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wwilloww · 3 years ago

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sh. | ot7 | chapter ten

PAIRING ot7 x reader

RATING Explicit. 18+.

GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers.

SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no?

WC 6k

WARNINGS AND TAGS no reference to reader with pronouns. navigation of consent. yn wears a dress. mentions of bts being larger than the reader.

← || series m.list || →

AN: Hey, do you know @madseok and @calixwrites and @thatlongspringnight? because you should. because they're the literal best. writing this chapter was a bit of a several-weeks nightmare and yet these folks stepped in and helped my sanity and my creativity and this chapter. i am so so grateful for them. so much is happening with nanowrimo in this story and they're keepin me on track. pls give them a hug if you see them.

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

CHAPTER TEN: PLUMS IN OCTOBER

There’s nothing quite like waking up the night after a good cry. It has a kind of crystal clarity to it. Your lungs ache a little, your eyes are swollen, but you feel cleared out. Like your chest has been mopped and dusted and whatever’s left, well, it feels ready for the day.

The window is still open, spilling too-cool air into the room and you pull the down blankets up to your chin, rolling over, swollen eyes still sleepily closed, hand reaching out, hoping to find a body, hoping—

The window is still open. Your eyes shoot wide as the events of last night come flooding back.

The warmth of his body. The way you had fit into all of his nooks and cracks. His lips, blooming like spring’s first cherry blossoms upon your skin.

That thin line between dream and reality still wavers before you, grey and unclear. What from last night had been nothing more than the workings of your mind? And more frightfully, what had been his own doing? In the dark, it was harder to tell. Your name, sung from his lips? His hands wrapped around you like he couldn’t bear to let you go? Your lips, pressed to his neck—well, horribly unfortunately, you were very sure that that did happen. In the daylight, your face warms in embarrassment at the memory.

Snatching your hand away from the other side of the bed, you’re relieved to find it empty and surprised by the pang of longing that strikes you at the realization. Would you rather be alone, or embarrassed? You’re not sure.

Heart all a-ache, you clamber out of bed and get dressed, pulling on a comfortable flannel over a pair of leggings. The scent of breakfast is already wafting underneath the closed door, and, stomach grumbling, you make your way out of the room only to bump into a very firm body.

“Oh!”

Jimin turns around, already dressed and ready for the day.

“Jimin. Were you waiting for me?”

“Yeah,” he grins.

“Is this kind of meeting going to become regular?”

“I don’t know, do you want it to?”

You smile, reach for him, hands winding around his waist. So close, it’s hard to deny the warmth radiating out from between your bodies. He pulls you tight against his chest, threading his fingers between yours, and the two of you just stand there, smiling a little sleepily at one another before he speaks:

“I’m going to kiss you. You know, as a good morning.”

His lips are dangerously close. “Uh-huh, sure. A good morning.”

He kisses you lightly, like he’s not in any rush to get anywhere, like he’s got nothing planned for the rest of the day except to kiss you. One of his hands winds its way to your cheek, cupping it gently. The kiss is a soft, wandering thing.

“Good morning,” he says against your lips.

“Good morning,” you reply breathily.

Softness though, quickly becomes heat as he slips his tongue between your lips and maneuvers you against the closed bedroom door. His hips press into yours, grinding against you. It’s heated, needy. You respond with your fingers drawing down his back. Searching for skin, you untuck his button down from his pants and skate your fingers along the warmth of his hips. You think he might even fuck you, right outside your bedroom, if you let him, fast and desperate. It’s like second nature to imagine him breathing hard against your neck as he fucks into you, imagine him coming and it dripping down your—

Your name sounds from the end of the hallway. And then: “Jimin? Is that you?”

“Shit, shit, shit,” you curse, your hand fumbling for the doorknob behind you as you press down and tumble with Jimin into the bedroom. You slam the door behind you as footsteps ring down the hallways, ever nearing. In a frenzy, you attempt to straighten yourselves out. Jimin chuckles as he watches you frantically try to compose yourself, tugging your clothes back into place.

“It’s Hoseok,” Jimin says, just as the door opens and the man himself walks in. His gaze flickers between the two of you, your bedhead, Jimin’s half untucked button-down shirt.

“Morning, Jimin.”

“Morning Hobi,” Jimin says, already reaching for the door ready to slip out. “See you at breakfast.” You throw him a meaningful glare as he disappears into the hallway.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok asks, stepping closer. “Your lip—” Before you know what’s happening, he reaches out for you, and traces his thumb over your swollen lower lip. “What happened?” In his voice, there’s an edge of curiosity, of trepidation.

Instead of answering, you find yourself staring up at him. A thick lock of dark hair falls into his eyes, and he blinks, but, too focused on gliding his rather large thumb against the soft flesh of your mouth, doesn’t brush it away. But you do, reaching for him and tucking the piece of hair tenderly behind his ear again. And there’s that thing again.

Clear and crystal cold, like the wind sweeping in through the open window. Striking right through your chest, while your fingers trace the shell of his ear and his thumb presses into the corner of your lip.

Your breath shudders to life, and as it sweeps over his hand, he seems to blink back to reality, and with a nervous chuckle, slips his hand away from your mouth.

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “Forgot myself there for a moment.”

“’s okay, nothing to apologize for,” you breathe. And you mean it. You don’t want him to apologize for any of it.

You two are still standing so close.

“Breakfast?”

“Breakfast, yeah,” you chuckle, and the tension breaks. He smiles that familiar smile and leads you out of the bedroom.

As your nose fills with the smell of kartoffelpuffer and roasted chestnuts, the phrase echoes in your mind: forgot myself. Funny enough, you feel more yourself than you have in months, despite the soft, confusing glow that’s now taken up residence in your chest. Hoseok sits close to you at breakfast, and at some point, his arm is swung across the back of your chair. As Jimin chatters about a dream he had—something about camping in the forest to awaken to an empty lake—you let yourself lean against Hobi’s arm. He smiles down at you when you do, grinning like you’ve just made his day, and you warm beneath his gaze. When you turn your attention back to Jimin and his dream, you almost think Hoseok’s fingers brush against the back of your neck.

But it can’t be.

It feels too normal. It feels too right. To have him there, touching you like that. When you glance up at him, he’s looking down at you, a smile quirking in the corner of his mouth.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

It doesn’t feel like nothing.

When his gaze shifts across the table, you follow it.

Jin is leaning back in his chair, a slow, late morning smile spreading across his face. One of his hands is on Tae’s thigh, who is chatting eagerly and enthusiastically with Jimin, but your attention is anywhere but there. Instead, it’s on Jin’s mouth.

Jin bites into a ripe plum—is it even plum season anymore?—and the juice spills out from his mouth, dribbling down one corner while a particularly large drop glides over the crest of his lip before slipping down to his chin. His tongue darts out to collect the purpling juice, but he’s too late, the plum bead is already trailing down his neck, a kind of dark stain on his skin.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, you curse, What the fuck is up with these men today?

It’s then that he catches your gaze.

“Still hungry?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“V-very full, um but—Where’d you get that?” you stammer. It’s long past season for ripe plums.

“The tree. In the backyard.”

Curious, you stand from the table, your curiosity winning out over your desire to stay glued to Hobi’s side, and drift to the broad window that looks over the backyard. Sure enough, among the golden and bare trees stands a fully fruiting plum tree.

“How strange,” you murmur. “A plum, in October.”

Breakfast breaks, and you’re nearly ecstatic to hear that it’s not your turn to do dishes. The rest of the day stretches out before you, empty and impending.

Tonight is the night you all decide where your relationship is going.

Over breakfast, Jimin had suggested that you all dress up for dinner tonight, something that everyone hastily agreed to, as it had been a while since you all had done something of the sort. Back before you had all been separated, every once in a while you, as a group, would dress to the nines and hit the town, always deciding on a fraudulent event to celebrate: a 50th wedding anniversary, a nobel prize, a belated middle school graduation. Dazzling and decadently dressed, any stranger who came across your party would be convinced within minutes by a chirpy Jungkook and serious Jin of the notoriety of the night. The frequency of these events lead to you all being prepared to dress to the stars at the drop of a hat. However, those nights feel like eons ago.

Now, though, a significant part of you feels as though all of you are speeding towards imminent doom. At least you’ll be doing so in style, you think wryly.

You decide to take the day to yourself, avoiding the boys’ invitations to go kayaking and rockclimbing and the like, instead insisting on getting some much-needed quiet time.

That doesn’t last long though, because it seems like every corner you turn in the house, another beautiful man is waiting, taking up space, making you think wildly improper things:

Taehyung, emerging from the heated pool in the backyard. The water drips off of his body, and you swear time has slowed to slow motion. Droplets roll down the tight muscle of his torso and he shakes out his long, wet hair in a kind of doggish motion. There’s something wildly youthful about him these days, you think as you watch from the window. A kind of youth that has little to do with age and more to do with an unhinged kind of freedom.

Yoongi, you find half clothed and finally ghosting the hallways, long after breakfast has been finished. Somehow in his sleepy state, his soft aura and hard edge blend intoxicatingly well together. He sends you a wink when he finds you staring a little too long.

Jin, all over the house, eating very drippy fruit. It seems to be a brand. A really fucking well-suited brand.

The day passes quickly. Too quickly. You want to cling to time, ask it to hold back, and you do your best to do so, scrolling through your phone and flipping through random books in the library.

But soon the sky is darkening and the house becomes quiet as everyone begins to get ready for dinner and the looming conversation. As you’re making your way back to your room to try to scramble something from your pile of sweatpants and sweaters that might look a little bit nice, you stumble across a small reading nook, inhabited by your roommate. You poke your head in.

Namjoon is sprawled elegantly across the window seat that overlooks the back of the house. Framed against the dramatic mountains, he looks the picture of the intellectual mountain man, a book propped up in his hands, the valleys behind him caked in sunset.

When he goes to turn the page, he brings the pad of his thumb to his lips. Pink tongue darts out to wet the tip, before he presses it to the corner of the page with such precision and care that you too, find yourself wetting your lips.

He notices your gaze.

“Hm?” he hums your name. “Can I help you?”

Yes, you want to say. You can keep doing that absolute fucking sexy page turn thing.

“Nope, nah, all good,” you say a little too quickly.

“Oh?” he cocks an eyebrow and closes the book with a loud snap! “It seems like you’re thinking about something?” You shake your head, but he stands and moves towards you. “Perhaps, are you thinking about yesterday?” He knows you too well. You give in.

You nod.

His eyes darken as the two of you stare into one another. It’s the same look as yesterday: the steadiness of him, knowing in his desire. Like light in flight, flickering down from the trees onto you. It makes you feel like you’re bathing in something golden and rare.

His steps sound dully on the wooden floor as he approaches. You’ve been hovering against the doorway, watching him, so when he arrives before you, he slots himself in in the narrow frame, looking every inch the broad and dashing man that he is. His large hand grips the archway as he towers over you. Your back is pressed to the inside of the old wooden door now, and the two of you swing in a balance between the two rooms.

Everything says he’s going to kiss you. His lips are a little flushed. His lids, heavy. His breath, so, so close to weaving itself into yours. He says otherwise.

“I won’t kiss you. Not before all the dust settles. Doesn’t seem fair to the others. But I will do this.”

He reaches down and lifts your hand before flipping it over, palm facing up. Your breath shudders as he tenderly lifts your hand to his mouth and presses a full-lipped kiss to the middle of your palm. And then he lifts your hand a little higher, and kisses your wrist, right where the pulse is screaming through your veins.

Somehow him not kissing you where you want him to is even more thrilling, as your whole body buzzes with excitement. It’s like standing on the edge of a great height and looking down.

“Oh, please, Namjoon. Are you really going to deny me?” you tease, sure that his valiance will lose out against his desire.

He looks genuinely torn for a moment there, but he nods, sets his face into that of a perfect gentleman and says “Yes.”

Your heart is racing. “And I can’t do anything to convince you otherwise?”

With the softest of touches, he reaches for you, takes your chin in his hand, and runs his thumb across your cheekbone before tracing it over the shell of your ear. He takes you in for what feels like a long moment, and you know he is considering your offer. Considering what you might offer. Your heart ricochets in your chest.

“No,” he says finally, though it looks like it pains him.

Your heart thuds to a disappointed stop.

“Well,” you say, perking up, still trying to brush the electricity of his touch from the soft skin off your face. “If you’re going to deny me that, you might at least escort me to my chambers?”

“That I can do,” he smiles and takes your arm like he did yesterday. “Shall we tour the grounds?”

“Indeed, m’lord.”

He chuckles.

The two of you wander off down the hallway, leaving your books behind.

“Tell me,” you say. “Why isn’t it fair to the others that you kiss me?”

Namjoon laughs at your pout. “Well, I suppose. It feels like everything’s hanging in the balance of this question and maybe… well, maybe I lost a bit of my sense yesterday. Pushed things too far.”

“I didn’t think you pushed things too far, not at all,” you grin. And then more quietly. “Maybe I wouldn’t have minded if you pushed it a little bit further even.”

Namjoon coughs at the insinuation.

“Oh?”

“Mm,” you affirm.

When you look up at him, he’s got a bit of a smug smile on his face and you can’t help but stop the eager smile that slips across your lips. It’s good to see him like this.

“Can I expect you’ll be showing up in all your finest tonight?” Namjoon asks.

“Ah, well, if my finest is my best cable knit sweater and my favorite pair of leggings, then yes.”

“You mean you’re not dressing up?” He seems shocked.

“I forgot to pack my MET gala look,” you shrug.

“Unacceptable!” he cries, letting go of your arm. “It’s not tradition if you’re not in your finest—we’ll have to find you something.”

“What? You brought a full-on suit to the mountains?”

“Yes of course I brought a suit to the mountains,” Namjoon says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Most of the others did too.”

“Oh.” You suddenly feel strange showing up in a pair of sweatpants when all of your friends will be in tuxedos.

Namjoon notices. “But don’t you worry one bit. I’ll find you something to wear before tonight.” “My aunt has to have left some clothes somewhere. She was known for her parties, I bet I can find a boa and something sparkly somewhere.”

“You’ll pick something out for me?”

“I’ll pick something out for you,” he grins.

You warm at the thought of Namjoon picking something out just for you: him staring at colors and cuts and guessing what kind of thing you would look best in.

The two of you chatter as you wander around the many hallways of the house, before making your way back to your bedroom, your arm cradled in his elbow. It feels like the beginning of a new habit. One you like.

As you near the glass bridge, it strikes you that this may be the last moment together before everything changes. The last moment as a friend group that is merely a friend group.

You dare to look down at the edge of the bridge, and you find something that surprises you. Before, it was simply a rocky ravine. But a crystal clear stream trickles down through the rocks and trees. Had that been there before? Where it emerges from the rock, it looks like the mountain has cracked open and is spilling its innards to the world.

��Has that always been there?” you ask.

“Oh, uh, I—I don’t think so?” Namjoon murmurs, just as struck as you. “How strange.”

The dress Namjoon picked is stunning. Somehow, it fits you perfectly, and you say a small thank you to his aunt for the opportunity to wear something that looks, well, like a piece of art.

The dress blooms in red. Soft fabric falls like the new stream of water down your body, where it gathers at your hip before spilling down in a new cascade to the floor. Sleeves that at first felt too large to wear now perch at your shoulders, a semi-transparent poof that makes you feel like someone who’s just recently discovered they are royal.

You feel divine.

It’s been so long since you dressed up, and tonight, it feels like some kind of offering to a temperamental god.

Dressed, (well, mostly, the shoes Namjoon brought you were microscopically small) you wander out into the house, but no one is to be seen. You still have a little bit of time before dinner, and so when the urge pulls you, you follow.

The mountains, dressed in dusk, call.

You step outside, the cold biting through the warm fabric of the dress, the hiking boots you’ve donned, a stark contrast to the elegance of the outfit. You wander towards the edge of the kept yard to where one side of the slope drops off into the valley.

“Hi,” a dark voice murmurs from behind you.

“Hoseok,” you smile.

“It’s so formal when you speak to me like that,” he frowns.

“Hobi—” you correct.

“You’re beautiful—”

“Ah—”

“I mean, you look beautiful tonight.”

“And I don’t the other nights?” You raise a teasing eyebrow.

“No, of course, but—you look a different kind of beautiful tonight. By the way… last night. I’m sorry about last night,” Hoseok says quickly.

“Sorry?” you say. “No, no need to be sor—”

“I was dreaming,” he interrupts. “And forgot my place.”

Forgot my place.

You don’t know how to fit these words into your body.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, if you woke up and felt unsafe or worried or—”

“No, no, I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

Hoseok freezes and looks at you, scanning your face like he’s searching for something in particular.

“You—you weren’t?”

It’s like he’s puzzling language together. If you weren’t made uncomfortable by his entanglement in you, then you must—

You reach for his hand, taking it in yours and pulling him close to you.

“Hobi,” you say softly, “I couldn’t feel uncomfortable because—”

Jin’s voice breaks through the cold.

“Where the hell have you been? Everyone’s waiting!” He struts through the open door, waddling awkwardly in socked feet and a well fitted tuxedo. Of course he brought a tuxedo to the mountains. “Fuck,” he hisses, as the cold seeps through the thin fabric of his socks. His walk is only paused by the punching bag that hangs in the outdoor gym, throwing a half-hearted jab, before continuing his waddle towards you. He grabs both of your hands and tugs you towards the warmth already spilling out of the open door. “Inside, inside. We’re starving and impatient.”

Hoseok huffs.

“In more ways than one,” Jin winks.

Hoseok pulls his arm out from yours and your phone tumbles from your hand, rolling a little farther back. When he goes to turn around, you stop him, tell him, “I got it, I’ll be right behind you.”

Still, he bends down, picks it up for you, and slips it into your hand with a little pat.

“I’ll see you soon,” he smiles knowingly, and the pair disappears inside.

You take a long, last moment gazing at a distant summit, painted peach and purple as the sun sinks below the horizon of the mountains. Each day that passes, they feel more and more familiar. Like learning a new friend.

You’re not entirely sure why you need the extra space, but it calls for you, in the way that your chest is a little too tight, in the way that your breathing comes a little too quickly.

What are you feeling?

You wander slowly up to the house, taking your sweet time as you circle around the question. You slip inside, toeing off your boots and dropping your jacket on a nearby chair. From down the hallway, the boys’ voices echo, a soft ruckus of chatter and chuckles.

From down the hallway, you peer inside the dining room where all seven of them are sitting, Hobi is still getting settled in his big winter jacket. You smile as your eyes gaze over each of their faces, considering each one of them and the prospect that Yoongi has set before all of you.

Everyone should fuck.

And then Jimin’s words: There is enough mutual desire in this house to power an entire country. Had he really meant it? As the group confidant, you were sure he would be the one to hear about anything first, but, well, looking at them, you wonder if they too, feel a semblance of what you feel when you look over each of them:

Namjoon, and his sharp, all-seeing eyes: you want them all over you. That you might glimpse something new about the world, maybe even about yourself, in that warm brown. You want Yoongi, exquisite composer of moments, you want him, want to relish in his space of creation once more. Taehyung, well, he is old love, shaped new. And Jin, and his deep reserve of joy and unexpected wisdom. Jungkook, delightful Jungkook, sparkles with a springtime of youth and adventure. Jimin, designer of control, his emotional depth and precision of action inspires you. And, of course Hobi. What is it about Hobi? You don’t know how to put him to words. You only know that when your eyes lock with his, your heart clicks into some place deep and unknowable within—but your chest tightens at the thought.

Hobi is the unknowable. What you do know is this: You want them. You want them in more ways than one. But thinking about that starts you down a path that definitely screams run. Even if that voice that turns its back at the first sign of complication is becoming quieter these days, it still hums in your head. And tonight the hum is building to a fever pitch.

They look so comfortable, like they belong there together. Like no matter how the cards fell as each of you were given your lot in life, these seven men were meant to be in the same room with one another at some point, that a spark would fly, in any universe, timeline, or life. As you stand in the hallway, the distance between you and them widens.

Jungkook sits with his feet propped up in Taehyung’s lap, Hobi chuckles with Yoongi about something. Namjoon, Jin, and Jimin look at something on a phone. As you look at them joking around, your chest warms. Warms like there’s a wood fire, stoked too quickly to flame.

All at once, something shatters in your chest. As you reach for your own desire, it feels like everything you have worked for falls apart.

You want this, yes. You undeniably and irrevocably want this.

But you want them closer than sex too.

You want to fall asleep on their chests, in their clothes. You want to wake up in the morning with them curled around you. You want to fall into them at any given moment, wrapping around their backs in the kitchen, tackling them on a hike—all the things that you know and love about your friendship with them. But if you could, you want to ask for it to linger. You want the lingering, the hands tangling, the holding on even when you should have let go long ago.

You tell yourself that all it is, all you want is intimacy. Intimacy, after all these months of solitude. But something in your chest sings, more, it’s more.

It’s not just the sex, but you’re tripping over the unspoken words, it’s something about wanting them all closer, closer, closer. Closer than sex. What is the word?

The word is run.

Run, run, run.

Your breath quickens in your chest, gasps rising from the simmering fear in your gut. All at once, the formerly towering ceilings seem even farther away, and the spacious walls are creeping closer to you.

A thousand words sing emptily on your tongue as you look at them.

Your body makes the decision for you.

Out of the hallway, the boys’ voices drowned out by the pounding in your head, the hallways blurring past. Someone calls your name, but all you know is the door. Get to the door. You hurry to the front of the house, where your keys are still hanging from the wrought iron key rack where you left them that first day, and you snatch them up, the metal biting into the soft flesh of your palms with how tight you hold them.

But when you push open the heavy wooden entryway, the door flinging open behind you, your car is nowhere to be seen.

You had parked it there, right beneath the steps, in the gravel driveway. You were sure of it.

But there’s no car. There’s not even a driveway. Instead of gravel, at the bottom of the steps lies a thick carpet of small plants, wild grass, and fallen leaves. And rising before you like an ancient being, a dense wall of trees. Evergreens and oaks and aspens tangled so closely together.

In your red dress, you are but a small creature against the dark beast of the forest. Earlier, you had felt like an offering to a distant god. And now you know you are.

It’s as if the whole world has been swallowed up. There’s nothing there. No road. No cars. No little village waiting at the bottom of the valley. It’s just wilderness. The whole world, returned to what it must have once been: Dense, impenetrable wilderness.

Something between a sob and a gasp racks through your body and the keys you were holding so tightly drop to the steps beneath your feet.

At once, you feel it all. This deep, deep consuming fear. You want to push it away, but something urges you: look a little closer and suddenly you know. This whole time, you’ve been afraid of being found. Of being looked at. Of being seen.

But beneath that lies something else: a fear that the people you hold most dearly to you do not want to find you.

As if in answer to the churning of your insides, before you stretches the great unknown.

Darkness is threaded between the trees, and as if it were a pool of water, you see yourself reflected back in it. Small, impossibly small, lost in the mountains, and standing with your back to an open door.

So far away from what you know, if you were even to try to get back home, away from this, away from this burning, horrible, lovely beast in your chest—what would be waiting for you? A vacant apartment? An empty city? A silent world? The practice of life, the normalcy, the companionship? To go back is to go further from it. See: all of it is gone. Decimated in the rubble of the past. What you know, what you knew, that disappeared months ago, when the world around you dissolved.

The path you were walking has long since crumbled beneath your feet. For months now, you’ve been bushwhacking through the forest. And now, finally, you see it, standing golden before you. The choice was never between the known and the unknown. It was never a choice at all. The only way forwards was always into the unknown, into the empty sky, nothing but grey clouds swimming beside you.

And them. And them, beside you, a voice within reminds you.

It’s time to let the beast within you lead the way.

Where? You’re not sure. In this instance you know with your whole body: what you’re looking for is not back. It’s forward, somewhere in your future.

Your knees give out beneath you and you sink to the cold steps, fingers tangled in your sweater, arms wrapping tightly around your torso.

The truth is, there is no escape. The open door of the house marks what you already know: You’ve already been seen. But the fear is that if you turn around, no one will be there waiting for you.

Someone calls your name softly from behind you.

“Everyone is waiting. Are—are you okay?” It’s Yoongi and you shudder and wrap your arms tighter around your body. Your friend steps down before you and gingerly, reaches down to lift your face to his. “Oh.” When he sees you he plops right down beside you, pulling your arms apart and wrapping himself around you too. “You’re doing that thing again, aren’t you?”

You nod.

“I thought you were going to get in your car and leave.”

“I tried.”

“Huh?”

“It’s gone,” you motion to the forest spreading before you.

Yoongi looks between you and the spot where you swear you parked your car. “Metaphorically? ‘S right there?”

You both stare at each other in confusion, and it’s then that you realize. Yoongi doesn’t see the forest. Not like what you see.

But he sees the confusion on your face, and pulls you into his arms, his body wrapped around yours, protecting you from the cold, from the confusion, from it all.

And there, he says the thing he should have said months ago, while you were still wrapped in his arms and in his bed as the snow drifted down outside the frosted window: “You have to stop running.” His face is hard, but earnest, and when you feel the truth rising to your lips you let it past, into the space between you:

“What if I don’t know how?” It’s barely a whisper.

He grabs your hands, his long fingers lacing securely around your sweaty palms, and he squeezes them tightly, and it’s like a ship anchoring into a long-forgotten harbor. It’s not romantic, not sexy, not one bit—but it’s what you need.

“That’s okay. This, this doesn’t have to be something you need to know how to do. It’s more something you stumble into, and you give whatever you want to give it, and you hold onto your kindness, and then hope for the best.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Does that sound so difficult?”

“No.”

“And is it something you want?”

You look up at him, the unfallen tears still warm against your lashes when you blink. And you nod.

“Then there’s only one thing you have to do.”

“What’s that?”

“Speak your desire.” He nods, encouraging you.

You elbow him and he grunts. “That’s fucking cheesy.”

“I don’t know, man, what else do you want me to say? Fuck your friends? You don’t need my permission.”

“Okay fine.”

“You understand the sentiment.”

“I do.”

“So I mean it, speak it.”

He looks at you so hard, you think he might be able to read the words off your tongue without speaking them.

“I… want you. I want them.”

Yoongi slowly extricates himself from you, stands, and brushes his hands off his against his jeans. “Good. Then I’ll give you a moment and when you’re ready, come inside.”

You nod and watch him close the front door softly behind him with a gentle click.

Cupping the back of your head, you press your fingers into the skin at the nape of your neck, a nervous tic. The cold near-winter air slices through your lungs and you’re suddenly aware of just how pericing the chill is. That and—

At the edge of the forest, the sprawling forest that is still very much there, something white flutters in the grass, like a birdwing searching for flight.

A piece of paper.

You creep towards the looming woods, careful not to step beneath the shadow of the great being, and tug the paper from the grass. A postcard.

The mailbox is all the way up the steps, but the way the postcard is laying in the grass is almost like the house spit it out.

Your heart catches in your throat as you read the message scrawled hastily on the front.

I’ve made my decision. An opportunity like this doesn’t present itself often and I’m not going to let it pass, I’m not going to give up the chance to have you again. I can’t get you out of my head and I need you to know what I know.

All of a sudden it feels like your heart is going to eat straight through your chest, it gallops through you at a forbidden pace. Which of your boys wrote this? Which one—

You flip the card over. There, scribbled:

For my sunshine, from your Sora.

The trees feel like they’re looking at you. Like they lean closer. The house behind you, encouraging.

What you do next can only be described as marching. Hands clenched together, the postcard crumpled in your fist.

In the hallway, there’s a wastebin. You look at it for a long moment before deciding.

You toss the postcard away.

Something deep within you cracks open as the paper hits the bottom of the empty bin with the softest tap. You know you’re not supposed to be doing this. You know this is wrong. And yet you can’t bear any other reality.

Though reality seems rather shifty these days.

At the doorway, you take a deep breath. Something deep within you releases.

“Hi,” you say softly. It’s so quiet. And yet, seven pairs of dark eyes turn to look at you.

You squeeze your hand so tight that the nails pinch into your skin. Come on. But when your name slips from the lips of one of the men in the room with such softness, such care, that’s enough encouragement for you.

“I’m in.”

← || series m.list || →

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

🔆 if you enjoyed this, please consider telling me what you think by leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! i love chatting with you all!

🔆 want to read more stories?

#ot7 smut #sh.#namjoon smut #hoseok smut #bts smut #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #jimin roommates!au #nonidol!au #non idol au #bts x yn #bts x you #bts x reader #house of ddaeng #whalien 52

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

Text

JJK: Fictional Happiness

In which Jungkook, youngest of Kpop Group and werewolf Pack BTS, finds his mate at his own concert; just to learn that reality is nothing like the movies - and that not everyone is blindly after him and his name.

Tags/warnings: werewolf! AU if it wasn't obvious already lol, angst, there's so much angst Jesus, romantic kook, kinda selfish kook though, shy!reader, anxiety, medication mention, therapy mention, panic attacks, idol!Jungkook, slow burn, strangers to eventual friends to lovers/mates, insecurities, bad habits, kind of tsundere! Jk, Impatient kook, alpha!kook, omega!Reader, swearing, reader doesn't like him a lot at first just as a heads up, realistic approach- meaning she won't just fall head first right away like nuh-uh we're wearing seatbelts on this ride yall, smut in future chapters

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Previous || Next

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The job that he does has become more like a routine for him than anything else. He's used to it, knows what to expect, doesn't have any stage fright anymore like he did when he'd just started. It's all become normal, and yet, the adrenaline is all the same each night.

As Jimin and Jin chase each other on the stage, he has to laugh to himself; the playful banter between the 0ackmates amusing everyone around them as they almost tackle one another.

Growing up, all he's ever known was his pack.

Hes left his home and family behind at an early age to pursue his dream, but never could he'd ever imagined his life to turn out like this. And as he walks on stage with his mic in his hand, he feels like he's home- at least at first he does.

It's not as hot outside as yesterday, he notices as he walks onto the stage.

And yet, he feels itchy; like his clothes don't fit, like his skin is suffocating. It's frustrating, and it makes it hard to concentrate, as he tries to shrug it off. He walks around, unable to stand still, and its a bit easier at the right corner of the stage. It doesn't feel as stuffy here, he thinks, as he decides to just stay there.

He doesn't spot you until the wind manages to blow your scent straight towards him.

It hits him all at once, that feeling, that suddenly craving, as if he's missing something so terribly bad that he wants to curl up and cry- but at the same time he's restless because where are you?

And then he spots you; right there, near the front, with those big sparkling eyes of yours, and his inner alpha won't shut up again as he spots you too.

>>There she is. Looks at her- she's perfect, isn't she? I knew we'd find her.<<

And jungkook can't help but agree. You're absolutely stunning, even though he can see you're wearing barely any makeup at all, and your choice of clothing is set on comfort instead of style. But it all fits so well into what he'd always wanted in a mate- and the fact that you're a fan makes it all the better for him. Because that means, he's not going to have to work for it much- you're basically already his, aren't you?

At least he thinks so, because, who wouldn't want to be Golden Maknae Jungkook's mate?

But it all doesn't matter at the end of the day because as soon as he walks backstage, he realizes that in his euphoria he's forgotten a key fact. He's got no idea who you are, has no clue where you'll be standing at the concert tonight-

But as he gets onstage, glowing eyes eagerly searching, he can't believe his own luck; because there you are again, big eyes reflecting the stage lights as they make them glow. His alpha feeds off of your attention, as he performs more energetically than ever before- putting on a show, just for you, because that's what he should do right?

But when he walks backstage after the concert, he's not greeted by the sight of along the security guards- they're alone, without you, and he feels instantly irritated by it. "Jungkook-ssi.." they say, careful as to not set the young alpha inside him off. "She didn't want to." They say.

And for the first time, both him and his alpha as well are absolutely speechless.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #FH!jungkook #fictional happiness

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jmdbjk · 3 years ago

Note

In ONE month TKK had JK hiding in Paris, while V got to be on cam/have fun. JK hiding in Vs vlog (was in the trunk?) while V got to be on cam/have fun. When V greeted/visited Hobi & kinda volunteered himself to be in his video they had JK waiting in the shadows, while V got to have all that fun with Hobi. Now saying JKs the driver/cameraman in ITS coming up. Who would do their partner that way or want to be done that way? What kind of relationship is that, if V has all fun, while JK has to hide?

Hey, Anon!

You know what? I had typed out this almost exact same thing yesterday but mostly for my own cathartic mental exercise and not to post but since you showed up, i'ma let 'er rip:

Poor Jungkook. He travels the world just tagging along behind Kim Taehyung because Jungkook's not worthy enough to be acknowledged. That's some devotion isn't it?

He stays hidden so well. Not a single soul spotted him at any airport. Not even his stalkers. Like, I guess in Paris he just stayed holed up in the hotel because no one saw him. Because he has no life and would submit to just being a tag-along...while Tae pole dances with other men...okay. Even though we suspect Jungkook isn't really interested in travelling for leisure...unless its with Jimin.

And during Tae's vlog, he was where? in the glove box? riding on the roof of the car? Because they made clear that the Bangtan Bomb director and the Run BTS director were in the car with Tae. Maybe JK rode in the trunk...sounds like something he'd be willing to do.

And Hobi wouldn’t bother mentioning that Jungkook was also present during his MV shoot when Tae was there because who cares, TAE WAS THERE!

Because we all know Kim Taehyung is the star, not Jeon Jungkook.

When every moment, every event requires an explanation based on no evidence whatsoever, that’s when you know it is total fantasy.

When statements are fabricated from nothing, the only explanation is lies.

When EVERYTHING revolves around and exists exclusively for a ship, you know it only exists to make heterosexual women’s crotches burn. And there are so many of them, like cockroaches. They refuse to die.

This is why I resent the cult so much, because of the damage they do to these two people I love very much.

#have to give them credit for keeping their fantasy burning #they don't even know jungkook's personality #its all about kim taehyung #the cult are destructive manipulators

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whitefoxgirl · 2 years ago

Text

⏳Ageless⏳ A Namjoon Series {Chapter 2}

Author's Note: This is chapter 2 of the series. I wrote this in between classes so that's why it's so long. I was also advised to do a taglist, so, if you would like to be tagged, just comment on the post and I will add you :)

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (Female Pronouns) Fandom: BTS Warnings: Ageless Namjoon; Namjoon imagining the MC in a sexual way but nothing smutty happens. Genre: Fluff, angst Word Count: 4.8k

Songs that helped me: • "Soft Skin" - Ali Project • "Theme of Love Con (Orgel Ver.)" - Lovely Complex OST • "In the Forest" - Fruit Basket OST • "Want to Get Along" - Fruit Basket OST • "Galaxy Games OST 6" - Star Project OST • "Unjust Life" - Angel Beats OST • "Anxiety" - Angel Beats OST • "Snow Melts Into Spring" - Fruit Basket OST • "So That You're Not Lonely" - Fruit Basket OST • "Memory Loss" - Fruit Basket OST

Tag list: @dreamescapeswriting @ourkarlanicoleuniverse @cutttteeee

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

As Namjoon got to work, he looked at the first editions that were not available to the public, which was in the basement of the store. It was his favorite part of the bookstore, as he read most of them in his youth. He heard someone call his name from the top of the store, Charles, his coworker. He was letting Namjoon know that it was time to open the store, to which Namjoon nodded and got ready to stock books. His job at the bookstore was one that required little to no interactions with other people. This is something that he decided as he didn’t want his clients to recognize him years later, in their old age. Charles, being the saint that he is, thought Namjoon was just socially awkward and that he maybe had extreme anxiety, so he talked to the owner and manager of the store suggesting that Namjoon do bookbinding as a service to those customers who would like the service to happen, and stocking the books that were being delivered.

As the afternoon rolled around a new book was delivered and as Namjoon was stoking the book on its shelf and decorating the table presenting the new arrival, he heard a soft gasp and from the corner of his eye, a figure approach him.

“Junseo!” He heard a familiar voice say, to which he turned to look and smiled as, even though he heard it only for a few hours, he has grown rather attached to it. “Fate did its thing, right?” She said smiling softly, her cheeks where blushed slightly and her body language screamed: “I’m shy but I’m doing my best to interact with you”.

“It did. How are you? It has been a couple of weeks, right?” He asked her while holding a couple of books in one hand. She nodded to the question and pushed her hair back slightly behind her ear. Namjoon took her appearance in, she was wearing work pants, with a fitted black shirt that had sleeves above her elbows, and she was wearing low cut doc martins. She looked like she had come out of work and looked professional. He smiled softly at her appearance as she dressed like she listened to her coworkers and is willing to stand up to them.

“Yeah! I was just looking for something else that Tae Keller released” She looked around and then back at him. He looked at her thinking for a while then smiled softly.

“The… Children’s literature author?” He asked to which she nodded excitedly and responded by saying

“Yeah! I read ‘The Science of Breakable Things’ and I really liked it! So, I was just looking for something else.”

He thought for a second then signaled her to follow him, to which she did. She looked as his tall figure crouched down and grab a purple book with a tiger on the cover coming out of a jar. Namjoon showed Y/N the book, she grabbed it with a gentle grip and looked at the title, ‘When you Trap a Tiger’.

“It’s about this girl, who visits her grandmother and finds that her grandmother is hiding something about her past.” He explained. She looked at him smiling and said,

“Like… A secret that affected her?”

Namjoon nods at this and smiles responding “It’s really good, I find that it really feeds your inner child”

She nods and smiles looking at him saying “Okay, I’ll take it then!”

Namjoon smiled softly and then put his hands on his pockets wiping the palm of his, slightly sweaty, hands gently. He inhaled gently and said, “Yeah, and when you finish it, let’s discuss it over our date?”

Her mouth gaped as she looked at him then giggled gently saying “You remembered!” He nodded and took off the palms from his pockets. She smiled and said, “Okay, it’s a date then.”

He decided to do something he had never done, check someone out, which surprised Charles greatly. As Namjoon was checking Y/N out, he thought about how he has never been a bold person. Even with Suyeon, she was the one who approached him, and even though he did ask her to marry him, he found that he asked too late for his own liking. And so, he decided to be a bold person for the first time in his life.

“So, what’s your number?” He asked her, something she was surprised at, as Namjoon did not seem like the bold type, then she inhaled, feeling her cheeks heat up.

“Is it normal for you to ask girls for their phone numbers?” She asked.

He chuckled at this and said, “Only girls as pretty as you.”

Y/N crunched her nose, cringing, something Namjoon mirrored. Both laughed at this, he shook his head and look at her saying “I mean, I’m usually not even interacting with customers, so… No, you’re my first ever customer and first even person I asked for their phone number.”

She licked her lips smiling and dictated her number, having Namjoon write it diligently and carefully on a piece of paper near the register. After he was done Y/N spoke up saying “And… Just in case, that’s my personal number, so… Feel free to text me or call me whenever you want.” He nodded smiling gently and handing her her receipt. He smiled and said “Don’t… Throw away your receipt. I put my phone number in for you” She smirked at this gently and looked into his eyes smiling saying

“Your personal one I hope?” He chuckled at this and nodded responding

“Yeah, you can call or text me any time.”

She nodded and grabbed her book saying “I’ll text you tonight then” to which he nodded and smiled wishing her a great day.

When she was out the door, Charles ran towards Namjoon and asked him what that was about. Namjoon shrugged his shoulder and smiled gently, to which Charles said “Nah, Nah, Nah! Hold on! Mr. Junseo Jung! You never even look at customers, let alone help them find their books! Who was that?” Namjoon felt his cheeks redden as he said “Just… I just find her interesting, sue me” Charles chuckled and touched his shoulder gently saying “My friend, it’s about time you got out of that shell! You never even talk to me that much!”

Namjoon sighed gently at this because it was true. Even though Charles was a very eccentric person, with a very bright personality and was a very sociable person. Namjoon decided it was best to keep his distance, as he did not want to get to know someone, only for them to be hurt when he leaves and goes no contact 10 years later.

“If anything happens, you’ll know, Charles. You read me like a book” Namjoon looked around as if to signal his joke, to which Charles faked amusement and faked laughed at his attempt at a joke. “Please don’t say jokes like that, ever.” Charles said as he walked away leaving Namjoon to smile at the piece of paper with the phone number he has (lowkey-highkey) been desperate to obtain.

As soon as Namjoon got home, he fed Moni and decided to take a shower thinking of how his day went. His mouth softly turned into a smile when the thought of Y/N ran through his head. He remembered how soft her voice sounded to him, and how he would have liked to touch her fingers when he handed her the book, but reluctantly decided not to as he felt it would overstep an unspoken boundary. As Namjoon got out the shower, he saw that he had received a message. It was from Y/N! He smiled gently and unlocked his phone only to see the first thing she sent saying

“You. Are. Evil!” with a little crying emoji. He chuckled and then texted her back feigning ignorance, to which she replied with

“You know what you did! This is angst! PURE ANGST! How dare you! What do you mean her grandma has cancer?! It can’t be!”

As he got dressed, he couldn’t help but look at the stars outside his window, which prompted him to text her,

“Wanna go out on a mini date right now?” It was 10:30pm, he doubted she would say yes, but sure enough, she confirmed she could, and he texted her that he would pick her up from her house. She sent him a pin as a precaution and then he decided to bike his way towards her house. He felt it was safer for him to bike around town than to own a car. Owning a car would bring a lot of unwanted attention. As he got there, a 30-minute bike ride, he got down and phoned Y/N. She looked out the window and smiled holding her phone and got down towards the building entrance quickly.

“I thought you stood me up,” she said smiling as she approached him. He smiled and shook his head replying with

“No, I just don’t own a car” She nodded and smiled commenting on how eco-friendly the decision was, however, she continued by saying

“I don’t think where we’re going you can bike us, so… Let’s take my car.” He agreed taking out his bike lock to which she said, “You can leave it in my apartment, you know how it is here” Something which, Namjoon once again agreed with.

As they hoped in her car, he couldn’t help but notice the nice scent it had. To him, it radiated her essence. Y/N was excited to have met him again and to her, it truly felt like fate wanted them to meet again, it was even more exciting that he was now proposing a quick hangout. She didn’t exactly know where they were going, however, it didn’t stop her from being excited and feeling like her own clothes didn’t fit with how full she felt from this feeling.

As they made their way to Wassaic Multiple Use Area, the couple couldn’t help but feel nervous at the feeling that they were both experiencing. To Namjoon, this was something new, unexplored, it was liberating to feel so comfortable, and while yes, he was comfortable with Suyeon, it wasn’t enough to feel like he was being himself. It felt as though he was forced into a role, maybe by his peers, his own society at the time, he doesn’t know, but what he does know is that he felt, free. To Y/N, even though it wasn’t new, it felt like something worth exploring and something that would bring her happiness in the end. She has dated before, but nothing felt like this. Not only was Namjoon respectful so far about her as a person, but also listened and was understanding towards her. As they walked down the trail that led them to the stargazing section, at the very top, the couple couldn’t help but gaze at each other from time to time, there was a comfortable silence between them as the insects and little creatures of the night sang their tunes. It felt very peaceful and comforting.

As soon as they approached, Y/N ran to the very top while Namjoon stayed behind and looked at her with a soft gaze, a smile adorning his features. She signaled him to come towards the top telling him that the view was beautiful and as Namjoon got there, the view was beautiful, the stars shined as if only for them and he felt like he was in the best life he could ever have, for the first time, he felt alive.

“It’s so beautiful here, Junseo!” Y/N exclaimed as she looked at the stars. The moon was full, and the sky was clear, it felt like the moon was highlighting everything around them. This did not go unnoticed by Namjoon, as he, did not look at the stars, rather, he chose to look at how the moon’s shine reflected on Y/N’s features. It gave her a soft, gentle, innocent glow like she was made of glass, like she was something Namjoon shouldn’t touch, yet was so inviting to the eyes.

“You’re beautiful…” Namjoon said in a soft whisper, although he wanted to say that to himself in his mind, his mouth moved before he could even think properly. He felt his blood rush towards his cheeks, as he blushed at his own sudden confession. His hand moved towards his mouth in a quick matter when he saw that she had turned to look at him.

“I-… I didn’t mean to say that out loud” Namjoon said, almost like he was defending himself. She chuckled at this and smiled gently. The wind blew gently towards them, making her hair messy. She pushed her hair behind her ear, and looked at him with a gaze that said, to Namjoon, ‘I’m soft by your words.’

“I don’t mind getting compliments, especially if they come from you,” she said, something Namjoon blushed at. Namjoon decided that it was best to leave it at that and looked at the sky. She was right, it did look beautiful, if his eyes didn’t deceive him, he could make out even the milky way, in a very faint manner, but he could.

“I’ve decided… Where I want our date to be.” He looks at Y/N and smiles gently, her eyebrows were high as if to signal him to continue.

“We could go to this really awesome, quiet, café and talk about the book you’re reading” She smiled at this and looked at him nodding.

“But then… I’ll take you somewhere you’ve never seen before” She responded looking into his eyes. Namjoon felt himself smirk gently then looked down. He wasn’t going to tell her that he knew this city like the back of his hand, simply because, the boredom of his long life has turned him into a rather curious cat, thus, he explores every city, town, and state he visits just because he didn’t want to become completely bored with it.

After the date, Namjoon and Y/N headed toward her apartment. She had offered him to stay because it was already 2am when they came back, but he refused as he didn’t think it was appropriate for him to stay. She sighed and let him leave with the condition that they would be on the phone on his way back to his apartment, something that Namjoon obliged. It was now the next day, and Namjoon was getting ready to meet Seokjin for lunch. He sighed as he knew that Seokjin would pick something spicy to eat and began to mentally prepare himself to scold him once again, but for now, he decided to focus on Moni and feed him his raw food. Namjoon, being the attentive owner he is, decided not to feed Moni dry food, which is something he learned from his last dog. He decided that spending money as if it was for two people, was better for his dog’s health than buying dry food. He had heard Seokjin say that Moni was a fancy dog for this, but to Namjoon, it just seemed essential to have him on a well-balanced diet, like he would with his own body.

As Namjoon said goodbye to Moni and walked out towards the restaurant, he began to think about the next day and how excited he was to meet Y/N. He sighed gently thinking about how he has been letting his guard down but then decided that letting it down was better than being in a constant panic. He was glad that there was another person in his life that he could be comfortable with other than Seokjin. Namjoon didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared. He was scared to lose Seokjin, out of everyone, Seokjin has been his rock since they met, and Seokjin was the only one he was comfortable with.

At the restaurant, Seokjin made his way toward Namjoon. Seokjin had decided to eat at a Korean restaurant as he wanted to “feel at home”. Namjoon mirrored this, as he hadn’t had Korean food in a long while, deciding to leave that part of him behind as well. It’s not that he was not proud of his heritage or ethnicity, however, Namjoon felt like had he been out of the norm in the United States, more than he already is while being an Asian man, he would attract unwanted attention, and so, his Korean pride was behind him but never forgotten.

As the waitress appeared she didn’t hesitate to compliment how great it was for Seokjin to spend time with his grandson and how it was rare to see a grandson-grandfather moment in that day and age. Seokjin ordered the tteokbokki and dak galbi, while Namjoon just settled with some bibimbap. He sighed when he heard Seokjin’s order and look at him as if he was ready to scold him.

“I thought we talked about cutting back on spicy food, Jin…” He said, to which Seokjin rolled his eyes and head then look at Namjoon, almost pouting.

“I’m Korean! I love spicy food! It’s in my veins, how could you even think about asking me to cut down on spicy food?” Seokjin exclaimed, to which Namjoon sighed and replied saying,

“I’m not saying to completely give up on it, I’m saying, to eat less of it. Why would you order tteokbokki and dak galbi when both of those are spicy? It’s not healthy to eat an excess of spicy food, Kim Seokjin.” Namjoon said in a slightly rough, scolding voice. Seokjin smiled and looked down at his plate then drank the water that was beside him.

“You would make a great father, Joon…” This is something that Seokjin always brought up and something that Namjoon always got sad about. It’s not that he didn’t want a family, but how could he start a family when he’s ageless? When he doesn’t age? It would bring a hell of a lot of pain just thinking about the possibility of his children dying before he does. Namjoon said something to the effect of “Let’s drop it” to which Seokjin did as he knew that every time that he brought up children or him having a family, Namjoon would become quiet. Seokjin didn’t do this with negative intentions, he just wanted Namjoon to live a life and stop running away from everything every decade or so.

“Namjoon-ah…” Seokjin began to say, Namjoon felt his spine tingle, he loves hearing his birthname as it tells him that he, at the end of the day, was still himself. He hummed, signaling Seokjin to continue.

“I think, I’m gonna move to a retirement home” Seokjin informed him. Namjoon stopped chewing on his food and looked at him as if he was scared and asked why. Seokjin sighed and said,

“After Eunbi died, I felt alone. And now it’s getting harder to live in that house. My hips hurt more, and my arthritis is getting worse. What if I can’t grip the rails of the stairs well? What if I fall? Who will be there? I live alone.” Namjoon sighed and looked down at his plate saying,

“I’ve asked you to live with me and Moni in the farmhouse.” To which Seokjin shook his head and looked straight into Namjoon’s eyes.

“I can’t live my life running, Namjoon. I’m getting too old for that.” Namjoon looked at him with a soft gaze then looked down at his plate, understanding what he meant.

Although Namjoon didn’t say it out loud, he too was tired of living in fear, of running, of being caught for experiments and other things of that nature. He poked his egg yolk and said,

“I don’t wanna live like this anymore, Seokjin… I’m tired…” He looked around as if to check if there was someone else around him while he said “I’m 94 years old. You’re the only person who I’ve kept a relationship with. I’m just tired of… not living.” Namjoon said feeling his eyes begin to water. Seokjin, being the understanding friend that he is, grabbed Namjoon’s hand gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Namjoon looked down and wiped his tears gently, and in a soft voice asked Seokjin “Will I ever age…? I’m scared that I’m stuck like this forever…” Seokjin stood up, sat beside him, and hugged his friend as tight as he could.

Normally, one would be afraid of death, but Seokjin’s theory to this is because you’ve had such a great life, that you want to relive it, or that you’re young and inexperienced and feel the need to do more. However, Namjoon has not lived. He has been alive but never lived. While you don’t have to have children, a partner, or other things to live, this is something that Namjoon craved. He didn’t want to live a thousand lives every decade, he wanted to live one life for a hundred years.

Namjoon understood Seokjin’s decision and decided that it would be best for him as of now, while he thought of a solution. Namjoon decided that it would be best to go home as he didn’t want any more bad news. When Namjoon got home, he laid down in bed and thought about what Seokjin said. Ever since his late wife, Eunbi, passed away from cancer, Seokjin has been alone. Namjoon always offered Seokjin his place to stay, but Seokjin always declined stating the same thing “I can’t run away with you, Namjoon”. Which is something that tug on his heartstring every single time as it was a reminder that he, indeed, as running away from everything.

Namjoon decided to call Y/N, hoping that hearing her voice would bring some peace into his troubling mind. She did not hesitate to pick up the phone after the first two rings. A cheerful “Hello, Junseo!” greeted him. He felt his angst melt away at the sound of her voice.

“Can you do me a favor?” He whispered. She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her, he took her silence as a confirmation that she would help him with his troubles. At first, he wanted her to call him by his name, Namjoon, but he didn’t want her to think that his interest was built on falsehood or that he was faking being himself, so, he opted for the simplest request.

“Tell me about your day… I wanna listen to your voice.” He said in a soft, slightly rough whisper, something that definitely had an effect on her. He proceeded to hear her talk about her day, he learned from hearing her, that she was a manager on a law firm and how crazy it was to hear lawyers gossip about cases like old ladies in church or something of that nature. As she laughed and smiled at the ridiculousness that was happening around her, Namjoon felt his uneasiness melt. As she was smiling and laughing with him; he felt himself laughing at a ridiculous attempt of a joke a lawyer had told her to get into her pants. He liked this feeling and wished nothing more but to treasure it. His smile softly faded, and he asked her.

“What would you do… if from this day forward you couldn’t age?” She was left stunned at this. It wasn’t something that she had ever thought about, never in her 24 years of living had she thought about this question. The questions she always asked herself were always about how would her life end, never, what if it just never stopped.

“I suppose… I would feel lonely, right? Seeing so many people you love and care for pass away, their books closing as no new chapters are beginning…” Namjoon closed his eyes, it was as if he was being validated for feeling the way he felt. Seokjin always validated his feelings, but he felt sometimes that he validated them because Namjoon was a burden. And now, this person, whom he feels comfortable with, says his thoughts, and he can’t help but feel… seen.

“But… I guess… If I had your company, it wouldn’t be so bad, right? Live just becomes boring when you distance yourself, become just another speck of dust, but… If another speck of dust joins you and sees you, then you wouldn’t be so lonely, right? I guess what I’m trying to say is… If I’m with you, comfortable, seen, understood, cared for… Then, I don’t mind not aging.”

This made Namjoon smile, tears running from his eyes. He himself understood that being vulnerable was important, for any human connection, but still, the ever-longing fear of not being old with someone he loved and cared for kept growing. Namjoon decided to be a hermit not only to stop the other person from feeling pain, but also to stop himself from experiencing pain, loneliness, and suffering. That, however, has only caused more pain for him.

“Y/N… I…” he began to say, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to tell her about his situation, even though it felt like it was too early. He didn’t care if he was being vulnerable if it was her. Namjoon closed his eyes and sighed softly. He looked at his ceiling holding his phone gently on his ear and said,

“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

Y/N felt her cheeks blush at this, his voice was deep due to what she thought was a lack of sleep, and it was filled with so much sincerity and longing. She smiled at this and looked at herself in the mirror and fixed her hair gently as if she was in front of him. She closed her eyes, her smile widening more imagining that he was there.

“I can’t wait to see you too. I… kinda miss you” She chuckled gently. Something which Namjoon mirrored. She felt as if they were moving too fast, but she didn’t care. It felt right, he felt right, it felt perfect, and even if others were seeing red flags, she was only seeing how comfortable, loving, and sweet Namjoon was towards her. He was, to her, a perfect gentleman. Any other guy would have stayed the night, but he didn’t, respecting her space. And even though he didn’t kiss her yet, she felt as if they were both waiting for a moment, a perfect moment, where both of them were completely open to each other. She felt that even though he has opened up a lot, she has done so little, and maybe that’s why he’s so hesitant. But tomorrow will be the day, a day where she opened up over dinner and tell him everything about herself, just like he has been sharing little facts about himself.

“Let’s talk tomorrow, Junseo” she said. Namjoon felt his smile slowly disappear at the false name. Any other person would be happy to hear their name, but Namjoon was presenting himself to the world as “Jung Junseo” and even though he picked the name after his army buddy Jung Jungkook, he didn’t feel like it was his own to be proud of. He would rather prefer his own name being said by the lips he has been dreaming of kissing since the first time he saw them. He inhaled gently bracing himself for his next words.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Dream happy things” he whispered gently and hung up after hearing her say,

“Goodnight, Junseo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As Namjoon laid back, he thought about the possibilities of his date tomorrow. He hasn’t been anxious since he was in the military, a young 19-year-old. He smiled at the thought of him going to his mom and asking her to shave his hair. How nervous he was when he received his uniform, but the sense of nervousness faded as he thought about the fight he was going to put forward. Those feelings are back with him now. The thought of Y/N going up to him like she once did at the restaurant a couple of weeks back, and how she would look. He remembered the figure of her body and thought about how he wanted to explore it in a slow matter and mark his way down and up her body. He sighed thinking that he shouldn’t think that way about her because he was more than just a horny teenager, but he couldn’t help himself. He was sure that he wasn’t just sexually attracted to Y/N, he was also emotionally attracted to her, and this scared him.

He didn’t want to think of a future where she was old, and he was still looking like his 22-year-old-self. Where she was caressing his cheek and he didn’t have any wrinkles, while she had aged gracefully. He hugged his pillow and turned to the side and closed his eyes whispering to himself softly “I’m scared…” something that he hasn’t admitted out loud ever since he stopped aging. Kim Namjoon fell asleep after admitting his fears to himself.

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olderthannetfic · 3 years ago

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Do you know what the origin of the "sold to One Direction" thing is? I know it's a common trope (or was), but, I have no idea where I first heard of it, where I learned it was a thing. How do weird tropes like that get started, anyway? Why do some concepts take off and become huge parts of a particular fandom, but others don't? (And does this particular premise show up in other RPF contexts as much?)

tl;dr - Wattpad circa 2013, probably

I'm only familiar with that from doing Wattpad research. I don't think it's a major RPF thing, at least not under that exact name. Horny f!sub is kind of the Wattpad way, so a lot of the popular tropes there make sense from that perspective. I've definitely seen plenty of badtouch sexy slave/kidnapping victim/stalk-ee stuff with BTS and other music groups. But maybe somebody reading has more specific 1D history knowledge?

As for why one thing takes off and another doesn't, the big answer is:

Historical accident

We can look for patterns, sure, but a lot of it is ultimately survivorship bias. That's the thing where we look at what's remaining (successful companies, popular fic tropes), and we assume they have some special property that made them survivors and then extrapolate from that. But maybe it's coincidence, or maybe it's a different type of causality than the one we're looking at.

For example, a trope in a popular fandom will spread farther faster than a trope in a dinky little fandom, so maybe fandom size is what matters and not the nature of the trope. Most analyses assume it's the trope itself that matters.

On an individual basis, many specific tropes get popularized by a particular famous author or fic that other people imitate. Some get popularized by a fanworks exchange or fest. (That's how 5 Times fic spread.) But why do they stick around long term? Why do they gain traction elsewhere?

Aside from random chance, it's probably something to do with broad applicability and easy entry points.

So, for example, the show The Sentinel doesn't actually have Guides as such, but the AU added an official role for the other dude to make the two of them super destined. Sentinel AUs took off across a ton of fandoms. (Less so these days, but I've even seen them in BTS, so they're definitely not gone.) The AU version is basically soulmates + potentially codified top/bottom roles + superpowers. People like fantasy AUs. They like frameworks to fit their ship into. The trope isn't highly specific otherwise, so it can be tacked onto many settings, both real world and sff. It fits two-person ships easily, which is most popular ships. One can do some worldbuilding about whether there's One True Guide for a given Sentinel or whether the bond is more a matter of choice. Guides might be equal in numbers/prestige/public visibility to Sentinels or not. The existence of all this can be openly known by everybody or a secret like in the show.

A/B/O has a similar level of "proof my ship belongs together" stuff with room to play around with worldbuilding. It also overlaps heavily with prior popular tropes people like for pretty obvious horny reasons. Same with plenty of tropes. They're often a slight remix of already popular stuff.

Sense8 AUs, however, never really took off as a thing. I saw some fans sadfacing about this, but in this case, I think we could have predicted it. Why? Simple: the concept involves OT8, and that's not going to apply to most people's fandoms unless they happen to like a kpop group or a superhero team with 8 people. The 8 also don't have specific roles that would make this simpler to write. If you're going for less OT8 and more of a complicated network of relationships, that's a complicated story to write and it has much less of a template to work from. So low applicability + high barrier to entry.

Hogwarts AUs, on the other hand, are super popular. Why? My guess is that the biggest reason is that a million bajillion times more people know Harry Potter than know Sense8. Hogwarts also has some canned roles that are more obvious: which house is your Fave? Shit that could be in a clickbait-y personality quiz is easier to write fic about than something that requires you to make up everything yourself. But also, four houses are easy to keep track of in a way that all those Myers-Briggs types are not. Add too much mandatory complexity, and it gets too confusing.

If I had to guess about the popularity of Sold To One Direction, I'd say a lot of it is due to the problem of getting Mary Sue or y/n into the room with them. Why is she there? This fic concept provides the answer in one quick title or tag. Sexy slavefic and dubcon have had broad appeal since forever. There's room to go really dark or fluffier. Some of the fics are nothing but ravishment fantasies, while others are more abuse recovery stories (where 1D are better than whatever came before).

I don't think there's some simple answer for why this specific thing and not a closely related trope became such a known trope in 1D. Probably, if some BNF had posted a ravishment fantasy with a different pithy title at just the right time, some adjacent trope would be big instead.

As for why I've heard of this trope, it's absolutely due to 1D being a fucking massive fandom such that its popular tropes occur very frequently in a sample of Wattpad writing of the right eras. It definitely owes its lulzy memeticness to fandom size: lots of people care enough about 1D and 1D fic to know what the trends are and make jokes about them.

Here's Huffpo being dicks about 1D slavefic back in 2013. They don't mention the exact phrasing though. Here's a pretty standard specimen from 2013-14.

I presume this was also a big thing on Quizilla (RIP) and I see extant examples on Quotev. Sadly, these and Wattpad are fucking hard to study, and a lot of the meta-writing types stick to AO3, so I don't see as many good analyses of this part of fandom.

Any 1D fans want to weigh in?

#1d #sold to 1d #fandom history #fandom meta

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wingzie · 4 years ago

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Brutally Honest Reactions to Jikook

It was requested on Twitter that I talk about the less positive posts about Jikook moments from my live reactions research. These will NOT include any screenshots, but I will discuss what I saw. I will continue to keep posting positive things about Jikook, but the fandom reaction towards Jikook is one of the reasons why I feel so strongly about supporting them so much. Please read ahead if you are interested. I will also keep it out of the Jikook tag.

I will quickly add my own experience here before I continue. I am an early 2019 ARMY. I didn't follow any BTS accounts on Twitter until after I caught up on content. I then started following Jikook accounts once I got braver, because I could see a clear difference in the way the fandom talked about them. (Or not at all in some cases.) It wasn't until I started following Jikook accounts, that I knew about GCF Tokyo. For a fandom that hyped up Jungkook being a director for LGO, his previous work and especially GCFT is rather ignored. Especially when it's obvious that Jungkook has always had an interest in making videos.

GCFT

An important factor here is that GCFT was posted after Jimin's lovely twitter edit. From what I saw, no one had any real issues with Jimin's edit. The general consensus was that it was sweet that Jimin and Jungkook were finally able to go on a trip together and that Jimin made an edit out of it. But if that's the case, why were there then issues when GCFT was posted, that are still here today?

Compared to Jimin's edit, there is a clear sense of jealousy when GCFT was released. A "sweet trip" turned into a "not big deal" or started to include fake narratives. Some of which really confused me at first, until I asked someone at the time and got the truth.

There is a sudden change of tone aimed towards Jikook: “How dare they go on a trip together?” and “how dare they share it with us this way?.” It's clear to me that this jealously suddenly began because of the editing style, the camera shots and the song used. All of which made you feel a certain way when watching GCFT, if you were not so blind or bitter. However, the fandom did it's best to try to belittle JK's work. Saying excuses such as the song was not intentional or that the editing choices were coincidental. That's not the case at all and to quote a certain song "this is no coincidence."

There is an interesting notion that some shippers and y/n's turned to fan fictions after GCFT was released. This suggests to me that they did indeed in fact feel the same way about GCFT. They got the message loud and clear, but had to try to tune it out with another fantasy because of what they felt. They wanted what Jimin and Jungkook had for themselves or another member.

GCF's after GCFT

After GCFT there was a need to show: "look Jimin and Jungkook aren't that close." Which Jikook didn't get the memo of and it shows that people were keeping an eye on them. However, this was only to be able justify their negative thoughts about the possibility of two men being together. They couldn't stand the idea and came up with every excuse possible to deny it. There were a fair amount of “don’t assume their sexuality” posts floating around.

There was also a definite shift after GCFT with Jikooker’s themselves. Of course they were supportive, but much more discreet about it. Afterwards though ,and up through to today, they got louder about Jimin and Jungkook's bond. It's clear this reflects in the fandom perception of them together as a unit or just on the timeline itself. There is almost an annoyance whenever they show up.

The newer GCF’s turned more into a competition between the members. Something which sadly continued even with the Life Goes On MV. Rather than seen as a cute maknae trip in Osaka, GCFO was used as leverage against Jikook to prove that they weren't that close. Which is bizarre in itself and it was like Jimin wasn't in the video at all.

The outrage that sparked when GCFH was released showed the true hypocrisy of the fandom. Jungkook set the tone beautifully to match the Winter Package location of Helsinki. The fact so many quickly jumped on this, but ignored his skills previously is very telling. For all those yelling about appreciating Jungkook, they only yell when it's about making themselves feel better about something.

Rose Bowl. I don't need to introduce this. However what I found interesting is that people outside of ARMY were more accepting of what happened than actual ARMY. It also made me question what the definition of "ot7" is, because these accounts were going around underneath posts with "stop shipping”, “they're just bros" or my most hated one "they do stuff like this in South Korea all the time."

The last one is an absolute hate of mine and is always used by NON Koreans. ARMY are often all about Korean culture until it's something they don't want to hear or know about. A general translation account has already pointed out that Jikook are extremely close due to lack of honorifics and it moe or less got ignored. Another account will mention the same , but for another unit, and it's worshiped to high heaven. Yet Jikooker’s are delusional for being the ones to understand the cultural significance of it?

Jungkook's Birthday in 2019

I am actually going to be calling out Jikooker’s here because the reverse happened this time. Others found Jimin’s Birthday video sweet, whereas Jikooker’s were being extremely rude and disrespectful ON the timeline towards Jimin about it. Plus the usual "Jikook broke up" malarkey that pops up twice a month happened. I only recently started researching this and I’m not even sure I can make a thread on it, because there was so much fighting on the Timeline about the Birthday video.

This is what spurred me on to write my twitter post about being careful about what you post and where your priorities lie. A lot of Jikooker’s were upset before Jimin posted. Not because "he hasn't posted.”, but because "he hasn't posted [for me]."

This is something that Jikooker’s have to wrap their heads around. We only see a tiny percentage of their daily lives. They also have each other's phone number and see each other daily. They also know each other extremely well and probably better than any of us actually will. It is not up to us what they post or what we see. Do we miss them? Of course. However, to instantly start hating them for that is wrong. You're acting just like the fandom first did when GCFT came out. These same people also acted like nothing had happened as soon as Jimin posted the photo of Jungkook later on.

Seoul Final

For those that don't remember Rose, she was a k-army translator that went to Seoul Final. In one of her live shows afterwards, she explained how other Karmy were surprised by Jikook's closeness on stage. It wasn't just us.

However ,on Naver, there was a storm brewing about Jimin treating Jungkook inappropriately and the way they were acting on stage. This was first started by Jungkook akages and then spread around to some of the fandom who decided to jump in.

This is one example of people using K-army as a weapon. That they know *best* when they suffer the same on their side with solos etc... It's also another example of the hatred towards Jimin.

This isn't something new. Shipping was fairly peaceful and kept its original definition of wanting two people to be together. Even if this did include two real people. It wasn't until the definition of shipping morphed into something new and possibly real, that things started to erupt in the fandom. And this eruption was sadly placed onto Jimin, as people saw him as a disruption to their fantasies.

This defamation of both Jimin and Jungkook's character from the fandom has been present since the beginning. They are seen as liars or not intelligent. That their closeness is fake, even though you can clearly see it from the start and then develop over the years. It's something that has always been beautiful to witness whilst watching, old content and new.

These examples of fandom reactions I have used are ones all related to expectations. If Jimin and Jungkook do not act as expected or they shock the fandom, one side will react negatively. The fandom also do not seem to like seeing Jikook be so loud, so to speak. And with the emergence of more Jikooker’s on social media, this horrid view of them will no doubt increase Though many hate the term Jikook. It signifies the unit of Jimin and Jungkook and no matter what, they will do what they want too and continue to do so. Thank you for reading and feel free to ask questions if you have any!

#wingzie #wingzieobservation

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selfproducingfanfictionauthor · 4 years ago

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BTS scenario: Yoongi finds you after 1,871 days (1)

Summary: It takes 1,871 days for Yoongi to find you. Five years, one month, and four days. He’s turned over every house in your village, every pack in your province, and chased your family to every distant home you have before arriving to a quaint apartment in the middle of Seoul. Warnings/Notes: The continuation to Yoongi’s part in this scenario drabble. Please read because it might not sense if you don’t lol. No warnings as of now.

Word Count: 1,500+ words READ PART TWO HERE

It takes 1,871 days for Yoongi to find you.

Five years, one month, and four days. He’s turned over every house in your village, every pack in your province, and chased your family to every distant home you have before arriving to a quaint apartment in the middle of Seoul.

Inside the car and behind the tinted windows, Yoongi stares up to your apartment. It’s small, but it comes with a balcony where clothes hang to dry. He recognizes a familiar red blouse, and a blue jumper.

What he doesn’t recognize are these: a small pair of shorts, a school uniform, and a plain shirt - all in a size of perfect for a child.

1,871 days is a long time but you split it like this: the time before Yongho and the time after Yongho.

It didn’t take long for you to leave the pack after that night with Yoongi. You knew then that if you drag your feet, you’ll never be able to leave. So, with your family’s promise and blessing, you packed your bags, your savings, and your heart and boarded the next plane out of the country.

You didn’t think Yoongi would look for you (but you hoped, desperately, sometimes even too much) but still, you took serious precautions. Running away with an alpha’s child is not a slight offense regardless of the reason.

With no family and no friends, you hunkered down in the outskirts of Taipei. You watched summer turn to fall, and then by winter, your arms are warmed by the small bundle of joy that is your son.

Yongho is a precious boy, with your nose and lips, and Yoongi’s feline eyes. He’s curious, energetic, and affectionate, and not a day goes by that you’re not thankful for his presence.

When he turned three, and with no new news of Yoongi coming from your family, you opted to return to your homeland to finish your post-graduate studies. You never planned on hiding Yongho from his father forever, but for years after you left, your family urged you not to reveal yourself.

The pack has splintered, stay hidden until everything settles. They are invoking the old law.

And so you did, however, now, circumstances have changed.

“Yongho, I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

Yoongi watches a few steps behind you as you kneel down to your child’s height. Even with your crouching form, he still couldn’t see his son’s features. He’s small for his age, he muses, just like he was in his youth.

Yoongi hears a sound of high-pitched approval from his child, before your lips curve into a familiar smile.

“Good,” you say, “Why don’t you change clothes and then you can join us in the kitchen?”

The little boy scampers away with a giggle and you silently turn to Yoongi, leading him to the kitchen.

Your apartment isn’t small, but it’s not large either. The kitchen is quaint with herbs growing on the small window by the sink. Yoongi smells the leftover scents of bacon, milk, and eggs from the air mixed with the tea you placed in front of him.

For a while, it’s silent and Yoongi takes care to observe you.

It’s been five years but somehow, the difference startles him. Though your features remained the same, there’s a certain hardness to it now, like a polished sword - a calm protective air.

“Mama! I’m ready!”

Your scent immediately spikes with warmth as you hear your son’s steps down the stairs. You turn in your chair, catching him so readily in your arms.

“I combed my hair too, see?” Yongho peers up to you with a smile, one of his front teeth missing. Smiling fondly, you touch his hair lightly. “I see that, my love, good job.”

Yongho grins before turning and glancing at the man with his eyes, sitting at the other end of your dining table. His smile wobbles at the seriousness in the man’s face but he perseveres. He’s a guest, mama said.

Seeing that Yoongi has caught your son’s attention, you clear your throat. You’ve never lied about your son’s father ever since he first asked about it when he was three, and so this conversation shouldn’t be hard.

“Yongho, this is Yoongi, your father.”

The secondary gender’s characteristics manifests early into puberty. However, with the advancement of science and technology, people have found a way to determine an individual’s secondary gender as early as they’re 6 months old.

You tried avoiding these tests for Yongho to give him a shot at a regular, unburdened childhood but it became unavoidable when you tried to enroll him to his first pre-school class.

It had taken all of your family’s dwindling connections to scrub the records clean but even that isn’t enough to keep the news from reaching the elders ears.

Your son, little Y/L/N Yongho, is the rarest of them all - a male omega.

And so you called Yoongi. It’s less of him finding you, and more of you allowing yourself to be found. With nothing left to possibly do, you reached out to the only one you think can help.

Things have settled quite quickly, your son is young, forgiving and eager. At the sight of his father, he quickly warmed up and you watched Yoongi struggle faintly at the overwhelming energy of your pup.

They spent the whole day in his room, watching movie after movie, and playing with every toy Yongho owns. He even showed his father his drawings, most of which were of the town you lived in Taiwan.

“So that’s where you went.” Yoongi observes, finger touching the crayon drawing of you and Yongho making pineapple cakes.

The sun has already set and Yongho’s knocked out in his room. The two of you are once again across each other, on the other sides of your mahogany kitchen table.

“Yes,” you respond calmly, “We stayed there for three years.”

Yoongi breathes, closes his eyes and tries not to think of you, heavily pregnant and alone. There’s time to discuss the past, but that’s not today. Still, he couldn’t help the bitterness seep into his voice, not after he’s known what he missed for five years.

A son, a beautiful son.

“Had I known you’re craving pineapple cakes, we would’ve sent for it.”

I looked for you, he wants to say, I nearly went mad, looking for you.

You let out a pained chuckle, “Funny. I actually couldn’t stand it when I was pregnant. Yongho loves them though.”

“Why am I here?” Yoongi cuts, his alpha rearing its head. That’s our blood she hid, it snarls, our seed, our son - she took him away!

Wordlessly, you took out a red envelope from under your seat. The familiar seal of the pack elders broken into two. You slide it towards Yoongi and watch as he reads it contents.

You watch as his eyes grow sharper and his jaw clench reading the request of the elders. He too, has changed, you observe. The wild energy you’ve associated with him is gone, perhaps veiled under the surface.

After all, an omega’s chosen alpha should be a man of discipline.

“They can’t do this,” Yoongi grits out. “It’s against the law to take a child from their family.”

You shake your head, nights poured over the texts of your youth heavy on your mind, “The pack only recognizes families of mated individuals.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker at your unmarked neck and his alpha curls into himself. Unmarked. Our son’s mother is unmarked, it whimpers. Before he could speak, you continue on.

“I’ve read the books, and sought advice from the Wong pack of Taipei, there are two ways to avoid this—“

Marriage, Yoongi thinks, and the box in his pocket suddenly weighs a ton. He’s carried it around for five years, hoping to find you.

“—but since mating is out of question—“ a flash of the old you passes in your eyes, and Yoongi opens his mouth to protest, but you don’t stop.

“— I’ve invoked the ancient law.” You pause, taking a deep breathe. “A month from now, I’ll be battling the primary alpha of the pack for the custody of our child.”

Yoongi gasps. The primary alpha… is Jeon Jungkook, one of their strongest and most devoted to the omega. He’ll tear you apart if she so asks.

Yoongi startles when you push your chair back, standing suddenly in front of him. Your eyes are brimming with unshed tears, but your back is straight, as you kneel down- your forehead to the ground, a few inches from his feet.

“Min Yoongi, alpha of the Min family, father of my son, my former betrothed — for all that we were and we cannot be, I beseech you.”

Yoongi’s alpha is snarling inside his head, confused, scared, angry at your thoughtless decision and his own thoughtlessness that lead you here. It’s a visceral reaction - an alpha doesn’t bow to another alpha, but here you are. Everything for your son.

“If I lose, take our son. He needs your name.”

END NOTES: Well, this got out of hand. There’s a lot unsaid between these two and a lot of time passed by between the them in the drabble and this one. Let me know what you think! I’m thinking of where to bring the other hyungline members’ plotlines still. Hearts are great but comments and reblogs will reach a lot more readers. Let’s spread the love! Should I continue Yoongi’s story? What do you think will happen? TAG LIST: @justmewondering-recs @cloudbuffalo @blushingatyou @aroseharder @neverthefirstchoice @xanny91 @sugaaddiction @flirtygerty @darkskin-buttercup

#thetruthuntoldnet #bangtanarmynet #yoongi x reader #alpha yoongi #alpha reader #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook cameo #daddy yoongi #hidden child trope #ABO dynamics #BTS Alpha #bts angst #yoongi angst #bts fanfiction #bts scenario

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maplecornia · 3 years ago

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chapter 38

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3.97K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: sorry for the late update! I was busy today, so I wasn't able to update as early as I'd like. PLUS i still have to write Jimin's birthday chapter so I'll release that tomorrow. Two updates in a week FEELS.

(pps all dialogue in bold from this moment forward means that the character is speaking in English)

Haven't I said this before?

That pain doesn't leave?

It constantly reminds you of its existence, and even if you manage to overcome it, it's still there. Hiding and waiting for the moment where you'll break down. Waiting for the chance to destroy you all over again.

Perhaps, in this moment, you should have remembered.

"What are you doing here?"

Your voice is small, feeble, and shaking. Every move he makes you are sure to remember, your guard up and prepared for anything he may do to you. You don't know for sure why he's here, but the way the two of you left things off last time, you aren't sure if you want to find out.

When he takes a step closer to you, your hands tighten on the door, and you visibly flinch, taking a step backward.

"Yen? Who is it?"

You never thought you'd be so grateful to see Taehyung's face. Turning to him as though he were your savior, he immediately sees the panic in your eyes and narrows his towards the newcomer. He may not know exactly what's going on, but he can tell that this person is someone who you don't feel comfortable around. He would even say you're frightened.

And maybe you were, but now, with him by your side, some of your strength and resolve return as you are reminded that you are no longer alone. You have someone who will stay loyally by your side.

As you raise your eyes to Alex, however, you can spy that familiar glint of anger and malice in his otherwise blue eyes. He's always been the jealous type, a major issue in your relationship, so you aren't surprised, but you can't help but feel a sense of hypocrisy.

He's the one who cheated on you, and yet he thinks he has a right to be jealous?

Has he forgotten it's over?

"Yeah Yen," he murmurs, his jaw set tightly and his eyes narrowed in displeasure. You had forgotten he was raised in Korea, you were hoping he wouldn't be able to understand Taehyung. "Who am I?"

You nearly scoff at the question, your fear quickly rooting itself in your throat and turning to hatred and respite. With Tae at your side, you stand straight, your hand now tightening on the knob as a way to release your frustration instead of your dread.

"No one important." You snarl, almost wishing you could slam the door shut right in his face. His eyes, eyes you once found beautiful and alluring, widen with your words, a flicker of hurt clearly found beneath his anger.

"Are you serious?" He takes another step forward, but this time, you refuse to flinch and allow him to take dominance over the situation. "After everything, am I really nothing to you?"

"After everything?!" You shout incredulously, your eyes widening with the same emotion. He swallows hard at the clear yet subtle reminder of what he's done, and at the sight of his discomfort you want to smile in the sick satisfaction it gives you. You curl your upper lip as you press your finger into his chest, forcing him back the same steps he just ventured back into your life.

"After everything, you're lucky I even acknowledge your existence." You hiss with as much venom as is possible.

"Yen, please." He begs you, but you refuse to accept it.

If there's any sight of regret or apologies in his irises, you don't want to see it. You don't want to acknowledge it. He's done what he's done, there's no fixing that now. As you pull away, you make sure he knows it, your eyes stone cold against his plea.

"I want nothing more to do with you." You murmur, making sure your voice is steady as can be. No signs of weakness, or hurt, no signs of regret. Especially not now. "I would like it if you could leave."

You start to close the door, but you were a fool for thinking that he would give up that easily.

He pushes against the door, leaving you to stumble back, your hand nearly being yanked from its firm hold on the knob. You wince at the sharp pain that awakens in your wrist, and if he notices, he doesn't seem to care. He lunges forward, grabbing your arm and squeezing it tight, causing you to let out a sharp hiss of pain.

"Let go!" You cry, trying to pull away, but he's stronger than you remember and you're caught off guard. Your heart beats loud in your throat as past trauma begins to scratch its way free from the inner corners of your mind. Panic rising in the back of your throat, you look up at him only to see desperation clouding any form of reason.

"Yen, just let me explain." His grip on you only grows stronger every time you pull back, and it doesn't seem to bother him that he's hurting you. You can feel the tears brimming at the corner of your eyes, as his fingertips dig deep into your flesh helplessness seeping into the corners of your mind.

"Alex, you're hurting me!" You plead, hoping that he'll listen to you. You were afraid of this, he doesn't listen to others when he's upset, he just pushes and pushes until he gets what he wants. "Please just let go!"

"No, not until you listen to me." And whenever things don't go his way, he gives you an ultimatum, gaslighting and manipulating you to make you feel inferior as though your situation was your fault and not his. You wince as you struggle against him, thinking that you were a fool to ever trust a man like this with your heart.

"Tell me, Alex, what more is there to say?"

At your words, you can feel his grip loosen, and you see this as your chance to break free. Gathering up your strength, you pull your arm out of his hold, but it's only a moment of freedom before he realizes what's happened and grabs it once more. This time, however, he is not satisfied having you in his clutches, he wants you to be outside in his space. On his terms.

As he tries to drag you outside, you can feel the panic grow at an intolerable rate. You try to pull back, to stay in your apartment, but he doesn't give in, only increasing his hold on you. You can feel the cage he once held you in growing tighter and tighter, and the thought of being stuck in that impossible situation makes the hopelessness in your heart grow overwhelming.

But when you feel the arms around you, everything else fades away.

Taehyung doesn't know who this person is, nor does he care. The only thing he knows is that he hurt you. He made that helpless and frightened look appear on your face. As soon as he realized that you were unable to defend yourself against him, Taehyung knew he couldn't ignore the situation anymore.

How dare someone make you look that way? How dare they think that it's okay to ignore your feelings and hurt you, no matter what they may feel? Taehyung can feel the dark swirling pit inside of him grow and fester as he takes Alex's hand in his own and squeezes it until he lets out a soft cry of pain and finally releases you.

As Alex raises his eyes to Tae's in a furious rage, he's met with a cold unforgivable stare.

It's clear that if Alex touches you one more time, Taehyung will not hesitate to teach him what personal boundaries and consent really mean. His hands tighten protectively around your shoulders as he holds you to him, shielding you from the unfamiliar oppressor. He doesn't release Alex from his fierce glare, the tension growing tight around the three of you.

"What the hell is your problem?" Alex growls, not ready to back down and at the statement, you can see the fury burn cold in Taehyung's dark eyes.

"She told you to let go. It seems that you had trouble understanding a simple request." He answers his voice level but laced with icy venom.

"Who are you?!" Alex exclaims, his eyes sparkling with malice.

Taehyung smirks, before pulling you closer to him and raising an eyebrow. "Who do you think I am?"

Growling, Alex tightens his fist, those blue eyes now darkened into a deep turquoise with his fury. You know that look, it's a look you've tried to avoid. Normally it was never directed towards you, but when it was, it never ended well.

You wince at the memory.

Any minute now his emotions will turn into a blind rage and he'll end up hurting someone or saying something he will most likely regret. You try to step in front of Taehyung to stop him before anyone gets hurt, but Tae doesn't let you pass.

You look up at him, a bit shocked, but are at a stalemate when you see the look in his eyes. They are aflame with fury and hatred, and if it weren't for your presence beside him, he might have introduced Alex to his fist before your ex even had a chance. The look sends shivers down your spine, and you realize you've never witnessed Taehyung angry. Yes, maybe you've seen pictures and maybe he's been irritated while on TV, but those are fluffy kittens compared to the look you see on Tae's face now.

"Get out of my way." Alex snarls and Taehyung scoffs, regarding Alex with the most spine-chilling glare you've ever seen him wear.

"Make me."

With that, Alex's restraints are shattered, and he lunges forward, his fist connecting with Taehyung's chin in a loud crack of bone against bone. You let out a soft cry as Tae stumbles back into your arms, rubbing his jaw in annoyance. You can tell that all of Alex's anger was packed into that punch given the already reddening bruise on Tae's chin. Anger swirling like a storm in your gut, you turn towards Alex, glaring at him with as much venom and hatred that you can muster.

This has gotten completely out of hand.

Pushing past Taehyung, you walk up to Alex and promptly shove him in his shoulder, making sure that he is completely out of your apartment, behind the line that you have clearly drawn between the two of you.

"Yen..." Tae murmurs behind you, but you shake your head slightly, letting him know that it isn't his fault. Perhaps he already knew that, but there's no harm in reassuring him that it's not him you're mad at.

That honor is reserved for someone else entirely.

"Leave him alone," you hiss sharply, your eyes narrowing in your fury. You can see the guilt manifesting in his eyes, but at this moment you could care less if he regrets it. "This doesn't concern him."

"Yen, I--" he begins, reaching forward to try and plead with you again, but you yank your hand out of his reach, the violent fury in your eyes freezing him in his place.

"I don't care what you have to say, leave now before you make me hate you more than I already do." You murmur deadly, refusing to let him intrude on your life for much longer. He opens his mouth to reply but is interrupted by a familiar voice that sounds behind him. One that makes you almost let out a sigh in relief.

"I'd do what the lady says." Though you had no idea Sunoh could speak English, it's certainly a helpful skill in this situation.

His face, normally so carefree and complete with a fleeting smile playing on his lips, is now neutral and cold. As he leans against the doorframe across from your apartment, his dark eyes sparkle with malice and hostility. They could strike daggers into anyone's heart and make them wish they were dead instead.

And here you thought Taehyung was scary when he was angry.

"I'm sure you could have had a great macho fight against my good friend here," At the gesture towards Taehyung, Tae lets out a scoff which doesn't go unnoticed by Sunoh but is disregarded for the time being. "But two against one is never as fun as it looks on TV. Of course, you could take your chances...but I wouldn't recommend it."

At the ultimatum, Alex takes one look at Sunoh's strong build and Taehyung's ready fists and decides against the fight. He sighs in frustration before turning back to you and regarding you with a fierce, frustrated glare.

Look at him. The little prince isn't used to not getting what he wants.

"This isn't over." He warns you before promptly flipping the protective pair off and heading down the hallway where he came from.

"Yes, it is." You respond, and at the way he pauses down on his way, you can tell that he heard you loud and clear.

Once he's gone, you can feel an enormous weight lift off of your shoulders and the rest of the world fades away.

In the background, you are aware of Taehyung thanking Sunoh and Sunoh complaining about how "some people can't take hints" but their voices are muffled and hard to hear.

Your ears fill with static and past regrets which refuse to leave your mind. You can feel your body swaying as memories and trauma once more pound to be freed, your ears swelled with the sound of screams and tears, almost as real as the tears now released onto your own cheeks.

When the world turns black, the static growing too much to bear, you are faintly aware of Taehyung's panicked voice calling your name as you fall into strong and warm arms. Arms that provide you a haven you were never allowed to experience before now.

"Thanks for helping, Sunoh."

Though the two of them had a rocky start, Taehyung can't help but be in awe of the young man. He held his ground surprisingly well, and though it pains Tae to admit it, without him they probably wouldn't have gotten out of that situation as smoothly as they had.

Sunoh nods as he fiddles with a mug amongst other things Taehyung is currently putting away. You create quite the mess wherever you live, and nowadays you just don't have the motivation to clean up.

"Of course." Glancing over at the dim hallway where you lie quietly in your bedroom, Sunoh can't help but feel a stab of pity towards you as he hands the mug over to Tae's outstretched hand. "She'll be okay, right?"

At the question, Taehyung pauses.

He's never seen you like that, so broken and afraid. It's like he's venturing into a caged-off area of your mind, and he's not sure if your relationship is ready for that darkness. He wants to be let in, to know about all of you, not just the good but also the bad...

But do you feel the same? Or is he intruding on something that you'd rather keep hidden? Taehyung knows how intrusion can violate someone's emotional state, damaging it perhaps more than it was before, he doesn't want to do that to you. The last thing he wants is to hurt you.

But if he doesn't open the door, will you do it for him?

Or do you intend to hide inside forever?

Taking a deep breath, Tae places the mug back in the cabinet before turning to Sunoh.

"Hopefully."

Sunoh knows the answer is as believable as pigs flying, and he sighs. This isn't a problem they can fix, it's something that Yen has to do on her own. At the thought, Sunoh can't help but feel agitated. It's frustrating not being able to help those you care about.

But maybe...

Looking up at Taehyung, he sighs.

"Look, I don't know what happened any more than you do, but I think you should know that she seems to trust you." Maybe the best thing for her is to know she's not alone. And if the best bet for that is Taehyung, then Sunoh wants to do what he can to push him her way. "Don't let her down okay?"

With that, he gives Taehyung a small wave, before leaving the apartment with a soft goodbye. The words resonate with Taehyung, and he stands there for a moment, a bit stunned. A small smile grows on his face, and he shakes his head incredulously at the already absent Sunoh.

"You know, I wasn't planning to, but thank you."

Taking a deep breath, he turns to the hallway.

Yes, maybe he can't do much for her, maybe she has to be the one to open the door...But it couldn't hurt to knock.

Could it?

And so he does, and she lets him in.

As he walks to her side, she doesn't reach his eyes, she doesn't know if she'll be able to regain her composure once she does. But the fact that he's there beside her is enough for her to start to feel okay. She knows it's selfish to rely on someone else, she understands that she won't be able to do it forever. That one day she will have to gain enough strength to stand on her own.

But isn't it okay for tonight?

She needs him.

You need him.

He doesn't say anything as he closes the door behind him, just walks to your side. You want to reach out to him, show him that you're glad he's here, that you're glad he stayed, but you're numb. You feel so tired. Everything is so tiring, and painful, you don't understand why you continue to try. It's a melancholy feeling, one that pushes the tears out of your tear ducts, the one that makes your heart ache with a cut that is now too deep to be healed without a scar.

But he doesn't need words, he doesn't need affirmation, he can feel it as well as he can feel his own heart beating firmly in his chest.

He reaches forward and lifts your chin to meet your eyes. It's a gentle touch, one that you give into, allow to take over your body. At the sight of his tender eyes, the tears run hot again, and it takes all you have not to sob. Sometimes, the sight of someone else seeing you weak, makes you want to cry even more.

For they see you at your worst when you wish they could only ever see you at your best.

Heart aching, he does the only thing he knows how. He places his hands on your cheeks, wiping away those tears, his thumbs warm and comforting on your skin. He doesn't realize that it makes your heart melt and heal, or that it urges the tears of pain to transform into a deep relief as you're reminded that there is someone who cares.

That you are not alone this time.

You place your hands on his wrists, clinging to him as though he were your life support, and refusing to let go of him. When it's clear that he cannot wipe every tear, he leans forward, pressing his lips against your forehead in an intimate gesture, you had only ever seen done in the movies.

"You already did that." You murmur through the husk of mucus the tears have brought forward, and he pulls away from you, his thumb subconsciously rubbing against the skin between your earlobe and the edge of your jawline.

"What?"

You smile softly, as best as you're able before gesturing to the hands secure on your wet cheeks. It takes him a moment before he remembers the moment on the couch after Hansung's death. A moment that seems so long ago and yet is still present in your mind.

As a response, he returns your small smile and removes his hand, only to intertwine his fingers with yours as he kneels before you, his body encasing you in that protective cocoon.

He's always protecting you, isn't he?

First from the fall on the bus, then from your injured ankle, then from the rain at the park, then from your insane loneliness, and now...

He's starting to protect you from the monsters that plague you inside.

"I'm sorry." You whisper, half to yourself, but he hears you, and the comforting brush of his thumb against your cheek pauses as his sparkling eyes search yours.

"What for?" You take a deep breath at the question, praying to God that you don't lose your composure now. But when it's been so long that you've felt this safe and protected, when you've been missing that feeling of comfort and affection; it's hard for you not to tear up a little.

When you try to answer him, it becomes near impossible to speak, and the tears start again, this time, more violent than before.

How do you tell someone that you're apologizing because you feel like you're a burden? How do you confess that you're selfish for relying on him when you know it's not your place? How can you express all the emotions in your heart, when you don't even know what they are themselves?

And the most important issue of all...

How can you let him in to see the darkest parts of you, when you've lost the key?

How can you trust someone, when you've become too afraid to do so?

Taehyung lifts himself off from the floor and sits beside you on your bed, wrapping you up in his arms, and holding you as though he were afraid he would lose you if he didn't. You cling to the sign of empathy and lean into him, accepting his offer of protection and allowing the chrysalis to once more encompass the two of you inside.

"You don't always have to be strong, you know?" He murmurs, his voice deep and strong beneath your ear, and you look up at him, eyes wide and swirling with so many tears that it looks as though a million stars have embedded themselves within your irises. "Sometimes it's okay to let go."

Carefully, he lifts a tear from your cheek with his forefinger before blowing it away almost as though it were the star he was making a wish to the twilight sky.

"Whenever you need to let go, I'll be here." He says as he turns back to you, his eyes filled with everything you want and everything you need. He is your comfort, a place for you to confide in, a place where you can be safe again.

"I'll make sure you come back. I'll make sure you aren't lost." He whispers, as he brushes your hair away from your face, his arms strong and secure around your body as he draws you closer to him.

"I told you already didn't I?"

Is it okay to let go?

Is it okay to trust that he'll always be there?

Is it alright to believe that he's not a dream after all?

Closing his eyes, he presses his forehead against yours, his hand secure on the nape of your neck as he ensures you won't fall too deep in your despair. After a moment, you give in. For in him, you find strength, and in him, you long to accept every dream he shows you and make it into a reality that the two of you can share. And as you do, one truth becomes painfully clear.

A truth you had rather never realized.

A truth you pray he will never understand.

"I'm not going to leave your side."

I'm truly sorry Taehyung.

I'm afraid I've fallen in love with you.

note: ANYWAYS Yen has finally figured out her feelings for Taehyung! Are we excited?! Do you think Taehyung has anything to realize himself? Also, how do you think Yen's past trauma will unfold? So many things LMAO, hope you're ready for next weeks update!

chapter 39 here

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hxseok-honee · 4 years ago

Text

atlas heart || part 49

a/n : "the incantation comes from latin 'protego', 'i protect', and 'diabolica', a declension of 'diabolicus', meaning 'diabolic, relating to the devil'. it is unclear if the translation is meant to suggest 'protection from the devil' or 'the devil protects.'..."

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“Jungkook, will you stop eating all the cookies please--”

“How come Jin gets to eat everything in sight, but I can’t--”

“Because Jin is an insatiable mountain troll with no human manners and six stomachs--”

“Aw, Yoongi, you’re so loving with your words!”

“Shut up, Jin.”

“Kim Seokjin, stop eating the fucking food!” Jimin watches with thinly veiled exasperation as chaos unfolds in Yoongi and Hoseok’s countryside cottage. They’d arrived a few days prior, spending the week together before dispersing for Christmas Day, just in time for the full moon. It had been a chaotic week at best -- verbal altercations were had over stupid things like gift-wrapping techniques, and several small fires had already occurred in the kitchen, mostly due to Taehyung’s ice cream maker.

But somehow, they’d made it to Christmas Eve. And, so far, this Christmas Eve had been spent watching Jin eat all the food as it’s being made and consequently be kicked out of the kitchen entirely by Hoseok. Jimin’s seated in the living room with a perfect view of the chaos happening at the dining table. Y/n’s next to him, reading quietly with her head on Jimin’s shoulder. She’s especially tired today, the full moon just over 24 hours away, so Jimin’s staying close to her.

Namjoon and Taehyung are seated in front of the fireplace, engaged in an intense game of wizard’s chess. Namjoon is beating Taehyung by a landslide, but Taehyung just will not give up, something that makes Jimin smile fondly.

There’s a bang from the kitchen, catching everyone’s attention. Hoseok turns slowly from where he stands at the oven, smiling sheepishly at them.

“I may have put the pie in for too long.” The room is a collection of groans and exasperated laughter, Jin’s complaints overpowering the rest.

“How the fuck do you make a pie explode?! It’s a pie!” Hoseok looks to Yoongi for help, but the boy only shrugs.

“The man’s right, babe -- pie’s not that hard.” Hoseok lets out an affronted scoff, moving to open the window over the sink to let some of the smoke from the oven out. Jimin feels Y/n snicker softly beside him, and when he looks down at her, she’s peering over the top of her book at the scene in the kitchen. She looks so peaceful and happy, even with eyes full of exhaustion. He adores her entirely, and he knows it’s obvious to everyone but her.

Her eyes flick up to meet his then, and, over the cries of outrage from the kitchen about not having dessert, he hears her whisper to him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jimin purses his lips, smothering the smile that’s rising to the surface. He only shakes his head, his expression judgmental.

“Not everything’s about you, Y/n, geez.” He laughs when she gives him a hard nudge with her elbow, and he moves to wrap his arms around her and trap her in his hold. She lets it happen, only grumbling noncommittally about being unable to read like this. He presses his lips to her temple stubbornly in response. “You have a lifetime to read -- let me hug you.”

“Alright, it looks like we’re having deconstructed pie for dessert, so everyone come eat!” Apparently, the argument about the oven disaster has ended, as Hoseok’s setting a pie on the table, a giant hole in the middle where it had imploded. Taehyung jumps up from his tragedy of a chess game and runs for the kitchen, socked feet sliding to a stop in front of the refrigerator. Plucking a big bowl of homemade ice cream -- its flavor to be determined -- from inside, he makes his way to the table and spoons a giant scoop into the pie’s battle wound. He gestures dramatically at it when he’s done.

“Problem solved!” Hoseok mimics him, gesturing just as dramatically at his disappointed boyfriend.

“The man’s right, babe -- problem solved!” The group laughs, everyone slowly making their way to the table to eat. Y/n sets her book on the couch, moving to stand, but Jimin stops her. From within his pocket he pulls a vial and shakes it, eyeing her knowingly when she groans.

“Ten seconds of pain, and then you can drown the taste out with some ambiguously flavored ice cream. If it makes tomorrow night more bearable for you, then ten seconds is nothing.” She smiles, taking the vial and uncorking it.

“Did you just admit to being someone who eats dessert before dinner?” She downs the potion in one go, eyes squeezed shut. She doesn’t see Jimin gazing at her lovingly, only to lower his eyes when she’s done. She hands him the vial and takes his hand, pulling him to his feet and toward the table.

“You promised me only ten seconds of pain before ice cream, so move faster, Park Jimin.” They take their seats in the chairs nearest them, Jungkook setting his plate down on Y/n’s other side and moving to join them. Tae, Yoongi, and Hoseok sit across from them, Jin and Namjoon taking the end seats. Namjoon leaves his seat after a moment, moving to pass out silverware and swap the ladle in Jin’s hand for a normal spoon. Jin refuses to give up his spoon of choice, glaring at the boy standing over him.

“Dude, I will fight you on Christmas Eve -- I have no qualms about fucking up the holiday spirit or whatever--”

“Stop.” It comes from Jungkook, spoken with a quiet urgency that halts all activity in the room. He’s standing just behind the seat he’d been about to take, his hand resting on the back of the chair. He ignores their questioning glances, his eyes locked on nothing in particular as he focuses his hearing on the open window. When he finds what he’s looking for, he meets Yoongi’s eyes, alarmed.

“I thought you said you put a barrier around your house.” Yoongi and Hoseok glance at one another, shaking their heads simultaneously as Yoongi looks back to the Gryffindor.

“We never got around to it…” But Jungkook’s stopped listening. And, for all the years of jokes, remarks, and complaints Jung Hoseok had ever made about the boy’s heightened senses, he can say with complete confidence later that Jeon Jungkook is the only reason he’s still alive. Because the only person in the room that’s ready for the unforgivable curse that’s shot though the open window, aimed squarely at Hoseok’s chest, is the boy who’d heard the call for death fall from its caster’s lips.

Suddenly, Jungkook’s across the room, launching his body at Hoseok’s over the dinner table and twisting in mid-air to throw his hand out toward the window. He’d never in his life attempted nonverbal magic -- not necessarily the most advanced of students -- but it’s said that wizards can create even miracles if they’re desperate enough. And this is nothing like the World Cup, when Hoseok had protected him from a nasty stunning curse -- the beam of light headed Jungkook’s way right now, in this moment of literal life and death, has been shot to kill. So desperation is exactly what produces the shield charm that emits from his entire body, exploding outwards and shattering all the windows in the house as it goes. The force of it blows them all back, throwing them to the floor and against walls with cries of shock.

And, while a shield is normally null against a curse so powerful, it seems Jungkook’s done more than just perform nonverbal magic for the first time. He’s produced a physical barrier -- an invisible pane of pure energy separating his enemies from his family. It takes out half of the kitchen as it goes, destroying the far wall completely and opening the house out to the cold night around them.

In the confusion of chaos and rubble, Y/n lifts her head from the kitchen floor, catching a glimpse of the group of people outside the house, all equally disarmed from the display of sheer strength they’d just witnessed. She counts 6 bodies, all donned in dark robes, and she knows immediately that this is a Death Eater attack.

Groaning, she drags herself to her feet, grabbing anyone she can get her hands on and pulling them with her, staying low to the ground. Jimin’s the first to follow, holding onto Y/n for dear life, but he can’t help the way he hesitates when he looks past the overturned dining table, the wood splintered and cracked amidst all the wasted food.

Because there in front of him, right where the initial wave of power had surged out from and disoriented them all, is something that is very much not human. When it rises to its feet, it stands to full height, and Jimin knows that it’s easily as tall as he is. Black fur as far as the eye can see, the end of its ears and tail painted grey -- its body practically ripples with strength as it moves, and it’s from behind a set of sharpened teeth and a massive jaw, so powerful it could probably break Jimin clean in half, that a low growl starts to rumble.

It becomes a terrifying snarl in a matter of seconds, those piercing teeth shining in the moonlight with deadly intent. Jimin can feel that he’s still moving -- that all of this is happening in slow motion as he runs for safety and that no time at all has actually passed -- but he feels his whole world stop, drowned out by the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, when the beast shifts. Preparing to attack, it turns its head at the last moment to meet his eyes, and Jimin sees then that he knows these eyes. He knows the way they look him over with guarded concern and the way they turn away from him as soon as they know he’s unharmed, silently telling him to find his own way out -- after all, Jeon Jungkook’s always made it clear he has better things to do than look after Park Jimin.

Jungkook presses all his weight into his back legs, crouching low for a moment so suspended in time that Jimin doesn’t even see him leave. But then he’s gone, wind rushing past Jimin’s face and blowing debris everywhere as the wolf takes off. After another hard tug from Y/n that pulls Jimin’s focus back to the matter at hand, he only hears when Jungkook finds his first target, the ripping of cloth and the hellish cry of pain ringing in Jimin’s ears like a nightmare.

Tripping over pieces of the ceiling and walls -- the back half of the house essentially crumbling in on itself -- Jimin finds the faces of each of his friends. They’re all there with the exception of Jungkook, who seems almost feral, if the shrieks of death behind them are anything to go by. The group stumbles from the side of the house through a door that’s comically useless at this point, and when they circle around to the back, it becomes clear that there are far more than 6 Death Eaters.

The group that had led the attack has all but been taken out now, Jungkook nowhere to be seen -- but he’s certainly left evidence of his presence there. Jimin can’t tell if these people are dead or still dying, but he doesn’t have time to sort through the discarded bodies to check. Behind the cottage is a field of tall wheat that's surrounded by forest-- a massive expanse of land -- and when they look into this field to the top of a hill not too far away, there’s another wave of Death Eaters lined up, these faces rather familiar to just two of his friends. Jimin hears swearing behind him, and then Hoseok’s pushing past him roughly, only stopped by Namjoon’s hand clamping down around his wrist.

“Don’t, Hoseok! We can’t do this -- there’s too many of them. We have to run--”

“They just tried to kill me, Namjoon! In my own home!” Hoseok whirls around and gets in his face, eyes wild. Jin tenses next to Y/n, one of his hands hovering over his pocket where his wand is. When she follows his eyes, she sees that the line of Death Eaters has started to approach.

They move slowly, as if they have all the time in the world. As if they have nothing to fear, organized and protected against this mismatched group of ambushed friends. She watches as they approach like predators waiting for the kill, and she knows that this is no simple Death Eater attack -- it’s a massacre.

And then, just as silently as he’d disappeared, Jungkook’s returned. Their attackers are given no warning, only registering that the wheat around them is rustling when one of them is violently pulled down into it. He’s gone in an instant, his screams echoing in the night as he’s dragged through the dirt toward the house.

The moment Jungkook emerges at the edge of the field, the Death Eater is flying through the air and crashing into the remains of the house, slung from Jungkook’s jaws like nothing more than a ragdoll. He lands not a few feet away from them, and Yoongi’s jaw clenches when he recognizes the bloodied face of a fellow Slytherin. Turning to lock his gaze onto the line of his old classmates, he pushes past the group and summons his wand from within the rubble of his home with nothing more than the flick of his wrist. It flies from deep within the ruins into its master’s hand with ease, and Yoongi spins it between his fingers casually once he has it.

“I really hope you guys all know how to cast shields as powerful as Jungkook’s -- otherwise, we’re fucked.” The wolf in question falls into line with Yoongi, his whole body shaking from the warning growl forming deep within his chest. The rest of the group follows, facing their enemies head-on.

From Jungkook’s other side, he feels a warm hand press into the top of his head, and he knows it instinctively. He can also feel the cold length of a wand, hidden easily in the darkness of his fur and beneath her flattened hand. Y/n keeps him there for only a moment -- knowing they only have a moment -- and presses her fingertips against his skull as if to hold him back. As if to stall him just long enough to tell him to be careful. And then the moment is gone and she’s wrapping her fingers neatly around her wand, releasing him with a whisper.

“Go.”

None of them can say how long they’ve been there -- every second that passes is another that they could lose their lives, so it feels like they’re there a lifetime. They’ve huddled into a small circle, surrounded completely. Jungkook is mobile, weaving in and out of their enemies at too fast a speed to ever be hit by a curse. He’s taking them out slowly, dragging them back into the darkness one by one while the rest work just to stay alive. Unlike at the World Cup, where every enemy shot fired was red, these beams of lights are all hauntingly green, glowing in the night sky -- a sign that things are different now, death standing only a few feet away in the form of old friends.

Every killing curse fired is met with an equally powerful shield, a wall that shatters the moment it meets its mark. They’re cancelling each other out, evenly matched in a battle that won’t end until someone gets tired -- until someone makes a mistake. The only sounds come from incantations, spoken by those of their group that cannot cast silently.

Hoseok and Yoongi fight much like their opponents, masks of guarded silence -- a reminder that while they’re on opposite sides of the war, they were once very much the same. The difference, of course, is that their old housemates are now murderers without remorse. But that’s not their only problem.

Y/n suddenly stumbles next to Jimin, and he can’t even tear his eyes away from the Death Eater before him to check on her. He can only reach for her with his free hand, gripping her wrist in panic, which she rips from his hold with a groan. She only barely manages to raise her wand in time to block the killing curse headed right for her head. The force of her shield colliding with the curse so close to her knocks her back, and she falls into the circle with gritted teeth.

Jimin steps in front of her, closing the gap in their circle and allowing her a moment to recover inside their circle. But she never returns to her spot, only curling in on herself and gripping at her head with a cry of pain -- she knows this feeling. The feeling of her skull splitting, her body rejecting itself as it turns into something unnatural -- something unhuman.

But this can’t be happening. The full moon is not tonight, something she confirms simply by rolling over in the dirt and looking up at the sky, in excruciating pain. She can see clearly that this cannot be her reality, yet the popping of her spine as it dislocates itself is very much real. Reaching out blindly, she latches on to the first person she can find, her hand clamping down around Hoseok’s ankle and squeezing with all her might. He hisses above her and manages to glance down long enough to see an expression of pain he’d long become accustomed to.

“What the fuck?!” It’s the first time he’s spoken in ages, his attention back on his opponent as he works out in his mind how this is possible. There’s no time to reason through what he knows, however, because Y/n’s teeth are clenching so hard she’s afraid they might crack, her grip on his ankle tightening painfully. Hoseok makes a snap decision then, calling out into the night.

“Jimin, listen to me.” The boy’s on his left, so focused on the shield he’s casting that he responds only once he’s successfully blocked the deadly beam of green light.

“What is it, Hoseok--”

“You have to take her into the forest. Now.” His instructions are muffled by the sounds of a curse crashing into Namjoon’s shield, unheard by their enemies, but Jimin hears him clearly. He also hears the urgency in Hoseok’s voice, telling him there’s no time for questions. “It has to be you, Jimin.”

He knows then what Hoseok’s saying, what he hasn’t had the chance to confirm himself. Y/n’s transforming on a night other than the full moon, and they’re out of time. He calls for Y/n then, reaching back for her.

“Y/n -- baby, listen to me. We gotta go.” There’s a moment of nothingness, only her groans of pain, but then he feels her hand slamming down into his and gripping hard. And then his body is working faster than his brain.

Stepping forward out of the circle and straight for the man that’s been trying to end his life all night, Jimin swings his arm out, bringing a new shield up with him as he goes. It hits the Death Eater from the side, catapulting him through the air. Just as he’s in the downward arc of his fall, he’s caught suddenly, torso trapped in Jungkook’s jaws as the wolf leaps into the air to capture his next target. They crash to the ground not far away, hidden away in the wheat.

Jimin pulls Y/n to her feet, pointing his wand out into the field as he runs for the treeline.

“Fumos!” The effect is immediate, smoke pouring out of his wand and swirling around him in a dense fog. It keeps them hidden as they make a beeline for the trees, allowing them safe passage. Jimin chances a look over his shoulder and sees that the smoke hasn’t passed over his circle of friends, ensuring that they’ll still be able to see clearly and protect themselves.

Y/n stumbles again as they run, but Jimin’s hold on her keeps her going, and she registers that he’ll be there for her transformation. Panic seeps in through the pain, and she calls out desperately for him to stop, her vision leaving her. Jimin can feel her struggling against him, but he tightens his grip and forces her to follow. They’re close to the treeline by now, but it won’t be enough until they’re completely hidden. And, although he can’t see where the wolf has gone with his old enemy, Jimin steps in something wet and everything suddenly reeks of blood, so he knows Jungkook is near. Apparently, Y/n can smell it, too, because she’s struggling harder now.

“Jungkoo-- Jungkook, stop him!” Jimin grits his teeth and stops, turning to face his girlfriend and pulling her forward. She crashes right into him, the force of his sudden movement propelling her straight into his arms. Her eyes are wide open but her vision’s completely blacked out, which Jimin can see in the fact that she won’t look at him. But he doesn’t need her to.

Ducking low, he wraps an arm around her waist and throws her over his shoulder, ignoring her cries of outrage as he races for the forest just ahead. She pounds her fists against his back, practically roaring with fury as she fights him. He only pushes on, telling himself he’ll let her be as mad as she wants later, if they’re still alive.

Once they make it into the forest, Jimin runs only far enough that he feels unseen before setting her on her feet. She’s immediately falling to the ground, crawling blindly away from him and clawing at the dirt in pain.

“Go away! Just go away!” Disappearing behind a tree, she swears at him loudly, looking for any outlet for her pain. Jimin only turns to the treeline, letting her curse him as he surveys the land around him for Death Eaters. All he sees is Jungkook in the distance, turning in circles in the field as if lost.

Jimin watches as the wolf races for their friends, sliding to an urgent stop and turning back again in confusion when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. He sees when Jungkook’s ears perk up at someone’s call, and his head is turning in Hoseok’s direction. Hoseok’s lips move, giving instructions Jimin can’t hear, but he knows exactly what’s been said when Jungkook’s whipping around to look at the trees.

Interestingly, the wolf hesitates, moving forward before stopping to looking over his shoulder. It’s only a moment, but it’s enough for Hoseok to point out at the forest urgently as he blocks another curse. Jimin can read Hoseok’s lips clearly then as the older boy calls out to Jungkook.

Jimin will die if you don’t go.

The chill that runs down Jimin’s spine at that moment, an omen playing a cruel joke on him, only worsens when he realizes that he’s stopped being able to hear Y/n’s pained gasps. A low whine rings out behind him, and it’s with bated breath that Jimin’s turning slowly on his heels.

Towering over him with an icy gaze locked on him is Y/n -- rather, it’s the part of Y/n that has no idea who he is in that moment. The eyes that see him only see through him, completely empty of anything that isn’t primal. Where Jungkook’s eyes are still his own even in a wolf’s body, these eyes don’t recognize him, and Jimin knows that fact alone will haunt him forever.

Yet, he isn’t afraid of her. He’s only afraid for her -- for the way she’s still curled in on herself, still in pain. He’s afraid for the way she blinks, thoughts muddled and lost, struggling to find herself in the darkness of her mind. He’s especially afraid for the way she finally gives in, losing her will to fight for herself. Her pupils shrink and grow until she’s focusing in on him, and Jimin knows by the way she tilts her head curiously at him that he’s got her attention -- and that’s never good.

When she takes a step toward him, he mirrors it with a step back, and that alone seems to set her off. She moves suddenly, closing the distance between them easily. She leans down until her snout is pushed close to his nose, snarling at him as he stays frozen where he stands. When she raises one clawed hand, he barely has time for a final thought before she’s swinging down at him.

Well, shit.

Suddenly, Jimin’s flying through the air and crashing to the ground a few feet away, rolling to a stop at the base of a tree with a groan -- but he’s in one piece. Lifting his head, he finds that he hadn’t been sliced to pieces by his own girlfriend. He’d been shoved out of the way by a wolf twice his size, the wolf in question now standing where he had just been.

Jungkook’s got his teeth latched around Y/n’s wrist, growling loudly to keep her attention on him. They stand there a few moments, eyes locked in a tense stare-down of dominance. Y/n eventually raises her other hand, claws gleaming in the moonlight, but Jungkook only growls again, a warning. It stops her, as if recognizing this moment, and, although she seems enraged by the display, she lowers her hand anyway.

Ripping her other, trapped, wrist from Jungkook’s jaws, she lets out her own snarl and steps toward him, and Jimin thinks these two might really tear each other apart. But Jungkook’s been here countless times, and he’s still of clear mind, so he knows exactly what to do.

Crouching quickly, he snaps his teeth at her ankles, sending her backwards. She roars angrily, but he persists, snapping at her feet again and again until she’s finally scurrying off into the forest with a cry of outrage. Jungkook watches her go before rushing to Jimin, startling the boy out of his shock.

The wolf sniffs at the air around Jimin, knocking him around with his massive head as he pushes his snout into Jimin’s torso, checking for injuries. Jimin’s lost for a moment, wondering exactly why Jungkook’s expressing so much concern when Y/n should be his priority, but then he remembers exactly what it would mean if he had been caught by one of Y/n’s claws.

Once Jungkook’s done checking that Jimin won’t be turning into a werewolf anytime soon, he’s gone, disappearing after his sister. Jimin only sits there, bruised and battered but alive all the same. Then he hears someone yelling Taehyung’s name in the distance, and he’s on his feet.

Rushing out to the field, he stops at the top of the hill, his breath catching in his throat when he sees the scene down below. His friends are still surrounded, and, although the number of Death Eaters has been severely reduced thanks to the merciless animagus running around, there’s still too many of them. But before he can rush to help, something happens, all too fast to process -- and Jimin has the displeasure of witnessing everything from that hill.

Down in the circle, the rest of the group is fighting for their lives. Many of the boys have sustained injuries simply from their own shields exploding too close to them -- pieces of the ground and debris from the house are thrown around, catching on their bodies in surface wounds they won’t even notice until the next morning.

There’s a special kind of desperation spilling off of Namjoon and Taehyung -- the only muggleborns in that circle -- and it’s making one of them reckless. Namjoon’s keeping his cool, as he’s been in the Order for months now and has had the battle training, but Jin’s having to compensate for small mistakes Taehyung is making out of fear. The Gryffindor’s only a boy, a boy targeted simply for being born. This is the first time he’s ever been faced with his own reality, and he’s terrified.

So when he slips on a piece of rubble at his feet, the only thing that keeps him alive is the fact that he’d moved his head a quarter of an inch to the left just in time. The killing curse flies past him and through the circle, passing Yoongi on the right and hitting a mark just past him -- that mark is the Death Eater that Yoongi had been battling all night.

The boy crumples instantly, the light in his eyes gone. Yoongi watches as he goes, his mind blank as the body crashes to the ground. And then he’s turning on his heel, everything slowed and muffled around him. The Death Eaters have all stopped, equally shocked from what’s just occurred -- after all, they’re just boys, too.

Yoongi hears Jin yelling Taehyung’s name, and he sees Hoseok rushing for him. He watches as Namjoon starts to run to Tae and then stop, raising his wand and choosing to keep guard instead, realizing that their fight isn’t over. Yoongi watches all of it with wide eyes, thinking then that this scene would be very different had the curse hit Taehyung as intended. He spins, staring down at the dead body below him, thinking that this is what Taehyung would have been. This lifeless, empty corpse. And that’s just too much for someone like Yoongi to deal with.

In that moment, the strength of the silent marksman is broken, shattered from within as he fights no longer to protect his own life but those of his friends. In that moment, he proves to be much more worthy than he’d ever thought himself before, breaking through that perpetual tendency to hide himself away — but it comes at a price. Because it’s in that moment that Min Yoongi, for all that he’d tried to free himself of that cursed name, finally gives in to the bloodline he’d spent his whole life denying.

“Protego diabolica!” The spell is cast like the roar of a dragon awakened, enraged -- the first time he’s spoken an incantation in years. It’s ripped from his lungs against his will, uttered with nothing but the urge to destroy, the need to bring pain down on his enemies so that they may never hurt his family again. That dark magic — so forbidden, so evil — follows the command of his left arm, quite literally brought to life by the malice in his eyes and the sweeping of his hand in an arc around himself. And for the first time in the 7 years Jimin had known the shy, self-loathing Slytherin — so guarded from the vulnerabilities of life — he watches from that hill as Yoongi loses control.

The fire that flows out of his hand like water -- icy and unforgiving -- spreads out around Yoongi like a wall of pitch black rage. It passes right over his friends -- they flinch at the foreign magic and its caster, who seems equally foreign to them now. They watch with awe as Yoongi commands the fire, forming a protective circle around them with ease. It almost seems to feed off of his rage, growing with every breath he takes and shrinking with the fall of his chest. He is a snake no more -- a dragon birthed of fire and blood stands in his place.

Jimin watches in pained silence as one of his closest friends loses himself to the war -- but even now, he can still see that Yoongi’s still there. And it’s Yoongi that will have to deal with consequences later, but right now he’s doing whatever it takes to save them. And that includes exploding with anger the moment he spots Jimin still up on that hill.

“Get your ass in here!” The ring of fire seems to swell with his outrage, and Jimin is in no place to refuse. The Death Eaters are still shocked and disoriented by the wall of fire they’re now faced with, and Jimin uses that to his advantage. Racing down the hill, he leaps into the circle, the cold flames licking at his ankles as they let him pass, recognizing him as a friend to their master.

Having seen Jimin’s success at passing through the ring, two of the Death Eaters rush at the wall, unaware of the nature of this dark magic. The moment they make contact with it, the fire senses their intentions, reacting accordingly. Jimin watches as they dissolve into nothing, shrieks of pain ringing out into the air as the fire consumes them. When he turns, he sees that Yoongi is shaken by this, his eyes conflicted as he watches two of his classmates cease to exist, remembering exactly what kind of magic he’s just brought into the world.

But when one of the last Death Eaters attempts to cast another killing curse into the circle, hoping to get through, the fire seems to act not on Yoongi’s command but on his instinct -- and his instinct is to block it. The flames explode outward, concentrating into a wall of protection and destroying the curse. And then they reach further, snaking out to overpower the boy who’d cast the spell, consuming him and his plea for mercy.

There’s only one Death Eater left, standing just outside the circle. Yoongi locks eyes with him, sees the trembling boy staring back at him with fear. They see each other, remembering simultaneously all the times they’d eaten together at mealtimes and suffered together during exam season. They’d grown up together. Just how they’d ended up here, neither of them can recall in that moment, and it destroys whatever innocence they’d had left.

Yoongi finally looks out to the field, his eyes flicking quickly before returning to the Death Eater. The boy hesitates, eventually stepping back. After another moment, he turns, running for his life and never looking back.

When he’s gone, the ring of fire fades, the wall tumbling down until all that’s left is a ring of earth around them that’s been burned to a crisp. Yoongi crumbles then, falling to his knees and staring at nothing. Jimin and Hoseok rush to him, eyes scanning him in concern. They all remain silent, words unable to express what any of them are feeling. Finally, Yoongi lifts his head, still unable to lock eyes with anyone.

“Is everyone okay?” They don’t answer his question, Jin only scoffing in shell-shocked disbelief.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi looks at his best friend, and he knows Jin can see right through him. They all can. He doesn’t respond, and they fall to silence again. Surrounded by bodies and destruction, unable to comprehend what’s happened. Unable to fathom how inexplicably broken they’ve become.

Just when they’re ready to face each other -- when they’re ready to face the aftermath of this night together -- a howl rings out from the forest, pained and haunting. They all lift their heads to stare in exhaustion at the treeline, outlined perfectly by the light of a moon that isn’t full. Yoongi chuckles darkly, shaking his head as he rises slowly to his feet and dusts off his pants before turning to look at what's left of his home with a long sigh.

“This family’s a fucking mess.”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #park jimin #jimin x reader #AHupdate

143 notes · View notes

deniigi · 4 years ago

Note

my supervisor fucked me over with all my other coworkers present. can I request a one shot from you to cheer me up featuring Sammy?

Did I give y’all the fic about the hotpot?

Well if I didn’t, I’m giving it to you now.

Title: hotpot

Summary: Ganke checks the comments for the Blindspot comic daily and there’s this one asshole anon who keeps talking shit about BT.

The Blindspot comic went live in the fall and Ganke couldn’t stop checking the hit count every five seconds. All night there had only been ten hits.

He told himself not to be disappointed. The only person who really mattered had read and loved the comic.

Miles said that BT had even forced everyone on the team to read an abridged version of Journey to the West, and had gone as far as to make a quiz to determine everyone’s character.

Miles refused to disclose who he’d gotten.

BT had clearly rigged the game to make himself Sun Wukong and Ganke was proud of him.

That kind of enthusiasm was exactly what he’d been hoping for, anything else now was just icing on the cake.

Even though it would be cool if it wasn’t just BT reading his own comics.

That would be pretty cool, right? Like. If people online all started reading BT’s comic. That would be sort of amazing.

Kind of excellent.

Definitely worthy of an A+ and double pats on the back.

Right?

The hit counter didn’t think so. But hey, five more people had opened the page since last night. That was something, wasn’t it?

MM: dude why not just ask Sam to tweet out the link?

How dare you, Miles Morales.

How dare you waltz into this place with logical thought.

GL: I can’t do that. That’s like. Idk. Inflating the views.

MM: okay yeah explain to me how appealing to the person in control of the largest part of his own fandom is inflating the views

GL: I see your logic and I’m banishing it

MM: I’m messaging him

GL: DON’T

MM: too late

MM: he says ‘gimme link’

GL: asdksjsjdks

@blindspot: hi I know y’all can’t get enough of me to the point of asking shockingly invasive questions and for you I say good news! Some amazing folks have gone through the trouble of making a Blindspot comic. it’s good guys check it out [link]

It helped.

A lot.

It helped a lot.

People, on the whole, had great things to say. The panels were screenshotted and tagged and sent all over social media and even though Miles was pretending to be chill and aloof about the whole thing, Ganke could imagine him smiling big and bright and white at his phone non-stop.

Mom and Auntie saw a few of the bits on Twitter and tittered over them in the kitchen like pigeons.

The pride rose like a wave. Ganke kept waiting for the crash.

It came two days later in the form of a comment that read ‘Christ, look at all this fuss. BT is fine. I hate his brother.’

It felt like someone punching the wind out of Ganke’s lungs.

He took comfort in the handful of people who leapt in to shout down the commenter. They emphasized that if the anonymous commenter didn’t like the story or the characters, then they didn’t have to read it and they, especially, didn’t have to say anything about it.

Ganke appreciated those guys. He got the feeling that a lot of the people on there knew that the whole thing had been done but a couple of kids.

Not that Anon cared.

Anon replied to all these comments ‘No, I’m gonna keep reading, thanks. Anyways, the brother is lame. The smart part is cool, but why’s it always gotta be a guy?’

The part that haunted Ganke even after he’d shut his laptop and had gone to stick his head out the window for some big breaths of cleansing air was that Anon was kind of right.

GL: should we have made Guotin’s brother a sister?

MM: no

GL: why not?

MM: cause BT’s always wanted a brother

Oh.

Okay. Then it was fine?

MM: yeah man ignore them. it’s chill.

GL: k thanks my ego is huge and fragile

MM: trust me I know

Asshole. Fine, moving right along.

It didn’t stop. Anon commented on every page. Every. Single. Page.

Ganke didn’t know what to do or say. On the one hand, clearly this person was dedicated and deeply engaged with the comic, on the other hand, they needed a Rude Alert button. Ganke wondered if Ned could code one for them and them only.

The latest of their fury was directed at the big reveal in the second issue—BT’s face.

Having now met Sam, BT, Blindspot, Ganke’s whole image of him had changed.

He was not conventionally attractive as far as like, K-Pop idols and famous Chinese dudes went. His eyes were puffy and narrow and his face was round everywhere but the jaw. He leaned more towards ‘cute’ than ‘sexy,’ which Ganke sort of loved about him.

He was friendly. Stressed and grumpy and feisty as hell, yeah, but first and foremost friendly.

Miles claimed that he called it his ‘number one asset in employability.’ Which was wild because hello, Blindspot.

Obviously, BT couldn’t help his face. But Miles and Ganke could help Guotin’s.

Ganke had sent Miles about fifteen different images of Chinese celebrities and had told him to do his worst. They’d reviewed the final few drafts and had picked one that was most like a young Chen Kun. His face was more oval-shaped than BT’s. His chin and lips were slimmer but more defined. He was pretty, but not so pretty as to be called ‘feminine,’ which Ganke thought was a solid compromise between ‘handsome as sin’ and ‘looks like he’s got a quirky sense of humor.’

Anon hated him.

Anon thought that he looked like an idol, and they were not here for it.

They told ‘the artist’ to give him a mole or something, anything to make him look ‘less pristine. God, I can smell him from here and he smells like Dior and staph habitat.’

Ganke had to look up what a staph infection was. He regretted it. He asked Miles if they should censor Anon.

Miles said ‘mmmmm, idk it’s not like they aren’t saying anything that isn’t true.’

Ganke resented that. Clearly this was defamation of BT. This person hated him and was taking their feeling out on the comic.

MM: I mean yeah but it’s not like they’re talking about the comic, man. They’re talking about the style and like, thinking about it, a mole or smth to help you tell him apart from other folks would kind of be helpful. Like, especially if we ever put him in a crowd, you know?

HHHHHH.

Fine.

Anon could stay. But they were on thin ice.

It was hard not to be bitter about Anon’s comments, especially when they arrived daily, as though Anon knew exactly what they were doing and which page they’d left off at. They couldn’t possibly be reading the comic one page at a time, this was intentional.

Ganke’s jaw hurt from all the tooth grinding he’d endured as of late.

This latest one read ‘yo, has BT ever mentioned fighting with a sword? I don’t recall him mentioning. Someone should take that thing away from him before someone loses an eye—or maybe even two.’

That felt like a pointed jibe.

That turned the churning irritation in Ganke’s gut into something much, much colder.

Did Anon know about BT’s black and blue eyes? How could they know? Was it a coincidence? It seemed to be more than a coincidence.

The pile of critiques was growing bigger and bigger, and now that Ganke thought about it, they all seemed to take issue with things that didn’t match the real Blindspot’s personality.

It was as if they knew him.

GL: miles did you read the new comment from AnonTheAsshole?

MM: lol yeah

GL: tell me if I’m talking out my ass or whatever but like

GL: you don’t think they could be Muse, could they?

Silence.

MM: oh no

Yeah. Fuck.

MM: chances are low.

GL: they know so much tho??

MM: might be stalker? Maybe someone who’s over-invested in BT’s social media pages?

GL: maybe.

MM: hold on let me ask Spidey to screen it

GL: does he know Muse?

MM: no, but he’s paranoid and he’ll get Wade to be paranoid with him, and then they can decide whether its worth giving to DD for verification. He knows Muse.

Ganke’s head was spinning. His fingers shook with guilt and the thought of Muse’s pale body hunched over a secret, cracked cell phone in a high security prison who knew where.

In Ganke’s head, he smiled wider and wider, until the skin on his cheeks cracked. He dug out scraps of paper and redrew Blindspot—Sam—with gaping holes for eyes and a screaming mouth and he drew dismembered corpses in black lakes and he laughed.

He just kept laughing.

MM: hey ganke

MM: it’s going to be okay. It’s just a comic. I’m sure AnonTheAsshole is a stalker. They’re not threatening anyone.

MM: Sam can deal with a stalker. And we can too, okay?

There was a reason that Miles was a hero. Ganke wiped at his eyes and swallowed.

GL: okay. Thanks for doing that.

MM: 👍🏾

It took a few hours because Spidey and Deadpool had lives outside of being Spidey and Deadpool, but not so long that Ganke ran out of nails to chew.

Miles messaged him back and said that Spidey had read through everything and ‘escalated it.’ This meant that whatever he’d seen had caused him enough concern to take it to DP.

Miles said that he’d get back to Ganke with DP’s verdict as soon as he had it. In the meantime, he’d run the comments by the other Spideypeople and they thought that it most likely wasn’t malevolent but was maybe something to keep an eye on in the meantime. He tacked onto all, somewhat stiltedly, that he had a weird feeling all of the sudden. The pink Spidey’s tone had changed. She’d shut down and gone cagey, which allegedly wasn’t like her at all. Then she’d told the taller guy to DM her and they’d vanished from the chat. Miles wasn’t sure what was going on there or if maybe they knew something about stuff going on that he didn’t, but he wasn’t super comfortable with it.

GL: crossing my fingers its nothing?

MM: same man, same.

DP escalated it.

Ganke couldn’t stay still in his room. There was no comfortable place to sit or stand or lay. There was nothing to do that would make him stop thinking about everything.

MM: It’s gonna be fine, man, DD always knows what to do.

Miles kept saying that for every step of the way, and yet here they were. Double escalated. Ganke wasn’t so sure he even knew what was happening anymore.

That was scary. Miles was supposed to be part of the in-crowd.

MM: Wade doesn’t think it’s anything that can’t be nipped in the bud.

That was easy for a contract assassin to say, wasn’t it?

MM: he says that you and I are fine. Doesn’t see any links there. Waiting on DD for confirmation of tone.

Hurry up, Daredevil. Your apprentice’s life might be about to take a nosedive into a heap of trash.

Two hours. One text.

MM: >:/

Ganke couldn’t contain the bubble of laughter.

GL: good news?

MM: [image]

He opened it.

SC: HANNAH YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. STOP BEING A BITCH ON MAIN

HC: You can’t tell me what to do

SC: I CAN

HC: Mom he’s being MEAN

SC: Mom she’s scaring children online

HC: I scare children everywhere I go why are these ones special???

SC: Because I said so

HC: that doesn’t fucking work Samuel you’re not her

SC: I am your older brother

SC: your ELDEST brother

HC: YOU AINT SHIT

SC: THEY DON’T COUNT

SC: HALFSIES COUNT

What.

MM: so.

MM: she’s not Muse.

MM: Red’s laughing his ass off at all of us for taking this to a level three

GL: wait I don’t understand

MM: Hannah is Sam’s little sister. She’s found a new hobby in our website.

Blindspot’s little sister was reading the comic??? Holy shit.

GL: she hates him?

MM: no I’ve been informed that they would literally commit murder for each other but this is how they express love.

No way. Siblings were wild.

GL: so we’re good?

MM: [image]

SC: apologize 🔪

HC: eat my ass

SC: apologize or else

HC: or else what? You gonna come in here and sit on me? Huh? Huh????

SC: I know your email password. All 3 you cycle through. What was his name? Uuuuuuuuuh Jing?

HC: you fucking bastard

SC: Hi Jing, it’s me, Hannah. I’ve been in mad crush with you since sophomore year. Please notice me senpai 😖

HC: Die

SC: kill me

HC: I will.

The giggles that came this time were a mix of relief and genuine intrigue. This lady read the comic every day. She took the time to scroll through pictures of her brother being an absolute lunatic and fighting with a huge monkey. Then she hopped into that comment box and took him—not Miles, not Ganke, specifically Blindspot--down a peg.

She must miss him a lot. Ganke wondered if this was her way of keeping him in her thoughts.

MM: I don’t think we’re getting a sorry, man. DD says Sam’s been at this all morning and has been tricked into apologizing himself twice

GL: so you’re saying that she’s an evil genius

MM: idk but she’s def Sam’s main nemesis. I always thought that older siblings got like, rights or something over younger ones, but idk anymore. Angel says this is normal.

GL: do you think she misses him?

Miles took a long time to respond.

MM: yeah

Yeah, Ganke thought so, too.

GL: should we change Guo tin’s brother’s name to ‘hamish?’

MM: ASDLDSDSFKdsjf

MM: one moment.

MM: sam says yes. Hannah says that she thinks our comic is shit and we need to draw everything uglier

GL: she’s kind of funny

MM: 👀perhaps she would like to be a consultant?

GL: 👀👀👀👀

MM: brb asking

MM: sam says no. Hannah says she’s got better things to do than proofread comics on the internet. She’s also not sorry. She wants that to be clear. DD says that the conversation has moved from English to Chinese and to maybe duck and cover for now. He says all is good tho. Thanks for checking in.

MM: Muse doesn’t use punctuation and talks in riddles, so if we get any of that, we’re supposed to send it to DP right away.

Oh, nice. That was a relief.

MM: oh

MM: sam wants to put us in a chat. Can I give him your number?

Uh, only if he wanted Ganke to hyperventilate.

GL: sure

[GL has been added to a Secure Chat]

It was a page of characters and emojis that were somehow more menacing than Ganke had ever seen them before. Miles popped a little waving hand into the fray, as though testing the waters, but the characters just carried on scrawling around it.

Ganke wasn’t quite sure what to do.

GL: hi? Are y’all okay?

There was finally a pause. Then a few shorter lines of characters. And then finally, Blindspot switched from Chinese to English.

SC: yes we’re FINE. We’re GREAT. Aren’t we, sibling from hell?

HC: who’re you? Why are you in our family chat? This is a family only zone, can’t you read?

SC: God Hannah he’s Korean don’t be a dick

HC: I can’t not be I learned it from you

SC: fair but pretend in the face of company

HC: okay fine. Hello losers.

MM: adksadfadsdfldfsldf

MM: hi

GL: hi?

SC: go on

HC: UGH

HC: fine

HC: I didn’t mean to shit talk your creation. Only my brother.

SC: also a sin, we’ll get to that later

HC: no one cares about you Samuel, stop spreading lies

SC: you first. We both know this is no lie, my white dad cares about me a whole lot

HC: well we can’t all have white dads now can we

SC: don’t be jealous

MM: lol you really call Matt your white dad??

HC: who is this person and how do they know our mutual parent’s name?

SC: this is not a mutual parent situation how many times have we been through this. He’s mine. Get your own.

MM: hi! 👋🏾I’m Bitsy! Spidey no. 4

GL: I’m his friend. He draws the comic. I write it.

HC: oh. nerd children x2

HC: anyways yeah Matt is our dad

SC: ffs

MM: he’s sort of dadly ig.

HC: ?? oho

SC: mind your face. Think about your face. Think about how much you like your face.

HC: little spider, did you not hear?

SC: kay everyone out. We’re done here

MM: hear what?

HC: lol Sammy you didn’t tell them about how Matthew Mcconaughey adopted you in all ways but paperwork?

Ganke held his phone away from his face as far as it would go.

MM: …wait are you for real?

SC: no. okay out.

HC: awwww Sammy so shy now. What are you embarrassed about? It’s cute.

SC: Hannah literally shut up I’m not playing

HC: damn okay sorry

MM: can I be honest?

SC: no

MM: I’m going to be anyways: I think we all sorta knew.

SC: …

HC: right?

SC: what does that even mean?

MM: idk, it just felt right, you know? You two are always fussing at each other and red lost his shit that time you got shot. He doesn’t treat you the way he treats the rest of us and we’re his teammates. He doesn’t even treat spidey like he treats you. So like, yeah. It fits.

MM: I’m really happy for you guys.

MM: is there a reason it’s a secret?

Ganke eased himself back down onto the mattress. This was real. This was like, actual, real information. Something that he and like, four other people in the world now knew.

He kind of wanted to forget it. It didn’t feel right to know.

SC: I dunno.

HC: if sam has an honest emotion towards anything he has to calculate its weight so he can make space for it in his collection of satellites.

MM: wh

SC: you’re so not funny.

HC: it’s called emotional repression, darling. It’s all the rage in this family.

MM: oh

MM: so that’s why you and Red get on so well

SC: HHHHHHH

HC: HA

SC: okay but listen his is different, I’ve only seen him cry at his wedding. I cry at least 4 times a week. Obviously under the bed, but that can’t be emotional repression. That’s expression. That’s clearly expression

HC: I can make the old man cry watch me

SC: please don’t I’ll die

MM: awwwww

SC: shut up it doesn’t even matter.

MM: AWWWWWW

SC: LEAVE ALREADY

MM: no I like it here. I want to hear you talk about how much you love your white dad

SC: I don’t. He loves me. I’m fine with this because it results in food, shelter, and continued employment.

HC: uh huh

SC: I’m using him

HC: yeah because you’re like the most manipulative person I know.

SC: thank you

HC: /sarcasm

SC: I know I ignored it.

MM: so wait why do you actually pretend like you hate him tho?

SC: wh

SC: what the fuck am I supposed to do? Just go on up for a cuddle? Have you met Matt? The second someone starts crying, he finds trash to take out to the bins. Hell no. Life is easier for everyone if I stab him with a stick and he kicks my ass in training. It’s fine.

HC: Sam is learning how to be a Manly Man. This is step one.

SC: I’m plenty manly

HC: you’re what mom imagined as manly

SC: which is perfect. That’s all I need.

HC: mama’s boy

SC: must suck to suck, no one’s kid.

Wow. Ganke had never been more glad that he didn’t have a sister.

GL: That’s kind of cool, though.

GL: that you and DD are close like that I mean.

GL: Its different from all the other mentor/mentee superheroes we see who like, sort of hate each other.

SC: wh

SC: OH. you mean Peter and Kate. Peter doesn’t actually hate Stark, fyi. And Kate calls Hawkeye the Old bi-weekly to make sure he’s still breathing. It’s actually pretty normal.

MM: he doesn’t mean like that Sam. I mean, like those guys don’t associate with their Olds now that they’re grown up and stuff, but you and DD stick together. It’s like you’re family.

MM: and that’s super cool. Idk if Spidey would ever consider me family. I don’t think he wants that for us.

SC: I?

SC: oh shit

HC: CLARITY ON THIS FINE DAY. What was your name again, tiny spider?

MM: miles

HC: PRAISE BE TO MILES

HC: AN EMOTION WAS HAD

SC: get fucked

HC: An epiphany was obtained!

SC: would you shut up

HC: Something has finally permeated that non-porous, two-inch thick skull of my esteemed eldest brother

SC: I’m your only brother

HC: you’re not

SC: they don’t fucking count

HC: now will you FINALLY invite our mutual dad to hotpot?

SC: Hannah he doesn’t want to come to hot pot we’ve talked about this. it’s too spicy for him.

HC: I’ll make it 1/3 less spicy

SC: that’s still too spicy

HC: I’ll make it 2/5 less spicy

SC: 3/5

HC: listen

HC: I have all this fucking equipment that SOMEONE left here callously

MM: what’s hotpot?

SC: 👀

HC: 👀

GL: 👀

SC: well fuck

HC: EYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

GL: have we never taken you with us for hotpot???

MM: no?? is this the sticks?

HC: can be. Where do you live?

SC: Hannah no

HC: Hannah yes. We’ll make one here. You’ll make one there.

SC: do you know how much shit I’ll have to buy? Where are we gonna put it?

HC: this wouldn’t be a problem if you’d taken your goddamn inheritance with you to SF

SC: HHHHHH

MM: you guys are actually being serious?

HC: I am. I am here all on my lonesome. Abandoned by my only kin. I require enrichment.

SC: try doing your fucking homework

HC: did anyone hear something?

MM: lololololol I like you

HC: 😊

SC: wh

SC: oh no. No no no.

SC: you two don’t get to be friends

HC: come here bb pspspspspspsps

MM: I’m here

HC: got ‘im. Let’s have hotpot. Sammy send me resippy. We’ll do it together over video so I don’t fuck it up.

SC: I’ve got to go. This has been traumatizing.

HC: byeeeeeeeeeeee

HC: is he gone? Hell yeah, he’s gone.

HC: hey thanks for making that comic thing. It’s hella rad. He loves it. Mom used to call him Monkey when he was little.

GL: omg aw

HC: ikr? P cute. He misses her a lot so I think it brought back good memories. Anyways, I’m actually going to make hotpot. Come over and have some with me, it’s more fun with more people.

MM: you’re not joking

HC: nope, it’s been ages since your whole team has gotten together, right? Ask them to do it. I’m a shit cook, but Sam’ll show us how not to screw it up. And he’s playin’, he’s totally down to hang out with us. We never had more than three people. It’ll be new. Exciting. Enriching even.

MM: are you secretly a nice person, Hannah?

HC: the fuck do you mean ‘secret’??? I’m a delight.

MM: Okay I’ll ask the team and my mom

MM: ganke?

HC: 👀

That—

Sounded kind of nice?

GL: I’ll ask my mom.

HC: nice. You can tell them that it’s a friends dinner or whatever. Idc. I promise I’m not going to kidnap and murder you. I’ve got like, class and work and shit. I don’t have time for that.

MM: 👍🏾

GL: 👍🏼

HC: great here I’ll message you my number. This is legit our sibs chat so Sam’ll freak if you’re still here when he gets back.

MM: thank you! And sorry for thinking you were muse!!

GL: yeah that too

HC: lol np ttyl

That…had really just happened, hadn’t it?

Ganke needed to sit down even though he was already sitting down.

GL: they’re so nice???

MM: ikr?

GL: are you actually going to ask your mom?

MM: Im gonna ask BT if its cool first. Then yeah. Why not? Our team really hasn’t gotten together in a minute. Everyone’s been super busy. It would be a nice change of pace, and if everyone brings smth then Hannah doesn’t have to pay for anything.

MM: ah, Sam says it’s okay. He says sorry his sister is weird and that he’ll make sure she doesn’t poison us.

GL: I kind of love her

MM: same

MM: okay will check in with the others. Talk to you later.

GL: yeah see you later

Damn, at this rate, Ganke’s family was going to triple in size, and all thanks to a comic.

Before he left for downstairs, he made a note to make Guo tin’s brother snarkier.

#fic #inimitable verse #blindspot #samuel chung #miles morales #ganke lee

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

Text

JJK: Fictional Happiness 2

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<- Previous || Next->

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Jungkook isn't good at loosing.

He's always been that way; overly competitive, way too proud to admit defeat, and way too eager to be the best in everything and anything. He's learned over the years how to get his way- how to make things work out just the way he wants them to.

So you not wanting to be with him like he'd expected, threw him off guard.

He's frustrated, visibly so; having been put on a small break by his packmates and managers to blow off some steam at least. They know what he's going through-Taehyung never had the same issues, but had been similarly distraught when he'd found his mate, just to be forced to leave her behind for the first time when they went on tour again. He's learned to cope since then- but jungkook isn't Taehyung Jungkook doesn't want to cope.

He wants you.

Why do you not want him? It's ridiculous really, how you could deny him so bluntly when he knows you've felt the pull just as much. You have to be aware, your omega at least has to be- and yet, you willingly chose your way.

Which wasn't his.

>> you're acting like a spoiled pup.<<

His alpha says inside his head, and Jungkook rolls his eyes as he pokes at his fried chicken. He doesn't have a huge appetite at all, maybe when he refuses to eat you'll take pity on him? Maybe that'll help, even though he knows that's not a nice nor fair thing to do.

>> I can understand her. I wouldn't want a child as my mate either. <<

His alpha says, amusement in his voice as Jungkook growls in response. "Shut up, mutt." He says, as he decides to eat instead, trying as hard as he can to block his inner wolf out. He doesn't want to hear it.

He's not a child anymore- he's 24 for God's sake, he's an adult, a man! There's thousands of potential partners for him out there, you should feel honored, special even! He knows from his secret account on Twitter just how high his fame is- it makes it even harder for him to understand why you never even tried talking to him.

Then again, he had smelled your slight fear that day, and had seen the way you stood there. You were conflicted, as if you didn't know whether or not to stay or run, and its making him feel a bit bad for his earlier thoughts. Maybe there's more to it, maybe you have your reasons.

But then again, he could take care of these problems for you, of any you might have! He's got the money, the influence, and you know it. He's sure of the fact that only he could ever be the right one for you- he's your chosen mate, your destined after all. But then again, maybe you're playing hard to get? Yeah, that could be it; you're not running away, you're simply making him work for it! How could he be so stupid- of course you'd never shut him off like this.

Either way he's gonna find out. He knows it.

He has to have you.

And he will.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #FH!Jungkook #fictional happiness

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chaoticneutralwriter · 4 years ago

Text

GD!Jimin Extras: Golden Hour

As they say, taking a picture lasts longer.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, fluff, romance, angst, slow-burn

word count: 2.2k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

A snapshot of the days before The Storm

A/N: Shout out to @azulamakesmeblank because this was partially inspired by this ask! As promised, a fluff chapter before the literal shit storm that’s about to take place in the story (butisitreallywhenyoureadthelastlineofthispromptwhat:’)) I hope you enjoy it! it’s kinda half edited dkfhgha I love you guys as always for your support and patience for this story! 💖💖💖💖

Tags: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway @indiesy @disn3yfreak @oerangdoongi @definitelynotshady @youmaiiwasherebeforeu

You arrive at the front door a little too breathlessly in your haste. It should be embarrassing but blaming your increased pulse on your lack of fitness has your mind and, ironically, your heart resting easier than having to think that you're actually half-nervous and half-excited to see Jimin again.

Even though you literally saw him just yesterday.

You really need to pull yourself together better; you'd rather not have a repeat of pouring tomato sauce all over the counter because your hands got too shaky from Jimin watching you cook dinner (and after you insisted on him not needing to do anything too!)

You take in a fortifying breath, appearing to be squaring up to take the final stand in saving the world instead of simply seeing your boyfriend for what's essentially a stay-in dinner date. You punch in the pass code to the lock pad with practised ease, almost not giving enough time for the beep to chime as you push the door open.

“Jimin?” You call out in greeting once you toe off your shoes and slip on your pair of house slippers. Your eyes scan over the vast living room, spotting the head of raven locks peeking out from the end of the couch. Stepping closer, a smile sneaks its way onto your lips when you realize that he's most likely resting, given his lack of response. Quietly, you step into the kitchen area to set down your bags of grocery on the counter before you make your way to peer over the back of the seat. You're instantly smitten at what you see.

The sun is beginning to make its descent below the horizon, dying the clouds in an ombre of fiery oranges, pinks and reds against the remnants of soft pale blue sky. Thanks to the generous amount of window space the penthouse has, the golden glow easily washes over the interior of the living room and bathes everything with its light; Jimin being no exception.

It cascades over his skin like honey, high-lighting the bridge of his nose, the tops of his cheeks, and the shape of his cupid's bow. It makes his long lashes stand out so delicately and the equally dark strands of hair that falls gently over his forehead. Your fingers itch to sweep them away yet at the same time, you don't dare risk disturbing this sleeping beauty.

So unconsciously, you silently settle yourself on the top of the couch, resting your elbows on the cushion with your head propped up in your hand.

He looks so completely relaxed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other draped over his stomach. The sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow, forearms toned and the first few buttons undone to expose a teasing view of his collarbones while black slacks hug his thighs perfectly (as per usual). If someone were to take a picture of him right now and slap on some big fashion name on it, you're pretty sure anyone who would see it would believe it to be a legit advertisement or a cover of a magazine.

Now that the thought has crossed your mind, temptation begins to rear its head. From the beginning, it's a no brainer what you imagine one would do given the opportunity of having a guardian demon that looks like the carbon copy of your favourite idol; do whatever you can to prevent said demon from stepping out into the world and risk slandering the actual person they're parading around as, or indulge in your wildest fantasies now that you have the means.

It's....a rather unique position to be in, with a plethora of mixed feelings to say the least.

After the initial shock of it wore off (which was really just taking three business day to process it all), you've come to the conclusion that this whole thing was, more than anything, weird. Some people might be able to turn a blind eye and though you're grateful that he had decided to look like Park Jimin from BTS, no matter how good of a disguise it was, it still doesn't change the fact that it's not Jimin.

You were grateful, but it made you a little resentful towards him.

With such a stark contrast, it's as if all of the good things you associated with that face had been sullied for something colder and unfeeling. You hated that he had chosen to use someone like Park Jimin – the perfect example of a good human being – to mask his much more sinister nature. You were sure it was part of some sick joke, and it felt...wrong.

Like you've lost part of a safe space in your world to the uglier side of the universe.

So in an attempt to preserve Jimin's good name in your heart, you were adamant in keeping your guardian demon at arms' length, hence why doing something as simple as taking a picture with him was out of the question. Not only would it not be in good faith, you can't begin to imagine what would happen if it got out to the world somehow.

And you succeeded....in the most unexpected way possible.

Maybe it was the deep rooted connection you had for Jimin, but there was always, without a doubt, a part of you that was soft to him. At first it had irked you, however over time, you realized it allowed for you to see another part of him that you wouldn't have otherwise. It made you open up to the idea that....he's not as bad as he seems.

You were afraid of losing a piece to your safe space when really, you ended up gaining an entirely new one instead, one that had become just as important.

So maybe that's why, as the longer you stared at Jimin (who's not Jimin but that doesn't mean he's worth anything less), the more you wanted to preserve this memory of him to keep for yourself. It's selfish you know, but things have changed, you've changed, and this is too good of a chance to pass up.

Your phone is out, hands steady as you pull up the camera and you want to laugh at how the image on your screen does no justice in capturing just how ethereal the sight before you is (of course it doesn't, should you really be surprised?) That doesn't stop your finger from tapping the snap button, because as they say, taking a picture lasts longer. The shot is satisfactory enough, getting him at an angle that show him from the waist up. You wonder if you can get another one, this time a little wider....

Well, you'll never know if you'd ever get the shot because your guardian demon chooses to wake up at that moment, locking piercing eyes with you through the phone. You immediately freeze.

There's a pause on his end before you see him pinpoint exactly what is going and a sly smirk tugs imperceptibly at the corner of his lips. “Cherub....” He greets, the low drawl sultry and irises pools of rich melted chocolate.

You gulp, straightening up while trying to inconspicuously put away your phone, a sheepish grin stretching across your face. “Rest well....?”

Jimin pretends to hum in deep thought, shifting so that he's facing more comfortably towards you. “For a good while yes....until my demon senses started tingling, telling me I was being watched. Should I be mildly concerned that you like watching me sleep?”

You scoff, “I don't always watch you sleep.”

“And you totally weren't snapping stalker photos of me.”

Your jaw drops, affronted but you don't go on to deny the claim. “Hey, calling them stalker photos is a stretch. And I'm just saying this because this was the only time I've ever – oof!”

Without warning, his hand had shot out to grab a hold of one of your wrist hanging over the back and with a strong tug, you fall face first onto his chest, an arm encircling you to keep you in place.

“Whatever you wanna call it, doesn't change that I'm still going to charge you for them.” You hear him playfully chastise above you. When you tilt your head up, you see him quirk an eyebrow at you expectantly. You blink, then roll your eyes, pretending to be inconvenienced by his stinginess, as if you're not ready to give him everything if he so much as breathes a word of it.

“Alright, what do you want?”

Jimin doesn't say anything in response, simply staring at you with those bottomless eyes, a smoulder simmering beneath their surface that it has you drowning in their depths. He watches you, unperturbed by your squirming (actually amuses in it) before you practically hear him purr, “What do you think I want?”

Your heart easily skips a beat (or more) and you're sure he can feel it beating frantically from your chest to his. While you're internally combusting, Jimin remains the picture definition of smug, free arm still propped behind his head the same time the other is wrapped around your waist, your face heating at the way you feel his thumb stroke at the strip of warm skin peeking out thanks to your shirt riding up a bit in the tumble.

He's actually infuriating, you think. Why's he gotta be so damn good at what he does?! You don't think he's even trying. Ugh, get it together, this is nothing new so it's not even a big deal! You can be cool about it too!

Giving yourself a chaotic pep talk apparently is what helps you find the courage to scooch up until you're able to land a chaste peck on the centre of his lips. Before you can fully withdraw, you already see the unimpressed look Jimin is shooting your way.

“I know you can do better than that.”

You puff, chewing on your lower lip into a pout; the deadpan in his voice makes you grumble at being called out, your neck and the tips of your ears burning now. Seeing you so flustered though, Jimin couldn't help but be endeared, then finally decide to ease up on the teasing he's been relentlessly subjecting you to. Slowly, he lowers the arm behind his head to gently take a hold on your chin, bringing your attention back to the adoring smile softening his features.

“Pretty cherub,” He coaxes, “Won't you give a little sweet treat for me?”

It takes everything in you to suppress the small whimper that wanted to jump out from the base of your throat at hearing those words. Whether it's teasing, cocky Jimin or loving, doting Jimin, you really aren't built to handle any of them at all, seemingly defaulting to a blushing mess no matter how hard you try be unfazed. Which is why after a moment of resigning to your fate, accepting that there was no point resisting when your heart and body have already betrayed you, do you close your eyes and give in wholeheartedly.

He welcomes you, carefully lets you mould your lips to his for a proper kiss and you helplessly melt against him. You don't think you can ever get used to the feeling but it's like Jimin doesn't mind one bit, pace unhurried to savour every press like it’s your first. Your mind becomes muddled the longer it goes on, and when you feel the swipe of his tongue, you're nearly gone. But as tempting as it is, you can't get too carried away here – you still have dinner to cook!

You allow yourself a few tantalizing licks before you part with great reluctance. Through hazy eyes you meet Jimin's, the little breath you have hitching from the sight of his swollen, moistened lips and dark brown irises now glowing a muted maroon, on the verge of igniting into full blown desire.

“Can't have you spoiling dinner so early.” You say, then embarrassingly avert your gaze at how your voice comes out raspy and thick.

You miss the way the corner of Jimin's mouth twitch, but catch the mischievous glint that's no doubt from mentioning the word 'dinner'. You put on your best scolding face, smacking his chest lightly in reprimand.

“No.”

“I didn't even say anything.” His incredulous retort is drowned out by the laugh he lets out with it, the sound has you struggling to maintain your 'serious' front.

“You were thinking it.”

“Are you sure it's not you projecting your own thoughts onto me?”

You humphed, about to turn away and get off your personal body pillow but Jimin's hold remains steadfast. He sneaks a quick kiss to your forehead once you settle back down again as a means to placate you, chuckling softly, “Okay, okay, I'll behave.”

You giggle lightly, cheeks pressed into his collarbone as you give an approving hum, cuddling even closer to his person and you both lapse into a comfortable silence, breaths in sync. Outside, the final rays of the setting sun disappears below the city's horizon, taking the warmth of the day along with it.

But you find no lack in that when you're lying here in his embrace, because whereas the sun comes and goes, yours remains unwavering.

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yoonsshadow · 4 years ago

Text

ETERNAL - i

➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

➳ warnings ; murder, death, violence, blood, guns, burnt bodies, nudity [nonsexual], nightmares, drugs? [sleeping pills], a bunch of boys being in love

➳ word count ; 4.8k

➳ note ; I watched The Old Guard on Netflix [a serious recommend if you haven’t already seen it] and got hit with major inspiration. Nothing better than found-family and immortal soulmates. I put of a lot of time, effort and love into this, so please treat it with delicate hands. And please, please, give me feedback if you like it. Thank you, and enjoy :)

They have done this before, enough times—too many times—to be familiar with the routine.

The nightmares, all too vivid and yet frustratingly vague, of blood and pain and death. Glimpses of a face they have never seen, memories that do not belong to them. The lingering thoughts of why another, why now, why at all?

They have done this many times, and yet it never gets easier, never makes sense.

⎯⎯⎯

When they submit to the clutches of slumber, it is beneath the glowing moonlight that shines through the broken ceiling of an abandoned church. Overgrown with vines that hold the crumbling walls together and hidden behind bushes and weeds and shadows, this building will be safe, for them. For now. It may not provide much warmth, or much shelter, but it gives them a sense of anonymity that they so desperately depend on. Right now, it hides them from the world. They are nothing but each other’s, so long as they are here.

Usually, sleep brings peace. Long ago did they learn how to banish demons from their dreams, memories of pasts both true and terrible, and so through sleep they find temporary solace from the demands of their long lives. They hold each other in their warm arms, forget about their worries if only for a brief moment. They are but seven men, seven soulmates, seven loves, existing together without burden.

Until tonight.

It is familiar, the weight that descends upon their chests, pushes against their rib cages. An invisible force both squeezing them and pulling them apart, flooding them with vague images, sounds, feelings. In sleep, they hold each other tighter, safer, but they cannot escape the myriad of memories and thoughts that fill their minds.

A pair of eyes, so brown that they are pure, so dark that they are nearly black, blink at them as sweat begins to shine upon their skin. These eyes are young, but they hold wisdom, maturity, that can only come with death. Witnessing it, causing it, experiencing it. These eyes are filled with desperation in this moment, but also a stubborn determination; they know what is coming, and yet they will continue to fight until their dying breath, as they vowed⎯⎯

⎯⎯a uniform, black, stained with dirt and blood, without any identifying marks. No dog-tags, but a tan line around a soft neck where they would normally hang. Trained muscles behind firm fabric, knowledgeable fingers clutching a military assault rifle. Steel-toed boots, scuffs through the polish, dirt in the seams and drops of red in the laces⎯⎯

⎯⎯heart beating through chest, adrenaline spiking, but something’s wrong, this isn’t supposed to happen, how did they know we were coming? Need to get out, need to get to cover, need to save⎯⎯

⎯⎯the enemies found them, caught them, have them, bound and bloodied in a dark cave or dungeon, they can’t tell. Chains rattle against stone where bodies shift for comfort, but no comfort can be found for bleeding wounds, broken bones, bruised skin. Eyes connect, know they’re saying goodbye, can’t speak but wish they could say something, apologise, curse, plead, pray. By the time footsteps stomp their way in, handgun cocked and aimed at their foreheads, they have already accepted that⎯⎯

Gasps echo in the silence as seven bodies jerk awake, trembling and sweating and aching with pains that another is experiencing. Their minds are still clouded, submerged within their dreams, but they know this routine. They know what they have just seen.

Hands scramble beneath their makeshift bedding as they reach for their journals, their pens, and begin to scribble whatever details they can remember ⎯ eyes, blood, pain, death. They’ve all clung to different images, and they desperately remember everything they can before it washes away with their wakeful clarity.

“I saw, um, eyes,” chokes the youngest, his pencil already sketching the eyelashes with careful precision. “Brown, dark. Looked like a girl’s.”

“She had to be military,” says another. “Maybe special forces? No insignia on the uniform and dog-tags were taken off. Black-ops?”

“I saw a glimpse of a scar on her hand. Might help to identify her.”

“There were others, too; a team. I have a feeling she was the leader.”

“It was a rescue operation, but I don’t think they succeeded. The enemies saw them coming. She was confused as to how.”

“Did you see the gun she was shot with? That’s military grade. It was either supplied by somebody on the force, or they were the force.”

“God, I have a headache.” Seokjin rubs his temples, a pain lingering behind his eyes but never ceding. “Never thought after three-hundred years that we’d get another one.”

Arms curl around him, a sigh breathed into his neck. “Me too, hyung.” Jeongguk nuzzles closer, finds comfort in the warmth of his lover’s broad shoulders. “I feel sorry for her. Now she’s going to have to deal with this too.”

“Hey, what did I say about pessimism?” Namjoon’s pointed look is directed towards the youngest, but the words are for everybody to hear. A reminder. “Our lives may be long, and hard, and difficult to deal with at times. But we have the opportunity to help people, to affect change, and, most importantly,” his eyes soften, “to have each other.”

“Wah, hyung’s going soft on us,” Taehyung grins, leaning his head on Namjoon’s shoulder.

Behind him, Jimin clings around his torso like a koala. “Yeah, those are big words for somebody who so often tells us how insufferable we are,” he agrees.

Sitting up, Yoongi joins the conversation with a voice still deep with sleep. “That’s because you are insufferable. But that doesn’t mean that hyungs love you any less. Eternal life would be extremely dull if we didn’t have you annoying us constantly.”

Taehyung and Jimin smile at each other, eyes glittering with something devious, and something close to love. “You all just bore witness to that,” Jimin says, pointing at Yoongi. “You all heard him say that, so you can’t yell at us for being annoying ever again!”

“Free pass!” Taehyung agrees.

Hoseok, still lounging his head in Yoongi’s lap, rolls his eyes. “Yoongi-hyung said it, but none of us did, so we can, and will, still yell at you.”

The two pout, but question it no further. They could spend centuries arguing over petty things⎯have, regrettably⎯but they’d much rather get along. For now, forever.

“Hyungs,” a small voice whispers into the silent air, drawing attention to where the maknae still hugs into Seokjin’s back. He’s pouting, and they want to coo at him, but his next words break them out of their reverie of adoration. “What about the girl?”

Your ears are ringing when you finally wake, images of your nightmares still clinging to your mind, so vivid, so real. They were filled with pain, and fear, and the bloodied faces of your soldiers as they were shot one after the other. You remember screaming for them, pleading, hoping against hope that they’d listen. But, instead, you had watched them die.

You hope that you didn’t scream aloud, didn’t wake your team. They deserve the rest, even if you couldn’t have it.

Muscles stiff and aching from a restless slumber, you shift in your cot, move to adjust the blanket. But your cot is harder than you’d like, your blanket out of reach. In fact, you can’t move your arms at all.

When your heavy eyelids finally open, you realise why your dreams had felt so real.

The stench of blood and death is so thick in the air that you can taste it, that bitter tang against your tongue bringing bile up to the back of your throat. Your body isn’t just sore, it’s screaming; it’s as though you can feel your muscles re-knitting together after being torn apart. And maybe it’s panic that crushes against your lungs, constricting your airways, or maybe it’s grief.

Because as soon as your eyes land on the dead bodies of your teammates, you can’t breathe.

Your throat is so sore from screaming and crying that the sounds escaping it are torn and scratchy, but you can’t hold them in. Not when you see your friend’s brain splattered over the wall behind her; not when you see your second-in-command holding her hands together, mid-prayer when the shot was fired.

You sob, and yell, and cry out until your throat is raw, and then when you have no voice left, you continue. You may not be dead yet⎯and for what reason, you don’t want to know⎯but you don’t think that you’ll ever truly live after this. How does one move on from their friends, their family, being slaughtered before their very eyes? How does one process the fact that they were left behind?

Through the crushing weight on your chest and the searing pain in your throat, you hear footsteps approaching. The heavy boots do nothing to hide their owner’s steps, impatient and strong, but you can’t find it within yourself to be afraid. The worst thing they can do is torture you some more, maybe even kill you, but you’d welcome death at this stage; you’d welcome reprieve from the sorrow that threatens to swallow you whole.

It’s a man, unsurprisingly, who walks through the mouth of the dark cave, ugly face covered by a mask pulled up to his eyes. He looks at you, something in his half-hidden expression that you don’t have the energy to place, and then says something in a language that you cannot understand.

Heaving a breath and swallowing blood, you meet his sharp eyes. “I don’t understand you.” Your words scratch their way out, hardly discernible, so you try again. “I won’t tell you anything, so just kill me and get it over with.”

This time he shouts, still angry but this time not at you, though he never tears his gaze off your crumpled figure. Like if he blinks, you may disappear.

Once again, hurried and heavy footsteps make their way into the room, a pair of men joining their comrade. These ones are holding guns. You can’t find it within yourself to flinch.

More foreign words are thrown at you, some that seem like questions, but your mind is too rattled, head too sore, to even try to comprehend what they might want from you. Your shoulders ache from where your arms are secured behind you, and your legs ache from hours⎯maybe days?⎯of disuse. So you sigh, level what you hope is a glare towards the two newcomers, and repeat, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Looks exchanged between them, hesitation, and then, “You should be dead. Why are you not dead?”

In a moment of weighted silence, you try to determine if they’re serious. Because surely they aren’t asking you how you are alive while being held captive by them. But they don’t elaborate, so you’re left with an even greater migraine than before. “Are you fucking serious?”

The expletive makes them simultaneously point their rifles at you, and this time, you do stiffen. You may be feeling slightly suicidal right now, but you also have reflexes.

“I don’t know why I’m alive.” The admission is spat from between your teeth, reluctant and bitter. “Why don’t you ask whoever it was that killed the rest of my team?”

“I killed your team,” one of them says. The first one. Without a gun, obviously having thought there would be no threat in entering this dungeon. “I killed you, too, shot you in the head myself. So tell me again. Why are you alive?”

“Maybe you’re a bad shot,” you reply. “How am I to fucking know why you let me live? Now do me a favour, will you? Either let me go or shoot me for real this time.”

You don’t have time to register the sound of the gunshot before the bullet goes through your forehead.

“Anything?”

A sigh is the only response that Namjoon receives.

“Alright,” he continues, “what do we know for sure about her?”

“Honestly, hyung?” Jimin looks up from the laptop he’s perched at. “I don’t think we even truly know if it’s a woman. We saw her⎯their⎯eyes, but not much else. Like, sure, we think it’s a woman, we’re pretty sure of it, but nothing’s certain. The visions were really vague this time around.”

“He’s right,” Yoongi agrees, never looking up from the screen of his own computer. “I’ve been searching the military databases, but it’s hard to pinpoint covert operations that don’t technically exist. We didn’t get a dog tag number, or an insignia, or even an idea of which country’s military she’s in. I hate to say it, but we might just need to wait until tonight. Get some more pieces of the puzzle.”

This is what Namjoon was afraid of, not that he was expecting anything else. His boys are good, but even they can’t work miracles.

“I feel sorry for her,” Jeongguk hums, cheek pressed into the couch cushion where he’s taken a rest from research. Not that he ever really started; that was always his hyungs’ strong points. “I mean, she’s all alone right now, probably really confused, really scared. I know I was before you all found me.”

That sentence strains their hearts, makes them pause. Jeongguk had been alone for nearly a decade before they had finally found him, lonely and of unsound mind, unaware of the curse he’d been unwillingly given. They’d spent years helping him heal, helping him accept, and now they can proudly say that he is stable and content. Happy, even, sometimes.

You, however. You are in the exact same place that he was. Maybe worse, they don’t know.

Taking slow steps towards the couch, Hoseok gently lifts Jeongguk’s legs to place them on his lap when he sits. He feels the strong calf muscles beneath his fingers as he strokes the uncovered skin, bare only for their eyes, until the young one has relaxed his worried muscles.

“I know it’s hard, Jeongguk-ie,” Hoseok says, voice just above a whisper, soft and yet sure. “I know that we all want to find her as soon as possible, but we can’t just yet. Hopefully the next dream will give us more, but until then, we just have to stay focused. Let’s not get lost in that mental spiral, okay?”

Jeongguk hums, not fully sated with the answer but understanding nonetheless. “M’kay, hyung.”

The comfortable silence in the room following their conversation doesn’t even stretch five minutes before a figure slams into the building, flourishing his arms and announcing his arrival enthusiastically.

“We’re back, bitches!”

Seokjin follows behind Taehyung, closing the church doors after the younger had slammed them open and looking exhausted. “Taehyung chatted with the cashier for half an hour before he even asked for help. We could have been back hours ago.”

“Hey.” Taehyung directs a look at the oldest. “Her outfit coordination was unlike anything I’ve seen this century. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s as old as Hoseok-ie hyung!”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Hoseok asks Seokjin, who is smiling despite himself.

“Definitely a compliment. I’ll admit, she reminded me of that one fashion mogul we knew in Paris. The one...Jimin, you know the one I’m talking about. Red hair, lazy eye?”

“It wasn’t a lazy eye, hyung,” Jimin corrects, “she was just keeping an eye out in all directions.”

“Yeah, anyway,” Seokjin says, “none of that matters. We got the stuff. Took a while, but we got it.”

Taehyung empties his plastic shopping bag onto a wiped-down old table, cardboard boxes falling onto the surface. “I’ve got to say, modern medicine is pretty ground-breaking. I wish we were smart enough to have invented it earlier.”

“Do you think it’ll work?” Yoongi asks, sounding a lot less interested than he actually is. “I wouldn’t think that sleeping pills would affect us.”

At this, Namjoon bites his lip. “Usually, I’d agree with you, but I’ve been doing some thinking. If the pills aren’t hurting us, our bodies shouldn’t heal too quickly; they should still have time to take effect. Just like how we can get drunk but not have liver issues, or smoke but not get cancer.”

“But smoking’s still gross,” Jeongguk mumbles.

“So,” Hoseok ponders aloud, “if we take the pills, it should prolong our sleep so that we can lengthen the dream? Do you think it’ll work?”

“We’ve never been able to test it,” Namjoon shrugs. “The worst thing that could happen is our body processes it quicker than it works, and we have a normal night’s sleep with normal visions. It’s worth a shot.”

“I think a few of us should not take the pills,” Seokjin says. “That way, if the pills really do work, some of us can still wake up normally in case of an emergency.”

Namjoon nods his head in agreement. “Okay. We’ll rock-paper-scissors it tonight. Until then, let’s rest.”

The second time you wake up, you are significantly less disorientated. You know where you are, what has happened and, most importantly, that you should definitely be dead.

You’d seen the gun, heard the click, felt the bullet spilt through your skull. You know what a killing shot is, have dealt a few yourself, so you know that you should not be opening your eyes to an intense headache right now.

An acrid odour drifts through your dazed thoughts, a stench so strong, so unpleasant, that bile immediately rises and spills from your mouth. You don’t have much to vomit, so you spit mostly water and stomach acid onto the ground beneath you as you wretch from your aching throat.

No, not the ground. Something far worse.

When the tears from your eyes clear away and you look to the ground, you see what is digging into your skin, jabbing at your muscles; you aren’t sure why, or how, but you are lain across a pile of bones and scraps of cloth, sizzling flesh still warm to the touch and sticking to you in chunks. You are atop a pile of burnt bodies, unharmed and soaked to the bone with the reeking smell of charred flesh.

Your stomach is empty, and so you can only scramble from the pile and retch.

For several minutes, all you can do is allow your body’s attempt to empty itself on the ground. Even more so than before, your mind is overwhelmed with thoughts and questions and worries, most of which lead to the fact that you are lying naked in the middle of a desert, next to a pile of burnt bodies, unharmed and somehow alive.

You are at least thankful that you are already lying on the ground when you faint.

There are seven pairs of eyes⎯brown, warm⎯that look at you, look at each other. Words remain unspoken, for the pupils reveal every thought, every emotion. I care for you deeply, they say, now and forever. The words are not meant for you, not yet, but they feel familiar. As if you have heard them in every past life⎯

⎯Surrounded by trees, a sight which would usually calm you but now only acts as a hindrance, you run through the familiar forest without grace. Bare feet bleed trails of red through the undergrowth, sore arms never dropping the heavy weapons that slow you down so. You should not be alone, never usually are, but now you are accompanied only by your panic and the wolves that chase you. These ones, however, do not howl or gnash their feral jaws; they calculate, the way only a human can⎯

⎯Metal hangs heavy around your lithe neck, skin raw and bleeding beneath its unrelenting grip. Fingers grab into your filthy hair, knotting into your bun. Worthless piece of filth, growls a man. You are not unfamiliar with his tone, nor his insults, though this is the first time you have felt a glob of saliva being spat onto your cheek. Can’t even follow the basic rules. Somebody really ought to make an example of you⎯

⎯This room is bright, brighter than the last, and yet somehow glooms darker than all. Shadows hang heavy in the corner where invasive eyes hide, but you can look only to the man who sits in front of you, posture relaxed despite the tensity that thickens the air. Go on, he taunts as you are shoved to your knees, the pain nothing compared to the fear that fills you at the sight of the executioner’s sword. Show us that smile of yours. Grant the world one more. Grant him, he nods towards another figure who you refuse to meet gazes with, one last dazzling grin. You do not, but you do whisper an apology under your breath, one that will never be heard⎯

⎯Gold silk hangs from your broad shoulders, the fabric draping gracefully down your tall body. Each detail stitched into the delicate robe sparkles in the candlelight, patterns that tell stories of love and power and beauty. Jeonha, somebody says to you, a face that is hidden from your view. I am sorry for this, Jeonha. Gold silk soon turns crimson when the knife plunges into your back. You are not even allowed the courtesy of looking into your killer’s eyes⎯

⎯You had always thought that you would live longer, survive the odds set against you, but you know now, as your mother tends to the gash carved into your chest, that this time, luck is not your benefactor. It is not so bad, she assures, though you know the look in her eyes, see the light in them dimmed with grief of a life not yet lost. You wish to tell her everything, anything, but the words bubble up in your throat and you struggle to spit them out. She knows, though, you can see that she knows, and her calming hand rests over your heart, which beats slower and slower with each moment. I love you, my sun, my son. Rest well. Her hand grows cold, or maybe that is you. For you no longer feel, no longer worry, only close your eyes and fall⎯

⎯Urgency pumps your blood faster, the sound echoing in your ears, as your weeping eyes search around you. Nothing, not the chaos around you nor the wound in your shoulder, can stop your wobbly legs from moving, not when you have to find him. There you are, comes his voice from behind you, and you turn so quickly that you become dizzy. But he is there, wounded yet alive, and he is offering you a smile that you struggle to return. You fall into his arms, he into yours, hold each other with all the strength that you have. And when an arrow pierces through your heart, spearing through his chest, you are connected even when you fall, lifeless⎯

This time, you wake with a gasp and a speeding heart, images so vivid still lingering in your mind. Your chest is still sore where your heart lies, the organ heavy with another’s grief, and you are surprised to find yourself covered in your own tears.

Still in the dirt, still nude, still alive, and still confused, you know that the only way to survive is to keep moving. Memories of dreams that had felt so real may plague your mind for a while, but you cannot dwell. You have had nightmares before, strange and also plausible ones, and you know. You know that to submit to the darkness of your own mind is a death sentence in itself. So you stand up, dust off your bare skin, and begin walking in an unknown direction.

You only cast one glance back at the bodies behind you. Your team, in all probability. Your friends. You are leaving them in the middle of nowhere.

This, too, you do not allow yourself to dwell on. Not now. Not yet.

Though the night has long since begun, darkness creeping into every corner of the room, one figure lies awake, thinking. Listening.

He is selfish, he supposes, for choosing not to sleep in a time when it can be so important. He should be allowing the visions to greet him, remembering the details, soaking it all in. Instead, he blinks away his exhaustion in exchange for wandering thoughts. He is not ready to allow another’s memories into his mind; for his to enter their’s. He has unwillingly revealed his sins to far too many already.

Hoseok is afraid. And he is tired.

Around him, his six loves breathe deeply, bodies relaxed in slumber and minds lost to the visions of their eighth soul. Some stir, occasionally, and he is sure he’s heard one of the maknaes whimper, but all is otherwise silent.

He would die a million painful deaths just to ensure that they could maintain this peace forever. He supposes he has, already. But he doesn’t regret it. Not for them.

Though the silence is calming, it also beckons his eyes closed and his mind into darkness. So, in an attempt to battle the tantalising call of sleep, he rolls over, stands up, and quietly sneaks out of the crumbling building they’ve taken shelter in.

The air outside nips at his skin, prickling goosebumps down his back and arms, but it is always chilly at this time of year, in this part of Europe. He forgets which country they’re in. Possibly close to France, but likely somewhere in Italy. He can smell salt in the air, the ocean not far away.

Yes. Italy.

Through thick undergrowth and overgrown weeds he wanders, mind idle and busy all at once. His feet take him around the perimeter of the area⎯a consequence, he supposes, of living a paranoid life⎯but his thoughts are elsewhere. On a girl he has yet to meet. On you.

How will you react, he wonders, to this life? To them? Through the brief flashes he has seen of you, you are a woman who seems steadfast, capable, and determined. But he’d also seen your team; felt the love you hold for them. Will you be able to part from the life that you can no longer lead? Will you eventually accept them as your new family?

There are too many questions, too many things to worry about. This is why he doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching him from behind until two arms wrap around his shoulders.

“You should be asleep.” The words are whispered beside his ear, warm breath fanning down his neck. He shivers, but doesn’t respond. “What’s wrong? Let me help.”

Hoseok sags into the strong embrace, allows the arms to tighten around his chest, and sighs. “I’m worried, Namjoon.” Namjoon hums, doesn’t say anything. “Is it selfish of me to not want to see her memories? To not want her in my head?”

A pair of plump lips kiss the tip of his ear. “Perhaps,” Namjoon says. When Hoseok stiffens, he pulls him closer. “But being selfish is not necessarily a bad thing. You are allowed to prioritise yourself every once in a while.” Namjoon can sense that Hoseok is not yet appeased, so he adds, “There are six of us here to take the visions when you can’t. And if you do decide to rest, there will be six of us here to hold you through it. Being selfish does not mean that you are alone.”

“I’m so tired,” Hoseok whispers, and they both know that he is not referring to his lack of sleep. “We’ve all got such baggage, so much hurt, and I wonder if adding the weight of an eighth will be too much.”

“Hey.” Namjoon gently turns Hoseok in his arms, holding him close still. They look into each other’s eyes, see everything that they have grown familiar with. That they have grown to love. “We will also have another person to help share the load. For now and forever, we are in this together. It’s okay to have doubts, or worries, but never forget that you are ours and we are yours.”

Foreheads touch and eyes close, the silence of the night engulfing them as they share each other’s heat. And here, they are okay. They still have fears, still have troubling thoughts, but they are not so bad when they are together.

“C’mon,” Namjoon mumbles. “Let’s go back inside. Whether you decide to sleep or not, we should stay with the others. You know how they can get about cuddle piles.”

This does make Hoseok breathe a laugh. “Okay. And hey, Namjoon.” He presses their lips together in a brief, soft kiss. “Thank you, my love.”

“My eternal,” Namjoon replies.

That night, they both allow sleep to take them. They join the others in dreams of bloodshed, heartache, and death. And they hold each other a little closer. And they are okay.

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