kissogram
ao3 â main masterlist â series masterlist
pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
rating: Teen (18+ only blog!)
warnings: drunk Joel, soft possessive Joel, lovesick Joel, wingman Tommy, fluff, idiots in love and in denial
word count: 1.8k
summary: A familiar sound wakes you from the soft slumber you'd not long fallen into - sounds you'd dreamed about in the months since meeting Joel Miller. This time, as you creep down the stairs to come face-to-face with your intruder, you can be certain it's not a man decked out in plush red velvet.
A/N: happy birthday to Joel Miller, happy TLOU day to us, and, most importantly, happy GOD DAMN IT ARE YOU CLOSE TO SAYING YOU LOVE EACH OTHER YET day to these two babies.
I'll be back with more dress up!Joel in 5 weeks đ
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A familiar sound wakes you from the soft slumber you'd not long fallen into. The click of a door. The woosh of your house decompressing. Muffled footsteps. They were sounds that your own ears hadn't heard in months, and yet ones you'd heard a hundred times over in your dreams since that first day you met Joel, decked out in plush red velvet in front of your Christmas tree.
It's why, when you fully come to and pull yourself up onto your elbows, you find yourself blinking in confusion in the dark. Dreams and reality are tricky things to figure out when you're on the precipice of both. And, while the sound of foreign footsteps on your living room floor was something you dreamed about - fantasized about - a feeling of unease is quickly creeping up your spine the longer you listen to the hushed tones coming from downstairs.
Whatever - whoever - it is, isn't even trying to be discreet, not by the way your door suddenly slams and something rattles against the wall.
You don't even try to be discreet either, jumping from your bed and stomping over to the door. It's stupid, maybe. Probably.
Almost definitely.
The first time may have worked out well for you by creeping down to find Joel in your house, but that didn't mean any other break-in was going to go as well for you. Now, all these months later, you didn't even have your old umbrella to arm yourself with as you throw open the door and fly downstairs, hoping the element of surprise will save you.
Slamming your hand against the wall, you drench your living room in artificial light so suddenly your eyes can barely adjust before you're screaming out into the room in a feeble attempt to scare off your intruders.
"Get ou- what the fuck?!"
"Jesu-"
"Fu-"
The scene in front of you is a mess. Mail you'd left on your coffee table earlier is strewn all over the floor, your bowl of knick-knacks over turned in the middle, and two of your sofa cushions dumped onto the floor.
Most baffling of all are the people in the room. You know them. Of course you do. Who else would it be. Joel Miller is stood - or rather, he's being propped up - in your living room, gripping onto his brother as he desperately tries to keep his legs beneath him.
"Tommy? Joel? What the fuck are you two doing here?"
Joel, who by now has caught the sound of your voice, has stopped trying to keep himself upright, and is instead staring dozily at you, a lopsided smile spreading across his face. Tommy, meanwhile, is now taking almost the full weight of his older brother, and suffering for it, barely keeping his own legs from buckling as grunts and groans.
"I dropped him home but he - shit man you're heavy, stop it - he kept wanderin' this way. Kept askin' about a goodnight kiss. Told him I'd give 'im one but -"
"Hi," Joel cuts in suddenly, slurring around the simple greeting as he moves toward you despite Tommy's protests.
"Joel," you say in warning, as the broad man stumbles toward you on drunken feet.
In response, he raises a single finger, clearly much slower than he intended to, and the smile on his face spreads even wider.
"No."
"No? What? Joel, look I think you sho-"
"Birthday Joel. 'm Birthday Joel," he grins, and you can't help but supress a laugh. This is maybe his most lackluster costume yet. He has a crumpled party hat on and the same clothes you saw him leave in earlier this evening, and it makes you wonder how long he's been keeping that one in tonight - whether he told his friends the same thing down at the bar, or if he'd been holding it back just to tell you. By the proud look on his face, and Tommy's confusion, you suspect the latter.
"Hey there, Birthday Joel," you say with a soft smile. "Now, what're you doing over here and not at your own place? It's late, Joel. I said I'd see you in a couple of days -"
"Birthday Joel deserves a birthday kiss."
You raise your eyebrow at him, stopping his stumbled wobble in its tracks. "Deserves?"
"Wants. I jus' - I jus' wanted to kiss you," he breathes, looking down at your mouth with another smile so soft your breath leaves you in a quiver as you try not to embarrass yourself by letting loose the bubble of affection sitting in your belly.
Naturally, you'd given Birthday Joel plenty of kisses earlier today - a day that technically wasn't even his birthday yet - before Tommy came to pick him up. You'd given him so many kisses he was almost late out the door to his own birthday drinks. Tommy had rolled his eyes then just as he is now, slapping his brother on the back and steadying him all in one move.
"Told you, man," Tommy says. "She wouldn't 'ppreciate bein' woken up just to kiss your ugly ass."
Tommy winks at you, and tries to manouvere Joel toward the door, but Joel, somehow speedy despite his drunkenness, manages to round back to you, arms spread and ready to envelope you in a hug before he stops himself and instead delicately grabs your hands.
"Jus'... Jus' missed you," he hiccups. "Missed - missed my girls."
"Okay, Prince Charmin', I'm tired, you're drunk, we all gotta sleep, let's go."
"Tommy?" you say, letting Joel's thumbs caress the back of your hands as he holds them, refusing to let go even as Tommy tries, and fails, to tug him toward the door once more. "I can drop him home, if you wanna get goin'?"
For a second, it looks like Tommy's ready to object, determined to get his brother back home and in bed, just like he promised. But then he looks at his brother, and the lovesick look on his face, and decides to leave well enough alone.
"I'll see you at dinner tomorrow," he says to Joel. "Sarah's bein' dropped off at-"
"At ten, I know," he slurs. "Miss her. Missed you. My girls."
After a minute of prising your hands out of Joel's, you see Tommy out, walking with him to your door. The spare house key you'd entrusted to Joel months ago is deposited safely into your hand, before he wishes you luck with the birthday boy, and jogs the short distance through the darkness to his truck and zips away into the night. Joel, who you'd left unattended for all of two minutes, has already taken it upon himself to flop down onto your couch, and is fighting a losing battle with his drooping head as you approach.
"C'mere," he mumbles with a wobble to his head, hands making a reach for you.
"You're still after that kiss, huh?"
"Uh-huh," he says, grinning again as you hinge, bringing your face close to his.
His eyes flutter closed before you even close the distance, pressing soft kisses to the corners of his smiling mouth, before pressing a softer, lingering kiss to his lips.
"That good enough for you, Birthday Joel?" you whisper.
"Mm. S'good. Missed you."
"You've said that already."
"S'true."
"I'm gonna get you some water, sober you up a bit before I get you home."
Joel is asleep on his side, legs pulled up onto the couch, when you come back with water. You doubted you'd get him home tonight, with the state he's in, but you were at least hoping to get him upstairs and into bed, where he could better sleep off whatever demons were coming for him in the morning. As he starts to snore, face pressed into the couch cushion, you're suddenly very grateful that he won't make it up the stairs.
You tidy up the small tornado of mess that's torn through your living room. Mail is picked up and put where you should've left it in the first place, the bowl is righted and its contents replaced, the cushions are shoved back on the couch. Assessing the man himself, you soon realise there's no way you're getting him comfortable without waking him, so you prod his side, waiting until he wakes before whispering gently to him.
"Joel? Let me get this shit off you," you say, tugging at his shoes.
For all his drunkenness, he does try to help. He fumbles with his belt buckle, getting it halfway undone before his frustrated grunts turn to curses, and your hands replace his. In no time his belt is off, and he's kicking off his pants, reaching for you and dragging you to sit beside him again.
"Joel, you're drunk, we're not playing -"
"Jus' a kiss," he asks, tapping his cheek with a smile that crinkles his eyes.
It's impossible not to give in, or smile too as you press your lips to his cheek and he hums softly, already letting sleep claw back at him.
"'Nother one," he says, as his eyes droop.
"You're drunk, Joel. You should sleep."
"Not Drunk Joel - Birthday Joel," he mumbles, with a sleepy smile as you pull off his crumpled birthday hat and toss it aside.
"Then get some sleep, Birthday Joel."
You stand, your weight shifting off the couch and jostling Joel, his head already so heavy with sleep it wobbles to the side. His hand still finds yours though - pulling you to a stop as you try to creep back upstairs.
"Come to dinner? Tomorrow? Come meet Sarah," he asks, brave with sleep. "Want - both m'girls there."
He'd hesitated asking you all week. You could tell by the way he stumbled over the words each time he explained his birthday plans - bar with the boys the night before, dinner and a movie with Sarah and Tommy on the big day. The lengthy pauses had been filled with an invitation he could never quite get out, and you didn't want to fill in the blanks yourself.
He's dozing, already mostly asleep, by the time you can even answer him. So, instead you stroke softly at his hair, watching as his whole body suddenly gives in to sleep, giving him a final kiss on his cheek, and whispering in his ear;
"Ask me again in the morning, Birthday Joel. Ask me then, and I'll say yes."
In the morning, when you're both sipping coffee and Joel is nursing a hangover the likes of which he's never seen, you don't expect him to keep to words he was too tired to hear. But, he does, not meeting your eye as the words he was never brave enough to say until last night come spilling out once more.
And, just like you said you would, you say yes.
taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog
@youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123
@valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather
@stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr @joelsdagger
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remorse (5)
series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life?
pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader... or not?
content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, flashback, a lot of remorse, fights, stubborn people, lack of communication, angst.
a/n. its finally here. i haven't re read this chapter bc im almost falling asleep and i have to work tomorrow, but i'll give this one another look in the weekend. a friend of mine helped me with the traduction bc i'm really really burnt out rn. also, chapters names changed!! i hope you guys like this one! see you on the next oneđ«¶đ»
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âOppaâŠâ
Yoongi raised his head, his body leaning toward the piano acknowledging your presence in the room, and you could tell how he was physically struggling to move away from the instrument. Under his watchful gaze, you walked in his direction shuffling your feet, with a pitiful expression and every intention of openly complaining to one of the elders in your group of friends. But you relaxed your expression when you were a few steps away, recognizing his notebook on the piano lid and the trail of ink between his fingers at a safe distance from the keys.
His laughter confused you, and when you looked up, his lips were curved into a pretty smile. It was annoying. He was only two years older than you.
âWhat happened now?â
You remembered that you had come with a purpose, but your mind, as evasive and suggestible as ever, found more interest in what your eyes had caught.
âThe usual,â you barely commented, moving to sit on your legs in front of Yoongi. âWere you writing?â
Yoongi glanced over to find his notebook, his shoulders shaking in a sigh because he knew he wouldn't be able to escape this conversation now that you had discovered him.
âSomething like thatâŠâ
âCan I see it?â
âIt's nothing decent. I don't think it's prudent.â
You pressed your lips together at his response, letting your shoulders droop, disappointed. But it was what you had expected; after all, Yoongi was quite secretive about his notebook, and it was rare for him to let you get this close and know so much about him. Even though you had probably known each other since you learned to swim and multiply, and surely knew more skeletons in his closet than he would like to admit, Yoongi still had a reluctance to show you or anyonw his writings. You had to catch him at a very relaxed moment.
So you set aside your emotions, not allowing Yoongi to respond as you pouted, and crossed your arms while turning your head away.
âTaehyung and Jungkook got so competitive on the court that they kicked us all out,â you frowned, remembering how the two had rushed past you and stolen the ball in the blink of an eye, moving so quickly and with cheeky laughter that you barely understood what was happening until you saw them tussling with the ball in front of the scoring area.
They were already in extracurricular hours, and although everyone had subjects to study and delve into, they decided to take a moment to take advantage of the fact that the school court would be empty and play for a while. Jin and Namjoon had left the game after two quarters because they simply couldn't keep up, and since one was in your group with Jimin and the other with the two kings of competition that day, they decided to kick them out and leave them as referees along with Hobi, who was the initial one.
Surprisingly, Yoongi also didnât attend the game or his extracurricular class, choosing to get lost in the music room, taking advantage of the fact that it was empty that day because classes ended early.
âI donât understand why they have to ruin everyoneâs fun.â
Your little thirteen-year-old self, ignorant of many aspects of life, could only cross her arms and complain. Yoongi smiled, his two extra years of age giving him an understanding that perhaps you didnât have access to, because it was inconceivable to you that such a sacrilege could be considered funny. Basketball hours were sacred!
âThey're just messing around.â
âOppa, you should've seen how they were pushing each other,â you shook your head, refusing to believe that Yoongi really wanted to defend them. âIf you had been there, you could've stopped them.â
âAnd Jin?â
âHe was laughing with them.â
âAh,â Yoongi turned his head. âSo the second best option was me?â
You shrugged. âWell, I thought I could convince you to go to the court, butâŠâ
âButâŠ?â Yoongi rested a hand on the bench, leaning in to see you on the floor.
âMaybe itâs more fun to listen to you play the piano.â
You smiled brightly, intertwining your fingers while Yoongi wore a half-smile. Without responding, he straightened up again, adopting the posture he had when you saw him through the glass of the door, before you interrupted his concentration. His fingers danced in the air for a few seconds, touching the notes in his head, recalling sound after sound, until the pressure on them gave way to a melody unknown to you.
It had to be a new piece, a new composition in his notebook. Yoongi played, calm and serene, focused and absorbed, letting the sound flow as if it came directly from nature.
Seeing Yoongi like this was⊠a strange event. Later, as time passed, you would think it was unbearable to have to see him everywhere, to hear his name around every corner, but at that moment you were lost in him, absorbing the sounds of his mind that his fingers materialized on the piano, allowing yourself to be carried away by the tide of his emotions, the way he conveyed so many words with his touches. The fast and slow notes, the change of tempo, all so meticulously created and organized to send a message, to describe an emotion, to paint a scene.
Yoongi was scared. Perhaps nervous, even. When he finished his piece, you could only look at him in awe, his shoulders moving a little faster due to the intensity with which he finished, keeping his head down, as if processing what he had just done. His fear was palpable, his hopelessness and unease.
âOppa?â
âI donât knowâŠâ he paused, dropping the lid over the keys and taking a calmer posture. âI donât know if Iâll do the right thing when I graduate.â
âWhy?â your brow furrowed, and you leaned forward in concern. âYouâve always talked about it. And you have a lot of talent, oppa, I know youâll make it.â
Yoongi gave a nearly pained smile, as if he understood something you had no idea about.
âJin is going to medical school.â
âI know. But itâs what heâs passionate about,â you moved closer to your friend, trying to give him some of the support he always gave you. âIsnât music what youâre passionate about?â
The black-haired boy frowned. The answer was clear in his eyes, in the way he played the piano until he was breathless, but the gestures of his doubts were there too: when his fingers trembled with anxiety, his eyes gaining more shine as the seconds passed.
âOppa,â you called, trying to break the silence, trying to prevent his thoughts from eating him alive. âIf itâs what you love, youâll succeed. Iâm sure of that.â
You saw how the haze in his eyes disappeared, his features relaxing at least a little.
âI probably only have your support. Iâll have to rely on that.â
His small smile constricted your heart. In that moment, you didnât know what you could do to show him that it was enough, but you were also unaware of the reality that his words held. It was probably due to your age, the age difference with Yoongi, but you couldnât shake the feeling that he would never be completely satisfied with that. You wondered if it was about you, just for a second, recalling the way he smiled when some of the other boys gave him words of encouragement.
Maybe he was just more vulnerable with you than with the others, but a thirteen-year-old's reasoning didn't go that far.
With your foolish conclusion, you came home that day with a heavy heart.
-
Speaking of loose ends and unresolved issues, there were some specific people who deserved to take home the award and the crown for the most intrigue of the century. Because when you entered Choi Dohyun's office, with Seojun and Yuna on either side, even knowing that there were things still pending answers and others you could barely understand, the last thing you expected was for those you werenât even aware of to suddenly materialize, like a kick to the stomach.
But keeping your head high and your composure was something you had lacked the last time, and thus, against all odds, your face showed no emotion when you caught a glimpse of Min Yoongi storming out of the office looking angry, not even when his eyes moved towards your figure and his wires crossed for a millisecond, betraying his movements. The sound of his shoes against the floor didnât even distract you, keeping your gaze fixed on the man who appeared behind the door, with a huge smile on his face and eyes that screamed that signing this contract might take more from you than it would give.
Min Yoongi flanked you, a nearly imperceptible gasp of surprise escaping him as you passed by his side, not even giving him a glance of acknowledgment over your shoulder, as if he were less than a mere insignificant dust particle, and he collected himself as best he could to keep walking, ignoring the astonished looks your companions shot him.
You flashed the biggest smile, a feeling of anger settling deep in your stomach, and you shook hands with Choi Dohyun, who was cheerfully introducing himself with a voice an octave higher than usual.
You didnât miss the way he shot a glance down the hallway, where Min Yoongi should have been disappearing, and the bitter sensation in your throat intensified.
âWell, donât take it the wrong way, Iâm very happy because we finally have this,â Yuna beamed, raising the envelope with the contract as if it were her most cherished possession, just as they exited the large publishing house and the cool afternoon air greeted them, âbut did we just see the damn Min Yoongi leave that office?â
You simply sighed, feeling the tension radiate from your brotherâs body, who hadnât separated from you since the moment you were ushered away by Choi Dohyun's secretary.
âThat was⊠wow. I donât even have words.â
Seojun rolled his eyes, and you had to suppress the urge to pinch his side when Yuna turned to look at you with the envelope in her hands while you all waited to see your fatherâs blue car navigate the avenue.
âDo you think⊠this means weâll have more opportunities to meet the seven gods of Olympus than most people?â
Her smile made you feel nauseous, but out of her ignorance, you could do nothing but try to mimic it. Seojun, on the other hand, was making nothing but irritated faces.
âMaybe, if you work harder.â
Yuna let out another squeal of excitement, and you took a deep breath when she turned around to look at the cars again. Seojun wrapped his arm around yours, glaring at anyone who came too close, even by accident.
Your friend kept murmuring in disbelief, and all you could think was that she was probably holding in her hands the worst decision you had ever made.
-
Whatever the reason for your encounter with Min Yoongi, you had deduced that your bad luck came down to being out of the house. Putting a foot outside the holy altar of your home was proving lethal for your emotional stability, so you spent the rest of the day locked up, managing your social media and overseeing deliveries.
Dohyun had agreed that the publishing house would handle the entire printing, packaging, and shipping process of the books, as purchases were only growing with each passing day. His real offer was to leave you with nothing to do but continue planning your stories, because at that moment, you were a goldmine for him.
âUnbelievable! Jung Hoseok revealed the truth behind the distancing of the Korean entertainment dynasty.â
The voice coming from Yunaâs phone caught your attention. You lifted your head from the blank document on your computer screen, glancing sideways at your friend, who was comfortably sprawled on your bed with a furrowed brow and a conflicted expression, as intrigued as she was worried about what she had just heard.
âThese past few days have been tough for the kings of entertainment, as the last public sighting of them was over a week ago when Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Jeon Jungkook left the businessmanâs building and enthusiastically greeted all their fans. As good followers, we know itâs too strange not to see them often, and the last time this happened was when Jung Hoseok had the accident that prevented him from continuing to play professional tennis.â
Yuna looked intensely focused, biting her nail and awaiting the climax of the video. You couldnât help but roll your eyes, but you couldnât deny you were a bit curious about what news they would share, knowing that the boys werenât ones to openly discuss their private matters.
âWith their reputations at stake and rumors flying back and forth [how exaggerated], Jung Hoseok had to come out to clarify the situation. His official statement, which was informally published on the famous app Whotalks, said: âWeâre all fine. Please be patient with us.â Whether his statement implies misunderstandings among friends that are in the process of being resolved or if we should wait for an official statement from their leader, weâre not sure. But itâs concerning theââ
âWhy would they make such a big deal about this if they arenât even sure what that post implies?â
Yuna paused the video, giving you a confused look, surely thinking you were immersed in whatever you were doing on the computer (nothing), too busy to pay attention to these âinsignificances,â as you used to say.
âY/N, you really have no idea of the magnitude of power these men hold over the entertainment industry. With a snap of their fingers, they could shake everything.â
âAnd why did they get so much power?â
âThey earned it. Through their hard work.â
You couldnât help the huff that escaped you. You didnât find what Yuna had said funny because it was true; they had worked incredibly hard to achieve what they had at that moment. At least you knew that their beginnings had been humble. But it annoyed you, inevitably, because you couldnât control the resentment shaking in your chest. Healing my ass, you hadnât forgotten anything from the last few years, no matter how much you wanted to convince yourself otherwise. So much effort to force them out of your life, only for them to find a way to disrupt it again in a week as if they had some right.
What a bunch of audaciousâ
âOh. A message came in.â
Your friend sat up on the bed, and you sent her a confused look.
âMessages come in every second, Yuna.â
âItâs from a verified account.â
Without lifting her gaze in your direction, you froze in your chair.
âOhââ
Oh no.
âNo fucking wayââ Yuna stood up in the bed, exclaiming loudly: âKim Taehyung is in your DM's!â
âTell him to go to hell.â
â¿¿Huh??â
The words slipped out before you could think twice. From the tense way the words left your mouth, you could tell Yuna was torn between asking more or simply contradicting you. Her eyes moved from the screen to your face, her fingers moving almost imperceptibly over the device.
âYou know, every time you make it harder to understand whatâs going on with these people.â
Finally, she locked her phone and dropped it on one of your pillows. You had never been a fan; your friend understood that. She had never questioned you about it⊠except for that random afternoon in this same room when she asked too many questions, but after the encounter with Yoongi that afternoon, you wondered what moment or what would need to happen for her to stop believing that it was just a matter of taste differences and for you to have to tell her the truth.
Before everything that happened a week ago, you had never considered it necessary to talk about it because so much time had passed, and you believed you were at a point where things related to them really didnât affect you anymore, nor would you ever have to interact with them again to warrant giving your friend a statement. But of course, things were different now, and emotions would continue to clash with one another, and you hated to think that their attitudes meant they were trying to return to your life, or at least get involved to some extent, which would imply, strongly, that you would have to tell Yuna what had happened.
âHave you ever thought that you might have run into him if you had gone to the convention?â
âYeah...â you sighed in defeat. It was impossible not to consider that alternative, how things might have turned out. If you would still have this overwhelming resentment in your chest or if they would have carved their way back into your heart once more.
The foolish you at eighteen would be thrilled right now.
âAnd even with that doubt... donât you have even a little curiosity about what he says?â
You preferred not to, to be honest. You would rather just rip out every memory from your head with tweezers to be able to return to a semi-normal life, where your biggest worry should be saving enough for a trip and not when those damn lunatics were going to leave you alone.
But you found yourself stretching out your arm to take the phone when Yuna handed it to you, a grimace of insecurity settling on your face.
âIâm not going to ask,â Yuna spoke, and you sent her a glance just as she turned on the bed and took her own phone to continue watching her celebrity gossip. âIâm not going to pressure you.â
You didnât respond. You lowered your gaze to the device in your hands, feeling a mix of relief and bitterness. Well, at least she had given you the opportunity to worry about that later.
The screen lit up, and there it was. A new message from Kim Taehyung.
thv
Hi. Itâs Jimin.
Huh?
You
?
The read notification arrived almost instantly after you replied. With your brow furrowed, you watched the bubble appear from his side of the chat.
thv
Iâm sorry for writing from Taeâs account, but you blocked me
Ah. Ah. Right.
After receiving the notification that Jungkook had followed you a few days ago, and especially because he had shown up at your work out of nowhere short after that, you had blocked everyone else with an Instagram account, just to be safe.
A small detail.
You
Oh, yeah
That Jimin was trying to contact you, considering the context of the whole situation, wasnât too outrageous. When you studied together, apart from being the first to start teasing others and fostering friendly banter, he was also the first to try to fix things because he couldnât stand hostile and tense environments. Itâs not that you thought he had a chance to fix anything now, but maybe you were a little interested in what he had to say. After several days, it was inevitable not to feel curious, right?
After the bubble appeared and disappeared several times, the message finally arrived.
thv
Do you think we could talk in person?
You
No.
thv
I promise it'll just be me
You
No.
thv
It can be anywhere you choose
You
I said no
If you have something to say, write it
If you donât have anything interesting to say, then Iâm going to block this account too
thv
No
Wait
Okay.
The sound of Yunaâs phone had faded into the background of your mind. You kept your eyes on the typing bubble, fearing that maybe Jimin would change his mind and decide not to respond to the questions swirling in your head. Now that he was being so persistent, you were more eager to know. I mean, it was the least you deserved, right? Some kind of answer, some kind of reason, a why. Something to explain everything, because the root of that growing resentment in your chest was due to their lack of communication, to their ease in discarding you like a worthless piece of paper, not even caring if the air swept you away or the rain destroyed you.
They owed you something, and you had the right to an answer. You could have moved on, yes; you thought you had, yes; living with resentment in your heart affected a personâs life, yes... but God would be the only living being on earth and in the universe who wouldnât feel even a pinch of pain for everything that had happened. For the inexplicable disappearance, for the disconnection, for the destruction of an incredible blind trust that was woven with that friendship you believed to be unconditional but ended up being one-sided. Who could really blame you for being cautious of them?
If when you cultivated that friendship, that friendly love, the fruits they returned to you were rotten, how could you simply trust? Who could?
thv
Iâm sorry for what happened. I know this was very abrupt, and it must have been strange for you
Strange, for lack of a better word. Strange was a euphemism.
thv
I apologize on behalf of everyone.
You
Iâm not interested
thv
If we could meet in person, I could explain better
You
Iâm not interested.
That wouldnât change anything.
thv
I know this goes beyond what happened this week, but I donât want you to have a bad impression
You
Youâre a damn audacious one, Jimin
Do you think itâs only the latest thing that would make me see you all negatively?
Is that the only thing youâve done?
Or well, what you havenât done either
thv
Okay, I expressed myself very poorly
I know we were already on bad terms before; I meant that I didnât want it to get worse
You
Well, honestly, I didnât think it could get worse until now.
thv
Iâm making it worse
You
Wow, apparently you do have awareness and common sense
For many years, I thought you lacked that
You blocked the phone, letting it drop onto the table, your heart racing because of the audacity that man had to refer to what had happened as if it were just a silly childhood memory, as if it had simply been a stupid basketball game where you werenât allowed to play. That only reinforced your thinking, the only plausible reason you had given life to over the past few years, the only explanation you had for their disappearance: that they never cared about you as much as you did about them; that you were never truly fundamental in their lives. Because, come on, they had built a friendship and shared memories before you appeared on the scene; they knew each other beforehand with a depth you could never reach, long before your name reached their ears. They had a connection; you were never ignorant of that; there was something in them that kept them united, something that made them understand each other almost on a spiritual level, and naively, you believed they had made you a part of it; that you had managed to be part of that connection.
But no, it was never like that. It was always one-sided. Whether you were a game, a case of charity, or someone they simply couldnât say no to, you had no idea, but none of those options felt too foreign to reality. Especially considering the way Jimin referred to the past as if it had been a child's game and nothing more. There was never more for them. You should've known that.
thv
Iâm really sorry, y/n
I truly wish I could talk to you in person
I promise I can explain many things
His messages shone on the lock screen, and more than feeling curious again, you felt rage. So now they could talk. Now they could fucking communicate. Where was that willingness ten years ago? Five years ago, even? You never thought you would see any of them so willing to offer you what you had longed for, maybe at least to finally bring closure to the whole situation.
But you didnât want to give them the right to become the victims in this situation. They had time to do something, yes, now you knew, and they simply chose not to; it was high time you really let it go. Let them go. What would an explanation fix now? When, if there was still something of the friendship you built, it should've crumbled to dust. Their willingness now meant nothing. If you ever saw any of them again, you would rather rip their hair out in a fit of rage.
You
Fuck you
Fuck all of you
And you blocked Taehyungâs account.
Anticipating any possibility, you also blocked Jungkook and hoped that would be the end of it.
Finally, you would try to seek true healing, because it was about damn time.
-
You
y/n, I'm so sorry
y/n?
y/n????????????????
Oh no. Taehyung's going to kill me.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â
Speaking of the king of Rome.
Park Jimin flinched, tightening his fingers around the phone he was holding, which clearly wasnât his, literally caught red-handed. He swallowed hard when his friendâs footsteps drew closer, circling around to face what he feared most.
âJimin...â Taehyung began, his confused expression turning into caution, quickly shifting his gaze between the phone and the wide-eyed blonde. âTell me you didnât do it.â
Jimin shrank even more, pursing his lips, realizing there was no escape. In his defense, he had fervently believed for a moment that he would succeed. Taehyung hadnât agreed from the start, especially given how angry Yoongi had been that afternoon when he arrived at the penthouse and how he had locked himself in Namjoonâs office, and the tone of their voices hadnât diminished for even a second, especially not when Jin arrived an hour later.
Taehyung and Jimin werenât sure what had happened, but considering the recent events, they could make an educated guess.
It all led back to you.
They were surely paying for what they did.
âI told you it was a terrible idea!â Taehyung strode closer and snatched the phone from Jiminâs tightly clenched hands. Jimin let out a defeated sigh, sinking back against the couch as Taehyung began to scroll through the messages, growls escaping his throat.
âI didnât think sheâd be so...â
Jimin hesitated, and when he turned to look at his friend, his furrowed brow silently asked, âare you serious?â
Another defeated sigh escaped him.
âYouâre not fixing anything. If Namjoon finds out about this...â
Taehyung didnât finish his sentence, but Jimin understood. But could any of them really blame him? Let he who is without sin cast the first stone! No one was a saint in that place when it came to you. At least he had the decency to try to explain things when the others just charged in as if nothing had ever happened (for now, Taehyung and Jungkook, simply because he still had no idea what had happened with Yoongi).
The problem, of course, was that Jimin was better at comforting someone in person than through messages.
âThere's no going back from this.â Taehyung murmured, still focused on the screen. The shine in his eyes gave Jimin an idea of what was going through his mind, and he remained silent until Taehyung looked up. âWe really messed up.â
âDid you need this reality check?â
âDid you?â Taehyung frowned. âI donât know why you expected a different response.â
âWell, what did you expect to happen doing what you did?â
Jimin watched his friend click his tongue.
âWhat did you expect me to do? I didnât think it would snowball like this.â Taehyung shook his head, and Jimin barely recalled with a shudder how the atmosphere had felt in the penthouse after Tae had posted that story about your books on his Instagram. âI just wanted...â
Once again, Taehyung chose to remain silent, but in his absence of words, Jimin understood.
To make up for it.
âObviously, Iâm not going to say anything,â Taehyung added, shooting a sideways glance at his blonde friend. âAfter whatever happened with Yoongi, I donât even want to imagine how Namjoon would react if he finds out about this.â
âIf he finds out what?â
Jimin and Taehyung froze on the couch, watching through the reflection of the TV as the person appeared behind them before they could recognize the friendly yet concerned tone.
Jung Hoseok circled the couch, clearly troubled by what he had just heard. It was evident he had just returned from practice because his hair was wet and he looked somewhat flustered, his cheeks flushed despite the chilly weather that night. He dropped his training bag on one of the armchairs, and Jimin averted his gaze when he caught his friend's eyes. It wasn't that they usually kept secrets and tiptoed around the others, but ever since Jungkook had pulled that stunt of searching for you at work when Namjoon had expressly forbidden it, the waters between them had been a bit tense, and any topic involving you could explode any healthy and cooperative conversation in seconds.
Hoseok crossed his arms, allowing his cheerful expression at finally arriving at the penthouse to fade completely, hardening his features as he shot a stern look at the two young men.
Taehyung also averted his gaze. The moment he heard Hoseok's voice, he tucked the phone between his legs and probably looked tenser than he should have. He, just like Jimin, didnât dare meet Hoseokâs eyes at that moment. Because Hobi had stopped at the door, and with whom they had in front of them, they couldn't hesitate. They both knew it, they both understood.
And Hoseok knew very well. He was aware of all the tricks the two shared and could sense from their silence that they were up to something. Besides, of course, their conversation had been overly revealing. They had to be thankful it was him who arrived in the midst of their confessions, and of course, he would demand to have a conversation of such gravity with such freedom.
But no, in that house, secrets were not kept.
âIf he finds out what?â Hoseok emphasized the words, urging the stubborn young men to keep their mouths shut.
Hoseok then exhaled through his nose in a sigh.
âIs it about y/n?â
Jimin and Taehyung lifted their gazes, a bit tempted but diverting their eyes as if pretending to be uninterested. While the atmosphere had been very tense lately, Hoseok and Jin had kept themselves somewhat distanced from all that unease, mainly because their demanding jobs kept them away from the penthouse most of the time. Namjoon, for his part, couldnât escape the topic as easily since he had an office at home, initially to monitor them in a healthy way, and now because he felt the need to keep an eye on each of them to prevent them from doing something stupid.
Yoongi... well, maybe he had tried to stay on the sidelines, but he had clearly failed miserably if he had ended up arguing with Namjoon and Jin.
âWhat did you guys do now?â
Hoseok's severe tone was chilling. Jimin remembered the times he had decided to participate in his dance classes, the few that he taught personally each month, and how he had felt Hoseokâs sharp gaze and his blunt comments about his steps in front of all the students. It was as if he became another person. Although it was terrifying, the two young men admitted it was refreshing to see him like that in the academy, because he had lost a bit of his spark since his accident. Before, he only looked that serene and committed when he was at his tennis practice.
At that moment, however, Jimin and Taehyung appeared more reluctant despite his severe attitude, because they didnât know if he would spill the beans to Namjoon afterward.
âAnd what happened with Yoongi?â
The slight softness in his tone made Jimin lift his head. Still with his arms crossed over his chest, Hoseok sat across from them at the table in the center of the room.
Jimin sighed, and Taehyung shot him an alarmed look. Are we really going to give in this quickly?!
âWe donât know what happened with Yoongi. He just arrived in the afternoon, locked himself in the office with Namjoon, and they wouldnât stop arguing. Then Jin came in, but that didnât make them stop.â
Hoseok looked up, scanning the hallway. Now the house was silent, perhaps more grave and tense than usual. Hoseok didnât know how it had come to this and hadnât sensed that atmosphere immediately.
âIs Jin here?â
âI think heâs in his room,â Taehyung replied, shifting on the couch. âHe stormed out of the office a while ago.â
Hoseok grimaced at the mere thought, causing a shiver.
âThen it is about y/n.â
Jimin and Taehyung once again averted their gazes.
âOh, come on.â Hoseok uncrossed his arms, more frustrated than angry at that moment for not being able to fully understand what was causing so many arguments among his friends. âIâm not going to go talk to Namjoon later, regardless of what you tell me. I just want to understand.â
The two young men exchanged a glance, Hoseok believed, communicating mentally. It was always strange but interesting how those two could understand each other at such a level that often they didnât even need a look. They could support each other's ideas without overthinking it, just like they were doing at that moment in front of him, and Hoseok couldnât help but think that this topic could cause them more harm than they realized. That these two were even hesitant to share something with him now, fearing to do so, considering whom they could trust or not, spoke volumes about how this issue was being handled and it was not healthy at all.
Hoseok didnât know that Namjoon had been arguing. The only time he had talked about that topic with the others was when Jungkookâs incident happened, because by crossing such a clear and blatant line, Namjoon saw the need to have a group meeting to set some ground rules. But whatever had continued to happen that he was unaware of was creating cracks in the trust of all the members, and that didnât sit well with him at all.
âI wrote to her on Taehyungâs Instagram,â Jimin began, looking down with his hands intertwined on his legs. âAnd I might have made things a lot worse...â
âMight have?â Taehyung turned to look at the blonde, who barely raised his head to meet his gaze before Hoseok interrupted.
âAnd what did you say to her?â
Jimin pressed his lips together. âI asked if we could meet in person, and when she said no, I just tried to apologize for everything.â
âDonât forget that you proceeded to carry out a rather undisguised gaslighting.â Taehyung added.
âI didnât manipulate her!â
âYou spoke to her as if everything that happened didnât matter at all!â
âThatâs not how it was! I just expressed myself very poorly,â Jimin exclaimed, facing Taehyungâs accusations, who remained with his arms crossed and chin raised, clearly in disagreement with him. âYou, more than anyone, know that I donât communicate well through text.â
âBecause you overthink everything. You didnât even need to text her in the first place. I told you it was a terrible idea. Now she hates us even more!â
âDid she say that?â Hoseok intervened.
Taehyung gave him a disbelieving look.
âAnd I quote: fuck all of you.â
Hoseok took a deep breath, trying to process the situation. Taehyung looked angry, and Jimin appeared offended that Taehyung was so upset about what he had done, in addition to misrepresenting his words, if Hoseok understood correctly. But the brown-haired guy had a point: it had indeed been a terrible idea, and Namjoon would lose all his hair if he found out. He understood Jiminâs motivation for trying to reach out, but Hoseok felt Jimin had lost some tact in the process by approaching you just to find a quick solution. Clearly, the atmosphere in the penthouse was affecting everyone, and not in a good way. He couldnât judge or blame Jimin for trying to lighten the situation for both parties, even if he could have approached it differently.
So Hoseok sighed, understanding the magnitude of the problem they had, and turned to the two young men who were now looking at him attentively, after recently avoiding his gaze as if their lives depended on it.
âHow did you think you were going to meet her with the level of fame you have?â
Hoseok knew Jimin had acted on impulse, and perhaps addressing the underlying reasoning would make him think better next time, if there was one.
Jimin opened his lips slightly, confused.
âI... I donât know, but I would've found a way.â
Taehyung scoffed. That would have been impossible because, surely, only after Jungkook, Jimin was one of the most recognizable faces in the industry and, therefore, couldnât walk freely down the streets without having a horde of fans behind him within seconds. If, for some divine reason, you had agreed to meet with Jimin, then he would have exposed you too much to the public eye and you would have had more problems before getting any answers.
âThereâs no way, Jimin.â Hoseok spoke, as the blonde shot a fierce look at his brown-haired companion. âWeâre no longer in a small town.â
The two young men turned to the elder, putting their silly squabbles aside. A feeling of nostalgia and longing filled the air, embracing them and bringing to the surface poorly buried memories in the gardens of their minds; the gusts of Hoseokâs words uncovered them easily.
âWe canât afford that luxury now. We lost the opportunity a long time ago.â Hoseok reminded them, with a hint of discord in his voice.
Taehyung hated remembering those times. Having had his hands tied, sealing his mouth voluntarily, believing he had no other option... it completely sickened him. For a long time, regret had physically drained him.
âI wonât talk to Namjoon, donât worry.â Hoseok assured them, and although the two young men should've breathed with relief, the truth was that they already felt too shaken. âBut be more careful about where you talk about these things.â
âWhat things?â
âFuck!â
Taehyung jumped off the couch when the voice came from his right, being the closest to the source. The three friends turned to see Yoongi, walking down the hallway from his room to the main living area of the penthouse.
âAre you guys sharing secrets?â
Instead of being scared, Jimin and Taehyung fell back onto the couch, letting out an exhausted breath. Yoongi shot a confused look at Hoseok, who returned it with a more severe expression.
âCome here, Yoongi. We need to talk.â
-
i hope you guys enjoyed! and thanks to my friend for helping my unresponsive overworked ass.
[Friend: I don't know if the tags worked. I'm sorry!]
tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi
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COUGH COUGH NEEDING IDEAS??
AM I SUMMONED???
anonymous letters from Robin. she never goes out of anonymous since she doesnât do this often and doesnât know how you would think.
then the next day she approaches you, asking about what secret letter you have in hand like she didnât sneak those into your bag herself :3
Bonus if you tell her anonymous letters arenât really your thing then just never read it LMFAO
Anyways just need to go back to doing work đ€§
~ đ·
~ omg we're going back to the LOSER ROBIN AGENDA guys .. in my head the most loser coded IN SECRET is robin (mostly because i love her and im very much attracted to loser coded women even though i am one myself)
making this a high school/college au :] ~
ââ ââ
ââ
â ââââ ââ
ââ
â ââââ ââ
ââ
â ââââ ââ
ââ
â ââââ
‷ she thinks she's being soooo slick
‷ robin is your typical popular girl- gorgeous looks and incredible smile and the kindest soul you've ever met. every guy thinks they have a chance with her, and she just laughs at them because we all know what she is
‷ one day, she sits down next to you in the lecture hall for some fucking reason and you're just like. Okay? Um. Wow.
‷ You did not focus that entire lecture btw u were focusing on trying to act normal and okay and totally not freaking out that your long term crush was sitting next to you in all her glory
‷ that evening back at your dorm, you found an odd letter in your bag. no sender name, nothing. just a blank envelope.
‷ lowkey creeped out so you threw it out
‷the next day however...
You really didn't expect her to sit next to you again- you spent all of last night rationalising to yourself WHY she would choose to sit next to you of all people. The lecture hall had been quite full at that point, maybe that's why she sat next to you? Maybe her friends just didn't want to go to the 9am lecture, that also made sense. Yeah. That's probably why.
Throwing your bag down on the ground as you collapse into the uncomfortable lecture hall chairs, you sigh in exhaustion. These 9am lectures were really starting to get to you and you're struggling to keep your eyes open as you take a drink of your coffee.
"Hey."
You look up tiredly, only to widen your eyes in shock when you see Robin, once again, standing next to you.
"Can I sit here?"
She sounds awfully nervous, barely looking at you and you just nod in confusion and she smiles at you and you want to squeal. She sits down, body tense as she awkwardly pulls out her iPad and whatever else she needs for the lecture. You wonder why she's acting so off.
"Everything okay?"
Robin freezes, a light pink dusting her cheek as she nods awkwardly.
"Splendid. I mean- I meant great, who says splendid anymore... Jesus..."
You just eye her oddly as she turns redder, mumbling awkwardly to herself.
The entire lecture was the most awkward experience of your life. Robin would not stop side eyeing you and a part of you began to panic- did she find out about your crush on her? Is that why she's acting so weird around you? But why the fuck is she still sitting next to you then? Oh god, you need to avoid her forever from now on. The second the lecture ended, you ran out of that damned hall before Robin even had a chance to open her mouth, your bag already packed 5 minutes before the professor even ended. You missed the way she stares dejectedly at you, a crushed look in her eyes.
She thought you read her letter and hated her.
You thought she found out you were in love with her.
Robin refused for you to end things like that though. In the middle of the goddamn fucking night, as you were studying, a knock on your door.
"What the fuck..." You mumble tiredly, throwing down your pen and walking over to the door to check through the peephole whoever the fuck it would be bothering you at night "March, if it's you I-"
The rest of the sentence dies in your throat, throwing open the door frantically.
"Robin!?"
There she stood, eyes red from tears, sniffling as she hugs her jacket close to her body.
"What the fuck- it's almost 12am! What are you doing?"
"If you don't feel the same way, why don't you just tell me!"
"What??"
You take her hand, pulling you into her room and you miss the way her cheeks flush at the contact and her wings flutter slightly as you slam the door shut.
"What are you talking about?"
"If you don't like me that way, you should just tell me instead of hiding like a coward!" She sniffles
What.
You stare at her, eyes wide and mouth agape and in other circumstances, Robin would've probably laughed.
"What?"
"Don't act dense!"
"What are you talking about??"
Robin groans in frustration, angrily wiping her tears away.
"The letter!"
"Huh?"
"The- what? Did you not read it?" Robin's angry gaze falters when she takes in the full extent of your confusion, and you tilt your head to the side like a lost puppy.
"Wh- that was you??"
"You didn't READ IT?"
"Why would I read a letter addressed to no one."
You two just kind of stare at each other, uncomfortable silence filling the room as Robin begins to flush from embarrassment.
"Wait, so why were you acting weird when the lecture ended?"
Now it was your turn to flush from embarrassment.
"Don't change the subject! What was so important about that letter?"
"You're literally changing the subject as we speak- why were you acting so fucking weird?"
You cleared your throat, crossing your arms in frustration as you awkwardly stared to the side.
Fuck it.
"I thought you found out I had a crush on you and that's why you were acting so weird and awkward around me this morning I'm really sorry we never have to talk about this ever again." You say in one breath as you stare down at your shoes, mumbling quietly.
Silence. She's probably going to storm off any minute now, she'll tell everyone you're a weird lesbian freak, and-
You gasp when you feel a tug down on your collar, and before you know it she has her lips on yours and her hand on your cheek. You sort of just stand there at first, frozen and not knowing what to do.
"Oh no, was that too much? I'm sorry-"
"Huh..."
You just stare at her, dazed as you move your hand up to gently touch your lips and Robin practically melts on the spot.
"I like you too, you dumbass. You would've known if you didn't throw the letter away! Why would you throw a letter away, what if it was something important like-"
"Can you kiss me again?"
That managed to shut Robin up as she turns red again, a shy look forming on her face before stepping close to you, tiptoeing slightly as she places a hand on the back of your neck before kissing you softly and in that moment you really regretted throwing the stupid letter away- but hey, she's kissing you and you're smiling like a kid in a candy store. Can't complain.
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