#he uses them to find small ways to make min’s life easier which she desperately needs since her full time job is dealing with noah 2.0

[torybrennan]

there’s actually no reason that tack sarah and juilliard can’t team up on mars and reinvent a bunch of technology and have quite literally the weirdest dynamic known to man due to each of them being equal parts very cool and deeply insufferable in their own unique ways

[multi-fandom-freak0221]

The Shell of a Girl that I Used to Know Well

Inspired by "Love of three" by @misashabunbun

Thank you @thestressmademedoit and @maleive07 for helping me find the fic.

So this turned out to be longer than I thought it would be (probably because I based it around like 5 songs) so I'll break it into parts and post each part separately. Oh and did I mention this is songfic? Because it's a songfic! No Felix yet, but you guys do see Peter but I surprise surprise I turned this into an OT4 pairing. Anyone wanna guess who the other lucky person is to date Mari, Peter and Felix? Also bonus points for anyone who can figure out Mari's stage name.

The song in this part in Stitches by Shawn Mendes and The Lonely by Christina Perri is where I got this parts title from. Also the song mentioned at the end is Partners in Crime by Set It Off ft Ashley Costello.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was grateful for the quiet she found in what she was pretty sure was some kind of presentation room. There was a raised platform which she believes is supposed to be some kind of stage and a couple of tables with chairs surrounding them. She still has no idea how she got here, she was just trying to find some peace. She knew her pseudo Uncle and her friends meant well but they were suffocating her. It's been over a week since she left that bastard, not likely that he even noticed. Since Marinette has gotten to Stark Towers everyone has been treating her like she's about to break and she can't stand it. Yes she's hurt, but like give her a chance to fall apart before trying to shove her back together again! Marinette took a deep breath to calm herself as she sat on the little stage to work on the embroidery she was putting on the back of the blouse. She already had a full heart there but it was kind of plain. She wanted to add something but she didn't know what. 

She sighed softly. At times she really missed Tikki being around to be her second opinion. 

Ever since the defeat of Hawkmoth the kwamis asked to be renounced and to have their respective jewelry return the Miraculous box. They were working together to heal poor Nooroo and Dusuu. Even though Marinette had been able to fully fix the peacock Miraculous, as well as heal Emilie Agreste and Nathalie Sancour from the effects of using a broken Miraculous, the two kwamis had to deal with a significant amount of emotional trauma from the whole affair. 

Even though the final battle had been won quietly without casualties it had taken a lot out of everyone who had been a part of it. Adrien's relationship with his father has been very strained to say the least. Even though Gabriel is doing his best to right his wrongs, it goes to say that the only reason Adrien even speaks to his father at all is because of his mother who is desperately trying to make up for years lost between the two of them.

While Marinette was trying to think of an idea for her embroidery she started humming a song she had heard recently on the radio. In her eyes it fit her past relationship with Damian Wayne perfectly. Soon enough she was singing softly.

I thought that I've been hurt before

But no one has ever left me quite this sore.

Even on their worst days Lila's lies, Alya's beratings, hell even Mlle. Bustier's looks of disappointment never hurt half as much as Damian's total disinterest did. She had cooked him a nice romantic dinner yet he barely acknowledged her. More interested in whatever, or should she say whoever, was on his phone. After 5 mins of trying to carry the conversation alone Marinette sighed and just decided to eat the meal she worked so hard on. After 10 mins of stiff silence in their shared apartment, only filled with the sounds of Marinette eating and Damian texting, the latter got up. Grabbing his coat he made his way to the door, barely turning his head towards his fiancee to call out "I've got to go. Something came up at work."

Marinette wasn't even shocked anymore, just resigned. Still she tried to reason with the man she no longer recognized. Sometimes she wonders if she ever truly knew him at all. "You just got here. Isn't there someone else who can handle it? You haven't even touched your dinner."

True to her words, the young heir's meal sat completely untouched, quickly cooling in the AC.

"Mari, you know these things are important. Not just anyone can handle them." Damian's words were patronizing at best. It frustrated the young designer, but she didn't let it show.

"Will you be back tonight?" She knew the answer but she asked anyway.

Damian hummed noncommittally as he walked through the door still looking at his phone and not the beautiful young lady in front of him. "Most likely not. Don't wait up for me." He quickly walked out, closing the door behind him. Marinette quickly placed her ear to the door as he walked away from the humble abode. She could hear him on the phone.

"Yeah. I'm on my way, gorgeous. I just left." Silence. "No, she doesn't suspect a thing." Nothing but his footsteps as he continues to leave unknowing of her distress behind the apartment "Perfect. The less you're wearing, the better."

Marinette crumbled to the floor after she could no longer hear him. She had suspected as much but that didn't make hearing it less painful. 

Your words cut deeper than a knife

Now I need someone to breathe me back to life

She remembers the first time he truly yelled at her. The way he looked at her with disgust. The way she flinched away from his imposing figure and his cutting words. If tried hard enough she could delude herself that he was doing this out of her best interest. The illusion made even easier to believe by the way he apologized and hugged her after he stopped yelling. The way he told her he was worried about her going out and being made a target to Rogues because of her connection to him. The way he feared that he disguises wouldn't be enough even though he himself didn't recognize her at first when she walked back through the apartment door the day. She believed she was safer staying in the apartment because he said so and he only wants what's best for her. So eventually the walls of their apartment was all she saw 24/7. For her safety of course. 

Got feeling that I'm going under

But I know I will make it out alive

If quit calling you my lover

And move on

Marinette's head was spinning. Or was it the room? Was she even breathing? She couldn't focus on any of that. All she could focus on was the picture sitting on the screen on her phone. The phone Damian had bought her. The idea made her feel sick now because all those gifts he was giving her now seemed to have double meanings. Especially when the picture filling her screen was of a naked Lila whose body was hidden behind a sheet lying on Damian's bare chest while he slept. She didn't even think to process how the lying bitch managed to get her number. Instead all she could focus on was tears streaming down her face as she felt her heart shatter. She didn't even process the fact that she left the phone right there with the picture still on the screen and started packing her stuff. She grabbed everything that was hers that she bought herself, later on she'd be surprised at how little that was. She stuffed her things in a small suitcase, put the miracle box in a duffle bag wrapped in her leftover fabric from commissions, grabbed her purse with her wallet and left. After locking the apartment door she slid the key underneath the door so he could have it back. He could have everything back he ever gave her. She was done. She was so distressed she didn't even notice that she had put on the one disguise she had and taken a train to New York until she was standing in the lobby of Stark Tower with her Uncle Tony and her Aunt Pepper holding her while she sobbed.

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

I'm shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses 

I'll be needing stitches

Marinette was so engrossed in the lyrics, in her feelings, that she didn't notice the tears falling from her eyes, nor the way she was furiously embroidering the shirt in her hands. And she definitely didn't notice that she had gained an audience.

Just like a moth drawn to a flame

Yeah you lured me in and I couldn't sense the pain

The first time she met Damian it had been an accident. She knew when her classes started she wouldn't have the time to get the fabrics she needed for her last commissions that she agreed to before going on hiatus. She knew juggling her business and school would be hard so told her clients she'd be on break for the unforeseeable future. She was so focused on her phone trying to make sure her list was complete, that she didn't notice the man right in front of her.

"Oh!" She fell back with a little yelp and when she saw what, or who, she ran into she hurried to help them up as well. "I'm so sorry monsieur. Are you okay?"

The man yanked his hand away from her and growled, "You wouldn't be having to ask if you weren't caught up in whatever idiotic nonsense is on your phone."

Marinette fumed silently. "Well excuse me sir, I don't know who you think you are, but that is uncalled for. I apologized and helped you up. All you had to do was walk away. No need to be so rude."

Damian raised an eyebrow at her curiously. "You don't know who I am?"

Marinette crossed her arms still annoyed. "Am I supposed to? You could be the president for all I cared and I still would say you were being rude and disrespectful."

Damian's expression changed slightly to a bit of amused intrigue. "I apologize. I thought you were another fangirl with some kind of ruse to get my attention. If you don't mind me asking, what is a girl like you doing in a city like Gotham? I can tell from your accent you are not from here."

Marinette relaxed a little bit. "I'm here going to college when the semester starts, but right now I was out doing some shopping."

"Perhaps I could join you as a way to apologize for my rude behavior. I could give you a mini tour along the way." Damian smiled softly at her.

"I don't know," apprehension was clear on Marinette's face. "I don't even know you let alone your name."

Damian chuckled lightly. "I assure you, even if you don't know me, the rest of the city does. I won't be able to get away with doing anything to you without being plastered across every newspaper and magazine in town, Angel. But my name is Damian by the way. Damian Wayne." He grabbed her hand and kissed it softly after his introduction.

"A-angel?" Marinette stuttered as she blushed.

"Well, I still don't know your name."

Marinette smiled before introducing herself. "My name is Marinette. Your company would be much appreciated, Damian"

Your bitter heart cold to the touch

Now I'm going to reap what I sow

I'm left seeing red on my own

Sometimes on nights like these Marinette wondered what she did wrong. Because it had to be her of course. Why else would Damian go from her caring, charming, wonderful, Dove to Gotham's very own cold, unfeeling, ruthless, Ice Prince. 

"Hi, Damian. You're home early." Marinette tried not to let the hope seep into her voice. She had a feeling she wasn't successful.

Damian barely grunted at her as he continued to their room. "My idiots brothers dragged me into spending some time with them so I'm forced to change into something less formal."

"Oh okay." She knew she did an even worse job of hiding her disappointment. "You know I finished Uncle Jagged's outfit the other day. He loved it."

Damian hummed noncommittally. She knew he wasn't paying attention, he never was but she kept trying.

"You know how he's doing that "World's Greatest" Tour. Celebrating the hero's of the world in their respective cities. Luka's been opening for him. His career has really taken off. Hell I'm sure half the tickets Uncle Jagged sells are people just trying to see Luka. He'll have to tour solo soon."

"I bet." Damian's voice was muffled from being the closet, but she could still hear the disinterest in his voice.

She sighed as she leaned against the doorframe of "their" room. It was only theirs in name the fact that his clothes were there. She spent almost every night there alone. She took a deep breath trying to gather her courage for what she was going to ask. "Well they wanted to thank me for the outfits. Claimed the tour would have been half as successful without them. They invited me to take me out to dinner tonight to catch up, then for me to hang out backstage during their show. They said they missed me." Marinette hoped he still wasn't paying attention, but as soon as he settled his famous glare on her, she knew she wasn't that lucky. She flinched into herself under his gaze.

"Marinette. You know what would happen if you left this apartment. The famous Wayne Heir's sweet vulnerable fiance. The one never seen in the media anymore. You would get off this block before your picture would be on every media outlet in the city. Then you would be the Rogues target for the night. They would go anywhere you would be. Including the concert. Would you really be so selfish to endanger hundreds, possibly thousands of innocent concert goers just to 'hang out' with people you can see any time you please?" The disappointment on his face and the coldness of his delivery had her feeling ashamed. She hung her head low trying to hold back the tears. 

"I'm sorry." She knew her voice was barely above whisper, but if she tried to speak any louder she knew she'd open the flood gatesp.

Damian brushed past her. "You should be. I'll be heading to the concert with my brothers. I'll inform Jagged of your apologies for not coming."

"Just telling him I'm sick." She offered weakly still not looking up from the floor.

She could feel his judgeful look on her. "Of course not. He'll insist on coming to check on you then he'll see your lying. I'll tell him you're busy with commissions." He left her standing there as headed to leave again. She heard his phone ring and he answered it harshly. "I'm coming down, Todd!" "Of course not, you imbecile! She's a serious designer who can't be bothered out of her schedule to spend time with my idiotic brothers, especially when she's up to her nose in commissions!" She heard the door shut after that statement. I guess her soon to be brothers in law didn't know the real reason behind her lock down either. She stood there for a few more moments before she broke down into loud heavy sobs. She collapsed to her knees and just cried. Not for the first nor last time in that prison she called an apartment.

Got feeling that I'm going under

But I know I will make it out alive

If quit calling you my lover

And move on

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

I'm shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses 

I'll be needing stitches

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

Her hands were moving furiously as she was trying to rid her mind of her cruel ex.

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

She wanted to forget everything about him.

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

His smile, his laugh, the loving look in his eyes.

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

His kisses, his hugs, the way he held her like he was afraid of losing her

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

His scowl, his glare, his need to hide her from the world

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

His distance, his apathy, the way he was happy in any other girl's arms but her's

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

Get you out of my head.

She wanted to forget loving him and hating him. She wanted her happiness back

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

Shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses 

I'll be needing stitches

And now that I'm without you kisses

I'll be needing stitches

I'll be needing stitches.

As she finished singing she awoke from her haze. She felt the tears on her face and wiped them away before looking to see what she had made. The simple heart from before now had a jagged line down the middle that stopped a quarter of the way to the bottom to represent a break. From the bottom it looked like the heart was dripping. The most noticeable change was the crude yet tasteful stitches that laid over the break in the heart. They weren't neat as if she were suggesting they were professionally done. The way she laid them subconsciously represented as if they were self done by someone trying their best.

While she was studying her impromptu embroidery a voice surprised her. "It looks nice."

She looked up in shock to see a brown haired boy around her age, 21 maybe 22, sitting at the table closest to the stage she was on. He looked as if he had been there for a while.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you. I heard you singing so I came to see who it was because you have a beautiful voice, but then I saw you crying and I wanted to make sure you were okay, but you seem really focused and I didn't want to interrupt, but I didn't want to just leave you either, but- I'm sorry I'm rambling. My name is Peter. Are you okay?" The boy, Peter, asked her softly, looking concerned. For Marinette it was enough.

She had sat in the chair next to him and finally let out everything she was holding in. The tears were flowing freely now "I don't know. I'm so mad, so hurt, so confused. Where did it go wrong? One minute I'm getting my business degree at Gotham University, the next I'm in a relationship with Damian Wayne. It was amazing he was so kind and sweet and loving and he made me so happy. Then next thing I know after dating for about a year and half he proposes. I'm on cloud 9 and I say yes and I'm so excited for what's to come, but suddenly everything changes. Next thing I know he's saying I can't leave the apartment because he wants me to be safe from the Rogues and I accepted it. Then he's yelling at me for trying to sneak out and I'm thinking I deserve it. I should have just stayed home and he's already apologizing for yelling. Then suddenly he's gone more and more. He's never home and I'm alone and it hurts. Then suddenly I'm selfish for asking to go out to see my friends because how can I put everyone at risk just to go see some friends who I can see anytime I want. Yet nobody is ever allowed over. But I still believe he's right. How can I be So now I'm alone and miserable and it hurts because he keeps getting further and further from me and I'm starting to suspect what's going on but I'm too scared to ask him because if he confirms it, then everything I believed in is a lie and I couldn't live with that. But I didn't even have to ask because soon someone is sending me a picture and it's the girl who made my school life hell by taking everyone I thought was my friend away from me with a few far fetched lies, and here she is laying naked on my fiance's naked chest as he sleeps. And I know he knows who she is and what she did to me because I told him. Yet he doesn't care because here he is fucking her while I'm at home all the time because he told me to be. So I grabbed my stuff and left everything he ever got me and just left. So here I am miserable staying with my Uncle Tony trying not to think about the asshole while my friends try to help me feel better yet I feel terrible because I loved the jerk and I still kinda do and I still have the engagement ring which I should pawn, but it was Bruce's mom's ring and that would be wrong and Bruce would be devastated. Why do I care so much about him and his family when he couldn't be bothered with me?" She felt better after finally letting it all out. She hadn't cried since she came to Uncle Tony. Not when Adrien arrived with Kagami, Marc, and Nathaniel, not when Luka arrived with Uncle Jagged and not even when Chole and Alix arrived. All her friends and pseudo family were there yet she hadn't cried once, nor had she actually told them the full story. But here this stranger asked if she was okay and she let it flow like Niagara Falls.

If Peter was shocked by her rant he didn't let it show. Instead he placed a hand on her before speaking softly "Because you are an amazing person who is a million times better than him. He is insane to choose anyone over you especially someone so foul as a desperate liar. I just met you, but I can already tell that you are a kind hearted, talented girl and anyone would be lucky to have you in their lives and I can tell by the crowd over there by the door that you have many people standing with you who already figured that out." Marinette looked up at his words to see her friends and pseudo uncles and their respective wives standing in the door. 

"Hi guys." As soon as Marinette finished speaking they all rushed towards her. Adrien reached her first pulling her into a tight hug.

"Oh bugaboo, I'm so sorry you had to go through this. Are you okay? Why didn't you tell us, princess?" He buried his face in her neck purring slightly in a way that calmed her.

"I guess I was still processing everything kitty. He really had me thinking he loved me and to find out he didn't was a hard blow." She confessed quietly.

"He'll meet my blade for hurting you, Mari," Kagami seemed to have Chole, Alix and surprisingly, Marc ready to back her. 

"No, Gami, I just want to get over him. He's not worth it." Mari remarked sadly before smiling at her friends. "But thank you, all of you, for having my back."

There were various "Of course" and "Always" that were heard among the group before Tony Stark cleared his throat. "Marinette let me properly introduce Peter Parker, my intern. Peter, this is my niece Marinette Dupain-Cheng also known as MDC owner and head designer of Miracle Designs."

Peter looked star struck. "I love your work. You make the coolest clothes on the planet."

Marinette blushed lightly. "Thank you, Peter. Uncle Tony told me much about you and I was always impressed. You're nothing short of a genius." Marinette missed Peter's blush as she started introducing her friends to him, but Tony didn't.

"This is Adrien Agreste, former model and Physics major. This is Kagami Tsurugi, world champion fencer. This is Luka Couffanie, singer songwriter signed under Jagged Stone. They're dating. This is Nathaniel Kurtzberg and Marc Anciel creators of Miraculous Tales comic. They're engaged. This is Chole Bourgeois, the best lawyer in all of France and probably Europe. And this is Alix Kubdel, X Games Winner, and famous archeologists. These two are also engaged. I'm sure you know Jagged Stone and his manager and also his wife, Penny." 

"You guys are amazing! None of you look much older than me yet you're already so successful! What is in the water in Paris? Some kind of talent steroids?" Peter was amazed.

"Speaking of talent," Luka turned towards Marinette. "Melody why didn't you tell me you could sing like that?" Soon everyone was agreeing that she was an excellent singer.

Marinette was bright red. "It's no big deal guys. I was just singing to myself, I wasn't expecting an audience."

Jagged took his chance to pull his pseudo niece into a hug. "Nettie, my girl you have got to let me sign you. It would be so rocking to have talent like yours produced under my label!"

"No way Uncle Jagged! I'm not even that good!" Marinette began protesting before Luka put a hand on her shoulder.

"How about this? I need some vocals for a song I wrote and no matter how much I love them, my dear boyfriend and girlfriend can not sing." Adrien and Kagami looked at each other before shrugging. No point denying it. "How about you feature in my new single under an alias and if it's hit you'll give an album a try?"

Marinette looked around at some of the most important people in the world to her before sighing and agreeing.

"Alright. But no promises that this will be hit. I'm really not that good. You guys are just biased."

Alix ruffled Marinette's hair. "Whatever you say, DC. Now let's go play some UMS3!"

As everyone was heading out to find a room large enough for all of them Peter prepared to go back to work on a project until Marinette turned back to him with a huge smile and bright eyes. "Come on Peter! Come play with us." 

How could he say no to that? So he came along.

A couple weeks later Luka's single "Partners in Crime" featuring Neon Titanium hit number one on the charts. And the most searched inquiry on Google for 3 days following was "who is Neon Titanium?" Needless to say Marinette was busy for the next couple months. Especially after Luka dropped a music video which she starred in as well wear a full face mask to stay hidden.

[introloves]

Moments of Love.

A collection of hybrid Yoongi drabbles.

Drabble no. 3

1 2 

Pairing: Hybrid! Yoongi x Reader (Ft. Best Friend Hybrid! JK.)

Word Count: 2k

Genre: fluff, just straight fluff

Warnings: a little bit of miscommunication, mentions of prejudices against hybrids, mention of self hatred

Summary: You hadn’t gone on a date in years, due to your insecurities and workload and now you felt comfortable with staying lonely, your best and childhood friend Jeongguk however, tries his hand at being a matchmaker. 

The newborn breeze of coming fall nipped at your nose, in attempt to shield yourself from the chilling air you brought your sweater closer to you. Your shoes crunching along the pavement, your anxiety rising to a ten as you checked the time once more. You were supposed to be at the café twenty minutes ago (twenty five was standard to be polite) for your date but thanks to your coworker having to go home early, you had to stay and close up shop by yourself.

You could feel your face burn hot at the thought, this was your first date in… a long time. School and work were the only constant in your life and had been for a while, romance and any attempt to woo anyone was pretty much the last thing on your mind. Well, that and your insecurities... but it was easier to blame it on your work load.

Your friend Jeongguk however, decided that he was going to play matchmaker after a miserable night you had. You had cried into his chest while you told him that you found yourself utterly unloveable and that the person you saw in the mirror was nothing but an ugly amalgamation of everything you hated. The day after, he proudly proclaimed that you had a date with one of his older friends. He thought you two would make perfect company, you apparently had already met him multiple times, but it was hard to recall, anytime you hung out with him and his friends it was hard to keep track of the six other individuals that were always in his orbit. He proudly boasted about how it was a genius idea, his excitement was always infectious and since you knew you were in good hands with him you agreed to, it was time for a change in your life.

Jeongguk knew in his heart that this was probably his most brilliant idea. Both your personalities would mix well, and maybe just maybe, the offhanded comment about your nice smile that Yoongi had once made after seeing a picture of the two of you together had been a big factor in this set up. Jeongguk then told you about his friend, a producer from what you could recall, and this immediately piqued your interest. You were studying music and it was basically your lifeline, finding someone with your shared interest would be fun. Even if nothing romantic spawned from this outing, it was always good to make friends, and you desperately needed some. Jeongguk didn’t count, he was practically family anyways. So you decided to trust him and he planned everything for this ‘blind’ date with vigor.

You neared the coffee shop, it was small and cozy. Bulbs of lights shinning softly against the sunset, the small breeze now picking up strength. The scent of caffeine did nothing but heighten the nausea you were experiencing thanks to your nervousness...

You could back out, you thought to yourself. You could make up some excuse, you were already this late. But you decided to take the leap of faith and follow through with this. Giving yourself a mini pep talk, you whipped your shaky and sweaty hands against your jeans and tugged the door open.

The shop was close to empty, there was only a couple sitting to the corner of the store, settled comfortably against each other and one more person sitting with their back faced to you. A fuzzy, bright blue beanie adorning their head. He was dressed in jeans and a black and white stripped top. Seeing no one else who could be this elusive friend you walked towards him. You tentatively made your way to them, hoping this was actually Jeongguk’s friend.

“Y-Yoongi, uh Min Yoongi?” You questioned, hands fiddling with the hem of your sweater as you stood there.

The man with the beanie turned to look at you and your heart all but stopped beating. He was beautiful, the soft light of the café complimented his shiny skin, his eyes even softer with the atmosphere the glowing lights casting a warm hue to his eyes, a pretty shade of pink tinged his lips that were currently pursed, you gulped as you looked upon his beauty.

As he looked at you, he wasn’t faring any better. The cold tinged your cheeks and nose, he sighed in relief at the sight of you, dread and embarrassment was chewing at him at the thought of you standing him up. From the few times he had seen you around Jeongguk, he remembered your sweet smile and soft eyes. He had told him about your eyes and how cutely they twinkled when you laughed which made Yoongi all that excited to meet you formerly.

When Jeon offered to set a date with you, the cartwheels his heart was doing was a testament to how much he was looking forward to this. He had arrived ten minutes early, making sure to grab a good spot for the both of you, but as time went on and five minutes turned into almost half an hour, Yoongi had all but given up. He was kicking himself in the ass for not grabbing your phone number from his classmate. But now that you were in-front of him and his beating heart was pounding against his rib cage he really thought you looked much more beautiful up close and not stuck to Jeongguk’s side, you and him were almost always glued to each other, his bigger frame always dwarfing yours. For a bunny hybrid Jeon was surprisingly built like a tank, Yoongi had always teased him, asking him if he was sure he was a regular lop eared bunny and not from the giant lop lineage. He thought he would ease up on the teasing after seeing you nervously wring your hands and he thought it was the cutest thing ever.

“Hm, you must be Y/N.” He smiled, the corner of his lips curled ever so slightly. He looked tired, a drowsiness that was almost tangible clung to him, you wanted to die at the fact that he had waited for you here for so long. He stood up, his height shocking you, with a face as doll-like as his, the way he towered over you brought a hot chill to creep all over your face and neck this time.

You bowed immediately as he reached his full height, your eyes looking down at your shoes. He was nothing short of the most pretty man you had ever seen, but his eyes held an intense and predatory gaze. You had only encountered this aura from hybrids, especially from the feline lineage.

“I’m so sorry. I had to close up by myself, a coworker got sick and she had to leave early. I really tried getting here on time but I got lost along the way and-“ his chuckle disrupted your rant.

“Hey it’s fine, I’m glad you showed up.” His voice was like pure honey and you noticed he had a small purr to it.

He tilted his head down as a greeting, the large beanie that was placed on top of his head twitched, your eyebrows furrowed as you caught sight of the movement, the action was quick before you met his eyes again. His sharp eyes caught the look of confusion however and he guarded himself. Of course Jeongguk would forget to include a rather crucial thing about him to you.

While Hybrids weren’t all that different from those who weren’t the prejudice around them was still there. Just like anything different, some accepted them for who they were, and some didn’t.

“Ah, the kid forgot to tell you huh.” He laughed dryly. He didn’t want to be an asshole, but with past experiences, just because someone looked kind and soft on the outside, didn’t mean it stopped them from being horrible people. You looked up at him, confusion still present.

“Tell me what?” You asked, he simply grabbed the beanie he was wearing and tugged it off. His fluffy hair beautiful and black and tumbled down to his forehead. Sitting atop his head were two equally inky ears, very similar to those of a domestic cat. You then also realized that the top he was wearing was oversized, presumably to hide a tail that accompanied his beautiful ears.

“Oh.” You said. You being the painfully awkward person you were didn’t know how to progress beyond this or how to pick up on the fact that Yoongi looked extremely uncomfortable so you just looked up at him, quite dumbstruck. Now noticing the very obvious feline features he had.

“Yeah, oh.” He stated, just waiting for you to walk out of the café, but as you stared on at him with a small smile and big round eyes he figured that he had misread the situation.

A beat of silence passed until he finally sighed out,

“I’m getting the feeling that you’re okay with me being a hybrid.”

“Well yeah of course I am, am I not supposed to be?” You asked, now grabbing a chair to sit directly across from where he was sat, you were also tired from your shift after all.

Yoongi felt quite dumb at that moment, something he didn’t feel quite often. He always prided himself on being a self proclaimed genius and of course he could back up said claims but the fact that he couldn’t quite read you stunned him.

“No it’s not that it’s just that… well never mind.” He sat down as well, looking at you with a soft smile on his face. You both settled down and you once again began nervously playing with the hem of your sweater, using it to keep yourself preoccupied and so you wouldn’t openly drool at the beautiful hybrid sitting directly across from you. You laughed a bit at his reaction to you having none to his “reveal”.

“Yoongi, Jeongguk’s a hybrid isn’t he?” You questioned, of course this situation could take a turn, you knew he was being guarded due to the abuse hybrids often experienced but that’s not who you were.

“Yeah he is.” Your fingers bravely took a hold of the little pamphlet with the drinks they offered and began looking for the tea section. He simply looked on at you.

“We grew up together, his parents adopted me when I was little. His parents… two hybrids raised me. I know that doesn’t mean I can’t be a disgusting person... but that’s not who I am.” You simply stated, wanting him to know you didn’t pose any malice.

He seemed to visibly relax at your words, the iciness between the two of you slowly melting. He didn’t know how else to react but decided that two words were sufficient in how he felt,

“Thank you.” He whispered and you just smiled.

“It’s starting to get colder isn’t it.” Yoongi spoke, his hand coming up to scratch at his ears, after being tucked into his beanie all day it felt nice to have them out in the open.

“Yeah it is, the colder weather’s my favorite. I cant wait for shorter days-” You said, taking a look from the menu to the cup of coffee he had been drinking before you got there. It was already down halfway and you still felt super guilty for making him wait that long.

“I can buy you another one.” You offered, motioning down at his drink, “for making you wait.” You added sheepishly. Yoongi was a sucker for coffee and he certainly wasn’t going to decline an offer from someone as pretty as you.

The rest of the date was spent talking about each others interests and career choices, you had learned that he was producing his own music and that he had already built quite a following and connections with artists, you sat there completely in awe as he spoke about his music. He was trying to make it big in the industry and he was dead set on being the biggest producer in Korea. You hadn’t listened to any of his tracks, but the way he talked about music you knew he was in love with the art, you knew he would make it big.

The both of you were surprised with how easily you talked to one another, the conversation was never stagnant nor awkward.

Towards the end, you began yawning more and more and while you both didn’t want to end the date you knew that you had to go back into the normal world once again. But it was easy once you two realized that this wasn’t going to be the last date. And after a swapping of phone numbers, a hug that had you dizzy and two Uber’s later, you and Yoongi were both recollecting the date with hot cheeks and a smile on your faces.

That night as you fell asleep, you couldn’t help but feeling more loved than you had in a long, long time. His smile playing over and over again in your mind. He had looked at you like he thought you were the most beautiful person in the world, his eyes never left yours... even as you spoke with a small stutter and sweaty palms. He looked intrigued by you, and you felt safe with him, whatever imperfections you thought you had didnt matter, they weren’t at the forefront of your mind, he was.

You sent him a goodnight text, signaling that you would be more than open to having another date with him, you were the most brave in that moment than you had been in a while, the thought of seeing him again helped you as your thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button for a second. And before you completely knocked out, you sent a thank you text to Jeongguk.

Yoongi still couldn’t calm his racing heart, the way you looked at him while he was shyly talking about his music engraved into his eyelids. His already trembling heart once again jumped as his phone screen lit up, seeing you send him a goodnight message and knowing you were willing to go on another date with him put a smile so big it hurt on his face. He typed out, ‘I’ll be counting down the minutes till I see you again doll x” and called it a night. He knew you had stolen his whole heart and he was willing to give it to you on a silver platter.

[juminhanswife48]

Yoosung X MC: walk to college

“MC?!” Yoosung yelled as he pounded on MC’s door for the fourth time. He’d been standing on her porch waiting for her, for god knows how long. It felt like an hour to him. He impatiently pulled his phone out of his pocket, to call MC. As soon as he unlocked it, he saw a text.

So sorry woke up the second U got here, be out in 5 mins lol xoxo

He softly smiled to himself, then looked at the time. He still had 40 minutes to get to class, so he wasn’t stressing out too much.

He put his phone back in his pocket then sat down on the porch. He had never really observed the surroundings of MC’s house. The road was a little uneven, with gravel, rocks, and minor potholes littering the middle of it, but it was cute. Over the road, a distant patch of overgrown grass with a few flowers sprinkled in quietly sat in a pile of sand.

She didn’t life in a poor neighborhood, per se, but it wasn’t the best. Tiny houses were stacked together, with children running and screaming early on in the day.

Her house sat in front of a tiny mountain, which displayed a beautiful scenery for the morning time. The sun appeared right before the mountain, clouds surrounding it to make it look like a farm painting. It reminded him of his childhood; running around the backyard with his sister.

“Good morning baby.” MC said as she bent down and pecked Yoosung on the head.

“Hey.” He blushed.

She got up then grabbed the doorknob from behind her, gently shutting it.

“I got here early. I wanted to walk around with you and talk,” Yoosung smiled as he stood up on his feet. “Oh my god, MC!” Yoosung said as he looked at her. “Why are you carrying so many things?” He grabbed her portable coffee cup, that was about to fall out of her hand.

Yoosung loved her to pieces, but she was a mess.

Her hair was messily tied into a knot on the top of her head, with tiny baby hairs peeking through her forehead. She had a tote bag balanced on her shoulder, stuffed full with papers and other pieces of junk that he couldn’t quite make out. She was holding a portable coffee cup in the middle of her palm on one hand, and her keys and sunglasses were fighting for space in between her fingers in the other hand.

“Sorry for making you wait. I didn’t have much time to get ready either,” MC nervously rambled. “I texted you, did you see it?”

“Yeah i did, i’m not mad at you!” Yoosung smiled.

She placed her sunglasses on her head, then looked up at Yoosung. His stray pieces of blonde hair slowly followed whatever direction the breeze took it. The sun illuminated through the blonde, almost making it invisible.

“It’s only 6:05, we could go see if cafes are open.” Yoosung suggested.

MC jumped out of her trance, almost, then nodded her head. “Yeah, wait, no.” She said. She looked at Yoosung, who was dressed in jeans with a grey top. He looked presentable. Then MC looked down at her baggy sweats, then remembered that she looked like she had been up studying all night.

“I can’t go to a cafe looking like this.”

“It doesn’t matter, you look cute!” Yoosung said as he extended his hand out. “We are students anyway, I don’t think they care.”

MC scrunched her nose. “I’m trusting you on this one, Yoosung.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you. You’re so cute,” he grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

_____________

The streets were damp from last night’s rain showers. Worms all throughout the street struggled to squirm to their holes in the dirt. They ran from the sun that was slowly coming up, which would dry them up and eventually kill them.

The phone lines that plagued the sky occasionally dripped left over rain onto their heads. They hadn’t officially decided what cafe they were going to, they just decided to walk in the direction of the university until they saw one thst was open. It was still sunrise, after all. They’d be lucky to even find one.

“Last night i was playing LOLOL,” Yoosung said breaking the silence. “...and i was thinking about if after this semester we could start talking about moving in together?”

MC looked up at Yoosung’s face, expecting a confident smile, but instead was greeted by an insecure smirk shielded by a rose colored blush on his cheeks.

“Awww are you nervous asking me that!?” MC giggled.

Yoosung’s cheeks heated up to a deeper red color, slightly out of embarrassment and slightly out of guilt.

Did i go to fast? Does she think this relationship isn’t serious?

“Sorry. That was too quick.”

“Nooo,” MC squeezed his hand tightly. “I want to talk about that too. It would be easier for us.”

The butterflies in his stomach free flowed whenever she referred to them as a thing. Maybe since it was his first relationship, or maybe because she had such a special place in his life. But either way, everything she said and did had a big affect on him.

“Oh good,” He looked down at MC, who was staring at the morning sky. Her hair bounced every time she took a step, and her small stature made Yoosung feel big and protective- for the first time he had ever felt that way over another human. He snuck a small kiss on her head, then whispered “I love you.”

MC met her eyes with his, then smiled wide. “Wait, Yoosung that’ll be so cute we can wake up together and walk to school everyday.”

Vendors walking with materials taped to their backs began appearing at every corner, which made Yoosung grasp MC’s hand tighter each time. He felt a really strong sense of protection over her. They both knew that under his sweet persona, was a tough and scary man. MC had only seen that once before, and never wished to see it again.

“Yeah that’d be really nice!”

___________

They’d both decided on a small student run cafe 5 minutes from the university. It was snuck away in a line of corporate shops, it only caught the couple’s eye because of the single lightbulb illuminating the whole cafe. Maybe it was a kidnapping trap, or maybe it was a cafe, but both of them were desperate for breakfast, so they didn’t object to going in.

It was a really tiny cafe. Only four booths were avalible, 2 of them being piled in with half asleep students who lounged over their coffees in a languid manner. Yoosung and MC were the complete opposite. The waitress caught them blowing straw wrappers at eachother, while giggling up a storm.

They ordered a small breakfast, and talked about school gossip for a good half an hour.

“Oh my god!” MC laughed loudly. “We have 4 minutes to get to class!!”

MC and Yoosung erupted into laughter, then began to gather up all their things.

“The only time i’m early to pick you up we somehow still manage to be late.” He said as he dug in his wallet for  ₩24011. He placed the money on the table, then grabbed MC’s hand and they quickly opened the door.

“Thank you!” MC joyfully said as she made eye contact with the waitress. The waitress put on a phony smile, then MC turned around while Yoosung dragged both of them out of the cafe.

“I’d love to run with you but all the papers in my bag will fall out.” MC said.

“Let’s speed walk very quickly.” Yoosung joked.

He wasn’t mad for losing track of time, but he was a bit disappointed. Usually MC and him went straight to school, or were a little bit late, but they always made it on time. He hated the embarrassing moment that always ensued when you were the last one to class, everyone staring you down as you pitifully found a seat in the back.

“What class are you going to?” Yoosung asked MC.

“Uh...management studies!”

Yoosung sighed, as he knew that was halfway across from where he was going, but it would be very rude to let MC walk to class alone, so he sucked it up and guided her.

They rushed past the crowds of people that constantly filled the hallways during class time. They always took up all the space in the hallways, and didn’t budge even when asked nicely. So, you had to push people aside and move them with your hands. They didn’t mind that either, they were boneheads.

Yoosung and MC finally got to her class, which had already started. MC could hear her professor begin to lecture a crowd of uninterested young adults. Yoosung couldn’t imagine how late he was going to be. Her side of the school compared to his side was at least a 5 minute walk, so he was going to be at least 10 minutes late.

Yoosung let go of her hand, then they faced eachother. “I’ll pick you up in an hour, ok?” He said.

She got closer to him then stood on her tippy toes and gave him a hug. “This is so dramatic but I miss you all the time when we aren’t together.”

He put his arms around her shoulder, then buried his head in the crook of her neck. “Me too...I’ve always felt that way.”

MC separated herself from him, then smiled. “I’ll see you in an hour, good luck in class today.”

“You too!!” Yoosung said.

He stood and watched as she opened the door, then disappeared into the classroom. He peeked into the window of the door and noticed all the stares MC was getting. Realistically it was because she was late, but his jealously began to come out and he stared down every boy who was looking at her.

He was already annoyed and it was only 7 in the morning.

[thetwoplayergays]

During quarantine, my dad and I have been taking long drives and visiting some of the nearby forest-y places, how do the RFA and MC spend their time together?

Speaking of, I hope everyone out there is having a safe quarantine, including you anon (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥ I hope this satisfies what you had in mind! I had to write it twice cause I deleted the first draft...

RFA during quarantine

Yoosung 

His first instinct when he thinks about being stuck inside for the next few months isn’t how he’ll be spending it with you...

No, instead his first instinct is to turn on the computer

LOLOL ALL DAY EVERY DAY BABYYYY

Of course, with the increase in players and traffic to the site, the game appeared to be getting a lot more maintanance than it usually would, which annoyed the blonde boy.

“I’m meant to be doing a raid today MC! What am I doing to do now....”

“...Well for one you could do something with me?”

“Oh yeah!”

After finally tearing him away from his computer, the two of you decide to be productive during this time and learn a couple new skills!

First week: Cooking.

Of course, it would be easier to learn about such a thing if the supplies in the shops weren’t extremely limited, causing you both to have to make up substitutes as you went along.

You almost burnt the kitchen down twice in one week

You gave up with cooking after that

It wasn’t entirely a bad thing, you even got Yoosung to invest some of his time into your favourite games, which to your pleasant surprise he seemed to genuingly enjoy!

A few weeks in, he found an old guitar from high school in storage.

Worst. Discovery. Ever.

“Yoosung no...”

“YOOSUNG YES”

The next few days were filled with the sound of out-of-tune plucked strings overlapping the various youtube videos Yoosung was ‘learning’ from.

“Hey MC, I think I can finally play Hey There Delilah!”

“That’s wonderful honey...”

Zen

This man was SO EXCITED to spend lockdown with you and immediately started to plan all the wonderful things you two were going to do together.

The beast certainly had a few ideas as well

It was domestic bliss for you two

You couldn’t get your hands off of eachother for even a minute

You did everything together - eating, sleeping, showering etc.

The RFA commented on how suffocating it was, but neither of you seemed to mind.

It only solidified the knowledge that you two were destined to spend the rest of your life together.

A few times, Zen had caught himself almost calling you his wife, causing him to immediately hide his face away from you in fear of you commenting on his sudden blush.

There was a downside however. 

Zen’s routine was in shambles

Products were sold out left right and centre, food shopping was even worse, it was driving him crazy.

You found yourself having to remind him that a break in his rountine wasn’t going to be the end of the world and that you loved him regardless, even if he got a pimple or two.

Don’t even go there MC

You found yourselves cooking together more often too, showing Zen how to prepare more meals that were normally out of his diet range.

Of course, it wasn’t like he could resist your cooking anyway.

Whenever you two got a little too stir crazy, he would take you on motorbike rides through the city, more often than not resulting in you two at the top of a mountain stargazing.

It turned into a weekly tradition, one which you both promised to keep up even after quarantine.

Jaehee

You would think that the lockdown would give Jaehee the break she so desperately needed, right?

You would be wrong.

With the cafe closed, this girl threw herself into her work just for something to do

Much to your dismay.

It took a lot of persuading for her to get up from the computer and spend time with you during the initial first few weeks, but it was definitely worth it.

This girl was also extremely prepared to the lockdown before it was even announced.

Sanitiser? Got it, she had spare incase the cafe ran out

Masks? No problem. She had many still in storage from the days she would force herself into work even whilst sick

Again, much to your dismay

You suggested that instead of doing mindless work on her computer that she could help you with a different project you had in mind.

“A project? Whatever could we do in a time like this?”

Redesigning the cafe!

It was something the two of you had talked about many times before quarantine, but had never gotten round to going through with it.

You both took it upon yourself to fill your day with physical and mental labour, pushing around furniture, painting the walls, coming up with new bakes and sales to draw the customers in etc.

It was hard, but it was so worth it.

During the evenings, you two would bundle up together on your sofa and pick a set of movies to watch before bed.

One of you always fell asleep before the end- not that either of you would mind.

Jumin

Out of all of the RFA, he was definitely the closest to breaking the social distancing rule

The idea of not seeing you- touching you- for an unknown amount of time was driving him crazy.

Mr We-shouldn’t-move-in-together-until-marriage was certainly about to rip that view right out of his head just for the chance to kiss you again.

He distracted himself by constantly checking up on you.

“Do you need food? I can have one of the guards stop by a local shop to grab- what do you mean everything is sold out? Can’t they just order more?”

“Jumin no-”

You had to teach him about video calling so he would stop asking for selfies every ten minutes, disputing his claim about how he ‘was already missing your beauty’. 

It went about as well as you might imagine it would...

“Press the little video icon to turn on your camera- no the other one. It looks like a small- NO JUMIN THAT’S THE MUTE BUTTON.”

When you did eventually get it working, he was more than thrilled to be able to talk to you face to face again. He even looked up how to take screenshots on his computer so he could save them.

“You know MC, this platform has a lot of potential uses...”

Down boy its only been a week.

At first you thought just video calling him was enough to satisfy his need to see you, hoping he would stop complaining about ‘missing your touch’.

That was until Driver Kim showed up at your door.

“Mr Han has asked that you pack your bags ma’am. It seems he is rather fond of the idea that you spend this quarantine with him instead.”

Of course he does.

You are thankful though, you missed him more than you were willing to admit. 

Saeyoung

This boy spends his life indoors anyway, he barely registered the lockdown announcement when it finally came.

But when you brought up the idea of spending quarantine with him instead of in your own apartment, that’s when his interest finally peaked.

He picked you up in one of his babies, grinning from ear to ear as he helped you with your small bag of things. 

“Operation 707 and 606′s lockdown extravanganza - COMMENCE!”

To no one’s surprise, he had hacked into the shopping network the moment he knew basic supplies would become sparse and ordered everything you both would need to come straight to his doorstep.

Which in his eyes meant a dozen boxes of Dr Pepper and Honey Buddha Chips. 

“Saeyoung.....”

He would often complain to you about being an ‘essential worker’ because he was still hacking even in the lockdown, but you quickly shot him down.

“MC! You’re so mean! I’m doing this for you! Reward me!!”

The only reward he got was a pillow to the face

When he wasn’t working, the two of you spent your time playing games and watching movies mostly, with the occasional prank call to Yoosung sprung in if you were extra bored.

As much as he joked around about it, Seven was genuinely thankful that you chose to spend such a delicate time with him instead of alone, and made sure to remind you of it at least once a week.

Sometimes he’d go out of his way to cook you your favourite meal, sometimes he’d run a special bubble bath and light some scented candles for a relaxing night, sometimes there were other things too-

But he was genuinely happy to spend every day with you like this, it reminded him of how lucky he was to have you in his life.

Jihyun

Jihyun was concerned at first about the lockdown and his career as a photographer.

Where was he going to go now? Where would he find his inspiration?

His questions were thankfully answered when you walked through the door.

The two of you started a small project amongst yourselves to try and spread some positivity in the community involving V’s photographs.

You’d find inspiration around the house you shared and create these elaborate photoshoots between the two of you that you would share online, encouraging those at home to do the same.

It actually became rather popular, so the two of you continued it.

Your personal favourite entries were the photographs from Jumin as he tried to capture Elizabeth in all her glory but failed miserably.

It was the effort that counted though

When you weren’t taking photos, Jihyun was constantly entertaining you with various activities and puzzles, leading to your weekly board game tradition which was one that you very much enjoyed.

Living in the countryside, you were lucky enough to be able to spend your exercise out in the wilderness with your boyfriend, mindlessly cloud gazing and discussing what the future could possibly have in store for the both of you.

You made sure to spend this time making Jihyun feel as loved as possible too, showering him with little gestures of gratitude for his efforts in keeping you sane during this scary time, which only made him fall in love with you more.

Saeran

Stuck.... inside...?

For months???

OH HELL NO-

Saeran was not about that lockdown life, and immediately went into a grump only you were able to drag him out of.

“Saeran it won’t be so bad! I’m sure it’ll go by in a flash!”

“....You’ll stay with me for it?”

“Of course.”

The two of you slowly get into a comfortable rhythm with eachother, with the you both making sure to give each other space if the other felt suffocated or emotionally drained at any point.

You find yourselves searching around the house for anything you could possibly use to entertain yourselves, eventually stumbling upon a pile of old jigsaw puzzles you had forgotten about.

And thus a tradition was born

Both you and Saeran discovered your love of jigsaws during the quarantine, finding them to be both mentally stimulating and emotionally relaxing at the same time.

Plus, the satisfaction of finishing one you had been working on for the last few hours was extremely satisfying to say the least and quickly became one of your favourite activities to do with Saeran.

You ended up asking Seven if he could do you a favour halfway through the lockdown when your boyfriend had had a particularly hard day, and low and behold, a whole box of ice cream appeared at your doorstep a week later.

“...MC how did this get here?”

“Must have been a miracle darling. Now, how about a movie night, hm?”

[stanzoeywade]

Queen B Mamma Mia!AU pt.3

Summary: This chapter will be about Poppy and MC, with Poppy having the role of Sam from Mamma Mia. After this I will be writing the endings, where I will write about MC’s future with Chloe, Veronica and Poppy. Trying to give all the stans what they want. Hopefully, I nailed Poppy’s character. Please tell me what you thought.

Taglist: @somewillwin @belvoiresqueenbee @origmansello @clownery-is-a-new-personality @kamilahtrash @poppysminion @poppysimp @minsinclair-lee @poppysmc @iiizdumb @uselesslesbianfr @scattered-to-the-winds @idiot-justidiot @toyhenoctus @begoniathotia @otakufangirl-12 @malvinghlein @ariaminsinclair @queenpoppyminsinclair @lavenderrtown

Warnings: smut, nsfw (not safe for clowns)

Play I HAVE A DREAM.

•You were making your way around the island after being dropped off by Veronica, and as you were exploring the many sights to be seen, a small little house catches your attention. You make your way towards it and enter, the place may look run down and old but you can already imagine how it would look if a little bit of TLC was used to build it up again.

• You can already imagine it as a popular hotel for people to visit, boosting the popularity of the island and hopefully increasing the economy for the people who lived there.

• There was a staircase and out of curiosity, you decide to go up and explore upstairs, it was dusty. The house clearly hasn't been used or cleaned for years. In all your excitement, you slide down the staircase which causes it to fall. Letting an awkward giggle you run away, hoping no one heard you.

• As you were making your way towards a small barn, the rain starts to pour and you can't help but think about what Veronica said. "A storm is coming." You just laugh in delight, as you run in the rain. You reach the stables and the building begins to creak and you're about to make your way out until you hear the sound of an animal in panic.

• You go in to see a panicking horse and seeing that you wouldn't be able to calm it down by yourself, you quickly reassure the horse that you'll be back with help. "I'll be back, I'm just coming to get someone to help, stay there okay."

• You quickly run outside, desperately hoping for anyone to pass by in the storm. You yell out desperately "I NEED HELP, ANYONE!", hoping to attract anyone's attention.

• You hear the sound of a motorbike, and a blonde woman stops in front of you. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she says and you're immediately awed by her beauty, even with her hair a mess from the rain and her clothes dripping, she still manages to look gorgeous. Her brown eyes glimmer in anticipation, as if eager to help.

• You quickly explain that you need her help to take care of the horse, she immediately follows you inside the stables, and the two of you carefully approach the horse, making sure not to startle it.

• "Well this is gonna be easy, I'm a veterinarian." she says and you're immediately relieved as you ask "Really?" She just looks at you with a wry smile and as she says "No, I'm not, I'm an architect." You just shake your head and say "Okay, just talk to horse gently, to make them feel at ease." She gives you an affirmative nod as she gently calms the horse down. "This would be easier if I was calm" she says.

• You take the reins off and immediately open the gate to let the horse out from the shaky building. You can't help the relieved sigh that comes out as you get out safely. You look at the stranger and say "Thanks, also it's nice to meet you. I'm Rosie Hughes by the way."

• She looks at you as she flashes you a charming smile "Poppy Min-Sinclair, the pleasure is mine Miss Hughes." The two of you smile at each other, and you suggest that you find a place for the horse to stay.

• The two of you decide to tour around the island together, and you both make your way to market, and you're looking for new clothes. Poppy makes conversation by asking "What brings you here?" and you just shoot her a smile as you say "I don't know, I just wanted to explore the world and this place is absolutely beautiful. Plus I wanted to piss off my mother, she's always touring." Poppy looks at you with something akin to understanding as she says "Your mother sings?" You nod at her. "Yes, with a voice as sweet as sugarcane."

• She sees a dress and is about to tell you "This will suit -" she's cut off as you appear in front of her wearing overalls. You laugh at her as you say "You really, don't know me at all."

• The two of you head down to a local pub, and you're immediately entertained by the band that is playing. "I absolutely, love this place, oh my God." you say as Poppy just gives you a questioning look that says "Are you serious?!"

• The two of you start to talk and you talk about your personal lives and Poppy asks "Your mother wouldn't miss you?" You just look and smile at her. The smile not quite reaching your eyes as you say "She's not that kind of mother." Poppy looks apologetic and she's about to apologise when you cut her off. "Don't be sorry, it's okay I'm not angry at her, it's not a sob story."

• Poppy tells you that her whole life has been planned for her. "I'm only here because I wanted to get away and finally achieve freedom. I'm not going to be able to stay forever, but hopefully, I find something to make me stay."

• Poppy hesitates and looks like she's about to say something important but you were already distracted by the band finishing their song. "That was amazing! I loved it!" you turn to the bar and speak to the lady. "Are you the owner?" she just points forward as she says "My son the owner, because no one else let his band play."

• The owner approaches you and says "Thank you, how do you like the island?" You practically vibrate with excitement and Poppy can't help but think that you're cute. "I love it here, it's very relaxing. I also love your band, you guys are amazing. I would love to sing with you guys and my friends from home." He looks at you as he says "You sing?"

• You're about to shyly deny, until Poppy interjects and says "Yes she sings, sweet as sugarcane." The man looks at you expectantly as he hands you the microphone. "Sing." he says and you're flabbergasted "Just like that? I need time to prepare." He just replies with "Here on island, everything just like that."

Play Andante Andante.

• As soon as you get up on the stage, your voice starts to fill the room, and Poppy's eyes are drawn to you. The whole pub becomes more lively as people start to sing along with you, and you're happy because you love singing. After, he says "You're hired!" as everyone claps.

• After that day, you and Poppy get a little bit closer, the two of you got out for long walks basking in the moonlight, where you both have your first kiss. The funny thing is that your first kiss was also in front of where you met.

• The two of you decide to go on a date, Poppy rowing, and you're off to go to on a picnic. For someone so small, Poppy can be strong. "I don't think you know what you're doing Pop." Poppy just laughs at you as she says "I'm hoping that if I keep rowing forward we'll bump into land. There's another island over there, I was hoping we might go for a picnic." You look at her, curious "Where are we going to get the food?" and she just says "I was hoping we can catch it on the way."

• Your expression turns serious, and you struggle to form the words until a sudden burst of courage overtakes you. You clear your throat. "Uh, we should probably talk about last night. I don't usually do that, I mean hardly ever. Well, sometimes. A bit recently in fact. But, on the whole, not." Poppy looks at you, clearly amused by your sudden shyness. "I thought it was miraculous." she says with a gentle smile.

• You bite your bottom lip shyly as you say "Um, I'm gonna say something, and you're probably going to think that I'm crazy but you should shut up as I'm saying it." Poppy tries to cut you off but you just keep going "I want to stay here, and I think you should too. I think we should choose to do something radical, wonderful, and amazing. To live in this extraordinary place with someone miraculous."

• Poppy looks at you entranced and you notice the way she was staring. You shake your head slightly as you say "I told you, you'd think it was crazy." Poppy makes eye contact, sadness hidden in those brown eyes "I just don't think it's that simple. Nothing usually is."

• "Everything is. When you break it down." you say voice unwavering, and Poppy looks away and it's clear that she's thinking. She chuckles as she says "I don't think it's crazy."

• Poppy starts to take photos of you, and she knows that she's become smitten in the short time you've spent together. The way the two of you look at each other with such affection in your eyes makes it obvious that you adore each other.

Play THE NAME OF THE GAME.

NSFW UNDER CUT

• Whilst Chloe was soft and sweet, Veronica passionate. Poppy was everything you wanted, the two of you knew exactly what the other needed and it was addicting. She was like a drug you can't quit or get enough of.

• The two of you spent the night together. For someone who looks as elegant and proper as Poppy, you're surprised to know that she can be quite the little minx in bed.

• It starts off with a bang, both of you can feel electricity with each kiss, neither of you know who kissed who first. The kisses start off slow and gentle as if you're just getting used to each other. Your hands find their way to the small of her back, and you start to circle your thumb against her.

• Poppy's moans into the kiss, and you're left wanting more because Poppy sounds so good. Her hands start to wander, and she reaches your lower back, which she gives a firm squeeze and you can't help the groan that escapes your lips. Poppy looks at you with half-lidded eyes and pupils blown as she starts to strip you until all that's left is your underwear.

• She deftly moves a hand to cup your breast, whilst the other unhooks your bra. Her mouth trails down from your jaw to your breasts where she nips and sucks at every patch of skin she can reach. You both stumble into bed, and Poppy's mouth finds your nipple, which she gently starts to tease with her tongue.

• The sounds that come out of your mouth is pure sin, a mixture of muffled moans and screams as you cover your mouth with the back of your hand. Poppy notices and she's quick to take your hand away. "I want to hear every noise you make. Don't be shy." she says huskily and it sends a wave of arousal down your inner thighs. This causes you to rub your thighs together. Poppy notices the moist fabric, and her fingers trail down to touch the strap of your underwear. You're already left whining at the contact because you want her to touch lower.

• "What is it that you want Rosie? Do you want me to touch lower?" she says voice dropping an octave. You're whining mess underneath her, and you know there's no point in playing hard to get so you just nod your head so fast it could have caused a normal person whiplash.

• Poppy moves her hands lower, and she removes your underwear. Her fingers find your clit and she presses the pad of her fingers on it. Desperate for any kind of friction your hips grind against her. Poppy holds your hips down as she makes a displeased noise. "Tsk tsk, Hughes, I'm in charge, you're only allowed to moved when I tell you to." Your head is spinning and you're, really desperate but you follow her wishes.

• Poppy starts off by teasing you, slowly tracing her fingers on your pussy, and as she feels how wet you are, she lets out a satisfied groan."You're so wet for me, how much did you want to do this?" she says as she slowly starts to insert her index and middle finger into your core.

• A sob escapes your lips and you have to bite your lips to stop moving against her finger. Poppy notices how needy you look and she says "What do you want me to do? Tell me clearly." Your voice sounds shaky as you stutter out the words she wants to hear "Poppy, please I need you to move your fingers, I'm begging you please."

• Poppy's eyes light up as she hears you beg, suddenly she leans forward to kiss your neck. "Anything my baby asks for she gets." She starts to thrust her fingers in and out at a steady pace, she can see your face contorted into a look of pleasure. "Does that feel good?" she asks and your answer is only to pull her in her closer. She gives you a noise of approval as she works you up faster. When you're close Poppy stops and you whine.

• She looks down at you and says "Grind" and you follow. You start to grind on her fingers as she thrusts it inside you. You can feel your muscles go taut, and your vision begins to turn white. Your body starts to spasm, as you reach your climax, letting out a scream as you do so, only to be muffled by Poppy kissing you.

• Poppy looks satisfied until she sees the troubled look on your face. "What's wrong? Did that not feel good?" she asks, worried. You just shake your head at her. "I want to make you cum too." Poppy flushes and she's about to deny you until she feels you tugging on her arm. "Sit on my face, princess."

• Poppy's whole body turns red and you laugh as she settles herself down on your face. "This is gonna be fun" you say as you lap at Poppy's cunt, eyes rolling back at the taste. Poppy's hands make their way to your hair where she tugs. "Fuck you taste so good Poppy. I could get addicted." you say as you let Poppy grind her hips against your mouth. You tease her entrance and flick her clit with tongue. The noises that escape Poppy are intoxicating, you don't think any song can compare." You can tell Poppy's about to cum when you hear her ragged breathing and her hips jerking faster.

• Poppy climaxes with a loud moan, so much so you're pretty sure everyone in the vicinity heard you. Poppy falls forward and has to put her hand against the wall to keep herself from falling. You catch all of her cum with your tongue, and it tastes uniquely of Poppy and you know its something you can't forget.

• Poppy gets off you and as she lies down on the bed, you can see her chest heaving and Poppy gasping for air. The two of you share a fond look, as you both bask in the afterglow. After a few minutes, Poppy drifts off to sleep and you know that you're falling for her really hard.

Play KNOWING ME KNOWING YOU.

• The next day, as you make your way to the kitchen to make some breakfast a journal catches your attention. Curious, you open it to see a photo of Poppy with a man and a ring on her finger. Anger and rage fill you as you wake Poppy up to confront her.

• Poppy wakes up with a jolt. "When were you going to tell me that you were engaged?!" you yell angry tears falling from your eyes. Poppy looks at you and say "I can explain, please let me talk." You look at her, silent fury visible in your eyes. "Yeah you can talk, I have three questions for you and you're going to answer them for me" you say as calmly as you can.

• "Are you engaged to that wonderful man?" and she replies with "Yes." voice shaky as if she's scared to lose you. "And did you tell me about it?" you ask. She shakes her head at you "No" and you just throw your hands in surrender as you say "And did you seriously think that I was going to forgive you?" you say as you turn away from her. "Wait, please I can explain!" she pleads and you're done "No more talking, go!"

• Poppy packs her things as she gets ready to leave the island. She sees you as leaves, your figure fading in the distance, and she knows she blew it. She doesn't think that she can love someone else the way she loved you.

[mooncalfed]

I Have Listened to Every Lie: Chapter 7 [M]

I’m back. This is unedited.

Nara stands at the base of the staircase, trying to ignore the first flutters of anxiety that lick at the base of her spine.

She snatches a glance in the mirror and is pleased with what she sees. Her makeup artist is evidently pleased too, his satisfied tuts ringing in the spacious area. Crouching down at her feet is her stylist, weaving soft satin ribbons from her shoe to her knee. The deep red of the shoe matches her lips, and she knows she is enchanting.

A rustle behind her. Every molecule of her body trembles.

Nara sighs. Even her body can’t deny that she’s still impossibly in love with him.

She turns to her husband, who stands poised at the top of the stairs, in the middle of fiddling with a cufflink. The unoccupied hand holds his phone, which in turn occupies his attention.

Nara sighs again, differently this time. She turns back towards the door just in time to see the help dart their eyes away. Whether or not they’re pitying her, she doesn’t know.

She pities herself though.

The helpers step back as Yoongi reaches the bottom step. With his phone call ended, he reaches her in silence even though Nara can feel his heat radiating behind her. She always knows where he is in proximity to her. It’s always been like that.

Drawn to him, she turns. He offers a small, but genuine smile.

“You look wonderful”, he breathes, and her breath is taken away.

Yoongi presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of her temple. Nara slides her eyes nervously to the helpers. They’ve averted their eyes politely, and she is relieved. She has never been one for public displays of affection, but now that she is seeing herself in a newfound light, his actions feel particularly phoney.

When she looks back to her husband, his gaze is inscrutable. It makes her nervous, and she can’t afford to be more anxious tonight. After all, tonight her mother-in-law will be watching. Perhaps Yoongi is only being pleasant in order to make sure she’s perfect tonight.

Nara is overcome with a sudden overwhelming urge to flee. She’s wearing red shoes – might as well dance herself to death tonight.  

“Shall we go?” She titters breezily, stepping easily back into her designated role.

At her husband’s nod a clutch is slid into her hand, and she floats to the door.

The Min family Rolls Royce is waiting for them. Only one out of the entire fleet, Nara supposes. She isn’t surprised; she knows very well the wealth the Min family wields, and how they exercise it.

She remembers the last meeting with Yoongi’s mother, and it makes her shiver.

Her husband’s warm hand on her back is a balm as he guides her to the car, chauffeur waiting and ready. He slides in to the other side and so they sit together, separated by a thick cloud of silence.

Minutes fly by, and the soft purr of the engines soothes Nara’s nervous mind.

It gives her time to reflect.

The last month has been strange, if nothing else.

The night Nara moved back into the mansion felt like a bookend in her life of some sort; now that she’d had her taste of true freedom, the sensation of what it was like to breathe easy, it somehow made her life around Yoongi better and worse.

It was easier in that she is more able to step outside of herself, operate almost independently of her feelings and act logically. Perhaps for the first time in her life.

This inward shift of hers is neither alarming nor a relief. It just is. She can’t say that she is happy with the way things are – living with and loving a man who sees her when he needs to –, but it just is.

But her step outside into the real world has lit something deep within her. She craves the life of ordinary others around her in the way she craves Yoongi’s gaze on her. It isn’t that they are competing desires in her life. It merely means that her life has a larger capacity now.

Yet there are still some moments where the equilibrium between the two seems to tip. On the nights when their bodies are intertwined and they scream each other’s names to the heavens, Nara swears that her desire for freedom trumps her desire for Yoongi. At least then she is free to convince herself that the man between her thighs is there because he wants to be. It’s painful to be present with him, when she is absent in his heart.

Nara stares out the window of her seat and notices that even in her reflection, her eyes look dull. Apathy it seems, is her only friend these days.

-

When the car rolls to a stop, Nara is ready.

The windows may be tinted, but she knows what awaits. It’s all familiar to her, this schtick.

Yoongi steps out first, and is immediately bombarded by cameras. Nara waits for him to cross to her side, and when he offers her his hand, she takes it with a slightly desperate grip.

People are saying their names left and right. The paparazzi are thrilled, the staff momentarily distracted, and guests both strange and familiar turn to them. Gazes are appraising, full of envy and quiet submission.

Moments like these give her confidence. They reassure her that she is young, beautiful, and relevant.  

Up the stairs they go. One graceful step at a time. Marching into warfare.  

Yoongi’s mother is waiting for them just inside the door. She looks intense, and beautiful.

“So happy that you’re both here,” she smiles, giving her son a squeeze of the hand and Nara an acknowledging glance. “I know it’s a lot, but do try to have fun. Remember to mingle. You have to present a united front.”

It’s blunt alright, but Nara understands what she’s saying. Of course, she knows that half of the glances being sent their way are from young women, eager to identify chinks in their marital armour.

Yoongi diligently nods and squeezes Nara’s hand. “Yes mother, please don’t worry about us.”

“It’s not you that I worry about.” His mother replies, skewering Nara with a hard glance. Beside her, Yoongi stiffens. Then his mother walks away without so much as a goodbye.

For a moment Nara is floored by the woman’s wilful blindness. When it comes to her son, she believes that Min Yoongi can do no wrong. Despite her son opening his protegee’s legs on his desk, all Nara did was open her life to let in education and now in her mother-in-law’s eyes she has somehow transformed into a leech.

The entire encounter darkens Nara’s mood terribly. As Yoongi leads her to the bar with a cautious hand the elegance and grandeur of the scene rots, and the vulgarity of it all makes her want to gag.

When her sights set upon a smooth Kim Seokjin settling down at the bar, Nara’s mood tanks just that bit further.

“Yoongi, Nara.” The handsome lawyer passes them each a drink with an irritatingly friendly demeanour.

“Hyung,” Yoongi greets, and then subtly squeezes Nara’s waist when she’s just a little too slow in her reply.

“Jin.”

Undeterred by her dourness, Jin deftly carries the conversation. “It’s so nice to see you two here tonight – it’s been a while since we’ve all attended a party together, right? Tonight’s the perfect event for you two to appear together. It’s… ” he hesitates to find the right word, “expensive.”

Nara barks an acerbic laugh. What a sneak Kim Seokjin is - never telling the truth.

“Is that why your girlfriend isn’t here?”

Despite the bite in her tone Jin does not back down, in fact his eyes twinkle all the more. He deftly dodges her arrow and politely clears his throat. Nara is disappointed that he isn’t putting up a fight, although the glare she is receiving from her husband is warning enough.

“Fiancée, actually.”

“Congratulations.” Yoongi’s felicitations are soft spoken, but full of real warmth.

Nara feels a little guilty. “My mistake. Congratulations Jin, you must be so happy.”

The man with love in his eyes smiles and says, “Thank you. She’s actually out tonight dealing with all the details of the wedding. We narrowed the options for everything down a little, but she says it’s gotten to a point where my opinions are useless to her.” The huge grin on his face doesn’t dim at all.

Yoongi coughs out a laugh. “Right? After a while it’s all just miscellaneous stuff.”

“Actually I find it quite enjoyable, apart from the apparent difference between white, cream white, and eggshell white, but as long as I get to marry her at the end of it all I’ll do what I’m told and step away when asked.” Jin’s eyes flash towards Nara, looking slightly apologetic.

Ever slow on the uptake, Nara realises that he’s trying to make up for the casual indifference of her own husband’s attitude towards weddings, and a deep wedge of hurt blooms in her chest. The truth is that Yoongi wasn’t involved in their wedding, but she didn’t care at the time.

A rush of anger swiftly burns through the hurt, and Nara takes a deep sip from her champagne glass. Once it is empty, she stares balefully at the bottom of the crystal, noting the sticky maroon of her lipstick and tracing her lip print with burning eyes.

She takes a deep, restorative breath, and lifts her head.

“Excuse me, I’m just going to the bathroom to freshen up.”

Yoongi’s hand leaves her back easily, and he nods as he turns to the bar.

The walk to the bathroom allows the feelings inside Nara to fester, solidify, and turn ugly. She cannot express how much it irks her that Yoongi can turn away from her so easily. Without thought, without care. As though she were just another one of the innumerable people to flit in and out of his life.

The bathroom is spacious and contains just a smattering of old ladies here and there. Nara rips a paper towel from the wall and dabs furiously at her T-zone.

She stares at her reflection in the mirror. She knows she is beautiful. She knows the slant of her nose is desirable, the shape of her eyes attractive, the curve of her lip sensual and the arch of her brow seductive. She has never had to compete with anyone in terms of physical beauty because there has simply never been any competition. It was with pride that she thought Yoongi chose her because she represented what it was to be young, rich, and gorgeous.

Her phone buzzes, and she ignores it.

If anything, now more than ever Nara thinks she is more interesting to look at. Her eyes help depth and fire, and her cheeks were aflush with emotion. Even a tremble to her lip as she tried to contain her stomach that was roiling with vexation. How vapid must she have seemed before! How utterly empty, two dimensional, and ugly.

It was therefore impossible to her that Yoongi would find her less attractive than before.

Even if he thought her a stranger, their bodies were well acquainted, and Nara would prove to him that no other would ever do for him. She would show him that looking away from her too easily was foolish.

Rattling around in her clutch were two lipstick tubes. Nara takes out a favourite of hers, an alarming red Dior shade and unwinds the flaming red from its tube. She wipes off her existing deep colour and applies a thick, impermeable layer of the brilliant rouge.

Nara meets her own eye in the mirror and smirks.

A buzz from her phone snatches her attention away.

From: Yoongi

[7:21pm - are you done?]

[7:29pm - I’m waiting for you in the conference room ]

[7:29pm - few doors down from the toilets]

She messages him as she stalks hallway back to the foyer.

Pivoting on her heel, Nara walks with determination and more than a little arousal towards the conference room.

Upon arriving at the heavy, impersonal black doors, she throws them apart and catches her husband lounging on a dark green chaise on the other side of the long room.

Although the lights of the room are off, Seoul at night does well enough at giving the room a cool, shimmering silver shine. Yoongi’s phone is unlocked, and its bright light flares on his face like a torch, making him look slightly sickly.

“You took your time,” Yoongi notes as he puts his phone down, “almost started on your drink.” He nods towards a new, taller glass of champagne.

Nara stalks towards her husband and once reaching him, slides her dress up and straddles him. Yoongi’s eyes widen in shock, and he makes to get up, but Nara instead grabs at his hands and puts them on her hips.

Slowly, coyly, she lifts the front of her dress so that he can see her nakedness.

“Too tight for underwear tonight,” she whispers, and leans forwards to trace the shape of his mouth with the tip of her tongue.

Nara can feel him rising in his suit pants, and can hear the way his breathing hitches. It makes her blood sing, his arousal. She wants to ruin him for other people, just as he did her.

Yoongi opens his mouth to take hers, but Nara stills him with a firm hand on his chest, and then trails the other down her chest. With burning but purposeful fingers she traces the curve of her breast, closer and closer to her nipple until delicious contact is made and her nipple is erect and pressing stiffly against the suddenly rough fabric of her dress.

She then leaves her breast and glides down past her navel, and it disappears in between her thighs, underneath her dress.

Yoongi’s chest heaves as he watches her. With steady fingers he lifts the edges of her dress and rolls it higher. Steadily, leisurely. There’s an art to the show, and they’re both alert and present for it.

Nara rubs her palm back and forth between the apex of her thighs, not knowing what the image is but understanding its effect on her viewer. Yoongi’s mouth is parted, and he may not be aware of it but he is panting slightly. The sound makes her smirk.

When he swallows heavily for the second time she decides that maybe it’s time, and with little to no resistance she pushes her two longest fingers inside her body. A satisfied hum erupts from her chest, and Nara closes her eyes. A few languid strokes of her fingers pass before she takes them out, and making sure that Yoongi’s eyes are on her glistening fingers, licks herself clean.

Her husband is paying rapt attention, and so his member. His hands grip tightly onto the sides of her dress, and if it weren’t for the pulsating of his dick Nara would have thought she petrified him.

Pulling herself a little higher so that she is situated over his clothed cock, Nara lowers herself and begins to grind. A vein begins to pop at Yoongi’s neck. Nara looks at it lovingly. It’s her favourite to lick, bite, graze with her teeth.

As she rocks back and forth on his cock, she lifts her left hand to his neck. Yoongi’s eyes swim with arousal as he tries to catch onto her drift. Nara turns her hand in slightly so that her palm is facing her, and with the lightest pressure she can, she strokes that vein of his with the huge diamond on her ring finger.

Nara locks eyes with Yoongi, and tries to make him understand.

“You are married to this,” she whispers, pressing the ring into his neck, “you committed to this.”

Yoongi’s eyes turn wary for an instant until he realises that she isn’t picking a fight, at least not for the moment.

Nara’s hand leaves his neck. Then, at a pace so glacial it makes Yoongi’s eyes roll she lifts her hips, unzips his fly at a speed that allows them both to hear each click click click of every zipper ridge.

Yoongi’s cock is more than ready for her to take. It’s desperately hot in her hand, and wet at the tip with his own arousal.

There’s no more waiting tonight.

Nara lines herself up, encouraged by Yoongi’s firm grasp on her waist.

But before she can lower herself onto his pulsating member below her, she needs his gaze.

“Yoongi.” She whispers, and his eyes snap to hers. Wide and filled want.

“I chose lilies for our wedding,” she whispers, and then slams down on his cock, sheathing him in one fluid motion.

Yoongi groans like it’s the first time he’s ever been inside of her but he tries his hardest not to break eye contact. Nara’s thighs clench with excitement.

She draws back up onto her knees and whispers, “I had gardenia’s in my bouquet,” and drops back down.

Up once more, faster this time.

“My dress was made of tulle.” she gasps, squeezing his tip still inside of her. Yoongi’s jaw clenches, and sweat beads at both of their brows.

“It was lined with silk.” Another grunt from Yoongi as she collides into him.

“Our invitations were eggshell white,” Nara whimpers, gaining speed.

“Our cake was chamomile and cherry blossom,” Yoongi’s hands grip her waist and begin to take over her movements.

“I wore a custom pearl slip on our wedding night,” Nara garbles, finally closing her eyes.

“And I let you rip it off me,” Yoongi can’t take his eyes off her.

“My lingerie was specially made,” Nara’s eyes fly open once more, and she leans closer to Yoongi. One hand cups her breast and the other at the back of the chaise for balance. She brings her chest closer to Yoongi who obliges her, and licks feverishly at the stiff nipple shielded by fabric.

“I had diamonds sewed into it,” Nara pants, her rolling in bliss as Yoongi drills up into her.

“So that the light would catch as you fucked me,” her thighs are shaking and the back of her knees are slick with sweat.

“You made me wear that set for days on end,” she cries. It’s beginning to get difficult to finish a sentence.

Nara pulls her nipple from Yoongi’s teeth and scrabbles back down his chest.

His thrusting slows as he follows her lead. They’ve both never been so turned on.

She stares deeply into her husband’s eyes, riding him in her own time, so that he burns this image of her into his mind.

“We had -- sex,” she pants, “in the bed --, on the kitch--en,” her voice hitches when Yoongi punctuates her words with a particularly hard thrust.

“On the balcony, in -- the pool,” Nara remembers fondly, and slips her hand down to find her cit.

Yoongi senses her end, and resumes his brutal pace.

“In the garden,” Nara gasps, toying with herself as she revels in the sound of their clapping skin.

“I wore that -- set,” she glares into her husband’s eyes, and matches him thrust for thrust with her words, “even -- after -- you -- used it -- to -- wipe -- your -- cum -- from -- my -- pussy,”

Yoongi’s mouth drops open, and his neck vein bulges.

Nara’s so close. She has him right where she wants him, and she wants this so much.

She leans into his ear and chews on his earlobe lightly.

“You gonna fuck me till -- ah! -- till I cry baby? Huh?” Yoongi’s voice breaks on the next thrust.

She flicks at her clit harder, faster, until it’s almost painful. She’s so close.

“That set is the only -- bit of our honeym-moon I brought -- back,” Oh god she thinks, I’m so fucking close! But she needs to finish the performance.

Yoongi is unravelling underneath her, his thrusts quick yet heavy. “Oh baby!” he yells.

“Maybe I’ll put it back on -- an-and you can fuck me until -- hng -- you remember -- why you marr -- whyyoumarriedme!”

Nara’s back bows as her orgasm propels her into violent ecstasy, pulling Yoongi with her. He bucks and howls underneath her, their bodies stiff and twitching from the stimulation and eroticism of the event. White fluid gathers at the base of Yoongi’s cock and Nara tries with all her might to watch the aftershocks run through her husband’s body.

Yoongi’s eyelids flutter heavily, and when he returns to the room his eyes are filled with something suspiciously like awe.

In that moment, she knows she is unforgettable.

[thominho-incorrectquotes]

Important

This is my entry for Thominho Week 2020, Day 3 “College AU” (alternative prompt)

Characters: Thomas x Minho

 2396 words

Tags: College Au, Modern Au, Mention of child abuse, Angst with happy ending, Mutual pining, Oblivious Thomas, Jealous Minho

Summary: “You’ll have to talk to him one day soon” Teresa repeated for the umpteenth time. “And you’ll have to go back to your dorm, you cannot sleep on the floor of my room for the rest of the semester.” Thomas groaned. He knew it.Few months ago, Thomas realized that the feelings he had for his best friend weren’t just platonic. It had hit him, suddenly, without even giving him a moment to think about it. He was madly in love with Minho.

You can also read it on AO3 and ff.net

________________________

“You’ll have to talk to him one day soon” Teresa repeated for the umpteenth time. “And you’ll have to go back to your dorm, you cannot sleep on the floor of my room for the rest of the semester.”

Thomas groaned. He knew it.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to. But how could he make up with Minho? It felt impossible.

Few months ago, Thomas realized that the feelings he had for his best friend weren’t just platonic. It had hit him, suddenly, without even giving him a moment to think about it.

He was madly in love with Minho.

Ever since High School, where they met for the first time, the Korean has been his best friend. They were that inseparable pair that everyone envied. Their friendship was just that strong. They were always there for each other, even in the worst moments, which Thomas had a lot. But Minho always supported him.

They were now in their second year of University. They obviously shared a dorm room and both took part in the Track team as they both loved running. They spent even more time together because of this, sometimes staying up all night talking or watching movies on Minho’s computer, studying together in the library, showering together in the changing room, going to parties together… Seeing them alone was unusual. Their friends often joked that they sometimes looked like an old couple.

However, when Thomas realized he fancied his best friend in a way that wasn’t just friendly, he started felling nervous around Minho. He would flinch a bit when his friend put his arms around his shoulders, as he was used to, and would blush whenever he was around. Even just a small smile directed at him gave Thomas butterflies.

And soon enough, his heart started aching every time he looked at his best friend. Because he knew they will only be that: best friend. One day, Minho would find someone and Thomas would have to watch them be happily forever in love. It made him cry every time he thought about it.

But point is, after the realization that he was in love with the person that meant the most to him - really, he should have realized it sooner, thinking about it - , he just didn’t know how to act around Minho. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship, but he just couldn’t be next to his friend without feeling all sort of things.

He told Teresa about his all this. He couldn’t talk about it with Newt, the guy would just go tell Minho, laughing is ass off. So he went to Teresa. She became his friend in his first year in university even though the Asian never liked her.

Overtime, he spent more and more time with her. It was easier for him, just to be away a bit from his best friend for a bit, it gave his heart a break. However, Minho noticed the distance between them and confronted Thomas about it few days ago.

“You don’t even talk to me anymore!” Minho had yelled. They had been arguing for minutes now, ever since Thomas came back to their room after eating with Teresa. “You avoid me and act like we don’t even know each other!”

“You know that’s not true!” Thomas argued back “We’re like always together!”

“Not for the past weeks.” The Asian had left out a sigh of frustration, running his hand on his head, ruining the perfect dark hair. “If I did something that pissed you off, just tell me dude!”

“You did nothing!”

“Than what is it!?” Minho was getting more and more frustrated. Thomas of course knew about the hot temper of his best friend, but it had never been directed towards him. He didn’t know what to do or what to say. He couldn’t tell Minho he was in love him.

“I-I..”

“See, you don’t even have an explanation! If you don’t like me anymore, please tell me!”

“No it’s not..”

“Or is it that your girlfriend Teresa takes so much of your time that you can’t even have time for me?” Minho interrupted him.

“She’s not…”

“I don’t wanna know Thomas” he cut him again, before sighing sadly. “I guess I’m not that important to you anymore.”

“Min it’s not- ”

“Don’t ‘Min’ me okay. I’m done. Go see your bitch or something, but leave. I don’t want to see you.”

“Teresa is not a bitch.” Now Thomas was angry too. Minho was acting like an asshole right now and didn’t even let him talk. He started packing his backpack with some clothes, desperate to leave the room as soon as possible. He didn’t want the Korean to see him crying. His heart was clenching in pain; his best friend was rejecting him.

“What are you doing?” Minho asked.

“Leaving, like you asked me to.”

“Tommy I wasn’t seri- “

“Slim it.”

That was the last thing Thomas said to his friend before leaving, tears rolling on his cheeks.

He had went to Teresa and cried in her arms the whole night. He was sure that Minho hated him now. He could have went to Alby and Newt’s room, but since they were also friend with the runner, it felt wrong. And part of him wanted to piss off Minho for being such an ass.

“You need to tell him how you feel Tom” Teresa told him again. “You’re destroying your friendship by keeping this to yourself.”

“I’ll ruin it anyway if I tell him.”

“You don’t know that.”

Thomas sighed. He really didn’t know what to do. His friendship with Minho was the most important thing for him. He couldn’t imagine a world without the other man in it. Telling his friend he wanted more… it could go so wrong. He didn’t know if he could do it.

“But anyway, you have to go back to your room” Teresa continued. “You have an exam tomorrow and it’s not on my floor that you’re going to have a good night’s sleep.”

“I could sleep with you” he proposed, even if he already knew the answer.

“Yeah, no chance.” Teresa sighed “I’m serious Tom, at least go sleep in your bed tonight and if the situation with Minho doesn’t get better I guess I’ll make you some place.”

“Ok” he accepted, defeated.

He reluctantly started packing his stuff, trying to prepare mentally to see Minho again. What was he going to say? What he going to ignore him? Thomas didn’t think he would survive a silent treatment from his best friend. Were they still even friend?

Once he was ready to leave, Teresa came to hug him.

“It’s gonna be fine Tom” she reassured him. “I’m sure of it. Now go, it’s getting late.”

Thomas gave her a small smile before leaving.

On his way back, his stress was just going up every second. His heart was aching to see Minho again, but at the same time he dreaded it. Sooner that he would have liked, he was in front of his room door. Sighing, he unlooked it, getting ready for what was about to come.

The moment he entered, he felt two eyes staring at him.

“Where were you?” Minho asked. His tone sounded annoyed. Maybe there was also a bit of concern into it.

But Thomas kept his lips shut, now knowing what to respond. He was in fact too shock to see the state his friend was in. Minho’s perfect hair was all messed up, he wore a baggy shirt – which never happened, he liked showing off his body too much – and his eyes were all red and puffy and even dark circles were showing up under them.

Well, Thomas couldn’t judge, his own appearance wasn’t really better.

“Teresa” The Asian answered for him. “I should have guess.”

Surprisingly, his tone wasn’t harsh or even accusing, as the brunet had expected. It sounded defeated. And sad. Thomas’s heart ached even more.

“Min..”

“No.”

The raven-haired man turned away and started getting ready to sleep, ignoring his friend still standing in the door frame.

Silent treatment it is.

Thomas sighed softly. It was late anyway, he didn’t have the energy to try convincing stubborn king Minho to talk to him. Maybe tomorrow.

He quickly prepared himself to go to bed, trying not to think too much of the other man already deep into his blankets. He was sure he was going to cry, again, if he did.

He still cried himself to sleep that night.

He woke up few hours later, because of another nightmare. He often had them, even if the last one was a month ago. He sat up in bed, trying to calm his breathing while fighting the images that were still invading his mind. It had been a particularly horrible one.

“Your dad again?”

Thomas jumped at the sudden voice. He turned to see Minho looking at him, sleepiness still visible on his face.

Of course. Ever since they started sharing a room together, the Asian developed this strange sixth sense which allowed him to wake up every time the brunet had a nightmare.

“Yeah, my dad…”

It wasn’t actually weird really, that Minho had this weird super power. He had been there when he and Thomas went to the police station to file a complaint against Janson Murphy, the boy’s father, back in High School. Janson was this abusive man who was always drunk and who took his anger on his only son, beating him almost every night. His mom could only watch in horror.

Minho had noticed the bruises on his best friend’s body. He convinced him to go seek help. He gave Thomas courage to stand up against his father. He had been there during the trial. He had been there when Janson was sent to prison. He had been there when the boy needed someone to rely on.

And he has always been there every night Thomas woke up because of yet another nightmare. And as Minho looked at him with concern eyes, he was reminded once again of the importance of his best friend in his life.

Said best friend who was getting out of his bed to slip into Thomas’s.

“What are you doing?”

“We both know you won’t be able to go back to sleep if I’m not there” the young man explained. Of course Thomas knew it. Whenever he had a nightmare, Minho would always sleep with him until morning. The buff arms and muscled chest were just that comforting. Furthermore, the other’s presence was something he craved in those moments, as if it was his younger self who once again need his best friend to help him against his dad.

“And you have an exam tomorrow, you need sleep” Minho added.

He remembered.

Why was Minho so considerate? Why was he so attentive? It was overwhelming.

As Thomas was drowning in different emotions, the other boy pulled him so his chest, laying him back down. The brunet began sobbing softly his best friend’s arms.

“I’m sorry” the Korean said. “I acted like an asshole.”

Thomas stayed silent, but nuzzled deeper into the warm body.

“I-I…”

Minho was nervous? Minho was never nervous. This was weird.

“I-I’m… I’m jealous” he admitted. At that, Thomas lifted his head and looked at his friend in shock.

“What?”

“I know, I… if you’re happy with Teresa, I guess I should be happy for you, but I can’t help feeling jealous…”

“Wait what? I’m not with Teresa, she’s just a friend” Thomas defended, surprised by Minho’s comment.

“What?” It was now also surprised. “But you’re spending more time with her then me now.”

“It’s because…” Should he say it? But then, something clicked. “Wait, you were jealous… because… you want to… be with me?”

“Yeah shank, I’m in love with you” Minho replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “All the flirting I did throughout all those years really went over your head?”

Oh. So all those compliments, all this touching, this closeness they had… Everything made sense now.

Happiness started spreading in his body and before he could stop himself, Thomas kissed his best friend. He immediately felt butterflies flying in his stomach and went to grab the raven hair, pressing the other man closer to him, already wanting more.

Minho quickly responded, capturing the brunet’s bottom lips between his own before diving into the kiss more, completely loosing himself into it. He had his arms wrapped tightly around Thomas and honestly? This was just the best feeling in the world, having the boy he loved all for himself. He could have stayed like this forever.

They deepened the kiss even more, moaning into it as their tongues danced with each other. They had wanted to do that for so long and now? They just never wanted to stop.

Breath was however becoming short and they had to separate their lips. Thomas had the happiest smile on his face and a tear was shining in the corner of his eye.

“I’m in love with you too’ he whispered, afraid of ruining the atmosphere they were in if he spoke to loud. “I realized it few months ago.”

“Only few months ago?” Minho replied softly, smirking, resulting in Thomas lightly slapping on the chest. “I’m joking. But is it why you’ve been acting weird?”

“Yeah, I just… didn’t know how to act around you anymore” the brunet explained, avoiding the Asian’s gaze in slight embarrassment. “I went to Teresa to talk about how I feel about you…”

“We’re really dumb shanks” Minho laughed.

“Yeah, we are.”

Thomas chuckled before he went to kiss his best friend again, but was stop before he could put their lips together by a finger on his mouth.

“As much as I would love spending the night making out with you, you need rest. We’ll have plenty of time of time after your exam tomorrow to do that.”

The brunet pouted, but he knew his friend was right.

“And I’m gonna take you on a date. How does that sound?”

“It sounds amazing” he smiled before snuggling in Minho’s warm chest, making himself comfortable. He soon felt asleep, Minho’s heartbeats as a soft melody.

He was woke up few hours later by light kisses on his noses, given by his boyfriend.

_______________________

I'm actualy pretty with this one, I think it's my favorite one yet.

Hope you enjoyed it!

[krreader]

BTS scenario → rejecting you when you ask them out - the aftermath.

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts warnings: language ; some still don’t have a happy ending lol genre: angst ; fluff previous: x

a/n: aaaah, there you go bb!!! hope you like it! (masterlist is in my bio)

kim seokjin

“You look like you're waiting for someone,” Namjoon asked as Jin's eyes traveled to the door once more when it got opened.

“No, it's just.. well, today is Friday..”

“Okay?” Namjoon blinked at his older friend in confusion, waiting for him to continue that thought.

“And.. she always used to come on Friday.”

“She?” Hoseok's eyebrows shot up, “Who is she?”

Jin hadn't told them about you, mostly because he felt like there was no reason to. You were just a customer.. a pretty and nice and smart one that he liked a lot, sure, but a customer nevertheless. And since you hadn't come in here ever since he rejected you, there were even fewer reasons for him to tell his band members about you.

“Just.. someone I used to know.”

It's been weeks. Neither you, nor your co-workers had shown up ever since that day and all he knew was your name, so there was no way he could find you, even if he wanted to.

How come you knew so much about him, but he barely knew anything about you?

Right. Because he had been the driving force behind that. He never wanted you to get to know him.

So it was his own fucking fault.

“Someone.. you liked?” Jimin asked carefully.

He didn't reply right away, but then he turned his head from the door to his younger band member and smiled sadly, “Yeah. A lot, actually.”

min yoongi

Four weeks.

That's how long it took him to finally say screw it and just try his luck.

Yes, he originally didn't want to do this because he didn't want to put you in a position such as this, but shouldn't you be the one to decides that for yourself? You willingly gave him your number, you always treated him like a normal person rather than an idol.. you knew what you were getting yourself into, so.. why not try it if you really wanted it?

The coffee shop was already closed, but he could see you cleaning up again. Like you did all those weeks ago when he thought he had said his final goodbye. But god.. seeing you again now.. he realized how much he had actually missed you.

“Sorry, we're already closed,” you started out saying when the door got opened, but then stared at him in shock, when you realized who it was, “Yoongi..” from the looks of it, you hadn’t expected him to come back either..

He considered saying something at first, maybe apologizing or telling you that you looked beautiful.. but he couldn't help himself from simply crossing the room and pulling you against him, pressing his lips against yours in a desperate matter, because he has longed for this moment for too long.

So have you, apparently.

You instantly gave in, sighed into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him as close as you could, afraid he might go again if you didn’t.

And here you had given up hope that he might like you too..

jung hoseok

“What would you do right now if you weren't doing this?” Taehyung asked one night as they were all sitting in Namjoon's hotel room in the US, currently touring the world once again.

“Sleep,” Yoongi said right away, his lids already half closed.

“I think I'd be out partying with my friends,” Jimin smiled, clearly thinking about the people back home.

They went around, all of them saying what they had on their mind.. until it was only Hoseok.

“I..-” his mind went to you. He hadn't seen you in months, not since that day he rejected you, because he felt like going back into your store was not a good idea. But he really did miss your smile and your kindness. His mind went to a place in which you and him would be happy together. In which he had asked you out that day and in which you and him had started your relationship that day. His mind went to a place in which you and him would be lying in bed right now and just.. looking at each other, telling the other one that you loved each other. It went to the future, in which he would have proposed to you and in which you and him would have had a baby eventually. It went to a happier place than he was in right now. But he didn't say any of that because it would never happen, instead, he just smiled sadly, “..- would probably just be at home and not do anything..”

But what he wanted to say was: I would be with her.

With (Y/N).

kim namjoon

He had asked you not to call him again, but you didn't listen.

Well, at first you had.. but now you had started again and he was beginning to think blocking your number would be the easier solution.

However, one lonely night when his mind drifted back to your body under his, he couldn't help but finally pick up, telling himself that one time wouldn't be too bad.

“Hey, baby..”

“We need to talk,” was the first thing you said, “I need to see you.”

See, in Namjoon's state that he was in in that moment, he thought you were as desperate as he was. 

He mistook your tone.

Because when you came around, that boner in his pants immediately disappeared.

“Pregnant?!” he asked with wide eyes, “What.. what the fuck do you mean?”

“What I just said! I've been trying to tell you that for the past two months, but you never picked up your fucking phone.”

“And.. it's mine?”

“I wanted us to be together, Namjoon. I didn't sleep with anyone but you for the past year.”

He ended things with you because he was afraid that it would all become too complicated. But who would have known that it would become too complicated either way..

“What do you want to do about it?”

“Keep it,” you said right away, “But I won't force you to be part of his or her life if you don't want to be. You didn't want me, so I'm assuming you also don't want the baby, which is fine. But I felt like it was your right to know.”

He could tell that you were hurt by your own words, but you had always been strong. Now even more than before.

Namjoon didn't decide straight away, instead, he waited another month. He talked to his company, band members and family, before he finally showed up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers and a smile.

“I would like to take out the mother of my child on a date.. do you think she has time?”

You blamed those tears on your hormones..

park jimin

Jimin had never expected you and him to become this close, but ever since you two have had lunch together, you frequently met up and just.. talked.

And he never expected to develop feelings for you through this friendship.

And the worst thing about all of this?

You didn't feel the same way as he did anymore..

..because while you asked him out in the beginning, you weren't interested in him anymore.

“(Y/N)!” Jimin smiled brightly as you walked into his bedroom, only to see Hoseok walk in after you, his hand on your lower back, “And.. hyung..”

“Oh! Didn't know you'd be home,” Hoseok sounded almost disappointed. Apparently you and him have had different plans tonight that just got ruined by his roommate being here as well.

Hoseok hadn't cared about you working for BigHit. Hoseok hadn't cared about rules and regulations. He had taken the opportunity to be with you and he was happy with you, just like you were happy with him.

And Jimin was left there on the sidelines, watching you two be happy, while knowing this could have been him if he had been a bit braver for once.

kim taehyung

Your friend had said you'd never see him again.

She was a fucking liar.

Because only four days later, you were sitting next to him on the couch of a fucking talk show.

You tried to ignore him while they were setting up the lights, but it was hard when you could feel his shoulder against yours.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, not wanting the audience to see you two talk.

“Thank you,” you said, your eyes still on your phone.

“About you asking me out..-”

“It's fine, really. I get that you're not interested. Let's not make a big deal out of it, okay?”

“I.. actually wanted to ask if you wanted to have dinner with me tonight?”

That finally had you look up at him, both of you staring into the other one's eyes until the director of the show started talking, telling everyone that they would start filming in a couple of seconds.

And it was only when you were backstage again that you grabbed his hand and smiled.

“Dinner. Pick me up at 8,” you slipped him your number, then you walked away with your agent and security.

And Taehyung was left there with a proud grin.

jeon jeongguk

You hadn't talked to Jeongguk ever since that embarrassing moment of him rejecting you when you had asked him out.

To be fair, you hadn’t really seen him since.

Until today.

Because your band and his band were unfortunately sharing a make-up/wardrobe room for this award show.

And while your members and his members were chatting and laughing, you were sitting in the corner of the room on a chair and watching some YouTube, too embarrassed to even look at him.

Jeongguk was the only one who didn't have anyone to talk to, so he decided to sit down next to you and try to start a conversation, but you didn't even raise your head, pretending like you were too immersed in the video and the earphones were blocking out all other sound.

So he just.. started talking, not knowing that you had turned down the volume of the video.

“I'm sorry I didn't say yes when you asked me. I should have,” his eyes were on you, studying your face for a moment, “Maybe I'll ask you someday.. and maybe you'll say yes.”

And then it was his turn to blush when you raised your head with a small smile.

“Maybe I would.”

“You.. heard all of that?”

“Maybe I have,” you chuckled, him joining in a moment later, just with an even bigger blush on his face.

[myherorp]

THE QUIRK DATABASE HAS BEEN UPDATED !

incoming information on vigilante, selene.

get to know them !

faceclaim: jeon jeongguk

name: min jiho

vigilante name: selene

gender & pronouns: cis male, he/him

age: 22

reputation: selene - a name borrowed from the goddess of the moon, the vigilante is never seen under the sun. wearing a black mask to conceal his identity, not much is known about him. selene operates by his own devices, his affiliation a mystery. he spends his nights on the hunt for information on buried civilian incidents, from villains to heroes, no target of selene’s is ruled out. rumor has it, selene is the vigilante seoul needs, protecting the ignored of society. others insist that selene is the failed byproduct of the pro hero system, another unregulated danger to seoul.

the quirk !

quirk name: lunar cycle

quirk description: able to use moon energy by the phases of the moon.

abilities: 

lunar energy blasts - jiho is able to create balls of lunar energy, manifesting in pale, grey light - that he can use to launch, as part of a melee attack, or as a way of transportation.

lunar bolts - bolts similar to lightning emit from his hands, stronger near the full moon.

light manipulation - jiho can manipulate light from the moon, with a range of uses from lighting a path to temporarily blinding an opponent.

by the water - jiho is most in tune with his quirk near the full moon, especially so if he is near a body of water. he is able to manipulate water during the time of the full moon, an ability that greatly drains his energy when used.

weaknesses: 

burn out - if jiho utilizes his abilities past the bandwidth that the current phase of the moon allows, he experiences an intense burn out from the inside out. when this happens, jiho is bedridden for a day or two.

nighttime - jiho can only activate his quirk at nighttime, when the moon is out in the sky. during the daytime, jiho cannot utilize his quirk at all.

phases of the moon - his quirk allows full bandwidth of power near a full moon, while being incredibly weak around a new moon.

fatigue - after using his quirk, jiho is in desperate need of rest, especially when using his quirk for a long period of time. in the day after using his quirk, time is often reserved for conserving his energy.

the history !

triggers: death

i. min jiho had always been afraid of the dark.

the day he was born, the moon had been full. the brightest it had ever been, his mother always said.

his mother called him a child of the night. the moon’s son.

his mother knew she would always raise her son with gentle words and tender touches, a woman with legend and spirits coursing through her. rather than practicality, she rested her fate upon the universe. a single mother, with stars in her eyes and no plan for the future, min jiho was brought into a world without regulations.

his mother adored giving life to entities, as she puts it, the owner of a quaint little flower shop on the corner of one of seoul’s bustling districts. jiho’s very first memory of her is fuzzy, but he can make out watching her sing to her audience of flowers. he found out later, that was his mother’s quirk, a woman with the healing voice to nurture plants. jiho always thought it was the coolest thing.

his mother was his very best friend. she made sure nothing would ever come to harm him.

he only ever felt scared in the dark.

ii. jiho always felt safer under the moonlight.

at five years, he woke his mother up, right in the middle of the night, insisting they go outside and look at the sky. a night of watching the clouds roll by quickly morphed to his mother laughing in delight at the pale, grey lights dancing on his palms.

“jiho, you’ve been blessed by the moon!”

from then on, his childhood was characterized by getting to know his quirk. every day, he and his mother would tend to the flower shop. they would paint, sing, dance. and each night, they would chip away at the curiosities of the moon.

iii. they never spoke about jiho’s father.

the man was a goddamn mystery to jiho. when it clicked for him, watching kids on his block run home to their fathers, he asked his mother.

“where’s my dad? is he lost?”

“no, petal,” she replied easily, a somberness young jiho could have never picked up on. “he’s done great things. you should be proud of him.”

iv. great things meant he died saving others.

his father was a hero, he learned at twelve. a hero with the undeniable power to move mountains, one that selflessly pioneered for the public safety of seoul. his strength was unmatched, until he pushed it too far.

jiho learned from an old newspaper in the school library that his father died in a building fire. he saved a family, but passed away before reinforcements could arrive.

jiho vows then, that he would do good. he would do what his father did and save people.

he wanted to be a hero.

v. thirteen meant jiho fully handled the money in their family of two.

his mother hated it. pieces of paper that dictated whether she could eat or not. naturally, jiho had to be the sensible one. when his mother began to skip meals in favor of keeping their flower shop open, jiho took on odd jobs after school to afford it all.

he told her he was out playing with friends. she knew he was lying.

vi. his very first u.y blazer was his pride and joy.

he was going to be a hero! there’s only so much classes could do for a student whose quirk only comes alive at night, but jiho was determined.

he had stars in his eyes watching pro heroes, entranced with the thought of being someone people can lean on.

the blazer eventually grew too small for him. he cried on the walk home at the prospect of having to scrape enough cash for a new one. by the time he arrived home, he wore a big smile and spoke about the imagined highlights of his day.

instead of being teased by his classmates, he told her he was praised for his diligence.

it was just easier.

vii. he should have picked up the cake on his eighteenth birthday.

things had been going relatively well. the flower shop had been flourishing, his mother’s light never ceased to dim and he was nearly finished with school. everything was going well.

jiho insisted he didn’t need a cake, just another thing to eat up at their expenses. his mother refused with every bit of stubbornness.

“today is your day, my love, and we’re celebrating it.”

viii. his mother never did return.

after the first thirty minutes, jiho assumed the bakery was backed up. it happened, from time to time, although his mother left far after peak hours.

an hour passed. jiho began to console himself. things were fine. everything was fine. perhaps the busses were slow? that had to be it.

two hours. panic drove him to hastily close up the shop, panic encouraged him to run through the streets. panic began to suffocate him upon hearing the wails of distant sirens.

ix. brain dead upon impact.

the doctors told him, this happened, rarely, from time to time. in the scuffle of a pro hero reacting to a crime, unfortunately civilians could easily get hurt. his mother was simply at the wrong place, at the horrifically wrong time. the details of the attack were brushed away, just another terribly sad occurrence.

his mother wasn’t the first to fall victim to an accident at the hands of a hero. maybe if he was there, he could have stopped it. he could have saved her. 

he was numb.

her body is here,  but she’s gone.

x. all jiho had left was himself.

the flower shop fell into his hands, the never ending flow of hospital bills weighed upon his shoulders. school wasn’t something he cared enough for. he dropped out of u.y a week after the accident.

resentment was a funny thing. it flourished in empty hearts.

twenty two now, the new routine has long been cemented. during the day, jiho runs the flower shop with a warm smile. selene came to be in the nightfall. selene wanted answers. for his mother. for those who fell for heros to rise.

selene isn’t scared of the dark. 

selene craves the taste of revenge.

selene fights for the forgotten. 

the personality !

jiho tends to be more soft spoken than most, one to listen and observe rather than run his mouth. jiho is much more comfortable in places where he can collect his thoughts on his own time.

jiho has built wall upon wall to outside eyes, wanting to be perceived as the typical flower shop keeper. nothing more, nothing less. he sees no reason for trusting anybody, having learned that no one is exactly who they say they are.

he keeps the few he loves incredibly close, often overprotective to a certain degree, which can be attributed to the unexpected loss he’s experienced in his past. once he adores someone, a rare happening, he would sacrifice anything for their safety and well being.

he has an affinity for astrology, finding solace in the stars when nothing makes sense in real life.

behind his carefully crafted persona, jiho is quite tender hearted. empathetic to a fault and endlessly ambitious, jiho has elaborate dreams of the future that he wouldn’t dare share with anyone else.

quietly cunning, jiho sports a sharp tongue reserved for loved ones for during the day, and for his enemies when night falls. selene, quite literally his alter ego, is confidence personified. slick, sly, cocky, selene is a silent threat to his targets, with no concept of good or evil.

[pgoeltz]

Prepare for the Ultimate Gaslighting* You are not crazy, my friends Julio Vincent Gambuto Julio Vincent Gambuto Follow Apr 10 · 9 min read

Gaslighting, if you don’t know the word, is defined as manipulation into doubting your own sanity; as in, Carl made Mary think she was crazy, even though she clearly caught him cheating. He gaslit her.

*Gaslighting, if you don’t know the word, is defined as manipulation into doubting your own sanity; as in, Carl made Mary think she was crazy, even though she clearly caught him cheating. He gaslit her.

Pretty soon, as the country begins to figure out how we “open back up” and move forward, very powerful forces will try to convince us all to get back to normal. (That never happened. What are you talking about?) Billions of dollars will be spent on advertising, messaging, and television and media content to make you feel comfortable again. It will come in the traditional forms — a billboard here, a hundred commercials there — and in new-media forms: a 2020–2021 generation of memes to remind you that what you want again is normalcy. In truth, you want the feeling of normalcy, and we all want it. We want desperately to feel good again, to get back to the routines of life, to not lie in bed at night wondering how we’re going to afford our rent and bills, to not wake to an endless scroll of human tragedy on our phones, to have a cup of perfectly brewed coffee, and simply leave the house for work. The need for comfort will be real, and it will be strong. And every brand in America will come to your rescue, dear consumer, to help take away that darkness and get life back to the way it was before the crisis. I urge you to be well aware of what is coming.

For the last hundred years, the multibillion-dollar advertising business has operated based on this cardinal principle: Find the consumer’s problem and fix it with your product. When the problem is practical and tactical, the solution is “as seen on TV” and available at Home Depot. Command strips will save me from having to repaint. So will Mr. Clean’s Magic Eraser. Elfa shelving will get rid of the mess in my closet. The Ring doorbell will let me see who’s on the porch if I can’t take my eyes off Netflix. But when the problem is emotional, the fix becomes a new staple in your life, and you become a lifelong loyalist. Coca-Cola makes you: happy. A Mercedes makes you: successful. Taking your kids to Disneyland makes you: proud. Smart marketers know how to highlight what brands can do for you to make your life easier. But brilliant marketers know how to rewire your heart. And, make no mistake, the heart is what has been most traumatized this last month. We are, as a society, now vulnerable in a whole new way.

What the trauma has shown us, though, cannot be unseen. A carless Los Angeles has clear blue skies as pollution has simply stopped. In a quiet New York, you can hear the birds chirp in the middle of Madison Avenue. Coyotes have been spotted on the Golden Gate Bridge. These are the postcard images of what the world might be like if we could find a way to have a less deadly daily effect on the planet. What’s not fit for a postcard are the other scenes we have witnessed: a health care system that cannot provide basic protective equipment for its frontline; small businesses — and very large ones — that do not have enough cash to pay their rent or workers, sending over 16 million people to seek unemployment benefits; a government that has so severely damaged the credibility of our media that 300 million people don’t know who to listen to for basic facts that can save their lives.

The cat is out of the bag. We, as a nation, have deeply disturbing problems. You’re right. That’s not news. They are problems we ignore every day, not because we’re terrible people or because we don’t care about fixing them, but because we don’t have time. Sorry, we have other shit to do. The plain truth is that no matter our ethnicity, religion, gender, political party (the list goes on), nor even our socioeconomic status, as Americans we share this: We are busy. We’re out and about hustling to make our own lives work. We have goals to meet and meetings to attend and mortgages to pay — all while the phone is ringing and the laptop is pinging. And when we get home, Crate and Barrel and Louis Vuitton and Andy Cohen make us feel just good enough to get up the next day and do it all over again. It is very easy to close your eyes to a problem when you barely have enough time to close them to sleep. The greatest misconception among us, which causes deep and painful social and political tension every day in this country, is that we somehow don’t care about each other. White people don’t care about the problems of black America. Men don’t care about women’s rights. Cops don’t care about the communities they serve. Humans don’t care about the environment. These couldn’t be further from the truth. We do care. We just don’t have the time to do anything about it. Maybe that’s just me. But maybe it’s you, too.

Well, the treadmill you’ve been on for decades just stopped. Bam! And that feeling you have right now is the same as if you’d been thrown off your Peloton bike and onto the ground: What in the holy fuck just happened? I hope you might consider this: What happened is inexplicably incredible. It’s the greatest gift ever unwrapped. Not the deaths, not the virus, but The Great Pause. It is, in a word, profound. Please don’t recoil from the bright light beaming through the window. I know it hurts your eyes. It hurts mine, too. But the curtain is wide open. What the crisis has given us is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see ourselves and our country in the plainest of views. At no other time, ever in our lives, have we gotten the opportunity to see what would happen if the world simply stopped. Here it is. We’re in it. Stores are closed. Restaurants are empty. Streets and six-lane highways are barren. Even the planet itself is rattling less (true story). And because it is rarer than rare, it has brought to light all of the beautiful and painful truths of how we live. And that feels weird. Really weird. Because it has… never… happened… before. If we want to create a better country and a better world for our kids, and if we want to make sure we are even sustainable as a nation and as a democracy, we have to pay attention to how we feel right now. I cannot speak for you, but I imagine you feel like I do: devastated, depressed, and heartbroken.

And what a perfect time for Best Buy and H&M and Wal-Mart to help me feel normal again. If I could just have the new iPhone in my hand, if I could rest my feet on a pillow of new Nikes, if I could drink a venti blonde vanilla latte or sip a Diet Coke, then this very dark feeling would go away. You think I’m kidding, that I’m being cute, that I’m denying the very obvious benefits of having a roaring economy. You’re right. Our way of life is not ruinous. The economy is not, at its core, evil. Brands and their products create millions of jobs. Like people — and most anything in life — there are brands that are responsible and ethical, and there are others that are not. They are all part of a system that keeps us living long and strong. We have lifted more humans out of poverty through the power of economics than any other civilization in history. Yes, without a doubt, Americanism is a force for good. It is not some villainous plot to wreak havoc and destroy the planet and all our souls along with it. I get it, and I agree. But its flaws have been laid bare for all to see. It doesn’t work for everyone. It’s responsible for great destruction. It is so unevenly distributed in its benefit that three men own more wealth than 150 million people. Its intentions have been perverted, and the protection it offers has disappeared. In fact, it’s been brought to its knees by one pangolin.

And so the onslaught is coming. Get ready, my friends. What is about to be unleashed on American society will be the greatest campaign ever created to get you to feel normal again. It will come from brands, it will come from government, it will even come from each other, and it will come from the left and from the right. We will do anything, spend anything, believe anything, just so we can take away how horribly uncomfortable all of this feels. And on top of that, just to turn the screw that much more, will be the one effort that’s even greater: the all-out blitz to make you believe you never saw what you saw. The air wasn’t really cleaner; those images were fake. The hospitals weren’t really a war zone; those stories were hyperbole. The numbers were not that high; the press is lying. You didn’t see people in masks standing in the rain risking their lives to vote. Not in America. You didn’t see the leader of the free world push an unproven miracle drug like a late-night infomercial salesman. That was a crisis update. You didn’t see homeless people dead on the street. You didn’t see inequality. You didn’t see indifference. You didn’t see utter failure of leadership and systems.

But you did. You are not crazy, my friends. And so we are about to be gaslit in a truly unprecedented way. It starts with a check for $1,200 (Don’t say I never gave you anything) and then it will be so big that it will be bigly. And it will be a one-two punch from both big business and the big White House — inextricably intertwined now more than ever and being led by, as our luck would have it, a Marketer in Chief. Business and government are about to band together to knock us unconscious again. It will be funded like no other operation in our lifetimes. It will be fast. It will be furious. And it will be overwhelming. The Great American Return to Normal is coming.

From one citizen to another, I beg of you: Take a deep breath, ignore the deafening noise, and think deeply about what you want to put back into your life. This is our chance to define a new version of normal, a rare and truly sacred (yes, sacred) opportunity to get rid of the bullshit and to only bring back what works for us, what makes our lives richer, what makes our kids happier, what makes us truly proud. We get to Marie Kondo the shit out of it all. We care deeply about one another. That is clear. That can be seen in every supportive Facebook post, in every meal dropped off for a neighbor, in every Zoom birthday party. We are a good people. And as a good people, we want to define — on our own terms — what this country looks like in five, 10, 50 years. This is our chance to do that, the biggest one we have ever gotten. And the best one we’ll ever get.

We can do that on a personal scale in our homes, in how we choose to spend our family time on nights and weekends, what we watch, what we listen to, what we eat, and what we choose to spend our dollars on and where. We can do it locally in our communities, in what organizations we support, what truths we tell, and what events we attend. And we can do it nationally in our government, in which leaders we vote in and to whom we give power. If we want cleaner air, we can make it happen. If we want to protect our doctors and nurses from the next virus — and protect all Americans — we can make it happen. If we want our neighbors and friends to earn a dignified income, we can make that happen. If we want millions of kids to be able to eat if suddenly their school is closed, we can make that happen. And, yes, if we just want to live a simpler life, we can make that happen, too. But only if we resist the massive gaslighting that is about to come. It’s on its way. Look out.

—

Note: The author and Medium have made minor tweaks since initial publication.

[btgalaxy]

Berlin (m)

masterlist

» a/n: there’s literally not a fluff thing even remotely about this fic, and from now on every friday we will be updating with new stuff! - admin lottie

» genre: angst

» word count: 6.9k

warnings (for this and upcoming parts): assault, drugs/alcohol use, violence/gore, profanity. this is purely fictional and not intended to reflect the members’ true personalities. otherwise enjoy!

Part 1:

The smell of cigarette butts danced in the air in wanton puffs of smoke, reaching the blue-pink of your lips grotesquely quick. You drained your glass of brandy with unrelenting haste, delving into a fantasy of old-time Berlin, with your feet on the table and liquor burning like ashes in your throat. You’d arrived but four days prior to your retreat to the sombre tavern in Lichtenberg, the feeling of youthful excitement still fresh on your fingertips, now tracing the outline of a German proverb carved with a knife into the table top: "Nur die Harten kommen in den Garten."

You were naïve. You didn’t believe in the atrocities that could take place over 96 hours and how mercilessly fast the pace of city life is. You came from a small, everyone-knows-everyone kinda village, and never experienced the bitter cold that bit at your skin when not hidden by your cushty fireplace and friendly farmer next-door. The realities of demise and decease and other such perturbation were concealed from you for years and years, under the segregation of country life. You didn’t know how a person could leave you feeling empty and worthless. You didn’t know the haze of marijuana could send you into a spiralling attack of anxiety and terror and pure hysteria. You didn’t know that the blood drained from a corpse to the lowest body part and pooled there till it stained the skin only a few hours after the death, and you didn’t know that the foul, rotting smell could linger on your clothes and your flesh and around the house for days afterwards, no matter how fervently you may wash yourself, skin raw and bleeding. You didn’t know it clung to you like moss on a damp wall. You didn’t know any of this.

It was drugs you were first exposed to, the pungent green smell invading you from the bench of a run down bus stop by Brandenburg Flughafen, foreign to you and so incredibly exciting. You’d never even seen any popular narcotic, bar on the tv shows you watched on your phone down in the local café in a corner booth away from any wandering eyes — your mother hired a technician when you were in your pre-teens to censor any ‘explicit’ or ‘inappropriate’ broadcastings, and the whole town of 267 knew of your credulity and innocence, thus seemed to have a silent agreement not to allow you to experience anything ‘harmful’.  You had to hide to try and experience things; it’s no wonder you left for a scene of sex, partying and amphetamines.

“You smoke?” A voice rasped from beside you, sucking in a breath through his teeth after choking out another huff of the joint.

You barely flickered your eyes to look at him, so far out of your comfort zone you could barely form a coherent sentence. He looked brazen, with luminous mint hair and hooded eyes, drained of life beneath the tendrils of smoke scorching through his nostrils like handmade clouds. Between his fingers was the thing you were most scared of, there, right in front of you. It was finally real, finally happening. There was no friend of your parents to switch the channel or take away the book or suggest you research a different subject, he was there, in front of you, real, happening.

“Sure.” It tumbled from your mouth before you could consider any further, hand effortlessly lunging slowly forwards to pry the smoke from his hands, and you held it between your thumb and your forefinger, as if you’d done it a million times before.

You remembered the first time you discovered drugs exist — Pulp Fiction, you believed it was. Mia Wallace inhaling some white substance up her nose? You couldn’t fathom at the time that someone would react that way to a powder. It intrigued you, beyond belief. Then at school in year 10, that assembly where you were taught of all the gruesome effects drugs can impose on your organs, and all the side effects they could have. You know how when you’re forbidden from something, when you’re constantly instructed not to do something… you know how it makes you oh so more desperate to do that very thing? That feeling was stirring inside of you.

The blunt felt scary in your hands, scarier than you imagined. It was strange the way it rolled down to the crease of your knuckles so easily, the sound of the rolling paper ruffling slightly and resonating through you in a chorus of anticipation. It came even easier to your lips, closing them around the filter and gently sucking in for a few seconds.

You ripped it from your mouth and began coughing violently.

It was like it was burning down your throat, your voice deepening as you tried to cope with the feeling of it coating your oesophagus like hot wax being poured generously into your mouth, gliding down your tongue and plugging your windpipe. It didn’t ease up for at least a minute, gunk rising up into your jaw relentlessly, and you spat it out in desperation to rid yourself of the scorching it brought.

“So you don’t smoke then?” The man smirked, retrieving his joint back from your curled digits and holding it back between his own lips. He took a stainless-steel lighter out of his pocket, engraved with the acronym MYG on it, relighting the end and promptly puffing out again, the smoke tapering into the air to form other strange shapes.

“I wanted to try,” you choked, finally regaining the ability to speak with a still coarse throat.

He tilted his head slightly, “Why you in Berlin?”

His question unnerved you. You didn’t answer. You instead burrowed through your hand luggage for the scarce remains of a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and letting the meagre sips trickle onto your tongue to offer some brief soothing to your dizzying head.

He laughed, “You run away from home or somethin’? You don’t look like the typical Berliner.”

“I didn’t run. I left,” you exhaled, wetting your lower lip with your tongue, eyes fluttering shut, breath heavy.

He laughed, again, “That’s what they all say.”

Looking back on your first meeting with Min Yoongi, you didn’t ever really like him. It wasn’t that you were scared of him — well, you were a bit scared, but even after everything you felt the same way. You didn’t like the way he spoke, and you didn’t like how he acted like some nonchalant, borderline careless druggie with no real feelings or emotions. He was an effortless liar, and you valued honesty. He could be condescending and cruel and manipulative. He wasn’t someone anyone should trust.

He sat next to you on the bus. You didn’t ask him to, but he did. He didn’t speak to you, just sat there smoking his joint till it burnt out and he rolled another. God, he made it look so easy. Like it didn’t singe the pink flesh in his cheeks, or like he couldn’t feel the way it thrusted down him into his lungs, just waiting there, or how it drove into his brain and made him high as hell. He would’ve certainly excelled in a career of acting, with that beautiful façade he employed. He pretended he felt nothing. Later, you would find that was not the case.

You were travelling to Kreuzberg. Apparently, there were lots of cheap hostels there to put you up during a measly financial situation, popular to other youths that went to Berlin with little to no money. It was the perfect way to blend, to be the typical traveller that was relatable and approachable. You wanted to make new friends, meet new people. You thought Min Yoongi might be your first, at the time, and perhaps he was, perhaps you did consider him your first friend.  You glanced fleetingly over at his side profile, admiring the way he grit his jaw and the curved slope of his nose. He was handsome.

You never had a boyfriend back at home. You had friends that were boys, sure, but they were shy and most were strictly catholic and didn’t want to risk any undue temptations. You especially, because you hemmed your skirt a couple of inches higher than the rest of the girls at your school — a scandal at the time, you were labelled as a slut for at least a week which speaks a lot of the town’s standards. When the headmistress did her rounds at the end of the week, she made all the girls kneel to ensure their skirts reached the floor. Yours didn’t, and the subtle scarring left on your hand from the thin cane certified you were to carry on hemming all your skirts till the teachers gave up. You liked a thrill like that, you liked being able to defy those condemning rules that society set. It felt freeing.

Kreuzberg wasn’t what you expected, as you gazed out the tinged window onto the paved roads, onto the buildings painted with colossal street arts; a worthy canvas of such mighty works. You briefly wondered how they managed to paint a few stories high, slathering colour onto the otherwise miserable red bricks, but you supposed that could be a good conversation starter for later. Instead, you tried to digest everything you were seeing; the people sat in cafés smoking, photographers on the street, backpackers, young people, old people, tourists, natives. Some you couldn’t identify if they were actually native Berliners or not, and others you could.

You got off at a stop in the heart of the city, and Yoongi followed. Of course, you didn’t know his name at the time, you only knew that he smoked and knew that you didn’t. You strode over to a nearby map of the tramlines to find a decent hostel.

“They’ll all be booked, y’know?” He commented, sighing as he finally put out his cigarette without pulling out another, “It’s summer in Berlin. It’s packed with people like you.”

You ignored him, unwilling to accept that was the case. You couldn’t book anything prior to your trip; it was all a bit last minute. You’d just decided you couldn’t stay it that damned town any moment longer, so booked a flight, packed a bag and there you were at the heart of Berlin, the city of new starts. Of your new start.

“I know a place you could stay,” he remarked, piquing your interest, “I gotta friend down by the Spree. He’ll put you up if you’re nice to him.”

You grazed your teeth over your lower lip in contemplation, conflicted with feeling like that was cheating, like you weren’t really doing it for yourself. You didn’t want other people to still be controlling you, like at home.

“I don’t even know your name,” you quipped, making eye contact briefly before diverting them away, finding yourself struggling to look him in the eye for longer than a few seconds.

He pulled his lighter from his pocket, pointing to each letter as he spoke, “Min Yoon-Gi.” He sounded out each syllable with an amused glint in his eye, and you thought it was strange the way he became suddenly much seemingly friendlier.

“I’m Y/N,” you responded, glancing around awkwardly. You didn’t like that introduction. You felt uncomfortable.

“He lives by the bridge.”

You really were so naïve. You allowed a man who’d given you a joint at a dodgy bus stop to take you to his friend’s place to stay for a few nights, and you barely questioned it. God, you couldn’t have imagined what kind of a hell hole it really was. But at the same time it was exciting, it was new. It was everything you’d never experienced and craved like a captive desperately labouring for an escape. So you got on a tram to the river with Min Yoongi, and you followed him to a worn down terrace house on a street corner, both thrilled and terrified; you’d never felt more exhilarated.

The bricks were dark crimson, stained with mould and the rotting pieces crumbled away like ashes. It was lifeless and cold, and it felt as though it had been lived in over a thousand years and seen a hundred deaths. There was a bra hanging out one of the windows, and the other was smashed and covered with a strip of cardboard that had a picture of a blender on it. Yoongi ambled down the front path like it wasn’t the most harrowing place you’d ever seen, like it didn’t tell you to go back and find a hostel, or even as far as to travel back home and live your life the way it was. But that’s what made you follow him.

His knuckle rapped against the ivy oak as green paint chippings fell to the doormat that had an image of a cannabis leaf in the centre, with cigarette butts smothered into the bristles as well. He kept knocking, till a man with silvery hair pulled back the door.

“Fuckin’ stop, I was tryna roll, you prick,” he spat in Yoongi’s face as he spoke bitterly, immediately stalking off back down the corridor towards an archway.

Yoongi trudged inside with his shoes on, “I’ll find Jimin.”

You thought Jimin sounded like a nice name. Like someone happy and energetic; you thought you could make another friend.

The interior of the house was nothing less than expected; barren of any decoration or paintings or even some basic household items. It felt so vacant, like the people that lived there never really lived there — perhaps that’s because they were never really living. Everyone in that household was dead from the moment you got there, and maybe that’s why you don’t feel sick at the thought of what you did, rather just that it happened. And it was done and a part of history that couldn’t be changed.

You followed Min Yoongi to the kitchen, piled with dirty dishes and cutlery, empty packaging strewn across the cheap surfaces and abandoned beer bottles on the table. It smelt like weed, and the silver-haired man that opened the door to you sat on one of the counters with a filter amid his teeth, pinching the rolling paper between his thumb and index to bring it into a skilful turn.

“Where’s Jimin?” Yoongi asked, pulling back the off-white refrigerator door to take out a beer as you hovered uncomfortably in the doorway. It’s a horrid feeling, standing in a stranger’s house in a strange city with a strange person you’ve only just met. You felt like you were in a movie.

The man nodded his head in the direction of upstairs, focusing his gaze still on the tobacco in his hands.

“Stay here,” Yoongi ordered, making you grimace as his figure stalked back past you into the corridor.

You looked back at silver-hair, sliding the filter into the tip of the roll. Honestly, he didn’t look like a smoker. But then, what would you know of what smokers looked like? He muttered a curse when he patted his empty pockets, looking back at you.

“Got a lighter?” He inquired, and for a second you were taken aback.

You told him, “No. I don’t smoke.”  He groaned at you, jumping down off the counter and began rummaging through all the drawers. You could see inside they were all filled with junk, spilling out onto the floor as the man whipped each one out and left it open as he went onto the next. Your parents would’ve hated someone like him in their house. They used to lock you in your room without food or water until it was immaculate, and only then were you permitted to eat. You remember you tried to defy them once, refuse to do it, but after six hours in the blazing heat of summer and no water you were beginning to feel dizzy from the dehydration and submitted to their order.

He found a lighter on the table under a newspaper. You didn’t expect anyone in that house to pay attention to the news, let alone buy a paper. He leant against the counter and lit the end of the fag, putting the lighter down with a sigh.

“How’d you know Suga?” Silver-hair asked, head lulling back to breathe up towards the ceiling.

“Suga?”

“Yoongi.”

You remained uneasy beneath the doorframe, “He told me he knew a place I could stay.”

“You wanna stay here?” He laughed all of a sudden, holding the lit cigarette unnervingly close to the wooden counter.

“I’m Y/N,” you announced, pursing your lips.

“V.”

“V?”

“Or Taehyung. Whichever.” It fell quiet between you both again, and you enjoyed the brief escape.

He trudged over to the table to shake the beer bottles, seeking one with a little liquid left inside, “You drink?”

You shrugged. You’d never drank before. The teachers at school told you drinking was a temptation that brought about sinful consequences that would never be suitable for young girls like you. Drinking was limited to a sip of wine during Mass and should not otherwise be pursued. You didn’t really like the taste anyway, but you were curious what drunk felt like, what such sinful intoxication felt like. It at least sounded dramatic.

Silver-haired Taehyung found a fuller bottle, bringing it up to his mouth to take a sip before smacking his lips together and passing it to you. You retrieved it cautiously, sloshing about the stuff inside before having a taste yourself. You discerned a yeasty and bitter flavour, but you continued to drink. It was better than smoking.

“You speak German?”

“Not really, no.”

“But you wanna live in Berlin?”

“You speak English.”

“You think you’re gonna be hangin’ around with me?” He laughed, making your face flush with embarrassment, and perhaps a little of the beer now stirring in your stomach. You took another long gulp.

“You look like a nun.”

You didn’t own any revealing or fancy clothes. Your parents wouldn’t even let you wear jeans for a few years, deeming them improper. It’s one of the things that had seem to stuck with you; your apathetic attitude towards your own attire. You’d just learned not to care, so a baggy, waffle-knit jumper and black trousers was just something you put on to leave the house, really. Something that covered you up and your parents weren’t going to question as you left them.

“How long you gonna be stayin’ here?” He quizzed, taking another long drag.

You shuffled awkwardly, “Only a few days I think. As soon as I can find someplace else, and some work.”

A voice resonated from behind you.

“You can stay here as long as you like, babygirl.”

The first thing you thought was: Park Jimin was short. Shorter than your average thug. But a thug nonetheless.

His hair flamed orange like a fox and his teeth were slightly stained. And the tattoos were everywhere; inscriptions across his bare chest; Aztecan patterns looping around his arms; playing cards littered across his shoulders; a tiny diamond inked just beneath his left eye. He wore black sweatpants that hung low on his hips to reveal a tiny trail of hair and small looped earrings in his lobes. He scared you from the second you met.

Although short, he still had a good few inches on you. And a hell of a lot more muscle. You immediately felt an anxiety begin to consume you.

He sauntered towards you with his crotch forwards as you looked at him, coming to place his hands on your waist. He seemed to look you up and down with an insatiable look, or maybe it was amusement, you couldn’t tell. It was a fierce gaze, that you naturally desired to squirm away from as he pressed himself closer to you, lips curling up into a smirk.

“Babygirl, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” His Cheshire grin reached his eyes, crinkling up at the corners, “You wanna stay here wi’ me, huh?” One hand crawled to your arm, tracing his fingertips up and down the skin making you shiver.

You swallowed, “I don’t have anywhere to stay.” Your voice wobbled uncontrollably, as did your entire being in his predatory arms.

“That’s no problem at all,” he pulled the hand from your arm and up to your chin to bring your face towards his, “No problem at all.” You screwed your eyes shut and held your head as close to your chest as possible as he pressed a kiss to your lips, uncomfortably softly to make you quake. You wanted to scream in his face for him to get away from you.

He pulled back, chuckling, “I think you’ll get along just fine here, babygirl.”

He and Taehyung left promptly after that without so much as a second word to neither you nor Yoongi, only leaving you with his musky scent in the air and phantom touch on your lips. You were glad he was gone.

The floor of your room was carpeted, but you didn’t want to take off your shoes due to the questionable stains that were sprinkled across it. You had a bunk bed, but Yoongi told you nobody would come in to share without warning, and there was a chest of drawers with a Yoda Bong on it, just sitting there, staring at you. You had an en-suite too; the bottom of the bath was stained yellow and the toilet had no seat, blackened with mould around the rim. The sink was clean enough in comparison.

You swallowed, lifting up the duvet of the bottom bunk to peer underneath, eternally grateful that it seemed rather untouched.

“Nobody really used this room,” Yoongi told you, arms folded across his chest, “Nobody wants a bunk bed.”

“I don’t mind,” you countered, plonking your backpack and hand luggage onto the floor beside the bed. “And he’s not going to make me pay?”

“He has parties most nights anyway, so it’ll be noisy. You won’t be able to get much sleep,” he admitted nonchalantly, turning to pick up the bong on the side.

You sat down on the edge of the mattress, the springs inside prominent and digging into your behind. You’d not expected much when you left, but you had hoped for something better than that. There was no cushioning, nor did it resemble in any way the duck feather mattress you slept on at home. It was entirely new.

You pushed your mouth to the side awkwardly as Yoongi lingered, “Do you stay here too?” Your meagre attempt at small talk seemed to be enough of an invitation for him to come and sit next to you on the bed.

“I crash with Tae most of the time,” he said, slumping down beside you and falling onto his elbows as he gazed onto your back.

You could feel the way he stared.

You turned to look at him, “How do you know Jimin?”

“Everyone knows Jimin,” he said, with his shooting eyes still unwavering, but now focused on your chest, “He and I- we have a mutual agreement.”

“Agreement?”

“You a virgin?” Your eyes widened at Yoongi’s curt interrogation, blunt and outright, making you feel embarrassed enough to squirm away, swallowing back the discomfort with crimson cheeks. He laughed, loudly, unbelievably amused with your mortification.

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” his chuckling faded out into a piercing look, and you felt it burn on the side of your face and in your peripheral, “Are you scared?”

“No.” Yes, you were, actually.

“You’re sure?” He leant forwards to sit upright, a smirk pinching the corners of his lips as his hand landed on the outside of your thigh, moving inwards.

You turned to look at him, now somewhat adamant with whatever the hell you thought your intentions were, “I’m not scared.”

He licked his lips, before he leaned in to kiss you. He tasted like the beer you’d just been drinking, and he was quickly laying you onto your back and pressing on top of you into the springs of the bed before you could protest.

There was a brief few seconds where you didn’t realise your eyes were open, watching Yoongi’s head rock back and forth as his tongue delved into your mouth, but then you squeezed them tightly shut, trying to follow with his pace. It was fast and intense, and you could barely keep up when your lips began to dry out.

Moments later and the reality of what could happen suddenly hit you, and you shoved him off of you with all the force you could muster. The back of his head hit the wall with an ominous thud. You wanted new, but you didn’t want whatever this was.

With one hand now holding the back of his head, his eyes immediately snapped up to look at you, blazing with fury, “The fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, breathing heavily, “I couldn’t.”

You could see his nostrils flaring slightly. For a moment you were really scared. Like really scared. Of what he might do.

Thankfully, he shuffled to the end of the bed, readjusting the crotch of his trousers slightly.

“Whatever,” he grunted, “Shit kisser anyway.”

It reminded you of your first kiss with a boy on holiday. You met him on a cruise ship. His name was Tom. You were both 14 and he said you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. You swooned instantly- rather charismatic for a spotty teenage boy. He kissed you on the last day, and he said he would keep in touch. But, of course, he didn’t. Maybe if he had things might’ve been different.

As Yoongi left the room, you heard him grumble, “Fuckin’ virgins.”

“Mornin’, babygirl,” Jimin sang as he strolled into the kitchen, entirely bare except for his skin-tight grey briefs, outlining his crotch. He came over and kissed you uncomfortably slowly on the cheek, then sauntered over to the fridge to take out a beer. It seemed all they did was drink and smoke. But that was what you’d left your home for. You wanted these experiences. Didn’t you?

“Good sleep?” He asked, perching against the counter with his Cheshire grin.

You swallowed a mouthful of Honey Cheerios you were surprised to find in a cupboard beneath the sink, “I slept well.” You didn’t try to continue the conversation, you didn’t want to.

He did anyway.

“You gonna go sightseeing today or some other shit you religious girls like to do? Go to a fuckin’ church or some shit?” He’d seen the crucifix necklace you wore and was a million times more intrigued by you; and by intrigued you mean humoured.

“I wanted to go to the town and eat Bratwurst.” It was the first to-do on your agenda. Your parents were vegetarians, so you only ate meat when alone with your friends or other relatives — quite frankly, not very often at all.

He nodded, “I assume you need a tourguide, babygirl?”

You froze for a moment, before slowly tracing your lower lip, “I don’t- I think I-“

“We already have plans,” Yoongi interrupted you, buttoning up his plaid shirt as he ambled carelessly into the kitchen. Jimin glanced at you, looking thoroughly entertained, before returning to watch Yoongi, taking another gulp of his beer.

“Suga, I gotta job for you later.”

“I left my wallet upstairs,” Yoongi ignored him, jogging off till you heard his footsteps on the stairs.

Jimin sniggered from the side, watching you with his slanted eyes taking another mouthful of cereal. He loved to look at you, watch you. It was like you were his own personal form of entertainment, and he couldn’t get enough. You weren’t like the usual travellers that came through him, usually aggressive or a druggie or an alcoholic or- or just anyone considered some kind of a delinquent. But, God, you were pure. You were naïve. You were untouched. You offered something different to his usual girls, something new.

Suddenly, he was behind you, hovering above your shoulders.

“I saw him go into your room last night, babygirl,” his hands slithered malevolently down your biceps, skin rising into goosebumps at his touch.

He began to whisper in your ear, “Did you like it when he fucked you?”

“He didn’t,” you insisted, frozen in place staring down at your bowl of cereal.

He hummed, amused, “Babygirl, don’t lie to me. I’m not a man you lie to.”

“I swear,” you gulped, the fear beginning to churn in your stomach.

He nudged closer, his hand slinking down further and onto your waist, but as he inched closer you snapped your hand down to stop his arm, even surprising yourself.

There was a second where he just scowled at your hand, attempting to cease his advances, but then he violently ripped his arm back, yanking you up by the chin to bring you close enough you could hear the way his teeth grit in his jaw, dirty breath wafting up your nostrils and you had to repress the gag biting at your throat.

“Babygirl, if I can’t have somethin’, nobody can,” he snarled out, shoving your face to the side and leaning in to clamp his lips over your throat where he sucked the skin red and raw, as you held your lips tightly shut and tried to repress any tears.

Crybaby. They’d called you crybaby. When you were about ten you suddenly lost the ability to hold back your tears. At films, books, being scolded, being praised — even over things that had nothing even remotely to do with you. You’d cry. And you were inconsolable for hours. So all the kids at school started to call you crybaby. Then, when you were about sixteen you suddenly found a new emotion inside you — a stronger one — anger. So whenever you wanted to cry, you’d get angry. Anger didn’t need tears, anger needed a scream into the pillow and a punch to the wall and it was enough. Everything was channelled into this unrelenting fury towards your parents, your school, your friends. Even the word crybaby was enough to set you off. When you wanted to cry, you’d become angry instead. So as Jimin sucked a deep magenta bruise into your flesh you clenched your fists and you squeezed your eyes shut; angry.

He retreated seconds later, still grimacing as he took his thumb starkly across the raging bruise, “Don’t fuck anyone in my house.”

It’s a shame your anger didn’t fuel your confidence. You nodded meekly in response, fists still quietly clenching as he stalked out of the room, leaving you emptily.

“I’m not paying for you,” Yoongi announced, waiting behind you in the street stall line as you held your hair next to your neck, attempting to conceal the large, unwarranted bite.

“I have money,” you countered, nervously tightening your lips as you took another step closer.

You didn’t know why he even offered to go out with you. He was miserable.

“You seriously wanted to come all the way here for a fuckin’ sausage?” He groaned, pulling a cigarette box from his pocket and fumbling to open it before resting one between his teeth.

You cowered slightly, “I wanted to try it.”

“Such a cliché,” he mumbled, fag still between his lips as he patted his jeans in search for something.

“Shit, I didn’t bring my lighter.” He wrenched the small pipe from his lips, “Get your damn sausage, I’ll be in Maysie’s.” You didn’t know what that was, but you still nodded as if you did.  

You didn’t like the Bratwurst. You thought it tasted too… too meaty. And it was a bit spicy too.

Maysie’s was a bar that was open 24 hours and filled with mainly young people sat around circular tables drinking. There wasn’t a bouncer, and IDs weren’t checked. Yoongi was sat with a girl with a pixie cut and a bald man with sad eyebrows.

You approached them wearily.

“Yoongi…,” you murmured, in a futile attempt to pry his attention away from the bong that sat breezily on the table, as if it were the most normal thing.

He coughed a bit as he pulled his lips away from the tube, covering a hand over his chest with his chin lowered slightly as he fought the rising phlegm, “Sit.” You sat on a chair next to the girl, and it felt comfortable to be next to her. At least, more comfortable than you had been since you arrived.

“This is Y/N,” Yoongi remarked uninterestedly, immediately bringing his attention back to the pot on the table.

The girl offered her hand, “TK, and this is Sadly.” She gestured to the bald man with the slanted eyebrows.

Sadly. What an apt name for his features.

You shook back, “Do you live in Berlin?”

“Only as of recently. Sadly’s a native,” she smiled warmly, “You come here to get away from your parents?”

“To get away from my life.” You returned her smile, liking the way she spoke to you.

She shook her head understandingly, “I get it.”

You spent the day with your two new friends and it couldn’t have been more exciting. You went to Checkpoint Charlie and the art gallery then sat and ate pretzels by the Spree. You drank black coffee and they offered you a smoke, which you politely declined. You felt you could with them, they didn’t pressure, and you weren’t scared. Yoongi moped nearly the whole time, and you felt angry that he kept trying to ruin the day and cut short your time with them.

Sadly taught you some German, predominantly the phrases “Kann ich das kaufen?” and “Ich hasse Pferde”. You didn’t really know what the second one meant.

The two of them shared a house together, and they lived in Lichtenberg. They’d only come for the day to visit Checkpoint Charlie and buy some drugs off of Yoongi. It was at this point you understood why his nickname was ‘Suga’. You didn’t think he looked much like a drug dealer — he didn’t have any tattoos.

“I heard Jimin’s having a party later,” TK said, biting off a chunk of her bread.

“He always does,” Yoongi responded, curt and dismissive as you’d only ever seen him be.

“I imagine Y/N’s invited, with that big-ass hickey on her neck,” TK laughed, and your hands automatically split to your neck, covering the bruised side. You’d forgotten.

“At first I thought Suga had done it, but Jimin’s far more likely to have,” she carried on, and you couldn’t look anywhere except for your lap. You noticed that Yoongi stayed quiet, and you couldn’t decipher what it meant. What any of anything meant. If he liked you, if he didn’t, what happened yesterday. You just didn’t know.

The air was so clogged it was suffocating. You dizzily made your way through the people crowded in the kitchen towards the cupboard with the cereal, aka the only food you knew was safe to eat in that house, and tried to shove your way back through the sweaty bodies when Jimin spotted your retreating form.

“Babygirl!” He laughed, happily.

He trotted over to you with his Cheshire grin, “Babygirl, I haven’t seen you since this morning.” He smiled, pushing your hair off your shoulder to admire your bruising.

He leaned into you, “Won’t you join us for a drink?”

His breath smelt like whiskey this time, like an old man. He sneered at you, burying into the crook between your neck and shoulder.

“I’m quite tired,” you responded, subtly turning away from him.

Unexpectedly, he nodded his head, pursing his lips slightly, “Course’ you are. Had long day, huh?” He ran his tongue slyly over his lips, eyes unconcernedly wandering to your chest, peaking out a bit from your vest if you peered over at the right angle. Which, of course, he did.

“It was,” you exhaled, “I’ll go to bed.”

“I might see you later, then.” God, you hoped you wouldn’t. You nodded docilely.

In bed, you couldn’t shut your eyes for longer than ten seconds in fear that drunk Jimin would stalk in and pin you to the mattress when you weren’t looking. He’d already been drinking, and only God knew what he became when he was drunk.

You wriggled and switched positions infinitely, but sleep never came. Instead just the writhing urge to pee, which you attempted to suppress in fear of the bacteria on the loo, but your bladder was about to burst. You knew you’d never fall to sleep needing to go this bad, so you eventually succumbed and got up to your feet from the bunk.

As you approached the en-suite, the sound of soft moaning resonated. Soft moaning and quiet grunts from behind the door. You could only hear it muffled, so you pressed your ear gently to the wood. It was squelching and slapping and other vulgar noises that vibrated through your eardrums like a coffee mill. You let out an uncomfortable breath.

The scream that pierced through the air was all instinctive. The door had opened to reveal Taehyung holding a woman on the sink with her legs high and parted, and himself situated between them, pounding into her turbulently. Of course, they immediately stopped and began frantically covering themselves as you looked on, frozen.

“Fuckin’- fuckin’- Y/N get the fuck out!” Taehyung roared, but your feet remained planted on the ground, as if vines had wrapped around your legs and held you to the floor, immobile. The pair were fervently picking up the strewn articles of clothing as footsteps approached behind you.

“What- what is-“ Jimin’s voice ceased when he pulled the door back further to see into the bathroom, with Tae and the stranger now relatively covered.

His chuckle rang like poison, “Babygirl, you scared me.”

“She fuckin’ scared us!” Taehyung shrieked, eyes wide and nostrils flared. He looked livid.

Jimin simply laughed again, “She’s a baby, V. Don’t yell.” You wanted to be sick. You thought you might be.

As the two of them sprinted past you and out of the room, Jimin smiled, “I think you need that drink, huh? How ‘bout that?” His voice was mocking and you felt like a child, but you still agreed. You were too shaken to do anything else.

He guided you downstairs to the lounge, with battered blue sofas and a coffee table with a lamp and nothing else, except for the people sat on the floor passing round a joint. He made them move aside so you could sit near the door, and you didn’t want to look at the brunette beside you, guzzling down vodka like water.

“Babygirl, you ever smoked?” Yoongi chuckled from the other side of the room at that, looking darkly amused. Jimin squinted his eyes back, making the diamond tattoo on his cheek crinkle.

“How about a brandy first?” There was a plastic cup on the table which he passed to you, with burnt orange liquid sloshing about inside. He smirked a bit as he ushered it to your lips, and you instinctively held his wrist as he tilted it upwards, pouring a generous gulp into your mouth.

Why did everything burn?

You struggled to swallow it, and as soon as you did you were gagging embarrassingly. The small crowd laughed at your straining, face contorting with disgust. Your grandfather loved a glass of brandy at Christmas, and he always considered it a treat, so you’d expected it to be sweet and warm, as he’d described to you as a child. You thought it tasted like perfume you’d sprayed the wrong way.

“Good girl,” Jimin coaxed the cup back to your lips to make you finish the rest of it as you continued to gag and nearly spit it up. It came as a relief to see the liquid was finished when he pulled it away, entertained as if you were a showcase.

“Babygirl, you really are somethin’, eh?” He smirked, “Now, hows about a smoke?”

He taught you the way to do it. He said: inhale for three, hold for three, then exhale. You still weren’t very good at it, but you felt it this time. You felt the lethargy hit you hard enough that your head began lulling side to side, back and forth uncontrollably as the group fell into laughter at your disorientation.

“There we are,” Jimin cooed, before turning to look at Yoongi with a satisfied grin, “Suga, what do you mean she can’t smoke?”

Yoongi grunted, “It’s all an act. She isn’t a virgin anyway.”

You straightened up your head with significant struggle as Jimin responded, “She isn’t?” He looked you up and down with a frown, as if not being a virgin made you worth less.

“She fucked me yesterday.”

“No I didn’t,” you denied, shaking your head slowly, eyes squinted in your drunken haze.

“Don’t lie, Y/N. Jimin doesn’t like it.”

“I don’t lie.”

“You’re a fuckin’ slut, Y/N. Stop playing the virgin.”

You couldn’t find the anger in you to prevent it, the tears. The fucking endless tears that just streamed from your eyes relentlessly and unstoppably. They were all laughing. All the strangers laughing at you as Jimin frowned and you felt scared; so so scared, and you didn’t want to breathe or be seen, you wanted to hide and cry. You wanted to cry and be away from there.

You left, jaggedly and disturbed.

[hepataetis]

✧ reader is hurt by fans (.bts)

request ; bts reaction to getting separated in a crowd of fans? like a fan saw you holding hands leaked your location and you get mobbed and getting pushed apart, trying to find each other, maybe a few biased “fans” tough you up a bit. the before, during, and after?

jiae’s a/n ; i definitely changed it up a bit. at this point, this could be considered a 's/o being hurt by their fans' request since 'being lost in a crowd' becomes repetitive. but close enough, right? also, i'm only doing all of the members because i want to demonstrate my writing as a new writing. please remember to mention the hyung line or the maknae line, or else your request will double in waiting time. make life easier for both of us.

* not spellchecked yet ; finished at 12:26 AM EST

✧ kim namjoon

before it happened, namjoon would have been taking you to his favorite bookstore. it's very secluded and would prevent fans from spotting him. not like he wanted to hide you, he just values privacy, including yours. as soon as he felt your hand grasp onto his, a smile of pure bliss would appear on his face and he'd hold onto yours so tightly. he wouldn't even notice a fan passing by and immediately snapping a picture. it would take a while for fans to truly appear, giving you and him the time to select a few books, discuss his complicated thoughts, and being a happy mess at having you latch onto each word he spoke with heavy interest. soon, the two of you would leave the bookstore. it would only take a few moments to hear shrieks of jealousy to be heard. namjoon's heart would drop, and he would reflexively grip onto your hand for protection, although he’d find out later it didn’t do much. before he knew it, there were completely surrounded by obsessive fans and with no body guard protecting him, he was completely vulnerable.

during the chaos, he felt your hand slip away from him and he whirled his head around to females surrounding you. he would immediately try to push the females away, but would be cautious of harming any of them- crazy or not, he couldn't afford to damage bangtan's reputation. you also began to push the females away, their constant yelling, questioning, and touching irritating you to no end. why couldn't they just go away? it became intense when a fan pushed you as well. you fell to the ground harshly, and before you could even lift yourself up feet were already digging into your chest, ribcage, and legs. you protected your face with your arms as shields. you yelped at the pain, and at that moment namjoon had reached his breaking point. aggressively pushing the fans to the ground, he began to yell and scream 'let go!' and 'leave her alone!' in pure rage. 'she hasn't done anything wrong!' the fans would immediately back away, shocked at their idol so infuriated. he would help you stand and begin to run as far as they could, till they reached the dorms

afterwards, he would inspect you. there was a particularly large bruise on your exposed leg due to being kicked against direct skin. he would be so angry, he wouldn't even know what to do with himself. 'why would they do this to you? they're our supporters!' at the touch of your hand against his shoulders in an attempt to reassure him, he would go silent. he'd sit in place, the thoughts in his head paralyzing him as he tried to process a clear plan. 'namjoon, please don't be too upset.' you'd whisper softly, a frown curling to your lips. it pained to see him so upset. after a few moments of painful silence, he'd speak in a calm voice. he finally has himself together and a plan. 'i'll talk to bang shihyuk and make an official statement as well. it may not stop all of the hate, but i'll make sure no one puts their hands on you again.'

✧ kim seokjin

before, jin would have led you into his dorm by holding your hand. he loved having you near him and wanted to prove that too. he didn't expect it to have any real negative effect on you, which he would later regret. a fan easily snapped a set of photos for the world to see, and groupies had already begun to move. he wanted to simply cook a meal for you and the rest of bangtan, but he released a long sigh of frustration at their slightly empty fridge. it was enough to make a small meal, but not enough to feed eight people. he became worried when you suggested to buy the missing ingredients. 'yah, are you sure? we can go together.' you rolled your eyes, flashing a smile that made his stomach flutter with pure love. 'start cooking, i'll be back soon.' he hadn't realized that as soon as you made it outside, fans crowded over you.

while trying to fight for your life, you would scream and flail your body around but it proved useless. they were too large in number, what could you possibly do? you were pushed side to side due to their intensity, and you reached your limit when someone threw a can of soda directly in your face. greeted with a piercing headache and your knees buckling to the ground, you rubbed your throbbing forehead even as the fans pushed against your limp body. soon, nearby body guards and jin would push them away and held you rise to your feet. your vision was so blurry and you couldn't tell if they were because of the migraine pulsing through your head or tears. jin would pull you into the dorm hallways and immediately pull you into a tight embrace. he was scared beyond his mind and practically froze at the sight of a large lump on your forehead. tears coated your face wet as you sobbed, your chest heaving with exhaustion and emotions. 'baby, i'm so sorry. it's gonna be okay. i'll bring you upstairs. please hang on.' he would continue to reassure you as he led you up the stairs and to the couch.

afterwards, jin would allow you to rest your head against his lap as he rested an ice pack on your injury. you had calmed down, but your eyes were still puffy and red with tears and your body still felt tender at the sudden ambush. it pained jin to no end to the love of his life hurt because of him. 'this should have never happened.' he'd begin, fighting back the stinging feeling in his eyes. 'this should have never happened to you.' you kept silent, unable to find a response. 'but it will never happen again. i love you, and i'll make sure you're under all the protection necessary, okay? please don't worry.'

✧ min yoongi

before it went down, he texted you an invitation to his studio. he needed his beloved muse to be around him because your presence immediately inspired him. you were often busy with your own things, but you would never not see yoongi. quickly, you responded with an okay and all that was left was him patiently waiting for you. once you arrived, you would wait in front of the dorm for him to come downstairs and lead you inside himself. you were oblivious to your picture being taken waiting for him, and it didn't take long for more fans to arrive.

by the time yoongi came downstairs, he was greeted with you standing in the center of multiple fans questioning you. 'who are you here for?' one asked with a particularly nasty tone. 'yoongi...' you mumbled sheepishly,  your head hanging low while looking down at your feet. the first thing you felt was the sensation of a hard plastic bottle slamming against the top of your head. you flinched, squeaking and rubbing your head in reflex. but in the next moment of yoongi calling out to you, a fan had begun to pour water on you from the same bottle. 'what the hell?! what are you doing?!' he practically shoved all of the fans to the side with aggression, quickly pulling you away from their chaos. 'don't ever hurt her again.' he warned sharply, causing the fans to scamper away.

afterwards, the silence was heavy in yoongi's studio. you were left to sit on his couch quietly, a towel over your damp hair. 'yoongi...?' you began in a soft, trembling voice. he didn't respond. he didn't mean to not respond. the anger bubbling in the pits of his stomach left him silent. his body was slightly shaking with pure rage. he licked his lips, releasing a long sigh before joining you on the couch. immediately, he pulled you into his chest, stroking your back gently. 'i'm sorry.' he said, resting his chin atop your head. 'i can't believe this even happened.' he'd mutter, trying to express his disbelief at his own fandom. he would decide to make a lengthy post regarding the matter on every piece of social media as a call out. 'as terrible as it sounds, i'll definitely have to protect (y/n) at all costs. if you ever touch them, i will take matters into my own hands.'

✧ jung hoseok

even from before, hoseok felt a nagging feeling in the back of his head about fans harming you. but he always managed to dismiss it with him overthinking things. he took you to a shop to buy a few things for his s/o, since he was simply in the mood to spoil you because you're his fantastic and beautiful lover. holding your hand to the store, he'd be unaware of the fan snapping a picture of him. however, he would find out beforehand because while waiting for you to change, he'd notice his social media exploding at the picture- and not in a particularly good way either. in fact, he already heard fans screaming outside the shop in excitement (or fury). "jagi, let's go home. there are fans outside." it hurt to see your face drop with anxiety, and you immediately gripped onto his hands as he braced to leave. before he even knew it, he was immediately bombarded with fans against him. it greatly alarmed him when your hand slipped away from his.

during the ordeal, you desperately tried to reach for hoseok. this was your ultimate fear, and the fact that you could no longer feel his hand nor see his back terrified you. things only got worse when you were kicked so harshly that your fell to your knees. you winced in pain, but the sudden kick to your gut knocked the air from your lungs. coughing hoarsely, you could only thank god for hobi grabbing onto your arm and yanking you from the violent females.  'let's go, come on-' he'd whisper in a rushed voice, taking you farther away and into his car.

afterwards, you'd look up to see his eyes slightly glossy with emotions. "are you okay?" he asked, rubbing your shoulders soothingly. shrugging, you lifted up your shirt to reveal your stomach, which now had a mismatched color bruise on it. a small gasp escaped his lips, his fingers hesitantly touching it and felt a pang of pain at you flinching. 'those can't be my fans. they just can't be. who does this to someone?' he questioned, releasing a long sigh. 'let's go home, right? and treat your bruise. i'll make you feel better, okay? and i'll do something about this. i promise.'

✧ park jimin

(the love of my life, the apple of my eye, my will to live, and the oxygen i breathe-)

jimin only wanted to spend time with you.he decided to take you to practice with him since you seemed to enjoy his dancing. someone had managed to take a picture of you walking amongst the bangtan boys into the car, hands intertwined with jimin's. it sent fans into an immediate fury, and soon they were patiently waiting at the bighit building, ready to bombard. as you stepped out of the car, arms linked with jimin's, you were only greeted with shrieks of anger. 'why are you even with him!' a female yelled. you were used to this, but what you weren't used to was having a glass bottle thrown into your eye.

you yelped,kneeling to the ground with your hands against your face. "y/n?!" he yelled, already crouching beside you and trying to make you look at him. his heart raced against his chest with anxiety, afraid of how badly you were wounded. it angered him that this would happen to you of all people. "babe, are you okay?!" he yelled. you shook your head, unable to look up. fans gasped in shock, trying to find the person who committed the deed. a bodyguard had to lift you and jimin up to continue walking inside. the chaos was overwhelming and the only thing you felt was the throbbing of your eye against your hand and jimin's firm arms around your shoulders

finally, you entered the hallways with the bangtan boys surrounding you worriedly, particularly jimin. "please y/n, just let me see.' finally, you reluctantly moved your hands from your face and exposed your swollen eye. he couldn't even find a response; all he could do was gulp back his emotions and bite his lip. he dreaded this ever happening. 'should we go to the hospital? is it really bad?' he asked, his body shaking with slight fear and anger mixed. shaking your head, you weakly wrapped your arms around his neck, a silent sob escaping your lips. he caressed your back, but had already begun forming a plan in his head to make sure this never happens, although in this current situation it couldn't have been prevented. he'd become overprotective of you. 'i can't let you get hurt, babe. i have to protect you.'

✧ kim taehyung

before the drama begun, taehyung had taken you to the museum. his eye for fine arts always fascinated you and his little gasps of amazement was too adorable. you couldn't help but take a few pictures and post them online, unintentionally exposing your location for fans to see. as soon as the two of you left, fans began to squeal, making a large scene for the world to see. it becomes tiring having people constantly scream simply because taehyung is famous, but neither of you expected it to become violent.

when it did, it only happened when the crowd only grew larger and you found yourself desperately pushing past them. a sudden jab in your side caused you to flinch, but then it happened more and more to the point that your hand left taehyung's grasp. he immediately turned around, watching fans angrily hit you. 'what are you doing?!' he yelled, and they immediately stopped. he grasped onto your hand once again and pulled you away from the chaos. when you were far enough, he immediately began to inspect your entire body worriedly.

shockingly, he was rather calm- or at least that's what he looked like. his blank face was slightly stressed, but it managed to hide his overwhelming emotions. he became even more upset at the sight of small red spots underneath your shirt due to irritation. he pressed his lips against yours, and you felt yourself melt in happiness. it was the only thing he could think of doing; he couldn't process the fact you were hurt simply for loving him. 'i love you and my fans, but this is terrible. this has to stop now.'

✧ jeon jungkook

jungkook was careful about not revealing his relationship to the media. it was known that he was dating you, and that was good enough. he knew that his fans were -although amazing- slightly obsessive. it didn't bother him, he just didn't want to damage the fanbase too badly. of course, this didn't stop him from taking you places. he would prefer staying home and watching a movie, but he decided to instead have a walk in the park. you didn't mind. doing anything with jungkook was perfect. his presence made you happy.

however, things went downill when a fan took multiple pictures of your outing, and it didn't take long for fans to spot you and begin to scream. you sighed, hiding behind jungkook as he pleasantly smiled to the slightly insane fans while trying to walk farther away. it became intense when they became closer and closer to the point that one stuck its shoe in front of you, purposely causing you to fall onto the ground. your knee grazed against the harsh concrete, and you sucked in a sharp breath of air. 'y/n! babe!' jungkook immediately fell to the ground. he managed to pick you up; your injury wasn't too intense but it did put a strain on you. you could faintly hear the fan who did this to you being lectured severely. while walking farther away, you couldn't help but notice jungkook's serious expression; he was obviously upset.

afterwards, jungkook would set you down on a bench and trail his eyes alongside your battered knees. 'yah, this is serious...this isn't good at all!' his tongue pressed against the inside of his mouth in a mix of irritation and frustration. 'i could always use bandages, you know.' you attempted to relieve his anger, and it worked to a degree. he chuckled drly, but the entire situation left a nasty feeling in his stomach. 'i should have stopped this from happening before, but i will now. i love you, y/n. i'm going to protect you. ' he grasped onto your hand tightly with reassurance.

[aiimaginesbts]

Now to Forever (M)

A one-shot based on a request from @dailydoseofdia. Aaaa I’m so nervous you’re an amazing writer I hope I didn’t do too badly! *hides under a rock and refuses to come out*

Moodboard

Jungkook x Reader x Yoongi [ft. Taehyung, Jin, Jimin & 2NE1]

Genre: Ex-boyfriend Jungkook, fluff and juuuuust a wee bit of angst

Word count: 9,624 words

Disclaimer/Copyright

You scroll through your emails, feeling excited. It isn't the boring missives that uplift your mood, but the anticipation of something new. After years of hard work, starting as a department head all the way up to being a managing director of family-owned hotel chains, you’ve proven yourself a capable leader. More importantly, you have amassed a sum of funds in addition to your parents' approval and support to start a business of your own. Numerous discussion and planning have all led to this moment.

"Your two o'clock appointment is here, Miss."

"Show him in, Yun Hee," you tell your assistant.

The phone receiver barely hits its cradle when a few polite knocks sound at your door. "Come in," you beckon as you hurriedly finish replying to an email. "Excuse me for a minute while I finish this."

"No problem," a warm,  familiar voice answers you.

Your fingers freeze a few millimeters above the keyboard, but your head swivels towards the owner of the voice. For a fraction of a second, you’re afraid that after so long, you’ve started to hear his voice out of nowhere again, even though he is not in your life anymore. However, this time your ears are not deceiving you, nor are you imagining things.

"Jungkook?"

"Fuck Jeon Jungkook!"

"Yes!"

"I'll drink to that!"

The cheers of your girlfriends spurred you on, glasses clinking before each of you downed your shots. Closing your eyes, you savoured the burn of the alcohol as it made its way down your throat. Perhaps getting completely drunk was what you needed after all.

"Hey, y/n," Dara nudged hard at your arm with her elbow, never one for being subtle. "That guy over at the bar is totally checking you out."

You slowly set your glass on the table before shifting your eyes ever so cautiously, trying to make up for Dara's obvious pointing. Sure enough, a guy in a button down shirt and slacks was unabashedly staring at you as he perched on a stool by the counter. Upon making eye contact, he raised his glass, mouth stretched into a boxy smile that you would normally find charming, but you were not in the mood tonight. In fact, you weren't sure if you would ever be in the mood again.

"He's cute, but I'm not really feeling up to it tonight," you relayed the thought to your friends. Chae Rin groaned at your words.

"Come on, y/n! What's the point of bringing you out if you don't let yourself have some fun?"

"Who says I can't have fun with you guys?" You countered.

"She's right," Bom cut in before Chae Rin could think of a comeback. "We don't have to turn to guys to have fun."

"Boys suck anyway," Min Ji weighed in, her words already slurred by the alcohol. You shook your head, smiling, knowing that she would be the first one to leave in the arms of another man that night.

Chae Rin scowled, but she knew better than to argue. Bom had a point after all - drunk and moody you was definitely a significant improvement to the broken and weeping you, which was the result of their attempts at cheering you up by bringing ice cream and chocolate to have a girls' night in your room.

You smiled at them, grateful that your girlfriends had decided to denounce men for your sake, even if it was just for that night. However, you couldn't bring yourself to hate Jungkook. Quite the opposite actually. You still loved him, even though after three years of being together, he had decided to up and leave you without a word.

So what is he doing here now?

"Why are you here?" You voice confusion aloud, never being one to beat around the bush. The email is left forgotten as you turn in your chair to fully face him. He is not invited to sit, even though this forces you to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes. It isn't like you can look down at him even if you do rise to your feet since he is taller than you are anyway. So you opt to remain in your chair, which serves as a throne of sorts with him as your audience.

His smile is small, polite, and perhaps you're imagining things, but it seems cautious. "I'm supposed to meet you at two?"

Realisation hits you like a ton of bricks and you want to smack your own forehead. Why did you choose this company to do the interior design work for your first coffee shop? Then you remember that Taehyung recommended the company to you, insisting that although it’s fairly new, it has been garnering a lot of attention lately for producing great, trendy work. As someone who is just starting her own business, you were eager for the chance to support a fellow budding entrepreneur, and made the arrangements for a meeting at once. Besides, with such a glowing review from a renowned artist like Taehyung, what could possibly go wrong?

Plenty, it turns out. Well, to be fair, there’s only one problem at the moment, and it’s standing right in front of you. Just the one problem makes it feel as if the weight of the world has fallen onto your aching shoulders. You can hardly blame Taehyung, who doesn't know Jungkook and you want to put the blame on yourself for only perusing through the products of their work before calling for the meeting but you can't do that either. You know that in trying to be as objective as possible, you don't tend to pay any heed to who you're working with, preferring to let their work do the talking. You're not about to check every personnel of every company you work with on the off chance you’ll bump into Jungkook. So you chalk it up to a cruel twist of fate that forces you into his path again.

"I see," you nod, trying not to show how surprised you are at his sudden reappearance in your life. "Well, why don't you sit down and we can talk about the project."

To your relief, it’s easier than you would’ve thought possible to explain the what you want and need from the project. You can't help the excitement that bubbles inside as you talk about your first business venture, and you miss the smile that tugs on the corners of Jungkook's lips as he watches you.

However, as you go through the floor plan of the shop, you find it more challenging to remain professional when he talks. Despite yourself, you find your eyes straying all over him, making it hard to absorb the words coming out of his mouth. How could he be so different, yet remain very much the same? It’s impossible to miss the way his muscles flex under his shirt as his arms shift to point at the plan. The disappearance of the slight chubbiness that he had before gives his face the look of a more mature man. However, for all that he has changed, his brown eyes still emanate the warmth that used to soothe you, melodic voice which tugs at your heartstrings and his smile that allows a peek of his two front teeth is just as adorable as it always was. You’re in the middle of admiring his hair that’s longer now, but still looks soft, wondering if it will still feel the same if you run your fingers through it when his voice calling your name jolts you back to the meeting at hand.

"Yes?" You ask, as if you're not mentally raking his hair with your fingers just a moment before.

If he notices that anything is amiss, Jungkook doesn't show it. "Do you have a concept in mind for the coffee shop?"

"A traveling concept," you say immediately. "A place where travelers can share their stories. A space that will inspire people to travel, explore the world."

The grin that he flashes at you upon hearing your answer is blinding, yet it makes you want to curl up in embarrassment as it informs you that very much like you, Jungkook has not forgotten the memories he shares with you. "I love the idea."

"Yeah," you mutter sullenly, forgetting to keep up your act of indifference, and he must have noticed, because his face changes to a more sober mien.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

Those are the words that you were desperate to hear years ago, and even though they’re late in coming, you think that they should’ve mollified you somewhat. On the contrary, they only make you irritated and defensive. Does he think he can just brush away all the hurt he’s caused you with a mere apology?

"What for?"

The sight of Jungkook shifting uncomfortably in his seat gives you some petty satisfaction. "For... a few years ago. For leaving."

You wait for him to continue but he lowers his eyes, avoiding your gaze and it’s clear that no more words are forthcoming, so you say breezily, "That was years ago. I've moved on, and since you are the one who left, I'm sure you've moved on too. Let’s just be professional and do our jobs as we normally would." You’re berating yourself inside, wanting to demand an explanation from him but as you utter those words you realise that this is what you truly desire. For you to move on. To be able to work with your ex-boyfriend who meant everything to you until he disappeared without a word. You have your own life now. He has his. It’s just coincidence that put your separate worlds in the same orbit again, but it’s only temporary. After the project is done, both of you will go on your own ways again, one nucleus in the past that is now two unrelated entities, hopefully never crossing paths again.

Before Jungkook can say anything in reply to your cold statement, your phone rings. Shooting him an apologetic look, you snatch the phone from its cradle. "Mr. Min is here," your secretary informs.

Is it that time already? "I'm just wrapping this up. Tell him I'll be ready in a few minutes." She murmurs her assent and you hang up, glad for Yoongi's timely arrival. "Jungkook..."

"I'll get started on this and come by again soon," he cuts you off, gathering his things and standing up. You search your mind for something to say but you come up blank, so you simply nod and watch him walk out of your office.

You find yourself still deep in your thoughts as you relax in the passenger seat beside Yoongi later, a fact that doesn't escape the older man's notice. "Is everything okay?" He asks, pulling you out of your reverie.

"Just thinking about my project," you reassure him. At least that much is partly true, although most of your thoughts is focused on the senior interior designer in charge, not the project itself. "Why?"

"I've been asking you where we should go for dinner but I don't think you heard. You're definitely working hard," Yoongi gives you praise that is, in your opinion, undeserved. "How about we go get some ice-cream?"

You turn in your seat to cock your head at him in amusement. His eyes are on the road as he drives but there is no mistaking the mischievous gleam in them. "What about dinner?"

"Let's get ice-cream, and then go for dinner."

"And have ice-cream again for dessert?" You giggle.

"Deal." He accepts, taking his right hand off the steering wheel to shake yours to seal the deal. You laugh and grasp it. Yoongi never fails to lift your mood and you resolve to put all thoughts of Jungkook out of your head for the night.

However, it becomes increasingly difficult to stop yourself from thinking about Jungkook in the following weeks, especially as he visits your office at least once a week to discuss the progress of the design. Memories of your relationship with him, both bitter and sweet, start to visit you often even when he isn't anywhere in the vicinity. No matter the amount of scolding you give yourself, your traitorous mind bombards you with the reminders of the love he used to shower over you, your body is drawn to him, searching for the warmth of his arms around you by instinct, your heart aching with the unresolved feelings you harbour towards him.

You swallow these desires and push them down as you study the flow of the workers from the kitchen to the cashier counter on the plan, but his question brings your attention back to his sinfully handsome face.

"So, did you manage to travel?"

Feeling your skin prickle with annoyance at the question, you feign ignorance, "Travel where?"

"Paris, Venice, Beijing... All the places we talked about," he answers, refusing to let your stand-offish tone deter him.

"What do you want to do after we graduate?" You asked in a curious tone, even though you had talked about this many times before. Jungkook laughed and pulled you closer, your back against his chest, his arms circled around your waist and he rested his chin on the top of your head.

"I want to travel and see the world," he said dreamily as his eyes roamed the smooth, calm surface of the lake spread out before you.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Everywhere. I want to experience everything. Will you come with me?"

It was not the first time he had asked you that question, but you still felt excited to hear his shy query. "Of course I will," you confirmed. "I want to walk on the Great Wall of China."

His snickers following your statement made you frown. "Baby, you can't survive one hike without complaining about how tiring it is. How can you make the trek along the Great Wall?"

"I didn't mean the whole way! I want to experience walking just a part of it." You struggled on the blanket you sat on, wanting to get away from your annoying boyfriend, but his grip around you tightened, not allowing you to escape his clutches even as he chuckled some more.

"All right, I get it, don't be mad. I'll make sure to bring lots of water and sunscreen so you don't shrivel up from the sun."

His words placated you and you settled back into his embrace. "You'll come with me?"

Your question made him scoff in mock anger, as if he couldn't believe that you could even ask such a ridiculous question. "Of course I will. I thought we'd agreed that you will be my travel buddy and conquer the world together. You're not getting rid of me that easy."

Humming in contentment, you asked him to describe his travel plans again.

"If we go to Paris, there's the Louvre Museum that we have to see. I wonder what the Mona Lisa looks like when she's right in front of our eyes. Do you think we'll really see her smiling from every angle? And don't you dare stop me from rowing a gondola when we go to Venice. Baby, I promise that it will be just as romantic with me steering it from behind you..."

"No, I never did," you answer truthfully, then follow with a white lie. "Been too busy with work. What about you?"

"The same, work is consuming my life," Jungkook jokes, but you wonder if underneath the jest he is actually serious. "I could take some time off, I suppose, but I don't really fancy going alone after I planned all my trips with you."

The air grows thick with tension immediately following his direct reference to your past relationship. You feel your jaws tighten, mind racing to think of a response as he looks at you hopefully. Thankfully you are saved by three hurried knocks on your door right before Min Ji burst into the room without waiting for your answer.

"Y/n! Tell Yoongi that you're dumping his cute ass for tonight because you're having dinner with us," she declares but before she can continue, she registers the other presence in the room - or rather, the identity of the person in the room with you. Her eyes widen with shock. "Jeon Jungkook?"

"In the flesh," he gives her a hesitant grin. "Hey, Min Ji."

"What - How come - You -" she sputters and you fervently hope that you were not this obviously surprised the first time he showed up at your office.

"We're working together for my coffee shop," you explain for him. "He's a senior interior designer."

"Oh," she acknowledges as she leans forward to give Jungkook a quick, awkward hug in greeting, mouth still open. "And you -"

"We're good," you quickly stop her before she can finish her sentence. Min Ji is a loose cannon even when she's sober, and there is absolutely no need for Jungkook to know what a mess you became after he left you. "We've been working together for almost a month now and everything's going great. You were saying that I'm having dinner with you?"

"Right," she snaps back to attention with the reminder of her impending news. "To be more precise, you guys are treating me to dinner."

You're sure that the look of amusement on Jungkook's face is mirrored upon yours. "Really now. How come?"

"I just got promoted!" She squeals, and you rush over to pull her into a hug and jump around in excitement. Jungkook's "Congratulations," is a little awkward from the side as he keeps a distance from your elated dance circle.

"Thanks," Min Ji acknowledges his wishes, panting slightly as the two of you stop to catch your breaths. "You should join us - I bet everyone will be shocked to see you!"

While you highly doubt that this is a good idea, there is no way of saying so without giving the impression that you are not okay with Jungkook's presence. You're momentarily relieved by the uncertainty that paints his face, knowing that he doesn't think much of the suggestion either, but at Min Ji's "Come on, Jeon! You're not going to chicken out and leave again, are you?" He is forced to agree to joining the dinner party.

So you later find yourself seated awkwardly between Jungkook and Min Ji at one of the finer restaurants owned by Yoongi's family, trying to focus on the menu you're holding in your hands as the rest of the table gawks at Jungkook. You expect that after getting over their initial astonishment at his presence, the topic will naturally shift away from him, but you're quickly proven wrong. It seems as if all your college friends can only talk about Jungkook and your regrettable past relationship with him. Casting a desperate glance at Min Ji, you attempt to make her change the subject to her recent promotion, but she's too busy going through glasses of wine to care.

"What brings you back from the dead, Jungkook?" Chae Rin asks, not bothering to hide her hostility.

"Yeah, where did you disappear to after graduation?" Jimin chimes in, not noticing Chae Rin's less than friendly tone. "Don't you know how worried we were about you? Y/n cried her eyes out for weeks over - ooof!" He is interrupted mid-sentence by what you suspect to be a cleverly-aimed kick under the table by Chae Rin, who is sitting beside him.

Thankfully, the waiter chooses that moment to arrive and take your orders. You can feel Jungkook's eyes boring into you from the side as you place your order but you resolutely keep your face turned away from his.

"I know," he says softly but doesn't state clearly which question that came out of Jimin's mouth that he is answering to. "It was really selfish of me to leave without telling anyone, but I did have a reason. Which is personal," he answers before Jimin could even open his mouth fully to ask. "I can't tell you guys, but I do want to say that -" and without warning, he clasps your hand in his under the table, "I'm really sorry."

The sudden contact makes you jump in your chair, but luckily for you, no one notices with the exception of Jungkook, who doesn't show any reaction to it other than squeezing your hand. It’s the first real physical contact you’ve had with him since he came back, and even though you have been a lot more intimate than this with him in the past, his touch sends surges of electricity throughout your whole body. You feel incapacitated and breathless at first, unable to deal with the amazement at the unexpected gesture and the strong reaction your body has towards it, but as seconds flow by, the warmth radiating from his hand seems to reach and thaw at the frozen recesses of your body. Braving yourself, you finally turn your head to find him already looking at you, and you smile at him - probably the most genuine smile that has carved your lips since the day he walked into your life again.

For a moment, you dare to think that perhaps all is right with the world. Even though you are still struggling to swim in a whirlpool of confused feelings that are only intensified by your hand clasped tightly in his, for some reason you feel at ease, as if this is right somehow. You don't know why but you only wish for this small fraction in time to remain still, and it does until Jin, who is eyeing the waiters hungrily, said, "Well, it's in the past, Jungkook. Don't worry about it. We're all adults now, and there’s no sense in keeping grudges. Y/n has moved on too, obviously, with her upcoming wedding and all."

Jin may have said it without any malicious intent whatsoever, but the effect of his words is jarring. Jungkook's hand drops yours as if your limb has caught fire as he stutters, "W-wed-wedding?"

"Oh, she didn't tell you?" Chae Rin answers him, the vindictive glint in her eyes flashing at his shock. "She's engaged to the owner of this place, actually. Yoongi's family owns many high-end restaurants, and their family has been working with hers for years. When is the wedding again, y/n?"

You're aware that Chae Rin is only trying to defend you as a friend, but you find it extremely difficult to be grateful for her efforts as you squirm under Jungkook's stare, as well as every pair of eyes at the table, with the exception of Jin, who is accepting his steak from the waiter eagerly. "We don't know yet. I've been too busy to really talk about it. Maybe after I get this project settled."

"Of course, Yoongi is a great guy. I'm sure he's waiting patiently for you," Chae Rin pointedly jabs at Jungkook. "I mean it's not like he would suddenly up and lea-"

"Chae Rin, did they accidentally switch my food with yours?" Dara interrupts Chae Rin's cruel remarks. Distracted, Chae Rin stops to compare her food with Dara's.

"No, you know I don't eat pasta."

"Hmm, curious," Dara tilts her head to one side in pretend wonderment. "I could have sworn that I ordered the steak. Jin's looks so delicious."

"I'm not sharing!" Jin forms a protective circle of arms around his plate, causing laughter to burst around the table and just like that, the spell is broken. Dinner proceeds with raucous giggling and snickering as everyone enjoys their food and casual chatter, and no one notices the remaining tension between you and Jungkook as you sit quietly throughout the meal.

The little get-together ends with everyone having had their fill of food, or in Min Ji's case, alcohol. She can barely stand, and Jimin states that it's lucky that she doesn't have to work tomorrow. You volunteer to accompany her home in a taxi and everyone else seems glad to escape the task. Even you are starting to second guess your decision as you wait outside the restaurant for the taxi to come, with arms beginning to hurt from supporting her.

"Just how much did you drink, Min Ji?" You ask in frustration even though you know she is in no condition to answer. She barely mumbles something incoherent before losing consciousness altogether, nearly knocking you both over from her dead weight if not for someone catching the two of you from behind.

"Thank you," you sigh in gratitude as strong hands right you up to a proper standing position again, but they do not let go even after you have regained your balance. Swiveling your head to look at your saviour, you are greeted by Jungkook's grim face.

"I'll go with you." You know better than to argue with him when he uses that tone. It is one that he rarely uses, but you distinctly remember from when you were a couple that when his voice lowers to this dangerous volume, it's not wise to attempt to change his mind.

You wish you can, however. Even with Min Ji slumping in her sleep between the two of you, the taxi ride is thick with unspoken tension. It gets even worse after you have dropped her off into her apartment with his help, and the vehicle speeds off towards your home.

"So, you're engaged, huh?" Jungkook decides to break the silence by addressing the elephant in the room. "I didn't see any ring."

Resigned to discuss the last subject you want to touch with him, you hold up your hands, showing him the empty fingers. Frankly, you are pleasantly surprised to find out that he has taken note of the lack of a ring on you. Perhaps you are not the only one plagued by the feelings springing up from your past. "You know I don't like wearing rings. Yoongi gave me one but I keep it at home. I'll probably wear our wedding band as a necklace pendant," you elaborate, too tired to pretend that he doesn't know about your preference for not wearing rings.

"I thought you said you'd wear it when you marry someone you love," he comments offhandedly, making you scowl at the window. Is he poking fun at you by pointing out that while you have said that you would wear a ring for him back then, you have opted not to for Yoongi?

He is saved from your furious tirade by the slight screeching of tires against the asphalt as the car pulls into a stop, signalling your arrival. "Goodnight, Jungkook," you say icily, marching to your door without waiting for his reply so you can rush into your room and cry your convoluted thoughts and emotions into your pillow.

As you pore over the completed design Jungkook has brought with him the next time you meet, you promise to yourself that you will do everything in your power to remain calm and focused at the task at hand. Jungkook, however, has other ideas.

"So is Yoongi that skinny guy who usually waits for you in the evenings?"

You cannot believe that he has the nerve to bring this up again and take a deep breath before you answer. "Yes," you snap, unable to keep your voice from sounding unruffled. "What's it to you?" You challenge.

"Nothing," he shrugs. "Just surprised that you never mentioned him all these weeks."

At those words, you slam your palm on the surface of the table and stand up in anger. "And why do you think after all these years, you deserve any insight to my personal life, Jungkook? Do you know the hell you left me in when you disappeared? No, you don't. Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to move on? No, you don't. Do you know how much I hated myself - and I still do sometimes - for not being good enough for you? No, you don't. Can you imagine how long I spent wondering what I have done wrong to make you leave? No, you don't." Your voice cracks on the last sentence, and you quickly walk over to the window overlooking the city skyline in an effort to hide your tears from him. "You have no clue how much, how long I've suffered because of you, Jungkook. So don't try to pretend to care about me now."

"I'm sorry," he says quietly from over the table where he is sitting.

"Is that all you can say, that you're sorry?" You scoff in mock derision. "I had to pick up the broken pieces of myself and try to go on with life without you. Have you any idea how difficult that was when all my plans for the future revolved around you? I'm not under the delusion that you love me now - or ever, when I think about it - but you can at least be kinder to me and give me an explanation rather than empty apologies."

You don't expect an explanation to magically form from his mouth at your outburst but his silence following it is unnerving. So you wipe the tears from your eyes roughly and turn to face him, only to squeal in surprise to find that he has crossed the room and is now standing so close to you that you take a step back involuntarily.

"You think that I didn't love you?" He snarls dangerously, and you gulp in irrational fear that you attribute to his tone and close proximity. "You have no idea what I went through then. You don't know how difficult it was for me to leave you. You can't even imagine why I did it, so don't you dare say that I didn't love you. Because I do. I love you too much."

The use of present tense in his confession throws you for a loop, but years of suppressed rage prevails. "Why don't you enlighten me then? Tell me why you destroyed my life without so much as a goodbye."

"I wasn't intending to destroy your life, I was trying to save it," he insists, then runs his fingers through his dark hair. "You know what? Why don't you ask your parents, y/n."

"What?" You furrow your brows in total bewilderment. "What do my parents have to do with you leaving the woman you supposedly love?"

"Everything," he counters through gritted teeth, the amber in his eyes glowing in fury at your distrust. "And don't ever say that again. I love you. Make no mistake about that."

And with that, Jungkook closes the distance between you and cups your face to pull you upwards roughly, until you're on your tiptoes to meet his lips in a kiss.

"Jungkook, what are you doing?" You giggled as Jungkook planted butterfly kisses down the column of your throat. The question may have sounded chiding, but your hands on his head keeping him close to you said otherwise.

"I can't help it. You're so beautiful," he said but he stopped to lift you up into the air, his biceps straining with the effort to raise you as high as he could. It was with more giggles and laughter that he lowered you, letting you kiss his upturned face from above as you wrapped your legs around his waist, both your arms and his circled each other in a tangle of limbs so he could carry you into his bedroom.

The journey, although short, was not easy for Jungkook when he was immersed in your kisses and was hardly able to see where he was going in the semi-darkness. He let out a small grunt when he bumped against the chair where the two of you had draped your graduation robes earlier, but thankfully that was the only injury he suffered before he dropped both of you onto his bed, guffawing as you bounced on the springy mattress. As he slipped his fingers underneath the hem of your skirt, he brought his lips to the shell of your ear to whisper, "I love you."

You sighed happily and muttered, "I love you too," as you lifted your arms so he could tug your dress over your head and toss it onto the floor. The next word was a pleading whisper, "Jungkook," as he attacked your neck again, his hands roaming hungrily all over your body, leaving a trail of fire from your shoulder, to your covered breasts, over your stomach, past the flare of your hips down your legs, and his lips followed soon after, worshiping your form with feather kisses and greedy licks.

His hand slipped behind to the small of your back, the simple gesture making you moan as he lifted your body up to press against his. His other hand took advantage of your arched back to deftly work his fingers to unclasp your bra and soon your breasts were bare for him. The second they were freed from the confines of your bra, his lips immediately latched on to them, sucking hard on the soft flesh, leaving bruises along his wake. As his mouth worked you into a frenzy by suckling on your hardened nipple and his left hand teasing the other, his other set to tug your panties down your legs. It was a bit of a struggle as he refused to tear himself away from your bosom but with your help he managed to pull it off, joining the rest of your clothes on the floor.

It was only then that he detached his lips from your skin to take in the sight of you. "So beautiful," he said again, but so softly you wondered if you were meant to hear it or if he was talking to himself. Even though he had shown his appreciation for your form countless times before, his ravenous eyes still made your cheeks flush, so you pushed him off of you, forcing him to stand as you sat on the edge of the bed.

"You're not being very fair, you know," you teased him and he chuckled, allowing you to unbutton his shirt and slacks, then proceeded to throw the offending clothes off of him. From your position, the bulge in his boxers was staring you right in the face and you couldn't resist cupping it, relishing his moan at the contact. You lifted your chin up to look at him already staring at you with a predatory look in his eyes. The eye contact remained unbroken as you carefully dragged the final piece of clothing down to his ankles so he could kick it off.

His arousal was apparent from his hardened erection, with precum already leaking out of the angry red tip. Keeping your eyes trained against his, your tongue darted out to flick the liquid into your mouth. The hiss that escaped his lips made you grin before you dipped your head down to take him past your lips into the recesses of your mouth. Slowly you worked your way down his length, moving up and down his cock, taking more of it every time you moved downwards until you have taken every inch of him. You could tell that he was refraining from fucking your mouth, knowing that you were fighting your gag reflex in order to swallow him whole.

As a reward for his patience, you started to bob your head on his cock, taking all of him without using your hands, hollowing your cheeks so he could enjoy the suction that your mouth provided. He was clearly enjoying it if his moans were any indication. Your mouth and throat started to hurt but you pushed through, wanting to bring him to orgasm but suddenly he stopped you. Dick still halfway inside your mouth, you looked up at him questioningly but he only shook his head and pulled you the rest of the way up then pushing you back down on the bed gently.

"It's my turn now," he said hoarsely, his rough voice making you shiver with excitement. He dropped to his knees and gently spread your legs, hooking your feet over his shoulders so he had the perfect view of your pussy, which was glistening with your juices. He drank in the vision for a few seconds, but he knew that you would feel self-conscious if he stared for too long, thus he decided to lay your thoughts to rest by diving in between your legs. Your fingers, acting upon reflex, flew to thread through the soft strands of his hair as he licked a strip up your slit all the way to your clit. His experienced tongue explored your folds thoroughly, collecting every drop of your arousal before delving into your wet heat. His hands cupped your ass to keep you in place as he fucked you with his pliable pink muscle. Although your moans were increasing in volume, he knew that it was not enough to make you come. Therefore, he brought his thumb and forefinger to your clit, massaging it gently at first, then, as he felt your thighs shake with the impending orgasm, he lightly pinched the sensitive nub, forcing you off the edge.

His wicked fingers and tongue didn't stop their ministrations, making you cry and buck against his mouth helplessly, riding the waves of your high. It was only when you whined with oversensitivity that he gave up on lapping up all the juices that were flowing from your pussy. Wrapping his arms around you, he shifted you upwards until your head rested against the pillows and the head of his cock took the place of his mouth. He bent down to kiss you lovingly, exploring your mouth while he pushed himself into you. The moans emitted from your throat were swallowed by his mouth as he slowly filled you, then proceeded to thrust into you with excruciating slowness, as if he was trying to make the moment last forever.

However, there was only so much you could take, and soon you were pleading for him to quit the snail's pace. Jungkook was a caring, loving boyfriend, but in bed he was usually rough and assertive, and you loved it. This gentle, teasing man in bed with you was now almost an entirely different person. "Jungkook... faster, please." At first he ignored your pleas, determined to make love to you at a frustrating speed, but after your incessant begging and the squeezing of your walls around his length, he gave up on control, finally picking up his pace. Your cries of satisfaction promptly filled his room, accompanied by loud smacks of skin slapping against skin. He sat up on his knees and pulled your lower body up by your ass to make it easier for him to plow into you.

The angle in which he was pounding into you now allowed him to reach even deeper inside, banging against your sweet spot with every thrust. His sheets were bunched into your fists as you took on his onslaught, the fire inside of you burning brighter until Jungkook stoked it into an inferno that caused your vision to blur into nothing but white. He savoured the breathtaking sight before him; your head tilted back as you screamed his name in ecstasy, back arched to display your trembling breasts in the air, your whole body wracking with the tremors of your orgasm. He would have given anything to stare at you just a little while longer, but the sensation of your inner muscles pulsing and clenching all around his cock was too much for him to bear. A few more thrusts were all he could muster before he allowed his own high to take over, grunting as spurts of his hot seed painted your walls white.

Before he collapsed on top of you, he rolled onto the bed, bringing you with him. You nuzzled your head against his chest, content to stay there for a little while as your racing heartbeats calmed down to a normal rate. Just before you could drift off to sleep, you managed to ask, "What's up with you today? You're being so... romantic all of a sudden."

"Nothing," he said, but you couldn't see the rueful smile on his face. "I just love you so much, that's all."

"You're so silly," you giggled at his antics. "But I love you too."

If you had known that he was going to disappear with the morning, you would have said more than that. You would have begged and done everything you could to make him stay. Alas, you had no power to see the future, so at that moment you only enjoyed the warmth of his embrace, feeling happy and loved.

But that was then. This is now.

Catching yourself before you melt completely in his embrace, you place your hands on his chiseled chest to push him away, breaking the kiss. You try to ignore the fact that the rejection is reluctant, resisting the urge to smash your lips against his and engage in another toe-curling, electrifying kiss. Guilt floods you as your conscience pushes the image of Yoongi to the forefront of your mind, giving you the strength to shove him even further away until he is at arm’s length.

"You should go," you gasp. How does one kiss leave you so breathless?

"I'm sorry," Jungkook whispers, but this time he doesn't sound sorry at all and his apology doesn't rile you up like before. You just want to put as much distance as you can between you and him because clearly you cannot think straight whenever he's around. That's not even considering the effect that he has on you when he kisses you, which leaves your brain completely useless to consider anything other than how amazing his lips feel...

"Please leave," you repeat before you lose control and jump his bones. This isn't right. You have a fiancé, and Yoongi doesn't deserve to be treated like this. "What we had was wonderful, but it was in the past. This is now, and now it's too late for us. I'm with someone else. So please go. Please, Jungkook," you beg brokenly. He finally turns to collect his things and leaves without another word, and although you can feel his eyes on you, you refuse to spare him another glance.

After you hear the door close, you let yourself collapse into your chair with your thumb and forefinger pressing into your temples. Your breaths are coming out in shaky puffs, your heart aches so badly, your guilt is immeasurable, and your thoughts are jumbled and confused. Desperate for some clarity, you fish out your phone from the table and scroll through it until you find the contact that you're looking for. Pressing the phone to your ear, you impatiently listen to the dial tone until it stops when the call is received.

"Mother? We need to talk."

"What is it, dear?"

"Are you home? I have something important to ask you."

"Can't we do this over the phone?"

"No," you insist resolutely.

It takes some persuading, but an hour later you are sitting at the coffee table in your parents' living room with your mother, alone as your father is away on a business trip. You fight back another twinge of guilt when you call Yoongi earlier to cancel tonight's dinner with him with reassurances that you are fine. He is obviously worried about you, and telling him there is nothing wrong when everything is chaotic makes your heart weigh heavy in your chest.

As soon as the maid places a tray of tea and biscuits on the table and leaves, your mother says a little grumpily, "Now, what is so important that you have to force me to stay in like this? I was planning to go out with some friends."

Your hand is trembling as you stir your tea. Maybe you should munch on the biscuits, but your appetite has long gone out the window. Knowing that there is no good way to preface it, you decide to dive right in.

"Do you remember Jungkook?"

The smallest crinkle appears between her eyebrows just long enough for you to catch before her features become smooth again as she pretends to think about it. There is no doubt that she remembers Jungkook, the man you were with for years and was determined to marry. "Yes, I remember him. Why?"

"Did you have something to do with our breakup?"

"Why would you say something like that?" She laughs airily, reaching for a cookie to impress the fact that she is not affected by your interrogation, but you have no mood or the patience to play along with her games.

"Mother, you know how much he meant to me. It has been years since then, don't you think I deserve to know the truth?"

Her resigned sigh is the first indication that she is giving up the pretense in favour of getting this over with as quickly as possible. "Your father may have said something to him the day before your graduation..."

"What did he say?" You prompt.

"Well, dear, you have to understand that our situation was a little difficult back then. Being on good terms with Yoongi's family helped us a lot, and you know how his father adores you..." as she trails off, you feel your heart beat faster with trepidation, dreading where this is going.

"Mother, I am not a naive little girl anymore. I know we could have made it through without help from anyone. Now please tell me, what did Father say to Jungkook? Did you tell him about our slight hiccup in business?"

She snorts derisively at your suggestion. "Of course not. As if he could understand the intricacies of our business."

"Jungkook is not stupid, Mother," your words are seeping with venom at the mounting anger in your chest.

"He is stupid enough to believe that we would have disowned you if you stayed with him!" At the look of utter rage and disbelief on your face, she shrinks back and continues softly, "It took some persuading but we managed to convince him that you deserve a better life than anything that he can offer if we disowned you. As if we would renounce the only child we have."

You are shuddering with extreme anger and pain, your agony so palpable that it makes your mother shift away her eyes with guilt. "His family may not be as rich as ours, but he's not exactly poor. Even if he is, I wouldn't have cared. I would live in poverty if it meant that I can be with him. Mother, do you have any idea how much I love him?" It is getting extremely difficult to keep your voice level now when your throat is so constricted.

"I know. That's why we never told you."

"Mother, you had no right," the last word comes out in a sob, but you can't help it. All these years of inexplicable suffering, blaming Jungkook for it when it was your parents who inflicted the pain upon you. You can't even begin to imagine what he had to go through.

"I know," she reiterates. "I'm truly sorry, y/n. After seeing how devastated you were, I wanted to take it back but by that time he was gone, and no one knew where to find him. If I could go back in time, I would do things differently, but it's too late now."

Although your mother doesn't know that he is back in your life, you clutch your phone in the palm of your hand, wondering the same thing.

The phone containing the message from Jungkook is still burning a hole through your pocket as you dine with Yoongi the next day. So absorbed  in your own thoughts that you fail to notice that Yoongi is being quieter than usual as well. However, after over a quarter of an hour of silence  upon the arrival of your orders, he punctuates the silence over the occasional clinking of fork and spoon.

"You haven't been yourself for a while now," he states his observation carefully.

Biting your lower lip, you consider your words. You have to tell him. He has a right to know. "I do have something to confess, but I don't even know where to begin."

He sets down his spoon to reach across the table and holds your hand, giving you strength. You're thankful for the gesture, yet you still can't form words to explain yourself. Minutes of silence pass without a word exchanged between you two, eyes locked to one another, both still as a statue. Your eyes start to water, you suspect from the intense feelings that you have been struggling with for the past weeks although you wish it is simply the result of staring at him for too long. Never one to be able to stand your tears, he takes pity on you, rubbing comforting circles on the back of your hand with his thumb as he starts with a confession of his own.

"Your mother called me last night."

"Oh?" You're not sure if you should feel irritated or relieved at your meddlesome mother. Hasn't she messed up your life enough? But deep down you know that she's simply worried and she is also aware of the depth of Yoongi's love for you. Perhaps she is trying to send him to cheer you up in her stead. At least you know that he is not completely in the dark about the matter at hand, and that makes things easier for you.

"She told me what happened. It's that guy, Jungkook, isn't it? The guy from the interior designing company."

It amazes you how easily Yoongi puts things together, considering your mother doesn’t know about you working with Jungkook. On second thought, you shouldn't be surprised. While waiting for you on various occasions, he has seen Jungkook coming out of your office and most likely have noticed that your manner has changed around the time Jungkook started working with you. Yoongi is an observant man, especially when it comes to you, so he may have suspected this long before your mother even said anything.

"I'm sorry, Yoongi," you apologise without further elaboration, as you have told him about your ex from college before. "I did my best to keep it professional. I thought I was over him. But now... I don't know."

Yoongi's thumb stopped moving, but he doesn't release your hand. "Do you still love him?"

"It wouldn't be fair to you if I answer that, Yoongi." You choke back a sob and you can see his eyes mist over as well because both of you know the answer to his question.

"Look, y/n," he says, then gulps. It breaks you to see him fight to get the words out. "As much as I love you, I'm also aware that our family ties are the only reason you're sitting here with me."

"No, don't say that," you protest, a tear falling unbidden down your cheek at his statement. "You know I love you a lot, Yoongi."

"But not the way you love him, right?" You lower your head, unable to answer without hurting him even more than you already have. "I've seen the way you look at him, the expression on your face when you think of him. As much as I'd love to be on the receiving end of those looks," he sniggers at himself, "I know it's not your fault. You can't help loving him any more than I can't stop loving you."

Your tears are falling in earnest now, but Yoongi keeps on going. "I'm happy that even though it's clear who you really love, you're still here with me, but frankly, what the hell are you doing here?" The sudden rise in his tone shocks your sobs into pathetic hiccups. "I'm a selfish man, y/n. If you stay, I'll want to keep you with me forever, but how can I be happy when you clearly love someone else? You have to stop wasting your time with me and go to him."

"B-b-but I don't know if he still wants me," you stutter through your splintering whimpers. Yoongi lets out a bark of laughter at that.

"Are you kidding? From the way he stares at you I don't know how he managed to leave you in the first place. That's how I know he must love you a lot to sacrifice himself and let you go," he gives your hand a gentle squeeze before pulling you up. "Now go before I regret making this decision."

"Yoongi... thank you." He gives you a sharp nod, his lips pressed and you know he's fighting to hold back his own tears. "Please don't think that I never loved you. I'm lucky that you love me."

With that, you pull him into a hug, crying into his chest. You hope that you will see him again in the future, but for now, the embrace has an air of finality to it, and you're afraid to let go and venture into the unknown.

However, ten minutes later you're in the back seat of a taxi, rereading the message that Jungkook has sent to you last night for the hundredth time:

'Since the final design of the coffee shop has been finalised, I will transfer the job to another designer. The change may cause some delays with the project, but after the last time we met, it's clear that I am unfit to be around you. It has been great seeing you again, but I'm afraid that 'now' has to stop here. I know you're tired of hearing this, but there's nothing much I can say for myself, except that I meant every word I said. I love you, and I'm truly sorry.'

Yoongi's words help settle the internal battle within yourself, and you force the insecurities out of your mind to dial Jungkook’s number. The phone rings for what seems like an eternity, and you're about to give up when a click alerts you of your call being answered.

"Y/n?" His question is one of mild astonishment.

"Jungkook, where are you now?"

"I'm at home. Why?"

"What's the address?" You shoot him the question without answering his.

Without thinking, he rattles off his address before asking, "Why?" again, but you hang up and repeat the address to the driver who has been circling the block for almost a quarter of an hour, telling him to drive as fast as he can.

Jungkook is already outside his house when you arrive, pacing around the front with a worried expression on his face. He races to get your door before you can even pay the driver, and as the taxi drives off, he cups your face in his large hands, his doe eyes huge as he scans it as if expecting to see signs of an injury. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Jungkook," you answer, placing your hands over his to lower it from your face, but you don't let them go. "Why are you backing away from the project?"

He sighs at that. "As I told you in the message, I can't be around you. I tried to stay professional but it's impossible. Even after years of being apart, I still love you so much. I don't want to come between you and your fiancé, but I can't stand to see you with someone else."

The admission makes your heart soar, but you still need to talk to him about the past. "Why didn't you tell me what my parents said to you instead of just leaving back then? I wouldn't have cared if they disowned me as long as I could have been with you."

Smiling sadly, he says, "I know you'd say that, that's why I didn't say anything. Y/n, you deserve the best that the world can offer, and back then I couldn't give you anything. I don't want you to be miserable because you can't have the things that you're accustomed to having. I realise now that it was naive of me, but all I wanted was the best for you. That's all I still want. When I saw that my company got your project, I insisted on taking it because now I’m in a more secure place. I’m not a fresh graduate with an uncertain future anymore. I wanted to repair our relationship, but it never crossed my mind that you're not just unavailable... You're engaged. I can't ruin your life a second time."

"You're so stupid, Jungkook! I don't know how you got the idea in your head that I'm that materialistic, but those things didn't matter to me then, and they don't matter to me now. The only thing I care about is you, because even after all this, I still love you."

A grin breaks over his face at your confession. "You love me?"

"Yes, you idiot!"

"What about your fiancé?" The reminder that as far as he knows, you're not single has his expression falling again.

"He let me go."

"He what?!"

You nod your confirmation. "He let me go, so I can come back to you. So..." You can't help but grasp his hands tighter as you nervously continue, "Do you still want me?"

The tears that are trailing down his cheeks, like yours, are of pure happiness. "Do you even have to ask?"

Laughing and crying, he releases your hands to draw you into his embrace for a kiss. A kiss marking the start of now, and one that you hope will last forever.

[thedefinitionofbts]

Our First and Last (Ch. 11)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 |

 Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 (Final)

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (MAIN) | Park Jimin x Kim Taehyung | Jung Hoseok x Min Yoongi | Kim Namjoon x Kim Seokjin

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Soulmate Au, Scifi

Words: 2.8K

“Dr. Park, I’m actually feeling a lot better these days.” Jungkook says as he’s sitting across from Jimin, back in the office that he’s come to know all too well.

“Oh, how so?” Jimin says, raising his eyebrow and pretending that he hasn’t noticed Jungkook’s change in temperament. The latter’s attitude has improved so much, and Jimin would be blind to not notice he looks less worn out recently too. Although the signs on the outside were unmistakable, Jimin was still trying to be cautious, not wanting to jump to conclusions before Jungkook actually voiced his inner feelings himself.

“I feel more alive…shit that sounds gay….” Jungkook looks down and huffs a laugh. He bites his lip, trying to think of the best way to explain because he was never the type to be good at expressing himself or opening up, since he’s been an expert at bottling up his emotions for years now.

“Jungkook” Jimin says softly. The young neurosurgeon raises his eyes to look into Jimin’s. “Whatever you’re comfortable telling me.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, and explains the changes in his mood that he’s experienced. He finds that opening up gradually becomes easier the more you practice, so he reveals more to Jimin than he had originally planned. He starts off with telling Jimin he wakes up with more energy in the mornings and feeling like there are actually things he looks forward to each day, but most importantly, his dreams don’t consume his life anymore… and neither does his research for that matter.

“That feeling of searching has faded hasn’t it?” Jimin comments after Jungkook has fallen silent. He’s looking at the neurosurgeon and low-key admiring his visuals, which if Taehyung found out might just throw a fit. But Jimin likes this side of Jungkook because it reminds him of Taehyung, both of them having the habit of initially hiding behind hardened shells that cover up their kind and pure hearts. And seeing Jungkook’s true personality come out was the epitome of his inner beauty finally on par with his outer.

Jungkook nods slowly, clearly still submerged in his thoughts. “Which is the part I don’t understand.” He says. There’s confusion in his voice, but it’s faint and almost indecipherable. “Because I haven’t found anything, and yet it feels like something has filled the void.”

“Sometimes it takes time to realize that you’ve come to the end of your search” Jimin says, making Jungkook look up and meet his eyes. Although he’s physically larger than the pink haired psychologist, Jungkook feels small at that moment. “Don’t over think it, just follow your heart.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows and his lip curves upward. “Didn’t think a psychologist would say a cheesy line like that” He jokes. It’s lighthearted and playful, another side of Jungkook that Jimin is witnessing for the first time, and it makes his face flush a little, complimenting the pastel color of his hair.

“Hey, I panicked ok?” Jimin jokes back. His eyes turn into crescent moons as he laughs. Jungkook joins in, nose scrunching up and bunny teeth peaking through his upturned lips. The two medical professionals have this sort of bonding moment that would’ve seemed impossible when they had first met.

“I feel comfortable in her presence” Jungkook finally says after the laughter has died down, referring to you. Jungkook thinks about the time before he met you and when the smallest things used to irritate him, now it has come to his attention that maybe he was just lonely and looking for someone to fill that emptiness. “I know this sounds almost cheesier than your previous comment, but half of me wants to believe she might be part of whatever I’ve been looking for all this time.” And even though he thinks that Jimin is just going to tell him that that’s the power of love, which is what any normal person would probably say anyways, but the pink-haired psychologist, to Jungkook’s surprise, doesn’t.

“It’s true that only one person could’ve done that.” Jimin says after taking a moment to decide the best way to reply. Taehyung’s counting on him to guide Jungkook, and he’s not going to mess it up now that Jungkook is so, so close. He looks at Jungkook with an expression that is uncharacteristic of his usual playful self, like he knows something Jungkook doesn’t but is waiting for Jungkook to figure it out on his own.

“Jung Hoseok! Open this door right NOW!”

You bang on Hoseok’s apartment door. That little shit was pretending he wasn’t home when you know for certain he’s in there. It was 8am on the day after the set-up with Jungkook that he planned, and his car was still in the parking lot. There’s no way he’s not home.

You hear the lock of the door click, and Hoseok peak out the tiny crack of an opening. He still had the chain lock hooked on so you wouldn’t be able to push the door open and barge in.

“Let me in” You say, narrowing your eyes.

“Only if you promise to not kill me” Hoseok squeaks, still gripping the door tightly, as if he was afraid the chain wouldn’t be strong enough to hold you back should you decide to use brute force to push in.

You sigh. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Hoseok hesitates, trying to read your expression, attempting to identify your true intentions.

When he finally lets you in, you immediately tackle him and tickle him all over, causing him to drop to the ground in a fit of laughter.

“Don’t you dare put me in that sort of situation ever again” You warn as you continue to tickle his squirming body underneath you.

“Ok , ok, ok” Hoseok says, begging you to stop. You finally release him after deciding you’ve tortured him enough.

“So why’d you do it?” You ask as the two of you are just lounging on the couch in Hoseok’s messy living room. Setting up a date like that was uncharacteristic, even for a goofball like Hoseok. You’ve know him all throughout college, and you know he’s not the type to go out of his way like that just to get you on the dating scene, and of all people, he wouldn’t have chosen Jungkook for no good reason, because you had previously made it perfectly clear to him that you weren’t going to consider it.

Hoseok sighs and proceeds to talk about Yoongi and a date they went on a week ago.

“He was drunk the other night, and started spilling all kinds of things about Dr. Jeon. He really cares about him, you know. I could hear it in his voice. “ Hoseok stares blankly at a coffee stain on his carpet that has almost faded, but is still noticeable. “He told me about how Dr. Jeon struggles with his emotions. How he dedicated his life to figuring out who that person who constantly shows up in his dreams is. How he basically gave up living a normal life because of that desperation. And now I know how the dude finished the MD-PhD program at such a young age. I personally think it’s taken a toll on him. Yoongi was telling me how much he secretly struggles and all that.” His voice is steady, but you could hear the subtle pain and concern coating his words.

Hoseok looks up at you and sees the tears streaming down your eyes. “Hey, Y/N, it’s ok. Yoongi says he’s gotten better recently,” He says softly while handing you a tissue.

You didn’t even realize you were crying. It’s like all the emotions welling up inside of you had just manifested as salty fluid that was escaping through your eyes.

“Sorry, Hobi, I don’t know what went over me” You sniffle, trying to hide the fact that everything he was saying was breaking your heart into a million pieces.

“The reason I was so adamant about you and Jungkook was because Yoongi said he’s noticed changes in his mood every since you joined the lab. And you know, I just thought…” Hoseok trails off, probably uncertain of what to say next.

You lift your hand and place it gently on his shoulder, conveying that you understood. Hoseok has always had a kind heart. He was literally the personification of sunshine itself, and you always knew he couldn’t stand seeing people suffer and not do anything about it when he knows he can help out in some way. You knew that Jungkook was suffering from internal turmoil, but you didn’t know it had affected him so deeply. You had always made yourself believe that you loved him more than he loved you because he always seemed ethereal and too good to be true, but now thinking about how you had considered giving up so easily, when Jungkook had been trying so hard to hold on to even less than what you had, makes you feel almost unworthy of his love. And it wasn’t the fact that he loved you enough to search for you against all odds that made your heart clench in your chest, it was the fact that he never let go of you, just like the way he held your hand by the lake so long ago.

“How has Jungkook been recently?” Taehyung asks as he’s lying in bed waiting for Jimin to join him.

“He’s doing so much better. He’s so close that I almost just want to tell him.” Jimin’s voice comes from the open bathroom door where he was still brushing his teeth.

“You must let him discover his fate naturally,” Taehyung says firmly, knowing that it was their jobs to guide and not force. Because although emotions like love are strong, unbreakable, and seemingly everlasting, it’s also vulnerable at the same time. Once it’s gone, it never comes back between the same two people. Like when you lose your feelings for someone, how could you ever expect to get those same feelings back? Everything changes, and this chaotic universe does not wait for anything or anyone.

“That’s why I was very cautious,” Jimin says as he turns off the light and crawls into bed next to Taehyung. The temperature under the sheets is warm because of the warmth radiating off of Taehyung’s body, a sensation that makes Jimin feel so incredibly good. “I’m more worried about Y/N. She’s the one who has to deal with the uncertainty.” Jimin lies on his back and stares at the ceiling.

Taehyung hums in agreement, also wondering how you are doing. Since you discovered the reason behind your vivid, emotion filled dreams after the surgery, you had stopped having therapy sessions with him, so he wasn’t updated on your situation any longer. But one thing he knows for certain is that things were definitely not easy for you, having had first had experience himself. “Do you know what it was like to call out for you and realize you would never come back?” Taehyung says after a moment of silence. He holds back the tears welling up in his eyes as he recalls the multiple times he was searching for Jimin only to be let down by the cruelness of life.

“I know.” Jimin voices softly. “It’s a loneliness that makes you feel so powerless. Like wanting something you know you’ll never have.”

“And even when you came to me, that euphoric happiness made me even more afraid of losing you.” Taehyung says as he scoots closer to Jimin on the bed, the latter does the same, allowing Taehyung to wrap his arms around him. “Sometimes I would cry until I felt numb because my emotions were so overwhelming.” Taehyung buries his face in Jimin’s fluffy hair, which smells faintly of his citrus scented shampoo, and Jimin leans into Taehyung, feeling the firm stability of his comfortingly soft chest.

The two of them just lie quietly in the dark, not needing to exchange anymore words because they both understood each other’s feelings, having been each other’s only comfort for what seems like centuries. Lying on the bed that they share and hugging each other tightly under the faint glow of the moonlight through the window is all they could ever do in moments like these, because this kind of physical proximity was the closest thing to forever.

“So I’ve recently come up with a new hypothesis that extends upon my original research on cognitive perception and consciousness, and I’ve reached out to a theoretical physicists who studies parallel universes.” Jungkook says as you walk into his office. He was still holding the Physics magazine in his hands and looking at an article in it, making you wonder how he was even able to notice you walk in.

It never fails to surprise you how easily he makes it seem to just go back to this sort of professional relationship once you’re back in lab. He doesn’t even bring up the events that happened over the weekend, nor does he attempt to. Yes, you’re well aware that acting professional and putting on a mask is what he does best, but the with the way he treats you sometimes, you can’t help but wish he would at least allow you to help in some way since Hoseok has already told you everything. Maybe make it easier for you to tell him what you know, but what do you say when you’re still so confused yourself?

“But Dr. Jeon, what do parallel universes have to do with perception?” You ask knowing he’s probably going to say something along the lines of “parallel universes have everything to do with perception”, but you still wanted a clear explanation because you didn’t know where Jungkook’s mind was running off to this time.

He smiles and looks up from the magazine.

“What is perception?” He asks, looking at you and waiting for an answer.

“Umm, do you want me to write up a detailed report on it?” You bite your lip, hoping that Jungkook won’t take the question as a sign that you’re lacking basic neuroscience knowledge, but what does he expect when he asks an open ended question? Does he want to test if you understand the underlying mechanisms, the cellular processes that contribute to it, the parts of the brain involved, or does he want you to take a more psychological approach to describing it? All of that could take hours to explain.

“No, just the basic definition” His voice cuts through your jumbled thoughts.

“Perception is the organization, identification, and interpretation of sensory information” You reply without hesitation.

“Yes, and so what if there are things that our neurosensory systems could not pick up?”

“Then the circuit would be missing a vital piece of the first level.”

“So vital that it would completely hinder any other process in the later levels.” He finishes. “Or so, that’s what physicists believe.”

You ponder over the things that Jungkook has just brought up. Yes, it makes perfect sense that your brain wouldn’t be able to perceive things that were invisible to all of your sensory systems, but hasn’t it been established that selectivity mechanisms in the brain also play a role in perception? Like your brain can choose what and what not to perceive? Just like how it constructs a reality? This was all starting to get even more confusing, and it really blows your mind how Jungkook can even make sense of it all.

“Have you heard of the famous astronomer Kim Seokjin?” Jungkook voice snaps you back to the reality that is his office and you standing in front of him, most likely looking very confused.

You shake your head.

“I read his most recently published paper, and it sparked a new idea. It’s already commonly accepted that we live in a multiverse, a collection of possible universes flowing in parallel, but how they exist simultaneously has been heavily debated.” He pauses, waiting for you to absorb the information he has basically just thrown up in the air. “We’re talking universes where the laws of physics are different and where matter isn’t made up of atoms but some other type of particle that is unable to interact with those in this universe because it is off by some minute degree in the fabric of space-time, which is why we aren’t able to sense and thus perceive it.”

“I’m sorry Dr. Jeon, I’m not too familiar with theoretical physics.” You say, after realizing everything that just came out of Jungkook’s mouth has completely flown over your head.

He smiles again, this time standing up and walking towards you.

“I’m visiting his lab tomorrow” Jungkook says. He hands you the magazine he was reading. You look at the man on the front cover, broad shoulders and extraordinarily handsome. Man, what’s with all of these intellectuals being so visually attractive?

“You should come” You look up at Jungkook, realizing that you’ve been staring at the cover photo for a little too long.

“Oh, O-ok”

...

[readingontheedge]

Starving Hearts

(Triangular Trade Trilogy #1)

By Janine Mendenhall

Christian Historical Romantic Suspense

Paperback & ebook, 300 Pages

May 16th 2016 by Heritage Beacon Fiction

 Carol Award Finalist

Selah Award Finalist

 Plagued by nightmares, Annette yearns to find her anonymous rescuer — the man who saved her life from a near deadly assault. Deep inside she is starving for companionship and a mutually respectful relationship. When Mr. Peter Adsley, an abolitionist pastor dealing with his own emotional baggage, agrees to a clandestine meeting, the event appears providential. But self-doubt, deception, and the schemes of a mutual enemy threaten to keep the pair apart. A phantom adversary will stop at nothing to win Annette’s dowry for himself, even if it means killing Peter.

 Praise for the Book

"Not only is this a delightful regency romance but it is also suspense filled mystery of the very best kind." - Amazon Review

 "The author did a great job, maybe too great a job, describing the slave scenes. Spine tingling and suspenseful. I was biting my nails throughout much of this book." - Amazon Review 

Goodreads│Amazon│Barnes & Noble│Book Depository 

Never Past Hope

(Triangular Trade Trilogy #2)

By Janine Mendenhall

Christian Historical Romantic Suspense

Paperback & ebook, 308 Pages

September 10th 2018 by Heritage Beacon Fiction

 Miss Mary Hope Adsley always considered herself to be the sensible one. But now, her sensibilities are unraveling around a man she thought she knew. After he attempted to marry her best friend—for money, no less—authorities charge Sir Steven Likebridge with masquerading as a gentleman and abduction. With his execution days away, Mary Hope desperately seeks to learn the truth about the man she loves.

 Will the truth turn out to be worse than his lies?

 Praise for the Book

 "I thoroughly enjoyed this clean, historical fiction. . . enjoyed most that it is not the usual presentation of a regency novel." - Amazon Review

  "A lovely story that shows how despicable each of us can be and yet God not only still loves us, but He was willing to die for us." - Amazon Review 

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/41216966-never-past-hope

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FB77866/ 

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/never-past-hope-janine-mendenhall/1129490336?ean=9781946016591 

https://www.bookdepository.com/Never-Past-Hope-Janine-Mendenhall/9781946016591  

Never Past Hope Excerpt 

Stephen’s Reaction to Mary Hope visiting him in prison

Steven worked to stop the coughing as her lingering touch penetrated deep into his soul.

“Mr. Likebridge, you needn’t distress yourself so,” she encouraged. “All will be well.”

A whisper of concern. He noticed it under her gentle words. Of course, she would worry. She was always so sympathetic. But this wretched coughing, he must stop it. What if she took ill?

Oh, LORD, may it never be!

She had jeopardized herself in so many ways, the least of which was her reputation, so he mustn’t waste a single minute before she must leave. He clamped his jaw shut, and held it, forbidding more coughs from returning. His effort did little to stop the overwhelming urge that pressed like grindstone against his chest, however. The coughs stopped, though.

“There now.” Her voice sounded easier. “You seem a little better.”

She closed fingers around his hands, squeezing lightly before releasing them. An agonizingly cold spot developed where they had been, but he was able to straighten up. With chains clinking, he scooted his chair closer to the small table separating them.

“Would you care for some soup? It is still warm.” How she smiled. Divine. He simply gazed at her, almost afraid she would go if he moved.

“Confirm you will not harm her, Likebridge, and I will step out. Then as soon as she is finished, I will remove her from this place.”

Starting from her wondrous auburn hair parted in the middle and lying smoothly along her peach-tinted cheeks, Steven perused every detail of her face as if he were caressing it with his fingertips. He remembered her arched brows and those lovely coffee-colored eyes with their fringe of delicate lashes as if he had seen her only yesterday. When he reached her rose-bud lips, which he so desired, he gazed a few seconds longer. Then their eyes locked.  

Miss Adsley was perfect in all ways, especially in her willingness to endure his direct appraisal of her features, and he loved her all the more for it.

I am the last person to think of hurting her, Adsley. She is my life, but she shall never know it. Condemning her to live out her years tainted by a connection with me is abhorrent, and I will do everything in my power to make her leave as soon as possible.  

 About the Author

I love losing myself somewhere in time with Downton Abbey, Pride and Prejudice or a number of other classics like Jane Eyre and Redeeming Love. I cry over most things Nicholas Sparks (because they usually end sadly) and Amazing Grace, both the movie and the hymn, because they lead to the Ultimate happily ever after. 

Website│Goodreads│Facebook│Twitter│Pinterest│Instagram

 Tour Schedule

 December 10th:

Launch

Jen Around the World

Remembrancy

December 11th:

Rockin' Book Reviews

Hearts & Scribbles

Splashes of Joy

December 12th:

Simply Kelina

Handcrafted Reviews

Jorie Loves A Story

December 13th:

Reading Is My SuperPower

Deal Sharing Aunt

December 14th:

Teatime and Books

Min Reads and Reviews

Reading On The Edge

Locks, Hooks and Books

December 15th:

Grand Finale

 Tour Giveaway

- 1 winner will receive an Emerald Crown (picture is an example, may not be the same crown), Evening Khaki Lace Wrap, and a print copy of Starving Hearts

- US only

- Ends December 19, 2018 

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b9a55db3336/?