not lying, I swear. I really don’t know how I feel.”

His eyes narrow to slits, “You are my mate,” he snarls, enunciating each word with such fury that fear trickles down your spine, “You belong to me. Now stop acting like such a bitch and accept it.”

It’s stiflingly silent in the room for a long second. So quiet that you can hear the blood rushing in your ears.

“What?”

All of Jungkook’s anger dissipates from him at once, like the deflation of a balloon, “I… I didn’t mean that, ____.”

But it’s too late. “So I’m a bitch, huh? Just because I rejected your ass?”

The color blanches from his face, “No, that’s not—”

You interrupt him with a snort of derision, “I guess any woman who rejects a man is just a bitch then, huh? Because we’re just objects for you to possess?”

He looks agonized by your words, “Come on, ____,” he murmurs, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“So what do you mean?” you shoot back in a cool tone, “Do I not belong to you, then? Can I choose not to be your mate?”

He hesitates at that, “Well, no, but—”

“So I have no choice in this situation? No freedom at all?” You let out a humorless bark of laughter as you rise to your full height, “I’m just your little sex slave now?”

“___, you don’t understand,” he says, irritated, “Yes, you are my mate, but I’m not forcing you into anything. You want me, too. I know you do.”

You stare at him from under hooded lids, considering him for a long time. The silence stretches on and on until all oxygen is squeezed from the room. Finally—

“I don’t think you understand, Jungkook. I. Belong. To. Nobody.”

And with that, you turn sharply on your heel to march out of the room.

“Wait!” Jungkook calls after you in alarm, “____, come on! Just wait a second!”

But you’ve already walked straight out the door without a second glance.

You spend the thirty-ninth Tuesday curled up in bed, hiding under your blankets and crying your eyes out as your phone rings and rings nonstop until you finally muster the strength to get up and block Jungkook’s number. But then he starts calling the house phone instead. When your parents get home that night, they’re confused to find you covered in tears with all the landlines disconnected and lying in a pile at your feet.

But then the fortieth Tuesday comes along, and Jungkook decides to take the initiative to show up at your house. After a long day at work, you walk through the front door to find him cozied up on the couch with your parents. They’re so engrossed in their conversation, your mother too busy laughing her face off at Jungkook’s jokes and squeezing his arm, that none of them notice your presence until you drop your bag to the ground with a loud thud.

Then, there are three pairs of eyes on you, two of them confused, and one chagrined.

“Oh, ____, sweetie. There you are!”

“Look who’s come to visit us! Isn’t Jungkookie the best?” Your father beams, clapping a heavy hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

You don’t say anything for a minute, anger simmering under the surface of your composed exterior as you stare the younger man down. He at least has the audacity to look guilty as he stares back.

“Jungkook… I need to speak to you outside.”

He nods and instantly jumps to his feet, “Sorry Mr. and Mrs. ____. We’ll catch up some other time.”

But your parents just laugh him off, “No, go have fun, you crazy kids.”

“She has no curfew!” Your mother calls out from the couch, “Bring her back anytime… Actually… don’t bring her back at all!”

“You can keep her!” Your father adds, and the two of them crack up at their own lame jokes.

You cringe and quickly grab Jungkook’s sleeve so you can drag him out the door without wasting anymore time. As soon as the front door bangs shut, you whirl around to face him, “What the hell, Jeon?”

He smiles wryly at your sudden burst of temper, “I’m guessing you don’t want to grab dinner then?”

“Stop joking around, kid. Why the hell are you here?”

He lowers his head to stare you straight in the eye, “I missed you, ___.”

He’s standing so close to you that you can feel the warmth from his supernaturally heated body passing through your clothes on the cold, wintery night. You shiver and cross your arms across your chest, refusing to allow him to affect you, “Is that all you’re here to say?”

He sighs deeply, disappointed, but not exactly surprised by your cold reaction, “I also wanted to apologize… I shouldn’t have called you a bitch. That was truly vile of me and if I could take it back, I would in a heartbeat.”

You purse your lips, slightly swayed by his sincere apology, but not entirely convinced. “You’re missing the point, Jungkook. That’s not what I’m really upset about.”

He winces, “Yeah, I know… But it’s just the wolf instincts that are making me act this way, ___. You’ve gotta believe me! Every fiber of my mind is screaming at me to possess you… to make you my bi—” He stops, mid-word, before he can make another mistake. The wolf boy flushes in embarrassment at his near-slip, “I mean, they’re just urging me to claim my mate… And I know it’s primitive and sexist. I know it’s not fair to you…”

With each passing second, you find yourself softening to his words. Maybe he’s changed. Maybe he’s finally understanding the error of his ways…

“And that’s why I want to make it even between us, ____,” he says, finally mustering the courage to reach out to grab your hand. You’re startled by the electricity that jumps through your veins at that simple touch. “I love you, ___. If you belong to me, then I belong to you as well. ____-ah, you have to know that you’ve owned every piece of me, body and soul, for years. I’m all yours.”

You flinch back at his unexpectedly passionate confession, “Jungkook… No. That’s not what I mean. I—”

“I’ve marked you,” he says, sorrowfully snaking his hand up your shoulder to stroke the marred flesh of your throat, “And I get it now. It’s so unfair… Which is why you need to mark me, too.”

Your eyes pop open in bewilderment, utterly taken aback, “What?! Jungkook—”

But suddenly he whips out a small knife from his pocket, making you jump back with a shriek of surprise, “Mark me, ___,” he begs, pressing the handle to your palm, “This blade is made out of silver—it’s the only thing that could obstruct my wolf healing abilities… So mark me, ___. Make me yours.”

“What? Jungkook, this is crazy talk! I’m not going to slice you up!” You exclaim, horrified by the very idea.

“Why not?” he counters, “It’s what I deserve… I hurt you, ____,” he says, ruefully sliding his fingers over the immutable scar on your neck, “Please mark me, ____,” he begs, “So that everyone will know that I belong to you.”

The silver knife weighs heavy in your hand. You stare up into his handsome face, taking in how his teeth grit and his brown doe eyes silently beg you to agree. You reach up to carefully cup his cheek with one hand. Jungkook reacts at once, pressing into your palm like he’s starved for contact. Your chest constricts at that simple action. He’s so beautiful that it hurts.

Somehow, somehow, you manage to look him in the eye and then whisper, “No.”

His subsequent devastation is visceral, sinking down to your very bones. “___-ah,” he murmurs your name, “I don’t know what you want from me anymore… Tell me what to do and I’ll do it, I swear!”

The desperation in his tone makes your heart hurt, “You’re missing the point,” you quietly inform him, “I don’t belong to you and you don’t belong to me either. I don’t want to own you. You are a human being to me, Jungkook. Not a fucking possession.”

He gasps in surprise, his eyes so huge, they look on the verge of popping from his skull, “____-ah, I didn’t mean that… I—”

You regrettably slip your hand out of his grip, “I think you should go home, Jungkook. It’s a long trip, after all.”

“Wait, ____!” he says, rushing after you when you make to walk back inside.

You pause at the doorstep, then turn to look him in the eye, “Oh and don’t ever come here unannounced again.”

Shock spreads across his expression, “I-I didn’t mean to—”

But you’ve already shut the door in his face.

The next three months sludge by in a monotonous muck of drab grays. Jungkook doesn’t call you on Tuesdays anymore. Or if he does, you have no idea, for you have long since blocked his number on every device in the house. He might be contacting you on social media, but you haven’t logged on to check for half a year.

Instead, you fully engross yourself in your work. You leave the house every morning before your parents rise and come back only when the moon is high in the sky. But on weekends, you don’t leave the house at all, and come out only for meals. Within weeks, your parents catch onto your strange behavior, but no amount of prodding or pleading will get you to confess what’s wrong. Your mother assumes that it’s heartbreak… And she’s not exactly wrong.

You’re withering away like this, slowly wasting your youth until the fiftieth Tuesday since that faithful night that turned your world upside down comes along. And then everything goes to hell.

Fifty Tuesdays later, you wake up in your bed at the crack of dawn, bewildered by your pounding heart and the sweat slicking the entire length of your body. Did you have another nightmare? What the hell is going on?

You twist in your tangled sheets to glance at your clock and are dismayed to find that it’s barely five in the morning. Your alarm isn’t set to go off for another two hours. What a waste of sleep that you desperately need. Dismayed, you flop over on your side with a deep huff. But this brings you into the same line of vision as your nightstand… and the shiny silver blade lying so innocently on top of it. Your throat tightens.

You haven’t touched the knife since you slammed it on the table during a fit of anger after that disastrous encounter with Jungkook on your front porch all those months ago… You remember the way he had looked at you, jaw clenched in pain and eyes burning as he silently begged you to accept him. You remember the cool feeling of the blade in your hand and the way his fingers felt sliding against the sensitive mark just above your collarbones.

Suddenly, a burst of heat explodes across your belly, causing you to automatically slam a hand down on your crotch. This doesn’t nothing to tamper the heat, but the pressure of your hand feels so good that you can’t help but add more, along with a little flick of your wrist that makes you throw your head back and gasp aloud.

You have no idea why you’re so horny at such an ungodly hour, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All you know is that you need relief and soon or else you might explode. Within seconds, you find yourself lying there in the dark with your hands down your pants, rubbing one out like your life depends on it.

It’s so strange and frantic and messy. But you’re occasionally bombarded with hormones, and you don’t think much of it… until it becomes evident that the uncharacteristic lust is never going to dissipate.

Every single day for the next goddamn week, you wake up with your insides threatening to eat you up with lust. It’s almost a reflex at this point to slam both hands down your pajamas before you even fully wake up. This is usually enough to satisfy you for a few hours until you can make it home from work and spend the rest of the night with your vibrator…

But then it gets worse and worse.

Soon, you can’t even get out of bed without relieving yourself twice, and it’s almost torture trying to get through the work day. You find yourself spending your lunch break locked up in a bathroom stall with your underwear around your ankles, and you break multiple traffic laws trying to rush home fast enough to masturbate again.

This is worrisome in of itself. But what’s even more concerning is the fact that you can’t get yourself to cum unless you think of Jungkook…

It’s so messed up. It’s beyond unhealthy to lie in bed and think of your former best friend as you writhe around with your vibrator each night. But you’re so desperate for relief that you don’t care. You gladly embrace your spank bank of memories from the meager twelve hours you spent in his bed that one fateful night. And it never fails to get you off.

On the fifty-first Tuesday, you cave and make a Tinder. You have nothing against dating apps, and have used them quite extensively in the past, but making one in your hometown where you’re bound to run into old classmates at any given moment is a new level of desperation. Especially since you’d only be using them for sex. But fuck it. You don’t care anymore. You’d do anything—anything for a warm body to fill up the gaping hole in the pit of your stomach. You’re fucking delirious.

It takes an hour for you to set up a profile. Another hour, and you’ve swiped right on almost every man or woman under the age of 45 in a ten-mile radius. When you wake up in the morning, you’re pleasantly surprised by the number of matches you’ve received… or perhaps it’s not so surprising, given that you’ve liked almost everyone. Then you set off messaging all of your matches, determined to find someone to sate your urges by tonight.

It’s not as easy as you think. Clearly no one’s looking to hook up on a Wednesday night, and no one takes your messages seriously. You can barely pay attention during work all day, sending messaging under your desk and practically begging people to meet up. This makes most of your matches tense up at once, some of them going as far as blocking you. Finally, you find a guy who seems interested and just as horny as you are—well, not quite, because that would be impossible, but he does seem to respond well when you send him a picture of your legs in your pencil skirt.

This is reckless, and quite possibly dangerous, but the ache in your core makes it impossible to care as you anxiously send him details for your meetup in the evening, but before you can finalize details, the app dings to notify you of a new match. You’re about to impatiently brush it away, but the tiny icon of the young man in the photo catches your attention.

Curious, you click open his profile. He’s cute. Just as cute as the guy you’ve been texting all day, but there’s something about the way his dark hair falls in his eyes that catches your attention. Your interest has been officially piqued, so you abandon your conversation with the current guy to talk to this new match instead…

You don’t know what’s wrong with you. The first guy had just agreed to meet you at the bar tonight. And now you’re abandoning all your hard labor for the slim chance with a new one. You stare at the curve of his smile in his profile picture as you impatiently wait for his response. There’s just something about him…

It takes two full days of hard work, but you finally manage to convince the dark haired guy on Tinder to meet up with you that Friday night. His name is Kim Yugyeom and he’s the same age as you. He’s been dancing since elementary school, and it definitely shows in the way his thighs fill out the leather of his pants. But what interests you more is the strangely familiar curve of his nose and the precise way his lips twist up when he smiles. God, it’s taking everything in your power to keep from jumping across the bar to mount him.

“____-ah, are you okay?” He asks, concerned when your eyes glaze over for the hundredth time that night.

You hurriedly nod your head, “Y-yes, of course.” You lick your dry lips and press your thighs together, as though to stifle the insatiable fire between your legs.

Yugyeom frowns, "You seem a bit off, ___. Are you sick, maybe? Feverish?"

You want to laugh at his concern in his voice. He's not wrong, necessarily. You're so feverish that you think you could die from the heat, "No," you quickly deny, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" He presses on, brow furrowing deeper, "Your face is really red and you're sweating pretty badly... If you're feeling unwell, that's ok. Maybe we can just postpone this?"

"No!" You practically yell, lunging forward to grab his sleeve. If he leaves now, then it'll take forever to reschedule your date-- if he doesn't bail on you entirely, that is. No, you can't let him leave. You need him. Now.

Realizing how crazy you must look, you instantly drop your grip on his sleeve and nervously run a hand through your tousled hair, "Yugyeom... I'm going to blunt here... And I don't care if this doesn't make me seem ladylike or whatever bullshit," you pause to chug the rest of your glass of bitter alcohol for strength. Then you slam the glass on the table and turn to stare him straight in the eye, "Do you want to have sex with me?"

He is so taken back by your unexpected proposition that he chokes on his drink, "Wh-what?" he gasps, dropping his glass on the counter when his hand shakes hard enough to shatter it. "Excuse me?"

You reach across the table to knock back the rest of his drink as well, "I'm just asking you a question, Yugyeom. Please be honest with me: Do you want to have sex with me or not?"

He stares at you for a few seconds with his jaw hanging. Your anxiety twists in your chest. You're about to jump across the table to make it harder for him to resist, but at that moment, he finally responds, "Y-yes," he splutters out, "I mean, look at you. Of course I do."

Your ego inflates under this flattering words. You smile nicely at him, then reach over to offer him your hand, "Where did you park your car?"

It takes forever for the two of you to make it to his apartment. Mostly because you can't stop fondling him the entire car ride there, mouthing at his neck and rubbing him to a full erection right there in the passenger seat, despite his half-hearted protests.

He feels so good and thick under your palm that you almost lose your mind. Forgetting about the busy traffic and the danger of the situation, you try to launch out of your seat to mount him, then and there. Luckily, he holds you down with a firm hand on your hip and you somehow manage to keep your wits about you until you arrive at his apartment ten minutes later.

You're the definition of the term "hot mess" as you hastily throw your coat on the ground and kick off your shoes the moment he unlocks the door. Yugyeom catches your shaky hands with a laugh when you move to pull your dress straight over your head.

"Whoa, what's the rush, baby?"

You jerk your head up to look at him and your mouth dries. In the darkness of his apartment, he looks even better than he did in the bar. His midnight black hair creates such perfect shadows across his milky skin that your hands snap up to touch him with a mind of their own. He sighs and leans into your touch when you run both hands up his neck to caress the angles of his face. His jaw is so sharp... his skin so soft... but....

You pull your hands away after a second, confused. For some reason, it felt weird. But Yugyeom eagerly chases after your touch, leaning in to wrap both arms around you. His grip on your hips makes you feel uncomfortable for some reason you can't explain. But before you can express your discomfort, Yugyeom suddenly cards a hand through your hair and tugs you in for a kiss.

It feels all wrong. His lips are too rough, his hands too insistent and even the feel of his body pressed against yours is disconcerting. He's too tall. The curve of his jaw is weird and even his musky scent turns you off. Soon, all the heat disappears from the pit of your stomach, leaving you with crippling nausea. You shove him off of you at once, gasping for air.

"What's wrong, ___?" He asks in confusion, gently approaching you again.

You freak out before he can lay a single hand on you and protectively shield your face with both hands, "Don't touch me!" you practically shriek.

Shocked, his hands drop back to his sides at once, "____," he murmurs your name in a quiet voice, "Did I do something wrong...?"

You hastily shake your head, even as you try to collect your disorganized thoughts, "No, I just... I don't know what's wrong with me. I need a moment."

Yugyeom awkwardly sticks his hands in his pocket, then moves to stand by the window, "Okay. Take as long as you need."

You press both hands to your chest, trying desperately to recover from the crippling sense of unease. What's wrong with you? You were about to combust from horniness just two minutes ago. And here is a willing partner just within your reach. He's exactly your type too, you think as you rake over his figure illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the open window. He's so tall and broad and undeniably handsome. Almost as handsome as--

Your entire world capsizes in a sickening flip as realization hits you like a wall of cement. The dark hair, the angles of his nose, jaw, and eyes-- fuck even the curve of his smile... It's all similar... But not enough.

He might look like Jeon Jungkook... But he's not him.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp, stumbling back in agonized pain.

"___?" startled by your intense reaction, he reaches out as though to steady you before your quivering legs give out.

You scream and drop to the floor the moment his hand makes contact with your skin. It burns. But in the worst way possible. "Don't touch me!" You exclaim again.

"I... I-- are you okay?!"

You angrily shake your head, "No." He looks like he wants to say something more, but at that moment, you take the opportunity to make a run for it, snatching your coat and shoes from the ground, then running for dear life.

"___! ____!"

You can hear him calling after you, but you don't dare look back.

"Namjoon!" You yell into your phone in lieu of a greeting when he picks up on the third ring.

"___?" he asks in surprise, "I haven't heard from you for a while... Are you okay?"

"No, I'm fucking not okay," you growl, "How could you fucking not tell me that this would happen?!"

"What?" he sounds genuinely confused, but you're not fooled by his clueless act.

"Don't you dare play dumb with me right now, Kim Namjoon. You should've fucking warned me about this in advance! Do you know how much pain I'm in right now?!"

"Wait, back up a minute, ___. What the hell are you talking about?"

"Are you really going to act that way, Namjoon?! Fine! I'll say it: the heat! The fucking heat is killing me!"

"Heat...?" he repeats in surprise, "How did you know that Jungkook is in heat?"

Your stomach twists at the very mention of his name, "Wait... he's in heat too?"

"Too?!" Namjoon exclaims, "____, you're in heat?!"

"Yeah, and you very much fucking knew that already, Kim Namjoon. Why didn't you tell me that this would be a consequence of that fucking bite mark?!"

"Wait... but it's not."

"What? Don't lie to me."

"I'm not... ____, that's seriously not how it works... Even if he's marked you, you shouldn't be going into heat as well. You're not a wolf."

"Are you calling me a fucking liar then?!" you practically yell into the receiver, "I know what I'm feeling! I feel like I'm going to fucking die. No matter how many times I get myself off, it's not enough! I'm going crazy! If this isn't heat, then what the hell is it?!"

"I'm not sure, ___. But as a human, you really shouldn't shouldn't be experiencing heat... Unless--"

"Unless?!"

He hesitates for a moment before responding, "Unless you love him."

"What?!"

"Mating is not a one-way street, ___," he patiently explains, "We can't force you into it. It's consensual. Maybe not always the sex, unfortunately but the emotional aspected and shared connection between mates definitely is. This heat you're experiencing right now... This has nothing to do with the mark on your neck. This is entirely on you."

There's a beat of silence as you try to process his words. Then--

"Holy fucking shit."

Namjoon chuckles humorlessly at your reaction, "Why don't you stop this nonsense and admit your feelings already, ____? You might be able to lie to yourself, but your body doesn't lie. Spare yourself the pain and just accept him as your mate already."

"I'm not a possession," you immediately retort, "I don't belong to him."

The pack leader sighs deeply, "He knows, ____... or at least, the logical side of him knows. But his wolf instincts are more difficult to keep under control... I know it's not fair to you, ___. This whole situation is fucked up. But cut him some slack. He's trying his best."

You purse your lips into a hard line, "Where is he right now?"

You take the first train the next morning out to Seoul. You would've left earlier, but the station closed after midnight, and you have to settle for the earliest, break of dawn train out instead. You don't sleep a wink the entire night and are too impatient bouncing up and down in the deserted train to close your eyes for a second.

Finally the train pulls into the station and you lurch to your feet so quickly, you nearly knock over the elderly woman sitting right next to you. You'd normally stop and apologize, but there's no time for that today. Your groin feels like it might burst from pent up pressure as you grab your bag then sprint out the doors, making the stewardess call after you in alarm.

You ignore them all. You can't even think of anything besides your single goal in mind...

The key to the front door is still hidden under the doormat, as always. It's alarming how little has changed in the past year, when it feels like your whole world has turned upside down. It's so rude to barge into his apartment without invitation. But the ravenous hunger in your belly makes it impossible to care. And knowing Jungkook, he probably wouldn't mind, either.

You slam open the door and let yourself in without preamble. The volume of your rude entrance makes Jimin jump up in surprise from where he sits in the living room. He instantly pauses the show on the TV and rises to his feet, "____?" He asks in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

You brush off his question and drop your bag on the ground, "Jimin, where is he?"

The older man pauses for a moment, taking in your windswept appearance. You're a walking disaster standing there in the middle of the living room, drenched in sweat and panting for oxygen. Then realization hits him like a ton of bricks and his mouth forms a perfect "o" of understanding.

"Jungkook's locked up in his room."

You nod once, "Thanks," and with that, you beeline for the bedroom. You can hear Jimin quietly cursing under his breath about fleeing the scene before it's too late, but you barely give him a second thought. All you can think about is what's waiting for you deeper within the apartment.

Your heart is thundering at this point, thumping so damn hard in the weary confines of your ribcage that you're frightened that you might actually have a premature heart attack. To know that you're just a second away from a chained up Jungkook and his gorgeous cock makes your entire body flush with excess heat. You ignore the uncontrollable trembling of your hands and force the door open with your sweat-slicked palms. Then, you're face to face with the hottest image you have ever laid eyes on in your entire life.

Jungkook sits on his knees on top of the bed, a leather harness crisscrossing over his chest and his hands locked behind his back and his ankles to the bedframe by pure steel chains thicker than your arms. One glance at him and you can tell that he's just as fucked out as you. His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat and his chest heaves up and down so rapidly, he's on the verge of hyperventilating. But what captures your interest the most is the hard erection straining in his sweatpants... Is it just your imagination, or does it twitch when he catches sight of you...?

"____," he whispers in a croaky voice, entire body stiffening to stone at the sight of you.

You’re equally as affected. For a moment, neither of you can speak. You can’t help but hungrily rake your eyes up and down his tensed figured, and your heart jumps to your throat when you realize that he’s appraising you in the exact same way.

“____,” he groans again, “Thank fucking god.”

You bite your lip at the raw relief in his voice and carefully close the bedroom door behind you. Jimin hasn’t left yet, and you don’t think he’d appreciate being privy to what’s about to go down in this bedroom. Your entire body is trembling at this point and you feel lightheaded from sleep deprivation and crippling desire. It takes everything in your power to keep yourself from ripping your panties off and hopping straight on his dick. Both of you are clearly ready enough.

“U-unchain me,” he hisses, chains smashing against the headboard as he begins to struggle.

A sense of déjà vu slams into you at this painfully familiar scene… Jungkook drenched in sweat, straining against his bindings, begging you for release… Heat bursts in your chest when you remember just how you offered him relief last time…

You feel intoxicated as you stare at him through watery eyes, wondering how you could possibly be strong enough to resist him long enough to get your point across, “Not yet,” you gulp, “I… I need to talk to you first.”

He whines loudly at that, angrily yanking on his chains again, “Later,” he begs, “Right now, I need to fuck you.”

You swallow tightly as a wave of lightheadedness sweeps through you at his words, “Wait—I need you to understand something first.”

His jaw clenches so hard that a muscle jumps in his cheek, “What?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, “I… I think I want to be with you.” His eyes light up at that, so you hurry to backtrack, “But I have conditions! Jungkook… you’ve known me for over a decade. You know better than anyone that what matters most to me is my independence. I can take care of myself and I don’t need anybody. Not even you. I am a free woman, Jungkook. A woman. Not an item or a possession or whatever bullshit.”

“I know,” he groans, “I know, I know. And I respect you for that. It’s why I love you so much, ___.”

“Really?” you counter with a raised eyebrow, “Then what is this?” you demand, yanking down the collar of your shirt to reveal the little pink indents.

His eyes darken at once, the pupils spilling past the irises as he shifts to a more lupine mindset at the very sight of the marks he bestowed upon you exactly one year ago. “I… I can’t help it,” he says, even as he slowly runs his tongue across his teeth.

You can see how difficult it is for him to keep from lunging forward to sink his fangs into the same scars. “Yes, you can,” you gently pressure him, “I know you have these strong instincts running through you, but you are a man, not a beast. You don’t have to give in to such barbaric thoughts. You are more than that.”

Jungkook groans softly, “I don’t know, ___,” he admits, “I can’t think of anything other than possessing your entire body and filling you to the brim with my seed.”

You shudder at the images that flash through your mind. You’d like that too. But you have to get this out or else you’ll never forgive yourself. “Stop it, Jungkook,” you reprimand him, “Do you love me, or do you want to own me?”

“I love you,” he blurts out at once, without a single millisecond of hesitation.  

You’ve heard this confession every single week for the past year, yet to hear it in person is another thing entirely. Heat blooms in your chest as you take in the genuine expression on his face. You shake your head to clear it from the fuzzy warmth to focus on the task at hand.

You slowly nod your head, "Alright... I want to believe you. But I need you to do something for me first."

He watches with bated breath as you reach into your back pocket and pull out a familiar silver blade. He reacts at once, sitting up straighter in his seat and craning his neck to allow you access. "Yes," he whispers, growing excited at the very sight of the knife, "Mark me here. ____, please cut me."

Your hand tightens on the handle as you shake your head, "No. But I'll cut myself instead."

His furrowed brows reveal his confusion, but instead of explaining, you decide to demonstrate instead. You slowly take a seat at the foot of his bed and curl your feet under you. Jungkook's nostrils flare from the intensity of your scent from such close proximity and his tongue immediately pokes out from between his lips as though to taste you.

"Ugh, ___. Please fuck me," he groans, futilely thrusting his hips out as far as the chains will allow.

You blink the sweat out of your eyes and stubbornly shake your head, "Not yet, Jungkook... Right now, I want you to watch me."

He has no choice but to reluctantly agree, biting down hard on his tongue to tamper the nearly unbearable frustration. You smile at his heroic attempts at obedience, then you lift the blade with shaky hands to position at your neck. The moment you graze the sharp edge against the pink scar above your collarbones, Jungkook slams against his chains hard enough to make the whole bed frame rattle.

"NO!"

You blink, frightened, but not in the least surprised by his violent reaction. You almost feel guilty seeing the sheer devastation in his soft brown eyes. You know what this means to him. It's worse than throwing away a wedding ring or filing divorce papers. It's so much more biologically engrained than that. It's like trampling on his heart.

"Jungkook," you whisper his name, reaching out to touch him for the first time. Jungkook jumps at the feeling of your hand on his cheek and his eyes dart to your face for a split second before jumping back to the terrifying scene with the blade held to your neck. It's pure silver-- the same knife that he had unknowingly gifted you on your front porch all those months ago. If he had only known that you were going to use it against him... He would have never made that mistake. After all, silver is the only substance with the capacity of counteracting his supernatural abilities. And to leave it in your hands...

"Jungkook," you call his name again, feeling anxious when he thrashes against his chains so hard, you fear that the entire steel framework might get dislodged. "Jungkook, look at me," you lift his chin to force him to stare into your eyes, "It's okay, baby."

He whimpers at that, heavily resting his face against your hand, "I don't want to lose you," he confesses in a raw, broken voice.

It hurts you so bad to see him like this. But you know it's for his own sake, "You won't," you assure him as you gently rub your thumb against his sharp cheekbone, "You don't have me right now, Jungkook. But if you give me up as a possession... then maybe we can try to work this out."

Jungkook whimpers again, his eyes squeezing shut for a split second before they land on yours again. Almost indiscernibly, he nods his head. You gratefully smooth your hand across his cheek, trying to placate him, as you slide the knife into your skin.

The pain hits you like a bolt of lightning, sizzling down your spine and lighting up every nerve ending on your body, but Jungkook is a thousand times worse off. He cries out in pain, as though the knife cut through him instead of you and desperately slams against his bindings. But it's too late.

As soon as the knife pierces through the bite marks, the fuzziness from your heat-clouded mind lifts. The ravenous heat in your core dissipates and it feels like you can breathe again. You sigh deeply and look steadily into Jungkook's eyes. What a simple slice of skin, but now everything has changed. He is a wreck before you, chest heaving with exertion, and whole body trembling with barely repressed distress.

You glance down to where blood flows from the shallow, but decisive cut on your neck, back to his eyes. His dark pupils are shaking, eyelashes fluttering as he attempts to gather his wits about him. You quickly throw the bloodied knife across the room and gather him in your arms, "It's okay, Jungkook," you whisper as you run your hands soothingly up and down his leather-encased arms, "It's over now. We're free."

But he continues to shake like a leaf under your embrace, "S-stop touching me," he stammers, "It's too much. I need to fuck you."

The whiny, stuttering quality to his voice causes arousal to flood between your thighs. His sharp wolf senses instantly pick up on the new development, and suddenly he’s not just shaking—he’s vibrating in his own skin.

“Unchain me,” he demands in a deceptively quiet voice, “Now.”

You jerk forward as though electrocuted and dive for the key hidden in the top drawer of the nightstand. Jungkook’s harsh breathing grinds to a stop when you duck behind him to unchain his left wrist. You’ve just barely twisted the key in the lock on his right wrist chain when he suddenly snaps.

The chains noisily bang and clash against each other as he chucks them across the room, then tackles you against the bed without a second thought.

“Wait, Jungkook, I’m not done yet!” You protest, gesturing to the harness around his chest and the chains still pinning his ankles to the bed, but he ignores you entirely to grab at your crotch and has absolutely no patience left to tug your leggings down.

A loud ripping sound echoes through the room. You gasp at the flash of pain when he yanks too hard and the torn threads cut into your sensitive skin for a split second, then the fabric lands in a crumpled pile at the foot of the bed. You try to sit up to push what remains of your leggings down your legs, but at that moment, Jungkook pulls his achingly hard erection out of his pants and roughly lines himself up with your entrance.

It’s a testament to his impatience how he doesn’t bother to flip you over on your stomach to take you from behind, the way he usually prefers. Instead, he grips himself so tightly that the veins pop on his forearms then he slams himself inside of you with no foreplay whatsoever.

He’s incredibly hard and thicker than your faulty memory serves. Despite your extended arousal, your slick walls can’t protect you from the sheer power of his supernatural strength and pain bursts across every nerve ending. You’re so full. Too incredibly full. And the intense pounding rhythm he starts off without allowing you a single second of respite is excruciating.

It’s by far the best thing you’ve ever felt.

“Yes!” You cry out in ecstasy as you tighten both legs around his waist, both feet pressed against his ass to urge him forward. His pelvis slaps against yours with each thrust, creating painful marks sure to blossom into vivid bruises in the morning. But none of that matters. Because after a year, Jungkook is finally with you—inside of you, the way he was always meant to be, without either of you giving up your freedom or any intrinsic parts of your personalities.  

You don’t belong to him and he does not belong to you. You can’t predict if this will last. Maybe you’ll grow old together. Maybe you’ll discover irreconcilable differences and break up after a month. But that doesn’t matter, because at least you have the freedom to move on without some scar binding you together. You are only together because you choose to be.

You close your eyes tightly to focus on the sensations—the feeling of his hard hands on your waist, his panting breaths on the side of your neck, and the painful drilling into your body that sends your entire body sliding back against the sheets with each thrust.

You chose this. You want him, but you don’t need him.

You can’t believe it’s taken you a whole damn year to realize this. And to have him filling you up like this, dripping sweat and groaning your name, after an entire year of deprivation… It’s too much.

You hold on for another dozen rapid-fire strokes, trying to force back your orgasm so you can enjoy this longer, but the effort is futile. With one last particularly well-angled thrust of his hips, you find yourself shattering into a million pieces. You’ve been on edge for so long that the intensity of this long-awaited release is frightening. Your very consciousness is swept away by the flashflood of pleasure, ecstasy zapping through every limb to your fingertips and bright white light bursting across the back of your eyelids, no matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut.

It feels like an injection of pure epinephrine straight to the brain. You drift in this weightless cloud of electric pleasure for an immeasurable amount of time, unwilling to let go until the sound of your name forces you back into consciousness.

“____,” Jungkook anxiously calls out your name, “____, fuck!”

You lazily blink, confused to find him still rolling his length into you over and over, his pace beyond frantic at this point. But he clearly hasn’t found his relief yet… Or maybe he can’t?

A chill slides down your spine as you finally process the sensation of his wet tongue lapping at the remnants of blood from the shallow cut in your neck. You can feel the slide of his fangs as he whimpers and sucks at the scars. He’s just dying to sink his teeth in and recreate the disfigured mark. 

Suddenly, you’re brought back to a full year ago, when you were in the exact same position. But the difference is, this time you know better. And you’re not going to make the same mistake twice.

“Jungkook, no,” you reprimand as you anxiously tug on his hair.

“I’m sorry, ___,” he croaks as he continues to desperately surge into your heat, chasing after his release that flits just out of reach, “I-I can’t. I need to cum. Please.”

When you feel his teeth graze your neck away, you roughly shove him away as hard as you can and grab his jaw to force him to look at you, “No, Jungkook. Don’t do it.”

“Please,” he begs again, clearly at the end of his ropes. Sweat freely flows down his temples and off his thick, bulging neck to collect at his collarbones and he’s panting hard enough to hyperventilate. “Please, please, please. I need to cum so fucking badly. Please!”

You tighten your grip on his jaw and stare him straight in the eye, “Jungkook, this isn’t you right now. It’s the hormones. You don’t want to own me.”

“I know,” he chokes out, in tears at this point, “I know, I know, but I need to fucking cum. It hurts, ___. It hurts so fucking bad.”

His pain is visceral, and you’re sorely tempted to let him bite you again. But then you remember that this isn’t just for you. This is for him, too. You can’t let him lose his freedom either.

Your eyes lock tightly on his, “You love me. I know you love me. And Jungkook, I… I love you, too.”

Forgetting about his instincts and every single hormone that screams at him to fuck you underground, he freezes to stare at you with huge eyes. It’s the first time you’ve ever confessed that to him, and your cheeks flush with color the longer he stares.

Your hands curl to fists and you bravely look him in the eye again, “Jeon Jungkook, I am in love with you.”

The beat of tense silence that ensues makes your skin break out in gooseflesh. You can hear every individual thud of his heartbeat like a drum in your ears.

“Fuck,” he croaks. Then he explodes inside of you.

His seed spills deep inside of you, warming you up to the tips of your fingers and toes. His hips stammer as he desperately rides out the waves of his orgasm, brow furrowed, mouth hanging open and entire body wracked with tremors as intense pleasure lights up every nerve.

Then, abruptly, his strength saps and he collapses onto you in a disheveled heap of sweat and quivering muscle. You’ve had more time to recover than him, so you helpfully run your fingers through his drenched hair, trying to relax him and slow the dangerously quick pitter patter of his heart.

Jungkook groans at the sensations and with herculean strength you didn’t realize he possessed, he pulls himself up onto his elbows to stare down at you in wonderment.

“You love me?”

You nod, shyly ducking your head when embarrassment makes it too difficult to make eye contact anymore. A burst of bell-like laughter makes you jerk your head up again in surprise. His grin stretches from ear to ear, so wide that it must hurt his cheeks. Then he leans down to happily nuzzle his nose against yours in a decidedly lupine way.

“Say it again, ___.”

Flustered, you trip over your tongue half a dozen times before you finally find your voice again, “Um… I… I’m in love with… ah fuck it! You’re such an asshole!” You cry out, writhing under his hold to try to break free.

Jungkook’s tinkling laughter fills the room again as he dips down to muffle your protests with his mouth. You fall immobile at the feeling of his soft lips against your own for the first time in months. His kiss is surprisingly sweet after the savage fuck fest that took place in this very spot mere moments ago. He pecks your top lip, then your bottom lip, before finally pressing his mouth fully to yours. And that’s when you lose it.

You weave both arms around his neck to pull him closer to you and gently move your lips to match his. At once, you fall into a slow, sensual rhythm, lips parting to allow teasing little flicks of tongue. You slide one hand to cup his jaw, groaning when you feel the taut muscles in his cheek flex as he deepens the kiss and slides his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like pure musk and honey, and with each passing second, it grows harder and harder to stop yourself from eating him whole.

To your utmost disappointment, Jungkook breaks the kiss first, and the wet squelch that sounds through the room when your lips disconnect makes you blush. “We need to stop,” he says with an embarrassed chuckle.

You whine in protest and lift your head to seek out another kiss. But he playfully pushes you by the forehead back down onto the mattress.

“Seriously, ___. You’re not going to survive the next three days if you keep teasing me like this,” he says, emphasizing his words with a little twist of his hips against your stomach.

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline when you realize how hard he is… again. “Oh…”

He chuckles at your reaction and leans down to playfully nip your earlobe, “Not that I wouldn’t be willing… But I think we both really need a shower right now.”

You pull back to shoot him a dirty glare, “That’s just an excuse for shower sex, isn’t it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to it…” he laughs at your expression and laboriously pulls himself off of you, “But could you please unchain me first?”

Your mouth forms an “o” of understanding and you quickly rush forward to help him with the cuffs around his ankles, and the leather harness around his chest. He sighs in relief once he’s free, then grabs your hand to beeline for the bathroom.

Although he’s fully dressed, the thin fabric of his simple t-shirt and shorts combo sticks to him with sweat, making it difficult not to stare at his beautiful body as he moves around in the bathroom. You can’t help but steal a few glances at the outline of his chiseled abdomen through his sheer white shirt as he approaches you with a wet cloth in hand. You’ve only just fucked him, yet you want to again...

“Ow!” The sudden press of the washcloth against the cut on your neck makes you cry out in pain.

Worried, Jungkook pulls his hand away, “Are you okay?”

You nod, embarrassed by your wimpy reaction, “Yeah. Sorry. That just took me by surprise.”

“We need to clean it or else the wound might get infected… Can you tough through the pain for me?”

You nod again, leaning back against the sink counter as you watch him fumble through the cupboards for bandages and neosporin. “Jungkook… Are you sure you’re going to be okay with this?” you finally break the silence.

He looks up, “Okay with what, love?”

Your insides tingle at the pet name, but you don’t let it distract you. You clear your throat and try again, “With this… This scar,” you say, gesturing to the jagged line across your neck where you sliced through his bite marks, disfiguring the entire area until you can’t see any hint of the original marks, “Can you bear it?”

Jungkook places down the roll of bandages and slowly turns to approach you. “____,” he murmurs your name, reaching out to cup your face with both hands to force your attention on him, “You love me… You finally love me back. Do you really think I’d give a shit about something as crude as a fucking mating mark when you finally reciprocate my feelings?”

Your heart leaps in your chest as you gaze back at him with shining eyes. There it is. This is the reason you fell in love with him at the first place. He gets it. He gets you. You’re unable to stop the emotion that floods you at his genuine confession.

“Fuck it,” you curse, stepping out of the ruined tatters of your leggings and pulling your shirt over your head, “Forget taking it easy. I’m going to fuck you to the death for the next three days and I won’t stop until you’re begging me to.”

His jaw drops in surprise, and you’re pleased to see his pupils dilating with lust until only a ring of feral amber remains around the darkness. He takes one threatening step forward until he’s nearly pressed up against you in the narrow bathroom, “Those are big promises, little girl…” he hisses as he carefully slides both hands up your waist to brush your hardened nipples, “Don’t come crying to me when it’s too much for you.”

“We have a whole year of sex to make up for, baby,” you tease as you turn around to plant your palms on the sink counter and slowly wiggle your hips in his face, “You think you can get it all done in the next seventy-two hours?”

Jungkook’s hands are already on your ass, roughly groping the flesh, “Just watch me, love.”

On the fifty-second Tuesday, you lie in Jungkook’s arms, coated in sweat as the two of you attempt to recover from the most exhausting seventy-two hours of your entire life. The lust spell has officially broken. And the ruined sheets and your lifeless legs are testament to the fact. You turn to gently rake your nails down his sweaty spine. Jungkook shudders and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Hey," you murmur, catching his attention.

Despite his exhaustion, he manages to summon the energy to pop open one eye to look at you, "Yes, love?"

You smile and reach up to affectionately card your fingers through his disheveled black hair, "Jungkook... It's Tuesday... And I love you."

It's like the first, radiant rays of dawn peeking above the horizon, or a flower blooming in the heat of spring, the way his face lights up. His smile is so bright that you have to shield a hand against your face to protect your sensitive eyes against the brilliance.

He chuckles and leans down lovingly nuzzle his nose against yours, “It’s Wednesday now, idiot… But I love you, too.”

Author’s note: After over a year, it’s finally done! Hallelujah! 

As always, please do not ask me for a sequel, and anyone who sends me hateful messages will be reported or blocked. Thanks for reading and have a nice day, everyone! ^^

[bangtanboyzinluv]

Back for Good (2)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 (coming soon)

Five weeks ago, you and Jin had what could charitably be called a nasty breakup. Unfortunately, you had yet to tell your family, who were all expecting him to be your plus one at your sister’s wedding. So, like a normal, functional person, you called up your ex-boyfriend (who, truth be told, you were not 100% over) and asked him for a favor. This weekend was not going to be easy on your heart.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“No,” you groaned, and covered your aching head with the extra pillow, hiding from both the early morning sun and the noise. Unfortunately, your alarm clock was not inclined to listen to you, and only got louder. The pillow was not enough to block out the beeping, and eventually you stuck an arm out blindly and hit the button to shut off the alarm. For a second, you melted back into the covers, not entirely awake and entirely unready to get out of bed.

“Shit,” you breathed, and sat up straight before throwing the covers off dramatically. It was Saturday, and you didn’t have to go to work, but you couldn’t sleep in. Without any prompting, your brain supplied you with several immediate certainties.

The rehearsal dinner is today. I’m seeing Jin today. I am going to throw up.

That third certainty came true only moments later. You knew drinking a whole bottle of wine all alone the previous night was a bad idea, but you were so nervous and shaky about the wedding weekend that one glass to calm down became two, and then you had abandoned glasses altogether. You brushed your hair out of your face, flushed the toilet, and sat back on your heels. I am so fucked.

Jin was picking you up in his car at noon, and you were going to arrive at the wedding venue, a vineyard slash bed and breakfast, around three in the afternoon. You dreaded the long trip the most, preparing yourself for awkward silence at best and outright animosity at worst. At least when you arrived at the vineyard, you could mingle with other people and not have to face Jin directly for more than a few minutes.

It was your sister’s wedding. You were not going to let a little breakup ruin it for her. You squared your shoulders, got off the floor, and turned on the shower.

Four Hours Later

The day was sunny and clear, warm but with a pleasant breeze that meant you were perfectly comfortable in your sundress and sandals. You waited only a little impatiently on the curb outside your apartment building, rearranging your luggage and the garment bag draped over it a few times out of boredom. A few times, you heard a clunky car turn down the street and thought it might be Jin’s old, reliable beige sedan, but you had been wrong each time so far.

“Where is he, where is he…” You weren’t really concerned that he wouldn’t show up, and it was still a few minutes to noon, but your nerves were once again getting the best of you. Your jitters were promptly dispelled when you heard the loud rev of a car engine, and you looked up to see a dark blue Jaguar turn into the road. “I bet you’re lost, buddy,” you muttered, wondering what a car like that was doing in a humble neighborhood like yours.

The car drew closer, tinted windows making it impossible to see what kind of person was driving. You were so focused on rubbernecking that you failed to notice the car pull closer, slow down, and then come to a stop in front of you. “Yah, Y/N. Are you planning on getting in?”

“N-new car?” Of course it was Jin, rolling the window down and looking at you like you’d lost your mind. “I’d get out and open the door, but there’s no stopping in this area. The trunk is open, put your stuff inside and let’s go.” He sounded distant, which was to be expected. His hair was also pushed back off his forehead, which was completely unexpected and made your heart jump despite itself. You hadn’t really forgotten how good-looking Jin was, but you were getting an extremely illustrative reminder. In a daze, you plunked your small suitcase into the trunk, then laid your garment bag flat on top of it. You closed the trunk, and rested your hands for a moment on the car, taking a deep breath and counting to ten.

I can do this. Everything will be fine. It is my sister’s wedding, and I will not let my little break-up ruin it for her.

“Y/N?”

“Coming, coming!” You almost tripped over your wedge heels in a hurry to get into the car. The leather seat held your body like a hug, and the interior of the car was icy cold. “When did you get this thing? It’s amazing,” you breathed.

“A couple weeks ago. I’d been driving the same car since I started med school, thought it was time for a change.” Jin shrugged a little, pulling the car fully back onto the road (after checking his side mirror and turning his head to be extra sure no one was coming).

“How is it on gas?” You swore he got a little pink at the question, but then he sat straight up and adjusted his grip on the wheel.

“It’s fine.” Clearly interested in changing the subject, he motioned at the backseat. “There’s water bottles in the back if you’re thirsty.”

“Thank you,” you said. “So, my sister’s getting married.”

“…Yes,” he answered, clearly confused as to why you were stating the obvious.

“Yeah,” you said, not entirely sure why you were trying to make small talk to begin with. “Thanks again.”

“Don’t thank me. I said I would go, and I’m keeping that commitment to avoid hurting your family. That’s all.” He refused to look at you, even more than was necessary to keep his eyes on the road.

That’s all. You knew damn well you didn’t deserve even this courtesy from him, but you couldn’t help being just a tiny bit hurt by his demeanor. Jin had never been this abrupt, even when you had first met him.

Ten Months Earlier

“Okay, and can you wiggle your toes?” You obliged, although it wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world.

“All right then. Well, you’re lucky! According to the x-rays, nothing’s broken. It’s a nasty sprain, and you’ll need to wrap it for a few weeks, but it should heal up just fine.” He smiled at you again, and you had to take a second to be sure you weren’t drooling. Dr. Kim at the urgent care clinic was far too attractive for your health, and you were seriously questioning your decision to get your ankle looked at here rather than the ER. “—going to give you a prescription for that, and you shouldn’t need to come back unless it starts to feel worse. Do you have any questions for me?”

“What?�� Apparently, he had been talking while you were staring.

He chuckled a little, and a flock of butterflies descended into your stomach. “It’s fine. I’ll show you how to wrap it up, and then you can be on your way. Lucky that it was your left ankle, or you’d have some trouble driving.”

You did your best to watch carefully as he went over where to start the Ace bandage, and how tight it should be, and how to attach the clips, but you were ultimately distracted by how very gentle his fingers were on your swollen ankle. I can probably look this up online if I forget, you reasoned. “And that’s it. Do you think you can get down off the table, or do you need help?”

Your wince must have been answer enough, because Dr. Kim gently placed your left arm over his shoulder and assisted you in standing. You felt a little like a flamingo on mostly one foot, but you also noticed that he smelled really, really nice—like salt and soap and that nice, clean man smell that couldn’t be described. After a few more seconds of what you hoped was you subtly smelling the man, you sheepishly said, “Um… I think I have it from here, Dr. Kim, thank you.”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” he said, and ducked out from under your arm. “You can call me Jin, you know, Dr. Kim is my mother.”

Oh, boy. He’s an amateur comedian, too. “Well, uh. Thanks again, Jin. Do I just go to the counter and pay?”

“Yes, the ladies up front will take care of the bill and give you your prescription. And.” Here Jin flushed obviously, hand reflexively moving to rub the back of his neck. “Let me give you my card, in case… something else happens with your ankle. You can call, or text, my cell is on there too, anytime.” This last tumbled out at blinding speed, like it pained him to say. You accepted the little business card gingerly, and hobbled out of the examination room to the front desk.

Once you’d gotten to your car and settled into the driver’s seat, you took the card out of your pocket again and examined it carefully. The office number to the urgent care center was written on the front, but on the back was a handwritten number, next to which was (cell). “He was asking me out, wasn’t he.” You had to fight the urge to facepalm. “I am an idiot.” Before leaving the parking lot, you turned on your phone and sent a text to the cell number. Hi there, it’s Y/N. I need your professional opinion. Do you think having coffee with you tomorrow afternoon would help my ankle get better faster?

You held your breath and hit send, scared and excited at the same time. You did your best not to stare at the phone on the drive home, but it chimed halfway through the drive and you couldn’t help but fidget in your seat. As soon as you pulled into your parking space, you unlocked the screen and screeched a little.

In my professional opinion… absolutely. :)

Present Day

You stared at your phone, mindlessly flicking at the little gems in Bejeweled, doing your best not to get motion sick or look at Jin, and failing at both. You couldn’t help but sneak glances at him and hope he wouldn’t notice. He was wearing a plain blue dress shirt, and his hair was back to that auburn-red color it had been when you first met. The silence was heavy and unbearable, had been for the last two plus hours, and it was clear he wasn’t going to be the one to break it. “How are things at the office?”

“Good. They’re good. I got promoted to supervisor of that location, so I can’t complain.” His answer was rote, like he’d been asked that question a hundred times lately. “How about you?”

“Oh, you know. Okay. We got a new boss, which is… different.” Damn, and things were even more awkward than before you opened your mouth. You might as well go for it, then. “Jin, I’m really sorry about what I said to you. That night,” you specified, as if it were necessary. “You didn’t deserve that, and I apologize.”

He didn’t answer for an eternity of seconds, and you worried he was about to snap. “It’s fine,” he finally answered. “I’ve hardly thought about it at all since.” His voice was dry and brittle-sounding. “You don’t have to apologize to me. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“But none of it was true! I regret saying those things, so much—”

“Is this where we turn?” he asked, effectively cutting you off. You looked at your phone again, where Google Maps was running in the background.

“Yes, it should be down this road about a mile.” The scenery outside, now that you were bothering to look at it, was gorgeous, but you felt a little chilly inside from the car ride and cold conversation. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” A little smile came to your lips unbidden, looking at the miles of grass and grapevines, surrounding a humongous brown stonework building with three floors.

“It is,” Jin acknowledged. “Your sister has good taste.” He pulled the car up to the covered dropoff area next to the front door, and popped the trunk. Immediately, a young man in a waistcoat and dress pants scurried to remove your bags. His nametag read “Taehyung,” and you reached into your purse for some bills to tip him. Jin got to it first, though, handing him a five dollar bill. “We’re on the second floor, room 206. The keys are in it,” he said politely, and then placed a hand on your back to gently guide you to the check-in desk. You felt as though you’d been shocked—that was the first time he’d touched you since that day six weeks ago, and you let yourself be led to the counter in a daze. “The room should be under F/N L/N,” he told the man behind the desk, whose name was “Yoongi,” going from his tag.

“The Jung wedding party, Room 206, one king, yes?” the man said boredly, pulling two old-fashioned keys off of a rack under the counter. “Please return both keys at the conclusion of your stay.”

You accepted the keys, barely processing his words until—“One…?”

“Come on, Y/N, I’m sure you’re tired after that drive.” Jin beamed an obviously fake megawatt smile at you, again placing his hand on your back to scoot you away from the desk. “Let’s go to the room so you can lie down.”

You closed your mouth, turned, and walked silently toward the stairs. You couldn’t see an elevator, and wondered how old the building was. You could feel Jin’s presence at your back, although he had removed his hand, and shivered a little. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he murmured so that no one else could hear. “Anything else would look strange.”

That was Jin, always thinking ahead. “Thank you,” you said for what felt like the fiftieth time that week.

“You’re going to have to stop thanking me. We’ll get through this weekend, and that’s that.” This time, his tone was just matter-of-fact. “The dinner itself is at eight, so if you actually do need some rest, you’ve got time. We should probably get there a little early.”

“Okay.” He was being nice now, and you wondered if it was all a show for anyone who might see. You trailed behind him to the room, glancing around the hallway and its wooden floors as Jin turned the key in the lock, then handed you the spare. The room was airy and bright, daylight coming in even through the sky blue curtains.

“I think I will lie down for a while.” Unmindful of your dress getting rumpled, you shoved the throw pillows off the lone bed, stepped out of your shoes, and burrowed under the (also light blue) covers. A small laugh sounded behind you, and when you turned around, Jin was smiling that familiar, small smile. “What?” you asked, voice muffled by the blankets.

“…Nothing,” he said, but his smile stayed put. He walked over to the bags, which you didn’t notice had already been brought up and were standing in the corner of the room, and pulled out a novel with a rather plain cover. Never Let Me Go. He settled in the comfortable-looking chair by the curtained-over window, and opened the book. “Go to sleep,” he said, without looking at you.

“Okay,” you said. You must have been more exhausted than you thought, because the last thing you saw before drifting off was Jin putting on his reading glasses and turning a page.

[aes-k]

Play Date

Characters mentioned: Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin

Summary: Three young boys meet at the park in hopes to relieve some stress.

Genre: Smut, so much smut

Words: 3.16K 

“Are you sure this is the right one?” Jungkook asked Taehyung, who shifted the car into park rather harshly.  Looking around with his doe eyes as he looked up from his lap, a weird feeling settling in his stomach as he watched the moonlight dance upon the playground in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees with a lake in the background.  It was about half a mile from a campsite which was closed and the playground looked as if it was never monitored, no security cameras to be seen, which made it perfect for what he and Jimin had planned for the night.  They didn’t dare say a word to Jungkook, who was too unsure of the idea in the first place, they knew better than to think he would be down for what they were really there for on that warm Friday night.

“Hyung!  Jiminie just texted me saying we should go to the old playground this Friday since we’ve all been stressed from school.  What do you think?” the raven haired boy asked, wiggling his crossed feet that rested on the coffee table across from the living room couch.  

“Yeah, from school.” Taehyung thought to himself, rolling his eyes while back turned to Jungkook, knowing he would have to tease Jimin about his bullshit reason to go to the park that he had passed onto the youngest.  He would have done a better job, but Jungkook was so gullible, anything was bound to work, really.

Taehyung sighed as he opened the fridge to the same boring thing that didn’t sound appeasing at all, even though the same box of pizza rolls sat on the shelf as he stuffed his face with three days ago.  

“I think we should go,” he finally answered, stretching out his back as he closed the door and leaned against the counter of the kitchen with his arms crossed.

“I’ll drive us, and make sure your parents don’t have any plans for you that night in case any of us wants to go anywhere else.  We don’t want you to get the same punishment as last time,” he joked, remembering Jungkook’s embarrassment of wearing a sign around his neck written by his mother saying ‘Ask me why I’m a bad boy’.  His hyungs won’t forget it for years.

“Yes, I’m sure we’re at the right place.  Jimin should be here any minute.  He told me his car wasn’t running well so he borrowed Yoongi hyung’s van for the night,” he replied, pulling his phone out of the console under the radio, turning down the brightness of the screen that illuminated the car like a spotlight.

“You mean the one that smells weird and has the half-assed ‘bed’ in the back?” Jungkook questioned, air quoting the word bed as he imagined the run down vehicle.  He still couldn’t believe he even owned such a thing.  He knew he used to live in a van, but due to how successful of a rapper Yoongi was becoming, everyone thought he would toss the thing aside to some junk yard, but it still remained like nothing had ever changed.

It was a rusty-brown color, with two front seats, the big sliding passenger door opened up to Yoongi’s version of a room on the road, the floor of the vehicle covered in two comforters and two pillows, a bag of clothes, and sometimes a case of bottles of water that were still room temperature.  It really was odd to all the other members, but they’ve all had to use it at one point, which seemed to come in handy.

About ten minutes later, Jimin pulled up in the familiar vehicle, locking it behind him as he exited wearing a black sleeveless shirt and a black beanie, accompanied by black skinny jeans that were ripped near his muscular thighs and knees, and black and white shoes.  Jungkook internally cursed himself as he glanced at his own attire, a pair of bright red joggers and a black and white loose shirt with some timberlands, Taehyung jeans and a blue button up with sandals.  If Jungkook didn’t know any better, he’d think they were going to some public appearance.

“You look dark and mysterious,” Taehyung commented as the two exited his car and locked it.  

“You two look like polar opposites,” Jimin laughed, hopping over the brown, knee high log fence that surrounded the park, skipping to the swings instantly.

“We don’t look that bad, Park Jimin!”  Taehyung laughed, running after him with his arms spread, enjoying the splitting air of the summer night.  Jungkook trailed not too far behind, pocketing his phone after he shut it off and approached the monkey bars first.  He remembered not being able to get very far on them as a kid, but was able to go back and forth with a breeze now that he had developed some muscle, almost as much as Jimin.

Jimin glanced over to Jungkook as the wind hit his face from swinging back and forth, admiring the slight peek of his tummy due to the lift of his shirt, the way his sleeves tightened from the flexing of his biceps, and the concentrated look on his face, slightly biting his lip in a way that always secretly drove Jimin crazy.  He may be young, but he definitely knew what he was doing when it came to sex appeal, whether he even tried or not.

“Show off!” Taehyung screamed, swinging even higher than Jimin, almost slipping out of the seat as he reached his peak.  He held on tight and decided to slow down, dragging his feet in the dirt beneath him and jumping off as he got low enough, running to Jungkook and hugging him from behind while he was still hanging.

“Yah!  I’m trying to see how many times I can do this without stopping, get off!” he whined, wiggling his body to try to free from Taehyung’s grip that was tightening.

“Jimin, hyung, help me!”  Jungkook called out as he heard another set of foot steps heading in his direction, to see the older stand in front of him with a careless expression on his face, poking Jungkook’s exposed belly as he continued to hang, unfazed by the touching in his most ticklish part of his tanned body.

“You know, Kookie,” Taehyung mumbled in a voice lower than usual, “your ass has really taken shape over the years,” he trailed off, moving his hands from Jungkook’s waist down to his hips, gripping harder as his thumbs kneaded the outter of his cheeks.

Jungkook’s breath hitched as he felt the sudden sexual content, unsure of how to respond to the older’s comment, but couldn’t get his words out when he felt sucking at his stomach, where he looked down to see Jimin with his arms wrapped around his waist, mouth attached to his stomach like a leech.

“J-Jimin,” Jungkook yelped, feeling his arms grow weak and the blood rush to his face as he watched the sight that made his very dick twitch.  “It tickles.”

Jimin smirked between kisses, eyes turning dark with lust as he moved his body closer to the younger’s, “Would you like me to go lower?”

“I–”

He was cut off by the loud sound of Taehyung’s hand meeting his right cheek, massaging away the pain immediately after, hearing the sound of Taehyung licking his lips between heavy breaths.  Jungkook couldn’t deny he liked the sudden sexual attention he was receiving from his hyungs, but couldn’t deny he was in an uncomfortable position, either.

“C-Can I get down, please?” be mumbled, feeling his body begin to shake with both excitement and tiredness.

“Here,” Taehyung replied, gripping Jungkook around his waist as Jimin backed off and Jungkook released his from the monkey bars, when he was carried by Taehyung to an open top slide and laid down on his back as his eyes met with a hovering Taehyung who had the same lustful look in his eyes.

Fuck.

“Say, Kookie, how about we have a bit of fun?” Taehyung leant down, whispering into the shell of his ear, immediately nibbling on it, grinding his teeth with just the perfect amount of pressure, licking a trail throughout his ear, feeling goosebumps form on the raven’s skin.  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he growled, moving his lips underneath his ear and to his upper neck.

His eyes shut tight as he melted under Taehyung’s mouth, feeling embarrassed as he was already so submissive before he felt anything remotely close to what he thought was going to happen.  

“Jungkookie,” Jimin teased, standing between his legs, using his hips to widen them and rest on the higher sides of the slide for better access, obtaining a full view of the tent growing in Jungkook’s sweatpants, which both the older boys were thankful for his choice in pants for the night.  “Are you hard, right now, Kookie baby?”  Silence responded as Jungkook choked on his words, breathing heavily as Taehyung began to suck hard on his neck, which he knew would definitely leave dark purple marks in the morning, or even before the end of the night.  “Do you want to get fucked that bad, already?  I haven’t even touched you and you’ve already become putty on that dirty slide.”

“Jimin, hyung,” Jungkook moaned as he felt Jimin’s rough grip on the inner of his left thigh, massaging in a way that sent all the feeling straight to his painfully hard erection.

“What do you want, baby?” he teased, palming his own dick through his black pants, which made Jungkook squirm even more.  Dying to be touched and relieved of the feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

“T-Touch me,” he begged, moaning silently as Taehyung slid a hand up his shirt to play with the lines of his abs, slowly sneaking them up to his nipples, drawing out another moan, only a bit louder this time.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Jimin replied, snaking his hand into his own pants, pumping his dick slowly, almost purposefully slow to tease Jungkook even further.

“I want you to wrap your hand around my dick so I can fuck into your hand.  I want to come all over your pretty hands so you can do the same for me,” Jungkook moaned as Taehyung lifted the shirt over Jungkook’s head, attaching his mouth to his now hardened brown buds.

Jimin chuckled as his hands moved to the waistband of Jungkook’s sweatpants, pulling them down painfully slow, finally giving Jungkook some air to his growing heated area.  “I’m going to fuck more than just your hand, baby boy,” he growled, palming Jungkook through the material of his boxers, rubbing circles over his balls as Jungkook’s back slightly arched, creating a small squeak from the sweaty friction on the slide.

“Hyung,” Jungkook moaned again, grabbing at Jimin’s wrist to move his hand towards the hem of his boxers, succumbing to the weakness that lust brought him.

“So needy,” Jimin mumbled, tugging off Jungkook’s dark purple boxers and tossing them on top of his discarded sweatpants, Jungkook sighing as his dick sprung free, slapping his stomach as Taehyung removed himself from the younger, unbuttoning his own pants to expose his erection, pumping it before inching closer to Jungkook, again.

“Bring that pretty little mouth over here,” he commanded, tapping the head against Jungkook’s left cheek before Jungkook licked the tip, taking in the head once it was slightly wet, using his left hand to pump the base as his mouth took in the rest of his length, already being hard to take in fully before he even tried to go deeper or Taehyung began to move.

At the same time Jimin’s hand wrapped around Jungkook’s throbbing shaft, spitting on it to create some lubrication, rubbing his thumb over his slit as he spread precum over the head of his dick, which he noticed caused it to twitch.

“Look at how much of a slut you are, filling your mouth with Taehyung’s dick while you beg me to get you off, how pathetic,” he grunted, using his free hand to pump his own dick, again, not being able to resist the sight in front of him as Taehyung removed his own shirt, adding it to the growing pile of clothes on the ground.

“You like it when I fuck your mouth like this?  You want me to cum down your throat like the bad boy you are?” Taehyung grunted, thrusting his hips as Jungkook felt the tip of his dick touch the back of his throat while trying to hold back the tears that were already flowing down his face.  “Can you take it like a big boy?” Taehyung asked, gripping Jungkook’s hair, forcing him to look at him, nodding in response as Taehyung began to move again, feeling Jungkook’s mouth loosen around him as Jimin brought him closer to finishing.

“Are you gonna cum already?  We’re just getting started,” Jimin smirked, pumping faster as Jungkook’s muffled moans grew and his grip on the slide tightened, eyes rolling to the back of his head and eyebrows furrowed as he tried to concentrate on his orgasm.

After a few seconds, Jungkook’s body spasmed as he released all over Jimin’s hands and removed Taehyung’s dick from his mouth to catch his breath, replacing it with his hand, sloppily pumping Taehyung’s dick as his own body began to grow numb.

“You ready?” Jimin asked Taehyung, who nodded and switched places with Jimin, removing his boxers and jeans while pumping his lubricated dick.  “I don’t think you need prepped, a slut like you can take it,” he grunted, positioning himself at Jungkook’s entrance while Jimin, too, removed his clothes, spitting on his erection and signalling for Jungkook to open his mouth.

Taehyung slowly pushed his tip into Jungkook, feeling his walls tighten around his length as he filled up his asshole, earning a throaty moan from Jungkook, who still had tears streaming down his face.  “Does it hurt?  I thought you were a big boy,” Taehyung grabbed Jungkook’s right leg and placed it over his shoulder, pushing in further.  

“I want you to move,” Jungkook whined, clawing at the slide once again as his back arched.  “Please fuck me, make me feel good.”

“That mouth can do more than talking, baby boy,” Jimin hummed, pumping his hand faster and turning Jungkook’s head roughly by his hair, Jungkook opening his mouth wide to take in Jimin.

“Look at you getting fucked on both ends, one dick wasn’t enough for you, was it?  You like getting fucked while having a dick in your mouth, don’t you?”  Taehyung hissed as he slowly pulled out of Jungkook, but roughly thrusted all of his length back in.  “I’m not going to go easy on you, you begged to get fucked, and I’m going to fuck you until you have to use a damn wheelchair to get around.”

Taehyung began to move fast, making a moaning mess out of Jungkook who had worked his tongue along Jimin’s length, licking underneath and sucking on his balls while pumping just underneath the head of the older’s dick, precum already leaking out as he listened to the combined sound of skin slapping and the younger’s tongue lathering his dick.

“You want me to cum in your mouth?  You wanna taste me and swallow all of my cum?” Jimin teased, moving his hand to the back of Jungkook’s head to push his head further down his length as he fucked his mouth, taking a mental picture of the sight in front of him.

“Ah, fuck!!!” Jungkook screamed as Taehyung began thrusting into him at an abnormal pace, angling himself so Taehyung would hit his prostate with each one, sending him over the edge faster than the first time as he approached his second orgasm.  

Jimin pulled his dick from Jungkook’s mouth and began pumping faster and faster, arching his head back to reveal the veins popping out of his neck.  “Come here,” he grumbled, turning Jungkook’s head to face him, “I’m gonna cum all over that pretty little face of yours,” he panted as Jungkook opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue in time for Jimin to release all over his hand and Jungkook’s face, some of it getting on his neck and some on the slide as Jungkook was still being pounded into the plastic he laid on.

“So fucking obedient,” Jimin chuckled darkly, taking two fingers to wipe Jungkook’s face with his come and bringing it to Jungkook’s mouth.  “I want you to taste it all, you’ve been such a good boy.”

Jungkook sucked Jimin’s fingers obediently, running his tongue around them to taste every drop of the liquid, before spitting them out as he flew his head back and arched, releasing all over his chest and stomach as Taehyung thrusted harder, some becoming unrhythmic as he, too, grew closer to orgasm as he felt Jungkook’s walls tighten around him.

“I’m gonna fill that tight asshole of yours with my cum,” he growled, “you’re going to have to go home like that, let’s hope no one sees you while it’s dripping out and onto your thigh.  Everyone will know how much of a thirsty slut you are.”  With a few more thrusts he came inside of the younger, slowing his pace as he rode out his high and filled him completely, some even dripping out onto the edge of the slide.

He pulled out slowly and reached for his boxers, taking in the sight of a fucked out, cum-filled Jungkook who panted on the slide covered in sweat.  If they hadn’t of known any better, they wouldn’t have left their night at that.

“You did so good, tonight,” Taehyung whispered, cupping Jungkook’s face and planting a kiss onto his sweating forehead.  “Maybe some other time we can do this again,” he smirked, throwing Jungkook’s clothes to him while they all got dressed.

“Hyung, can I stay with you, tonight?” Jungkook mumbled to Taehyung, who was helping him get back onto his wobbly feet.  

“Of course, Kookie.”

“Good, I’m exhausted and I don’t think I can stay up for the car ride all the way home.”

Taehyung stopped in his tracks and smirked.  

“Oh, Kookie, you better get that stamina up, ‘cause this was just the beginning.”

End.

[mahistrado-blog]

another dimension with(out) you ; 2.5k, g, sana/eva & other stuff

there are so many other ways this could have gone. a series of other universes occurring at the same time as ‘let’s go b*tches’. [there’s no cursing in this, for those trying to avoid that for ramadhan!] ao3

eva flops back against sana’s unmade bed, long copper hair splaying out against the mustard yellow bedspread. “sa-na,” eva whines, emphatically. “you’re a genius. stop already.”

sana looks over from her desk with amusement, and eva meets her gaze upside down, her face painted with an overblown pout. despacito is playing from eva’s phone next to her head, because sana had refused to let her play it through her speakers. eva has the worst taste in music, and when sana tells her so, she replies, i make up for it with my taste in girls, and something warm and lovely curls in the base of sana’s stomach.

“please?” eva tries again, hopefully.

in another universe, where isak goes swimming with jonas

sana sits at her kitchen table, books splayed across the whole surface. she stares at the text in front of her, knowing she has about an hour and a half left to study before everyone gets home and the chatter of anticipation of ramadhan will make it impossible to take in any more information.

she sighs, sits back fully in her chair and folds her arms across her chest. it is completely useless and she knows it. she closes her eyes, presses her thumbs against the hollow where her eye socket meets the bridge of her nose. she stays like that for a long time, forcing stillness into her brain, flushing out the simmering rage in the back of her mind, breathing in the familiar scent of her home, soft linen and lingering spices.

“sana?”

her eyes snap open and she sits back up in her chair abruptly, scooting it incrementally across the tile with the movement.

“yah?” she says sharply, looking at elias hovering in the doorway between the entryway and the kitchen. “what do you want? i’m studying.”

“yeah? you getting it by osmosis or what?” he taps his fingers against the doorframe with an expectant smile.

she rolls her eyes and hunches back over her notes, not bothering to reply and hoping he’d just… go away. exist somewhere not here. not just him, but everything that came with him. the fight. the boys. the stupid sexism that made it perfectly fine for him to be russe while it's tearing her life apart.

the tapping stops, and she hears elias approach the table. “sana?”

she doesn't answer. the page of her notebook that she's flipped to is well worn because she's handled it so much in the past week. it's the summary of chapter five on respiration, and it’s also the page that noora wrote her password on.

she folds the corner of the page up and pretends to read. elias pulls out the chair opposite her and sits down.

“sana,” he repeats, this time with the darija inflection that mamma uses when she's angry, or fond, or tired, heavy on the n and short on the a’s. “come on. do you need to punch me? i’m tough. you can give me a bloody nose too.”

he reaches across the table to put his hand over her notes, and she swats his hand away immediately, glaring at him.

“no,” she snaps. she's forgetting what her voice sounds like when she's not snapping at people. it seems like a different life to imagine herself heart full, practically glowing with the force of her joy, less than two weeks ago.

she holds her glare, resists the urge to soften her face. she's horrified when she feels the hot burn of tears behind her eyes and she looks down immediately, blinks hard once, twice, three times until they go away.

“is this all because—,” he starts, eyebrows furrowing. “because i punched your friend? or is it something else?”

she feels her bottom lip fall into the same juvenile pout she's been trying to train herself out of since she was a kid like it does every time she feels like she's going to cry. she hates it, and she hates it even more right now, hates that she can't even seem to get her own stupid angry stereotype right.

when she looks at elias lately, she sees isak’s bloody nose; and she sees her reflection in the mirror of the bathroom at the karaoke bar; and she sees yousef (under the streetlights in front of her house); and she sees noora (smiling at her over the top of her laptop); and she sees them together like a nail through her sternum. then she blinks until she sees elias as himself, but by then he’s too tied up with the rage of her battles with other people to treat him right.

he deserves to be forgiven, but she can’t. because if she forgives him, elias gets to go back to normal, like everyone else. as long as she’s still mad at him, they’ll both remember that something happened, and as long as she’s not alone, she feels a little less crazy for feeling heavy all the time, for wanting to hide and scream and hurt people the way she’s been hurt.

what she really wishes is that she could be mad at everyone else. but the only person she has a real reason to be mad at is elias, and elias is the only person who will still love her for sure after two weeks of getting nothing but biting remarks and eyerolls.

her eyes burn, and she realizes she’s been been staring so hard at her notebook that she’s forgotten to blink.

“come on,” elias says, and she can see him leaning in over the table, whining a little. he doesn’t know how to handle not getting what he wants. she doesn’t move.

he reaches for her hand but stops short of touching her. his hand lands next to hers where it’s pressed flat to her notebook. his voice is gentle, the same one he used to tell her when you’re sad, i’m sad, says, “let’s have it out before ramadhan starts, khti.”

it’s the khti that breaks her. suddenly, she is small again, squished between her two older brothers in the backseat of their car. when baba took turns too fast, she would grab at their hands at her sides to steady herself, and they would never shake her off. she doesn’t mean to be dramatic, but it is dramatic, a little, when a tear falls onto the back of her hand. elias wipes it away with his thumb, curls his fingers over hers. it’s quiet in a way that elias rarely achieves.

she can’t look at elias, so she fixes her gaze on the curve of his hand over her own, the warmth there. she remembers that he will never let go.

she says, “yeah, okay.”

it’s barely above a whisper. her voice feels like she hasn’t used it in ages.

*

in another universe, where sana doesn’t text isak

the morning after she read the comment thread on the facebook group, she woke up and stared at the ceiling for 15 minutes until mama came to wake her up. the thought of going to school made her ill, in a way that she hadn’t felt since meeting chris in german class during first year.

mamma, sana said as fatiha turned to go wake up elias. her voice was strained and she kept her gaze trained on the bumps of plaster above her, gaze blurring them into abstract shapes and patterns. i can’t go to school.

are you sick? she asked, concerned.

sana didn’t want to lie, had done more than enough lying lately, so she told the truth: i don’t feel well.

she could tell that fatiha knew she was not sick, and sana saw the exact moment where she moved between the mamma who wanted sana to be responsible and focused, and the mamma who had been asking increasingly pointed questions about how sana was doing for the past two weeks.

fatiha calls in sick to the clinic and they spend the day together. it’s both peaceful and vibrant in a way that sana has not felt in weeks. they drive to grønland with the new nancy ajram album playing and the windows down, and sana breathes a little easier with every moment that she goes without seeing any blonde-haired, blue-eyed people.

they browse through fragrant, cramped grocery aisles, filling their cart with dried fruits and spices. they go into a small dress shop that is draped from floor to ceiling in rich jewel tones, sequins sparkling from delicate embroidery across the neck and waistlines of the dresses fitted over the mannequins. sana runs her hand along a skirt made of fabric so deeply blue that it was almost black, overlaid with an iridescent shine.

it would suit you, fatiha observes from behind her, squeezing sana gently with palms flat against her upper arms. her voice is warm with her fond, honey-sweet smile, and sana rubs the fabric between her fingers.

her mother is all soft fabrics and warm heart, steady and considered, and the streets filled with her people bustle around her in a dance; brightly painted, loud, abrasive in the way that all proper homes are.

they return home around 14:00, and fatiha immediately gets to work preparing dinner, chattering absentmindedly about what she wants to have prepared to make suhoor easier as she dices vegetables and puts oil to heat in a heavy bottomed skillet.

sana puts away the rest of their groceries, and goes to her room to hang her new skirt on the hooks mounted behind her door. it looks like the night sky under the dim light of her room, something beautiful, and hers. looking at it makes her heart full in an almost painful way, the opposite of how she’d felt when she woke up.

when she returns to the kitchen, sana asks, “do you need any help cooking?”

fatiha turns around, raises her eyebrows at sana. “you want to help me cook?”

at her look of surprise, sana can’t help but laugh. it feels fizzy and effervescent in her chest, bubbling out of her and filling the kitchen, sharp and bright. “i want to help you cook!” she insists, walking over and kissing her mother on the cheek, smile still playing on her lips.

“mash’Allah,” fatiha murmurs, pressing her temple to sana’s. she winds her arm around sana’s waist and keeps her close. “are you feeling well now, habibti?”

sana nods, leaning into her mother’s warmth more firmly when she feels her start to pull away. she takes a breath, closing her eyes. “your advice isn’t dumb, mamma.”

“hm?” fatiha hums, questioning. her palm rubs soothing circles against sana’s back. “is this about before?”

“mmm,” sana says in affirmation, but doesn’t elaborate. they can get into it later.

she spends a moment longer against fatiha’s side. when they bow their heads close, it feels like prayer.

*

in another universe, where the conflict is different altogether

eva flops back against sana’s unmade bed, long copper hair splaying out against the mustard yellow bedspread. “sa-na,” eva whines, emphatically. “you’re a genius. stop already.”

sana looks over from her desk with amusement, and eva meets her gaze upside down, her face painted with an overblown pout. despacito is playing from eva’s phone next to her head, because sana had refused to let her play it through her speakers. eva has the worst taste in music, and when sana tells her so, she replies, i make up for it with my taste in girls, and something warm and lovely curls in the base of sana’s stomach.

“please?” eva tries again, hopefully.

sana tucks her chin and stares at her with her best imitation of annoyance, before she breaks, sighing and rolling her eyes fondly. she closes her notebook, and climbs into the bed, sitting with her back against the headboard. she lifts eva’s head so she can rest it on the top of sana’s thighs, her hair contrasting with the black of sana’s leggings. eva hums contentedly, and reaches for sana’s hand.

“it’s okay that i’m here, right?” she asks, worrying the right corner of her bottom lip with her teeth.

sana’s eyes flick to her open door, and she can hear mamma bustling in the kitchen and the faint sounds of elias and his friends in the living room. the two weeks since her mother had found a note from eva in the pocket of one of her sweatshirts had been both horrible and wonderful, in the way that things that transform you permanently often are. they had all screamed at each other, mamma, pappa, her, and elias; raw and ugly late into the evening, the holy month looming over their shoulders. mamma and pappa all but disappeared for a week, ghosts of their former presence through the house.

but this morning before school, pappa had exchanged a look with her mother before he placed his coffee on the table. then, he asked, do you want to invite your–, he paused, pursing his lips together before continuing, friend, eva, for dinner tonight?

“they asked you to come,” sana reminds her. a small smile replaces the worry after that, and eva settles comfortably against sana’s legs.

“i know,” eva says, half sigh. “it’s just–it’s so nice. shouldn’t they be more mad?”

sana shrugs, brushing a stray strand of eva’s hair off of her face. “they’re not–,” she starts, trying to find the right words. she looks at her prayer rug, eyes blurring across the ornate pattern. “it’s not mad. they’re scared. they’re worried for me. my soul.”

eva hums in acknowledgement, but sana thinks she doesn’t fully understand the difference. sana looks into eva’s soft features, her lashes fanned out against her cheek as she looks down at their interlaced fingers running the pad of her thumb over the smooth curve of sana’s nail.

“my soul is fine, though,” sana says, more to herself than to eva.

she thinks about the way that holding eva’s hand makes her feel like the truest version of herself, makes her feel brave and beautiful and capable. she thinks about her relationship with Allah, the limitless love that she feels from her god, the abundance of it filling her to bursting with the certainty that she has no reason to fear the truth of who she is.

eva laughs at that, squeezes her hand. “ja, i know that for sure. duh.”

[sugagumdrop]

Mirror Mirror | One

Your living situation was nothing to boast about. As if you could. Even then, to whom would you "boast” to? After all, you were just a girl who lived inside of a mirror.

A/N: Hello! My name is Ali, but i’d love it if you’d just call me Kitten~ This is an idea I’ve had for about a week now, but i’m not exactly at the writing level of ANY writers on here. I lack in detail and explanation, and tend to rush through my stories. Nevertheless, i will still try to do as best as i can on this! Please give this story a chance :D I’m still not sure what it will be or become, so you’ll be just as surprised as me. Anyways, enjoy!

Next Part: 2

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Word Count: 2.8k Genre: Supernatural, Angst, Fluff (I’ll add other’s in the next chapter if i think of any)

Year ‘whatever,’ day ‘who knows,’ hour ‘what does it matter.’ Your thoughts were the only thing that could distract you from the silent rising and setting sun that you could faintly see behind old tattered curtains covering the two windows you had access too. You’d tried time and time again to push back those curtains and feel the sun on your skin, but it worked to no avail. While you could physically touch and move everything in the mirror, you couldn’t see anything that it couldn’t.

Time wasn’t something that existed to you anymore. Days came quietly, and went beautifully. All that kept your mind active enough to not go insane was the sound of cars driving by the empty house. Honks were faint and different in tone, and you struggled to count how many of them you heard each day. Your heart ached when you heard a few verbal fights, car accidents, fire trucks and ambulances. You wondered what exactly was happening out there, and came up with enough scenarios to write a few best selling books.

The walls practically drove you mad. They were stark white and practically spelled��“you’re insane.” They were all you saw during the day, save for your own reflection in the mirror opposite the one you lived in. Or rather, the one you were. At night, the entire room was void of color and it made you constantly wonder if you were even alive. You could still feel yourself, but nothing else. Since the mirror could reflect no light, nothing technically existed besides you in it.

Worst of all, you were convinced you didn’t age and would be stuck forever. Your hair stayed the same, your nails never grew, and your body never hurt. Hunger and sleep were things you could no longer feel let alone remember feeling. You honestly did feel insane, but you knew you weren’t. You remembered that day too vividly for it to be just a hallucination. 

Your little brother was never one to give up easily on arguments. He always had to have the last word, and was completely convinced he was right, not matter how much evidence was piled against him. Especially when it came to you, he’d never back down even if he knew he was in the wrong. He hated you, and you knew that. He constantly wished that you’d never been born, even though he was born after you. In fact, he was born after you and your eight other siblings, totaling ten. You being the oldest.

On this particular school morning though, the angry vein in his neck was more prominent than ever. His eyes were red in frustration, jaw clenching tight enough to bite through a bone, and nostrils flaring. You had to admit, even though he was only sixteen, that was the scariest you’d ever seen someone.

“You... you bitch!” He spat in your face, shoving you against one of your mirrored walls. He held you by your throat, not even caring that he was beyond close to killing you. “You... you... you fucking whore!” He continued to scream, pressing harder against your throat. You felt his spit fly against your face. All you could do was claw at his hands begging him for air.

“No one will miss you,” he changed his tone for a deep menacing whisper. You’d never felt fear like that in your entire life. No one would bust into the room to stop him either. Your family knew that you and him fought often, and they refused to get involved. “Don’t worry sissy, it’ll all be over soon.” He continued, pulling you closer to his face. “I... fucking.. hate you!” He shouted, slamming you into the wall.

You thought the glass would shatter, embedding pieces of itself in your head and knocking you out. That’d give him plenty of time to kill you with his bare hands, just like he always wanted. You thought it’d be the end of his ridiculous and pointless abuse. The end of a battle you didn’t want to keep fighting with him, even though that battle was for your life.

And boy were you so fucking wrong.

Your body was absorbed by the mirror. It was an odd feeling, almost like you were drowning in thick liquid. The light from the bright morning sun slowly faded from your vision, but soon came back as you landed on the floor. A completely mirrored floor and room, that was. You gasped for air, finally being able to fill your lungs.

Your brother had no idea who you were when his vision focused. He looked to the room and back at the mirror, yet only one placed showed your fragile frame.

Your family had no idea who you were when they came in at your brother’s call. They were so scared, it almost made you smirk. Of course, your family being overly religious, assumed the house “cursed,” and you heard them planning to place it on blind auction, where no one could see the house before they bought it. Seeing your brother as scared as you were not seconds before, made you proud despite the fact that you were clearly the loser in the situation.

You wished that his reflection was shown in the mirror. It was as if the moment you were sucked into it, people no longer showed through it. Had his reflection showed, you would’ve took your anger out on it. But, were you even angry?

You were void of logic, reason, and most of all, emotion. The gravity of what happened never truly settled in. Tears never fell. Your heart never ached. You were just left with painful confusion.

“Yah! This was a stupid idea Namjoon-ssi! What if the house is built on like... a cemetery or something and it’s haunted?” A sweet, slightly high pitched, yet gruff voice spoke. You sat up from the floor, running to the front of the mirror, pressing your ear against it.

“Yoongi-hyung you worry too much! The previous owners said they just needed any money and their family got too big to be held in a five bedroom house. The price was really cheap, be grateful! I used all my inheritance on it!” A smooth, deep baritone voice piped back. You heard keys turn, and a door open. That alone made you take a few steps away from the mirror, afraid that any one of them would walk into the room. You wondered if it was just the two of them, or more? It was a five bedroom house, it couldn’t just be them.

You frantically looked around for a place to hide, but it was an empty room, and an even more empty mirror. You huffed, opting to sit crossed legged in front of the mirror, as close as you could get. At least you’d be able to listen to them speak before they freaked out and left, just like your family had. What were you even looking for a place to hide for? It wouldn’t have mattered. Even if you had, they’d move furniture into the room and definitely see you.

“Can i have the biggest room?” A cute but soft high pitched voice asked. Someone scoffed.

“Namjoonie-hyung payed, so he should get the biggest room!” Another baritone spoke. His voice was much more playful than the other baritone’s. “And you should share it with me Hyungie!”

“Oh hell no Taehyungie. I couldn’t bare to share a room with your hyper ass,” the one named Namjoon spoke. You nodded, getting familiar with his voice and pairing it with his name.

“Wouldn’t you want to share your room with me Hyung?” A small, sweet voice whined. It was very soft, almost like a moan.

“True. But you always complain about my cuddles!” Taehyung whined. You stifled a laugh, counting two on your finger. Namjoon, and Taehyung. You couldn’t remember the other name that was spoken, so that was three unidentified people, and two named. But that was five, so why would they need to talk about sharing rooms?

“I need direct sunlight so i can admire my good looks every morning. The room with the biggest windows is mine. Aish i might suffer a tan, but that’s the sacrifice i must make.” A more heavy, mid-tone voice spoke. His dramatic sigh made you roll your eyes, but he was amusing.

“I’ll be your sun Jin-Hyung!” A high pitched, scratchy voice spoke. You had to admit, his voice was the most unique, but also the cutest. You smiled, putting up a third finger. Jin, the heavy voiced. 

“No, i need a real sun, Hobi. If that was your way of asking if you can share a room with me, fine. I’ll allow it.” Jin retorted. The one who’s name was Hobi cheered. You knew it had to be a nickname, but for the meantime, it was all you had to go on.

You heard footsteps everywhere. Since no one else spoke, you assumed there was only seven of them. You guessed that only two would share a room, and the rest would take their own.

One pair of footsteps grew closer to your room, and you sighed, bracing yourself for a scream, a stream of curses, or for the person to just run.

The footsteps stopped abruptly at your door.

“(Y/N)?...” That sweet, slightly high pitched gruff voice spoke. His name had to start with... a Y? You couldn’t remember. Your stomach turned excitedly at the sound of your name, which you hadn’t heard in so long. You figured your parents kept the name plate you hung on your door, and that’s how he knew.

The door opened, and you immediately caught site of the first human being you’d seen in so... so long. The feeling was indescribable. Someone was there, in your room, moving. They were living, breathing, and speaking. It seemed like such a weird, foreign thing to you.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, he looked up to take a good look at the room. The sight of you, though, made him stop dead in his tracks. 

“Hey you can’t be in here! This... t-this... i-is pri-... holy shit,” His voice slowly lowered from a shout to a whisper of disbelief when he realized you weren’t in the room, but in the mirror. You couldn’t help but gawk at his beauty.

Short blonde locks layered perfectly, and framed his face beautifully. A small bit of fringe fell over his eyes that were wide in shock but still shaped sharply. His lips were parted slightly, looking almost like a bridge, but they were bright pink and slightly plump, making you wish you could run your small fingers over the skin. And that nose of his was the cutest button you’d ever seen. 

Though his body was small and frail, you still wished you could run your fingers over every available piece of his skin. You imagined goosebumps forming on his skin as you did so, a soft sigh leaving those perfect lips as you admired him. You missed human contact more than you thought.

“Holy... i need to sleep. I’m seeing things-”

“(Y/N),” You rasped out, speaking out loud for the first time in what felt like forever. His eyes widened even more if that was possible, and he couldn’t move. “M-my name... on the door... it’s (Y/N). Please don’t... don’t scream. Or be scared... or leave... i swear i’m not a ghost or anything. I...” You rambled. You were desperately trying to get him to stay. You didn’t want to be alone with empty, meaningless thoughts anymore. Your heart yearned for a friend, for any contact it could get. 

“That s-sounds like something a g-ghost would say,” He whispered, still a bit in shock. You could hear the apparent snarky nature in his voice and you almost smiled, had it not been for the small bit of fear that he’d leave. 

“No! No i swear i’m not,” You whined, standing on your feet. He flinched back a bit, but you held your hands up, and placed them slowly against the glass of the mirror. You felt your skin grow cold from the contact. You tapped a finger softly against the glass, hearing a faint noise from the contact. “See? I can touch things that are reflected by the mirror, or the mirror itself.”

“What.... the actual- how is that even possible?” He breathed out in shock. Curiosity got the better of him, and he walked closer to you. Slowly but surely, he was standing right in front of you. His height completely towered over your own and you couldn’t help but wondered what he smelled like. What did he feel like? Was he good at hugging? Was he a natural blonde? How did his hair fee-

“(Y/N)?” He asked carefully, waking you from your daze. 

“I’m so alone,” You whimpered out, not knowing what came over you. Your fingers curled against the glass, and for the first time since you were thrown into the mirror, you cried. You didn’t understand... why now? Why after all this time were your emotions surfacing? You thought it could possibly be because you were being acknowledged. As if this person confirmed your suspicions. You were, in fact, real.You were alive, but trapped. You didn’t feel alive though.

“I...” He didn’t know what to do. He was still confused, wondering if what he was looking at was even real. Your whimper broke him out of his trance. “Hey,” he spoke softly, bringing a hand up to the mirror. He placed his over the place where yours was, and you looked up. Your eyes widened as you felt the warmth. You felt the actual warmth of his hand through the mirror, and you choked on a sob.

“I... i just need to make sure... i’m not the only one who can see this.” He spoke. You were too busy staring at his palm that was significantly larger than yours. The waves of heat coming from just his hand were enough to through you into an emotional wreck. “Guys! Come in here for a sec you have to see something!“ 

A few moments later, the door opened to reveal all of them. You dropped your hand from the mirror and moved back, seeing the look of shock on all their faces. Some of their faces looked significantly more intimidating than the one who was already in there. You didn’t want to risk them attacking the glass, knowing what would happen.

“Oh thank goodness you can see her too.” The one who’d chosen this room spoke. “Guys, this is (Y/N). She’s kinda stuck in this mirror-”

“Wa... so cool!” The playful baritone, Taehyung spoke. You bowed a bit, not knowing what else to do. Your tears were starting to matte to your cheeks, so you wiped them on the back of your hand, sniffling a bit. 

“I... i’m not a ghost. It’s... it’s a long story, but i’m real. This... was my room. I guess now the mirror is my room.”

“This defys... all logic,” Namjoon spoke, crossing his hands over his chest. “It’s probably just a trick. Alright, you got us. Where’s the latch to get you out of there? You know you’re trespassing right?” 

You sighed, sinking to your knees as they all began looking for a latch. You would’ve laughed, if not for the fact that the idea was ridiculous. 

“It’s a wall mirror. As in the mirror is drilled and glued to the wall. There is no trick, i really am... stuck in here-”

“That’s not possible! Get out of there before we call the cops!” Namjoon yelled this time. You felt the hairs on your neck rise in anger. Who was he to yell at you? It wasn’t your fault he didn’t believe you, or that you were stuck in there.

You rose to your feet, once again, and stepped back a bit. You raised your food, and slammed it against the glass as hard as you could, but it didn’t even shake. They all flinched, expecting it to break, but it didn’t. There was just a faint ringing sound from the impact. You tried once again, and again. Nothing. You’d figured out long ago, the same day you were forced in there, that anything that happened in the mirror, didn’t effect it. Once your brother tried to punch the mirror to “get the poor helpless girl out,” you realized that it could never be.

“Why don’t i try-”

“No don’t!” You screamed but it was too late. Namjoon bashed his foot clumsily into the corner of the mirror, making you shout in pain. Your vocal chords strained as a scream broke from your lips. You whimpered in pain, holding the side of your stomach.

“Y-y-you asshole!” You whimpered. Your head spun and you sunk to your knees. The impact barely phasing you as you continued to hold your rib. Through your blurred vision from new tears falling, you could see the worried look on everyone’s face, besides Namjoon. “I don’t just live in the mirror,” your breathing was labored, words coming out in short pants. “I am the mirror.”