#scans from a few years ago. these come from a booklet that came with their physical copy

[waffulaa]

VOCALOID3 ZOLA Project - Yoshitaka Amano's Illustrations

[infoactionratio7]

call it fate, call it carmen pt. 3 - c. berzatto

summary: carmy and the pretty girl from the cafe visit one of the chef's favorite restaurants in the city. they end the night with a question of what is to come next for the two of them.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem! teacher! reader

word count: 2350

note: to read the other parts click here! basically carmy is showing off that he knows a bunch of restaurant owners bc he's famous and thinks he's super cool, lots of food talk, the usual! very cute fluffy nothing crazy. this is the last part el oh el. i hope u all liked this mini series. (sorry it took so unnecessarily long to write i hope u all like it ♡ )

The smell of aromatic spices and cold air hit you as Carmy led you into the restaurant. The lighting was dim but still pleasantly warm, you were in awe of the decor. The traditional japanese architecture mixed with the modern vibes of all the restaurants you had seen Carmy following on Instagram. The host led the two of you into a dim lighted honeycomb looking wall full of booths, Carmy beamed at you seeing your fascination with the setting. He stayed behind you, placing his hand on your hip as the two of you walked up the steps into the booth. Shivers seemed to run down your spine at the delicate touch.

"Here you are, someone will be over in a second to help you" The host smiled at the two of you warmly, they placed the menus on the table. You scooted into the booth, the wooden walls surrounding you creating an isolated booth for the two of you.

Carmy sat down at the booth, he shook his coat off his broad sholders, exposing the white chef's shirt underneath. Of course he was wearing it, the only shirt you had seen him wear each time you had the pleasure of seeing him. Not that you were complaining, his tattooed arms looked beautiful in the dim light.

"Now" Carmy grabs the menu and says your name softly, "My brother helped this guy start the business, there were a few guys wanting to buy this place up for some laundromat years ago, but they ended up dropping it for this resturant to buy the place." He had been scanning the menu, you had yet to open yours up, knowing he would pick the best option for the two of you. You gazed at him as he intently looked at the menu, there had never been someone who you felt this way about before. It was so simple, to bring you to a resturant and pick out your food. But the fact he was just doing it, because he wanted to impress you made it even more attractive.

The server came up to your table, you ordered water and Carmy did the same, wanting to stay sober for the night to get to know each other better in the right headspace.

"What are you gonna get for us Carmen?" you smiled while his gaze met yours, his blue eyes piercing as they scanned your face. His lip quirked up in a smile, "You know I think that is gonna have to be a surprise. I just know you are gonna like it though." As the server walked up to your table with the water glasses, Carmy brought the menu up to his face, hiding the order from you. You giggled at his antics, making the order a surprise just for you. He gave the menu to the server and the server smiled gently at you, and bringing up their serving booklet to shield their words from the man they mouthed, "You've got a keeper."

As they walked away, you made eye contact with Carmy, "What are you up to Berzatto, you have a sneaky look on your face?" He took a sip of his water then leaned in close to you, grabbing your free hand on the counter "You'll see" He grinned from ear to ear, "now why don't you tell me a little more about yourself huh?"

His hand was so warm, yours ice cold in his palm, the drastic change in temperature came as a shock to you. His touch felt so comforting, the rough calluses from years of working in the kitchen gave you butterflies. He had been through so much in his career, there was so much admiration you had for his past culinary escapades. And the thought of possibly accompanying him in any future was swimming around your head. You forgot where you were for a second, coming to after you felt some pressure on your hand, a squeeze from the chef sitting in front of you. "I lost you for a sec, what were you thinking about?" You realized you had been silent for more than a minute, shaking your head you replied, "Sorry, sorry, I totally zoned out, just thinking about some stuff, it doesn't matter" He looked suspicious but acted like he just didn't care, moving on.

"Oh yeah, let me tell you some stuff about myself um..." You looked up and around trying to think of something interesting, "I used to watch Gilmore Girls and then write down all the different jokes I liked so I could say them at school and people would like me more if I was as funny as I thought they were. It never really worked but my mom said she always liked the jokes!" Blushing, you looked down, laughing at yourself, reluctantly letting go of Carmy's hand and burying your face into your palms. Parting your pointer and middle finger you peaked through. Carmy was laughing, and laughing hard, the man seemed hysterical, his eyes squinting because he was laughing so, so much. "I cannot believe I just told you that, holy shit that's so embarrassing"

"That is so fucking funny, how old were you?"

"I was 6"

He fidgeted with the utensils on the place setting, "I would have loved to know you at six" He laughed and shook his head, "I don't have anything as embarrassing as that to tell you but one time I did drop the whole pan of ricotta polpette during christmas dinner and my mom took every single toy in my room and put it in our freezer in the basement that I was terrified of because I thought a yeti lived there." He looked so happy talking about his childhood, "My brother, Mikey, came with me and his airsoft gun to go into the freezer to help me get them back just in case the yeti tried to attack us."

You covered your mouth as you laughed, he glowed, recounting a simpler time than now. His smile dropped, thinking about the past christmas, not wanting to remember how horrible it ended up. You could tell something was wrong, and wanting to change the subject, you cleared your throat.

"So, Carmen, when am I gonna get to try your cooking?" He lightened up, excited to talk about his career again. "I mean, you bring me out to a restaurant but I want to try some of those famous family recipes. They have to be good it seems like it's important to your family" You smiled at him, giving him a once over, his hair was a mess but he was so beautiful, it just did not matter.

"I promise you can try my food soon, I hope it's not too much for you though, I'm sure you've never had true italian cooking like mine" You rolled your eyes.

"You're from Chicago."

He tilts his head gazing at you, "And?"

"There is no way your 'true italian cooking' is that accurate, come on."

He looked at you like you had just taken all your clothes off, "That is the most insulting thing you could have said to me." He grabs his chest and leans forward with a pained look on his face, "You are breakin my heart already, we've barely been on one date and I'm already close to death." He dramatically gasped and met your gaze with a toothy smile.

"Oh shut up Carmen"

"Never" He says your name, just as the server comes back with a few dishes in hand.

They set a bowl in front of you, full of soup dumplings, but soup dumplings in the shape of little hearts, the thinly sliced radishes around the rim of the bowl as a garnish, also shaped as hearts. You looked up at the man grinning in front of you. There was nothing to say, this was the cutest gesture you had ever experienced on a date in your entire life.

"Carmen are you kidding, these are the most precious things I've ever seen in my life how in the world did you get them to do this, oh my god," He was still grinning, so proud of himself for making you smile. "Like I said, I know the owner." He shrugged and looked up at the server, thanking them as they smiled, and walked away.

"These are too cute to eat I can't" He looked at the dumplings, then met your eyes, "I think the biggest insult to me right now would be if you did not eat these dumplings right now, so please I need you to enjoy them." He picked up the utensils and encouraged you to start eating. While the two of you ate, Carmy told you about the past few months he had experienced, from moving back home to dealing with all the new people in the restaurant, and his mom not reaching out to him so he could see her, the group he had been going to that his sister recommended, and dealing with the money problems at the restaurant. He revealed so much to you, you shared stories about your family. The friends you had lost in your life and some of your biggest hardships, finally making it to teach in the best school you could ask for with all the best kids. You could not help but fall into his eyes, as he spoke about all the experiences he had in his life, he put his whole heart onto the table in front of you. The chef even shared some of his food with you, the gyoza he ordered for himself was delicious. You both finished the food in what seemed like hours. You felt as if you had been in this restaurant for a lifetime, experiencing Carmen.

"You ready," Carmy glanced at you, with the bill in hand, opening your mouth to protest paying for your half, he raised his hand and shook his hand. "I am not letting you pay for this, I will pay and you will be happy and let me treat you to dinner."

"But Carmen you bought me that baklava and I need to repay you please, please, please" You put your hands together begging him to just let you pay for your half of dinner at the very least.

He said your name like an impatient parent, "I will not let you pay, you can pay for the rest of the dates we ever go on if you just let me pay for this one time, okay?" This made you blush, the idea of Carmy thinking about you and him going on more dates than this one made you feel warm inside. You sank down into the booth, and with a groan of protest you shook your head and gave up.

"Thank you, I want you to feel unbothered tonight." He handed the bill back to the server after he had signed his name and got up. He got your coat for you, holding it out for you to walk into it. Getting up he pulled it up and over your shoulders, grabbing your upper arms, kissing the side of your head next to your ear, "Lets get out of here" He whispered and let go of you, putting his own coat on.

The two of you walked out of the restaurant, Carmy angled his elbow out for you to hold, you grabbed onto him and held on tight. You looked at him with a smile on your face, this was the best first date you had ever been on. As you walked the two of you continued the conversation you had not finished in the restaurant, talking about anything and everything. You could see the sign for The Beef a block away, wondering why he ended up taking you back here. As you reached the restaurant, Carmy stopped on the bench in front and sat down, inviting you to sit with him as he pulled out a cigarette, "Do you mind?" You shook your head, sitting close next to him, sharing body heat. He lit the cigarette, took a drag and exhaled. Looking relaxed. You grabbed his arm and rested your head on his shoulder, feeling him tense up before relaxing into your touch.

You looked up at the sky, seeing your breath as you exhaled and breathed in Carmy, he definitely put some type of cologne on but it had faded out so much it was just a hint you could smell. All you could tell was that this was a smell you wanted to be enveloped in forever. You heard your name softly, picking your head up and turning it to face your date. "Yeah Carm?"

He leaned forward and captured your lips in his, the taste cigarette and mint as he held your face with his non-occupied hand. It was like you were seeing stars for the first time, you could feel his excitement as he moved his tongue along your bottom lip. It was a mess of teeth, tongue, and lips. Carmy pulled away and leaned his forehead on yours, beaming. "You called me Carm." Giggling you looked into his eyes, the blue seemed even more beautiful up close, you could get used to this. "Well I think if I'm going to be around you more I might as well call you by one of your oh so amazing nicknames" He chuckled pecking your lips once more, pulling away and taking one more drag of his cigarette. Throwing the butt onto the floor, putting it out with his heel. You put a hand onto his thigh, squeezing.

"I think I really like you Carm"

"I think I really like you too"

The two of you held onto each other for a while, enjoying the sounds of the city as you chatted. Eventually you got up, Carmy walked you home, dropping you at your doorstep and wishing you a good night. As you walked up to the apartment, you realized that finding him was not a coincidence.

It had to be fate.

[lostcauses-noregrets]

I watched an interview with HiroshiK, OnoD, and Yams and I was surprised to hear OnoD saying he didn't understand Erwin and felt negative playing the role. Also, Yams said Erwin looks like Superman, which was also surprising. Maybe it's the broad build and chiselled jawline?

So this is all from a really old interview that was published in a booklet in early 2016, I think. It was scanned by @masksarehot2 and translated by @darkcyradis. The point Isayama is making in this interview is that because he didn't have an "insightful leader" like Erwin in his life, he didn't really understand him as a character. This is one of the reasons that he made him more human as the manga progressed. The interview continues:

In the anime, Erwin’s voice actor, Daisuke Ono-san said of him, “I didn’t understand Erwin, so I tried to imagine what made him happy and ended up feeling quite negative in the end.” So the creator’s sloppy character conceptualizing ended up being sensed by his voice actor as well. Lately, though, I’ve started enjoying drawing Erwin. To put it simply, I think it’s because I am now able to write Erwin not as the “insightful leader,” but as he is inside my heart, an Erwin who is very complex inside.

This complexity really came to the fore as the story progressed and I think it's fair to say OnoD developed real insight and affection for Erwin in later stages of the anime.

The information about the inspiration for Erwin's character design comes from a different interview in the 2017 SnK Character Directory, which was translated by @yusenki and others.

His model is the bodyguard appeared in Paris Hilton’s music video, “Paris for President”. With side-parted hair, I made his exterior look like he embodies American justice. The reason I made Erwin’s look can be associated with Superman or Captain America—those who fight for freedom and equality—because their images are suitable for the boss of the Survey Corps.

The model in the Paris for President was a dude called Matthew Hall and a few years ago he randomly discovered that there was an anime character called Erwin Smith based on him. His reaction video on Instagram is hilarious.

Matt turned out to be a bit of a sweetie and, to the delight of everyone, he cosplayed Erwin Smith later that year.

[theretirementstory]

Greetings from a cloudy Troyes in the Aube département of France. It’s 7c, raining and I think we are due 11c and a drier day. Not that it matters to me I am still ensconced in my hospital room 13 days after arriving.

The arrival of my eldest son may well give them the impetus to send me home, as there will be someone with me 24/7, for a few days.

When I came into hospital I brought my usual notebook, pen in bag etc, well the pen only ran out the first Thursday I was here (wish I could have joined it 😂). Now, a week later I asked for a pen and was given a whole brand new one to keep ……. the notebook is filling up nicely now with diary notes, questions etc.

Today is Mother’s Day in the UK, a big greeting to all of the mothers being feted by sons and daughters throughout the Kingdom.

I am going to introduce the music section, this was prompted by a telephone call before I was admitted to hospital. I was talking to a friend in North East England about “back in the day”, as they say, and talking of artists, she recalled going to see the amazing Sylvester in a night club in MIDDLESBROUGH! Yes they brought Soul artists from the States and they performed amongst the Steel workers, dockers etc of the grimy north east. So with this in mind here are two records I love . The first is back to 1974, ( I remember it well 😂) it’s the Isley Brothers with “Summer Breeze”. The second one is from three years earlier 🙈, 1971, and it’s The Four Tops with “Simple Game”. Enjoy, oldies but classics.

Now let’s concentrate on me! I was so “out of it” a couple of days last week, I remembered dreaming of speaking French and then there I was telling myself the phrase isn’t correct! Well I must admit that dream really did do something because I am now speaking more French to the nurses, taxi driver, Uncle Tom Cobley and all. I have even been (dare I utter it) reading the booklet on the next stage of treatment which is all in French, wow, I understand so very much, there are jottings in the margins now in case I lose this new talent!

I had a bit of bad news in the early part of the week. I heard of four people who had passed away! One was Marie-Therese who I visited London with a couple of years ago. Her son rang me and I really had to give in to tears. However, she had had a good life, she would have been 88 years old on the 6 March! A couple were relatives of friends and my kind next door neighbour and another a man I knew from when we were all in our 20’s.

I received a telephone call giving me the date of the next PET scan, 20 March, let’s hope I am at home for a break before then 🤣. Then, I got the appointment at the hospital in Paris, for the consultation on the next steps in my treatment, that was on Friday. Fortunately the doctor spoke excellent English and I had quite pertinent questions to ask. All being well, I will go there for harvesting of leucocytes towards the end of March. After that I think I should be called “The Combined Harvester” as I will have had stem cells and leucocytes harvested 😂.

As I have said my eldest son “The Photographer” is coming to see me. If I ever get out of here, we will do a lot of the jobs I need to be done (mainly computer work) and tidy things up there.

It’s the weekend before “The Reconnect Navigator’s” birthday so celebrations are taking place. A nice evening out last evening, wonderful!

“The Trainee Solicitor” has lots on his mind as in pricing up for new items in the house. It’s not that they are just cosmetic they are actually needed. So investing now could see benefits later.

I had a video call with my gorgeous grandchildren yesterday. My grandson was a bit confused he thought I was taking a bath when in fact I was laid in the hospital bed. Well he is only a young boy so that’s fine.

Now to the newest member of the “clan”, “The Jetsetter”. I am not quite sure of the schedule of “turnarounds” she will be doing over the next few months but after arriving back from Norway, I guess washing is all done and a change of clothes for the change of temperatures. Plus am sure it is going to be warmer in Italy. Not too sure of the region but have a wonderful time indeed.

Well guess you can’t always guarantee good weather, as I had a holiday in the Alto Adige region of Italy (a long time ago). It was August and in Trafoi where I stayed it was rather pleasant weather. Friends and I caught the bus to the top of the Stelvio Pass only to find it snowing and a nice cover there was too (especially for someone wearing sandals 🙈). The bus had to put snow chains on to come back down the hairpin bends. What an adventure that was!

It looks as if we have caught up with all of my news. The beauty of the two hour drive to Paris and back is that being in the Saint-Antoine district there are wonderful sites to see. Last year it was the Gare du Lyon, this time it was “The Bastille”. I was lucky to catch the couple enjoying a stroll and looking towards the monument then further along, on the bridge over the Seine, where we were fortunate to be stuck in traffic for another view.

I wish you all a good week until next week.

[ichigopanhpff]

Someday... Chapter 4: What's Left Of You

[Last Chapter] -- [Masterlist]-- [Next Chapter]

🎵 BGM: YOASOBI "Probably"

Warnings: Mentions of drug usage, mild alcohol consumption.

With his debut show getting closer, the fashion world was abuzz with Mitsuya’s upcoming line after seeing the limited edition preview booklet SOUL LOVE Agency sent to select design moguls and advertisements around the city and internet. Requests for tickets to his show were capped out nearly two weeks ago. Nervousness took over the excitement as he saw his inbox filled with requests for interviews, inquiries of when and where his line would be available for sale, and proposals with very generous numbers from several high end boutiques to carry his clothes in Ginza, Shibuya and a few other retail shops outside of Tokyo.

Enlisting the help of Yasuda, his former second in command from the handicraft club back in junior high, she helped respond to the overwhelming amount of messages.

“Uwah… they just keep coming, Prez,” she moaned while her eyes scanned the growing list of unopened emails on his laptop. “You’re really making the rounds.”

“I told you to stop calling me that, Yasuda-san,” he playfully chided. “It’s been over ten years already.”

“I’m sorry! It’s just habit!”

“SOUL LOVE did their job right…” he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll send them a thank you gift after the show.”

Staring at the sealed envelope sitting on his desk, his mind drifted back to the exhibit.

He finally drew up the courage to open up her book a few nights ago and properly looked at it page by page. There was a lot more to the story than what the show revealed; the bracelet he gave her from when they were 15 was on its last legs as the threads slowly unraveled after years of wear, her lowest points to which where she very briefly experimented with various types of psychedelic drugs to escape reality; one of which nearly died from a bad trip and had to go to the emergency room to pump her stomach. There were also fleeting moments of found peace when she was in the middle of nowhere and away from civilization to quiet her mind.

Suddenly remembering something, the lilac hair streaked man stood all of a sudden and walked to his fabrics shelf, grabbing a few spools of bulky cream coloured yarn and a set of 6mm knitting needles. He may not finish this on time, but he had to at least try.

A few days later, (Y/N) walked into her office after coming back from Kyoto to find a pile of unopened mail stacked on her desk. Hanging her bag up, she sorted them one by one and found a black unaddressed envelope. She opened it and pulled out a thick paper stock invitation: it was a VIP seat reservation for Mitsuya’s debut show next week. Drawing out a long, hard breath from her nose, she tossed it on her desk and stared at it with restless eyes. A gentle knock on her door frame drew her out of her thoughts.

“I take it you saw it already,” Ryota noted, his line of sight on at the opened invite. “You gonna go?”

“Probably not. I’ve said all I need to.”

“He’s pretty tenacious,” her assistant remarked and sat down on the couch adjacent to her desk. “I admire his determination and honestly, it’s a turn on.”

“He has a way to wear me down like that.”

Another knock of her office door interrupted their conversation; she turned to see Kasumi, the receptionist, holding a large unmarked black box that blocked her entire face.

“(Y/N)-san, this just came for you at the front desk,” her voice shook like her twig-like arms. “Please grab it. It’s really heavy.”

Ryota immediately got off of the couch to help the poor girl and set the package down on the coffee table. She walked over and hesitantly removed the lid, revealing a zipped garment bag. Pulling it out, her assistant moved the box to the floor as she laid it down flat on the surface to unzip.

Her eyes widened with surprise to see a multi-layered high-low royal blue A-line dress with peacock feather designs embroidered at the center with extended pieces to the side flaring out with gold trimmings; the bottom layer was a simple, flowy chiffon-like material navy blue tail piece. The top collar was made of blue mesh with hand sewn in threads of gold and dark blue.

It was as if Mitsuya grabbed the fabric from the heavens itself and sewed it into the gown. She ran her hand down the soft, brocade material, completely entranced by the beauty of the dress. It radiated elegance and grace with a hint of gaudiness.

“Oh. My. God.” Ryota enunciated each word with absolute awe with raised brows, his left hand sitting on top of his chest. He fell in love instantly after laying eyes on the masterpiece; he could sense the love and effort he poured into the garment for her. “(Y/N)-chan, you have to go. You’d be doing this dress an absolute disservice.”

“Then you wear it,” she shot back with mild annoyance.

“Bitch, do I look like I can squeeze into that?” he snapped and placed his hand on his jutted out hip, batting his lashes. “It’s been tailored to you. And I certainly hope you have a pair of good shoes to go with it.”

She looked in the box and took out a pair already provided for her.

“If there’s one thing I know ‘bout him, it’s that he’s extremely thorough,” she flatly pointed out. “The devil’s in the details.”

–

Socialites and fashion moguls gathered at the entrance of Shibuya Hikarie on this summer evening, waiting for entrance into Mitsuya’s debut show. A group of photographers gathered at a chance to get a photo of them while former members of Toman stood to the side, completely overwhelmed by the amount of people. They, too, dressed up in suits to make sure they didn’t embarrass their friend.

“Mitsuya-kun’s amazing,” Takemichi praised. “Look at all these people.”

“It’s expected,” Draken added with a smirk, adjusting the tie around his neck. “He’s been working hard to get to this point.”

“Still pretty ‘mazin,” Pah-chin looked around and suddenly blushed, recognizing one of the female idols wearing an extremely shiny and form fitting dress that barely left anything to the imagination. His brain, however, is reminding him he’s a happily married man. “He’s goin’ places.”

Chifuyu glanced around, as if looking for someone.

“What’s wrong, Chifuyu?” Kazutora asked with a confused look.

“She should be here…” he muttered to himself. His attention turned to a taxi pulling up not too far from the venue and out came a woman looking like Cinderella. Fixing the fabric, she slowly walked closer toward the crowd with the soft clacking of her heels echoing down the street.

All of her friends’ attention turned away from the celebrities to her donning the royal blue dress with a pair of silver velvet stiletto heels. Anyone looking her way would’ve thought she was some kind of heavenly witch from another world. The dress flowed with her movement like she was walking down a runway. It fit like a dream; the best part was it had hidden pockets! What kind of madman would sew pockets into a couture dress?! she thought to herself the moment she put it on. Her makeup was kept simple with light peach tinted lips, rose gold eyeshadow, dark red eyeliner and mascara, her hair done up. From her ears hung a pair of Vivienne Westwood broken pearl earrings.

“Holy crap…” the short black haired boy uttered out and loosely covered the lower half of his face in disbelief and blushed. “(Y/N)?! Is that you?”

She immediately shushed her friend. “Yes and keep it down!” she tutted with a loud whisper. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m here.”

She greeted her friends as they continued to stare at her with amazement.

“Mitsuya made this?” Draken asked, analyzing the overall design of the gown.

“Sure fits like it…” She looked down and smoothed out some imaginary wrinkles. “It’s not really a style I wear. I feel like I’m going to a costume party.”

“You really do clean up nicely, don’tcha (Y/N)-chan?” Smiley commented, looking her up and down. “Wanna grab some drinks after?”

“Big bro, are you really hitting on her right now?” Angry deadpanned.

“Can’t say the same ‘bout you, Smiley-kun,” she teased back with a smirk. “You still smell like tonkotsu soup base.”

“Aw c’mon! I put a lotta work to look this good,” the orange haired man pouted and sniffed one of his sleeves, catching the scent of his fabric softener and cologne.

They made their way in after showing their respective copies of invites, the usher showing them their seats inside the venue.

“I heard Hakkai’s walking in the show,” Angry said, looking at the long, well lit runway.

“Is he?” (Y/N) glanced around the hall and recognized a few high profile models and designers. “No wonder there’s so many big names here…”

It’d been a long time since she’d seen the former Toman group since she’d been traveling for work. Smiling to herself, she engrossed herself in catching up with everyone to see what they’d been up to as the house lights dimmed. Out came Mitsuya from behind the wall, dressed in an all black ensemble that highlighted his lilac streaked hair even more. Welcoming everyone to the show, he delivered his opening remarks about his debut and jumped right into the theme of his line.

Disappearing from view, loud music blared from above as the first model walked the runway. (Y/N)’s mind wandered back to when she and Mitsuya talked about this moment, imagining how’d it go; she told him it had to be a fall/winter line because the pieces he made looked really cozy to wear. He then told her at the end of the show, he’d come out with her hand in hand to bow, letting everyone know it’s not just his success, but theirs.

She told herself tonight was the last time she’ll see him. A deep sense of pride bloomed in her chest seeing him get to this stage of his career as she faintly smiled to herself.

Showing up was the least she could do.

This was her final good-bye.

She had to fight back the amount of times she wanted to embrace him like they used to whenever he looked at her with those tranquil lavender eyes; his long eyelashes batting on the crook of her neck, giving her butterfly kisses every time they cuddled during cold nights. She missed him so much and it was taxing on her emotional and mental health. A hard line had to be drawn so she could move on and be happy again one day, with or without someone else.

Her attention immediately shot back to the present when she saw Hakkai’s platinum bleached hair come out with a female model next to him, wearing a unisex couple sweater in cream white.

“So, on a scale of one to freaking the fuck out,” Smiley snickered to the group. “How nervous you think Hakkai is standin’ next to that cutie?”

“Judging by his face…” Chifuyu analyzed the tall man’s stoic expression with an amused grin, watching the two walk back up the runway as he suppressed a snicker. “I say 'Head empty. Only walk.'”

The remaining pieces shown were all unisex with asymmetrical hems with a variation of sweetheart, cowl, off-shoulder and grecian necklines and shirts filled with the dark, vibrant colours of autumn and winter mixed together in a harmonic duality of light and dark. Mitsuya came out after Hakkai walked the runway with the last piece to an explosion of applause and cheers as he bowed to thank everyone. Making their way to exit the venue, they were all escorted to a hotel nearby for the congratulatory party.

(Y/N) decided to stick with her friends rather than network; the agency had more than enough work for her for the next few years. Just as she walked away to grab a drink, several art directors and CEOs from well known fashion companies immediately made a beeline toward her. Their business cards were instantaneously whipped out like a well choreographed dance number knowing she was the one who did Mitsuya’s promo shots.

“If you come under us, we’ll have a principal creative director position ready for you,” one proposed. “You’ll have access to the best of the best in the industry where your talents can shine. You’ll have free reign of what you want to do.”

She chuckled at the ludicrous offer. “Tempting, but I’ll have to pass. I like the freedom I have with my camera right now. Everyday’s an adventure.”

“Well…” the man awkwardly laughed and handed his business card to her. “Should you ever change your mind, you have my contact, (Y L/N)-san. We’ll be in touch.”

As she made her way back with a gin and tonic in hand, she was yet again stopped by another guest.

“(Y L/N)-san, so good to see you. Your latest shoot with Mitsuya Takashi is really making the rounds. And congratulations on your “Wander” exhibition,” they complimented before turning their attention to her clothing. “I have to say, love the dress. Who are you wearing?”

Not expecting a question like this to come up all of a sudden, she had to think quick. Just as she was about to answer, Mitsuya appeared behind her out of thin air.

“She’s actually wearing something I plan on making for a couture line,” he revealed with confidence. “This one’s a prototype to test how the fabric flows and holds up.”

“I didn’t know you two knew each other!” the nameless person remarked with astonishment, their eyes glimmering with ulterior motives in getting close to them.

“We went to the same middle school together,” she quickly answered with politeness. While all the attention was on him, (Y/N) quickly ducked away to the hallway for some air. Letting out a deep breath, she sipped on her cocktail and saw Draken coming back from the bathroom.

“Lotta people here tonight,” he noted.

“Too many if you ask me,” she grimaced. “The schmoozing’s outta control.”

“Did you see Mitsuya?”

“Briefly… I felt bad using him as a distraction to get away…” She chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck with a sad smile. “But he did good. He’ll be super busy after this.”

“I stopped by his studio the other day to see how he was doin’,” the dragon tattooed boy revealed. “He made a lotta last minute changes after seeing your exhibition. Worked non-stop to get six extra pieces in there.”

“Is that so…” she listlessly remarked, remembering the ones she didn’t recognize. “I get you’re trying to get us back together, but it’s too late, Draken.” She crossed her arms with her right hand still holding her drink. “We got our closure a few nights ago.”

“Then why are you here?” he shot back with his patience whittling down.

“’Cus he sent me this to wear,” her arms indicated at the cobalt blue garment. “I’d never hear the end of it from my co-worker if I didn’t.”

“Sounds like an excuse to me,” he accused and glared at his friend. “You leave this half-ass message at the end of your exhibit to let him know how you still feel, yet you’re playing this cat-and-mouse game. Almost makes me think you enjoy torturin’ him with your presence.”

“Excuse me? Torture?!” she snapped back angrily in a hushed manner. “I didn’t even wanna come!”

“So why are you here?!” he asked again with more force this time.

“What, just ‘cus we’re broken up, I can’t show up to support his hard work?”

“Do you even realize how hurt he was when you left like that?! You owe him—”

“I owe him nothing!” she defiantly cut in with a slight raise of volume in her voice, looking up at the tall man. “He fell out of love with me and he didn’t say shit!” she finally revealed with a hushed voice. “That’s why I left. I made the choice he couldn’t.”

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and looked away from Draken, sniffling; his dark gaze softened on his old friend.

“I couldn’t take that pain from seeing those distant eyes on me any more,” she quivered out, trying to push her feelings down. Realizing she said too much in a public space, she set her unfinished drink down on a decorative side table and turned to leave. Letting out a small gasp of shock, (Y/N) stopped immediately and saw Mitsuya standing there, having heard everything. He looked back at her, stunned with agony. As he struggled to form some sort of coherent sentence from his mouth, she shot him a pained glance with misty orbs and walked past him without a word before turning the corner, her fists tightly clenched.

“Why aren’t you chasing after her?” Draken questioned his friend as he looked away with shame.

“… Do I even deserve to?” he quietly answered.

The moment she turned the corner, she ran into someone’s shoulder. Immediately looking up to apologize, she was met with a man with long hair with blond streaks tied up in a ponytail, staring back at her with wide, golden hued eyes. A hint of a tattoo on his neck peaked from the collared dress shirt.

“You’re crying…” he uttered out.

She hurriedly turned to wipe the tears that escaped, smudging her eye makeup and sniffled. “I-I’m fine…” she muttered. “Apologies… for bumping into you. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Please excuse me.”

“You’re Mitsuya’s ex, right?” the man she crashed into asked loud enough for her to hear just as she walked away. Her feet immediately froze as her breath hitched in her throat, not saying a word. Before she could respond, Chifuyu came out from the reception room.

“There you are Kazutora,” he called and saw (Y/N)’s back facing them, feeling the tense atmosphere. He then looked at the two. “Did… something happen?”

“I-I just bumped into your friend, is all,” she softly answered with haste. “I gotta go.”

Just as she found feelings in her lower limbs to move again, she felt her arm being grabbed and came face to face with the man with golden yellow eyes staring back at her neutrally when she turned her head.

“Chifuyu, she’s running away from Mitsuya,” he replied, his eyes not leaving hers. “We should get him.”

“Please let me go,” she politely requested, not wanting to confront someone she didn’t know.

“So something did happen,” the black haired man sighed and crossed his arms. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here.”

The three exited the hotel and found themselves at a ramen shop in Shinjuku. Wandering eyes glanced over at their table, finding it strange for a group so well dressed to be in a dingy restaurant like this. Not caring about what the spectators thought, (Y/N) downed her glass of beer in one go and slammed it down on the table. Chifuyu reached for the large bottle and refilled her cup. Having calmed down from her confrontation with Draken, the former first division vice captain introduced her to Kazutora and summarized his relation to everyone.

“So you were a Toman founder too huh…” she quietly remarked. “You went through a lot.”

“I also heard you were involved with them for a bit after I got out,” Kazutora said and sipped his beer. “So you’re Mitsuya’s childhood friend.”

“Back then, yes. Now…” she trailed off and looked down at the table, letting out a bitter scoff before closing her eyes. “I don’t even know what we are anymore…”

“So what happened exactly?” Chifuyu finally asked with seriousness. She sighed and explained her conversation with the former vice commander. “I see…”

“Clearly, your pride’s getting in the way in admitting you still love him,” Kazutora directly pointed out harshly.

She wryly chuckled with a half smirk. “Just because I am doesn’t mean he is. I’m not one to forcefully push my feelings onto someone…”

“You’re still considerate to a fault, (Y/N),” Chifuyu noted and took a swig of his beer. “That idiot side of you hasn’t changed one bit.”

“Fuck off, ‘Fuyu,” she chided with irritation with her glass in hand. “I came here to get shit-faced and eat ramen, not get lectured.”

“Say he still loves you,” Kazutora jumped in. “How would you respond to him?” She stayed quiet, not knowing how to answer that. “I’ve known Mitsuya for a long time and he’s not the kind of person who’d knowingly hurt someone he cares for like that. Did you even try talking to him?”

She let out an uneasy breath. “There was nothing left to say.”

“So you ran away with your assumptions then,” he concluded.

“How would you talk to someone whose gaze turns cold whenever he looked at you?” she defensively shot back.

“Okay, let’s take a breath,” Chifuyu stepped in to mediate before an argument broke out. “Kazutora’s right, (Y/N): assuming the worst of Mitsuya-kun without talking to him isn’t the way. At the same time, he was wrong to have not talked to you for that long and let this situation fester.”

“I won’t meet him again,” she declared and gripped her beer glass. “Tonight was my good-bye to him.”

“Are you fine leaving half-ended things like this with him?” the former vice captain argued. “You’ll have regrets, y’know.”

“I’ll add that to the piling heap in my head then,” she dismissively shot back and took half a chug of alcohol.

“(Y/N)-san, until you properly face him and talk it out, neither one of you will be able to move on from this.” the blond streaked man reasoned. “The regret will eat you alive.”

–

After the party wrapped up, the twin dragons found their way to a nearby tachikomi spot in a random small street in Shibuya. The two nursed a beer with a large order of gyoza.

“So… did you fall out of love with (Y/N)-chan?” the tall man asked and sipped his drink.

“I realized… I got comfortable and arrogant, thinking she’d be here for me no matter what…” he answered with a renewed sense of humility. “I thought us not talking for weeks was okay ‘cus we’d been together for so long and she’d understand.” Mitsuya looked down at his half drunk beer with melancholy. “I got so wrapped up in my own work, I stopped thinking about her feelings… And she warned me about Eri-san… Damn it…”

The lilac streak haired man dangled his head and lightly shook it, completely disappointed at himself. His left hand reached up and tugged at the strands of his locks, as if he wanted to physically pluck out his stupidity.

“I fucked up.”

“You fucked up badly,” his friend corrected.

Grabbing the glass, Mitsuya downed the remaining golden fizzy liquid and slammed the vessel down. Draken grabbed a fresh bottle of beer and refilled his glass. Silently thanking his friend, he picked it up again.

“Draken…” he called softly and sniffled, fighting the tears trying to come out. “Am I too late?”

Taglist: @mor-pheus @netzukochannn @moodyhuesworld2 @someone4414

[ilikefandom]

Snowy Day Lovers

Request: Can i request Snape x reader fluff? Thank u <3 <3

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: Professor (Y/l/n) is married and the golden trio don’t believe that it could possibaly could be Snape.

Pairing(s): Severus Snape x Fem reader

Warnings: A kiss, PDA

The snow was falling and the wind blew sharply in the winter sky. The last quidditch game before the winter break was to begin and the students were preparing for the last set of pre-break tests. Harry and Ron were in the library studying for the potions midterm when Hermione slid into a chair beside them.

The library sat quietly and resolute, as it usually did when exams were close and there were a few fifth years practicing herbology terms. Hermione scanned the library before pulling a stack of parchment out from her bag. It was placed between the three of them and was as thick as a book.

“What’s this rubbish?” Harry asked, holding up the thick booklet. It was as dense as the books that Hermione used for ‘light’ reading and it was as if the author had spilt a blot of ink on the cover.

“A set of mock exams.” Hermione said as she opened up the book to the potions section and began answering the questions on her own parchment.

“Snape doesn’t give mock exams.” Ron commented before copying down the questions. 

The writing was smaller and much neater than the scrawls that Snape wrote on the blackboard. It looped slightly and was written in deep blue ink, rather than the black that Snape used. 

Hermione laughed, “No, he doesn’t, but Professor (Y/l/n) gave it to me. She has copies for end of year and midterm examinations, and for every year.”

“Who’s Professor (Y/l/n)?” Harry asked, his head tilted. He had never heard of her and it seemed obvious that Ron hadn’t either.

“Are you both thick?” Hermione asked looking up from her question sheets. “She teaches us Astronomy. She replaced Professor Sinistra two years ago.” 

Ron looked up at her, “Astronomy? When did Sinistra leave?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Didn’t I just say that she came to the school two years ago?”

Harry shrugged and stretched his arms above his head, “Can you make a copy so that we can study later? Hogsmeade awaits.”

Ron chuckled and Hermione rolled her eyes, “Geminio.” Hermione cast the duplication spell and the book split into two copies.

The trio made their way up to the Gryffindor common room and got dressed to go outside. Hermione hefted the study guide onto her hip and the teens made their way to the astronomy tower, where Professor (Y/l/n) was setting up the telescopes for her class that night.

“Hello Hermione!” She smiled widely, her (Y/e/c) eyes sparkling in the sun. “Do you have my study guide?”

“Here you are professor,” Hermione said, placing the book into the teacher’s hands, “are you going to go to Hogsmeade?”

Professor (Y/l/n) nodded and gave a small smile. “Yes I am, it’s the first date I have been able to go on in awhile. My husband and I have very different work schedules and we thought we would meet up for a butterbeer and a pastry.”

Hermione gave a little squeal and asked, “How far did he have to come to make this work?”

(Y/n) wrapped a green scarf around her neck and made her way to the entrance of the Astronomy tower with the three teens. 

“That is for me to know Ms. Granger, and not for you. Now, I have to know, how are you three liking the new DADA teacher?” She asked the group and they all groaned as Professor (Y/l/n) laughed. “I’d heard she was bad, and a theory only teacher. Delores really has no idea how to interact with teenagers.”

“You don’t even know the half of it.” Ron whined, crossing his arms over his chest. Causing (Y/n) to start giggling again. 

The group of students continued to air their opinions on Professor Umbridge, all of them negative with no redeeming qualities, when Harry said, “She’s even lower than Snape in my book and that’s saying something!”

Hermione swatted at her friend and Harry sidestepped the blow. 

“You guys don’t like Severus?” Professor (Y/l/n) asked, “I know he’s biased and militaristic in his ways, but he’s not that bad, is he?”

“He teaches us everything we need to know and more,” Hermione interjected, “he just seems to take out his anger on Harry.”

(Y/n) laughed, “Maybe he expects more of you Mr. Potter. The only person that ever scored higher than him in potions was your mother, he might have hoped that you inherited her gift.”

Harry's eyes widened and he stared at the youngest Hogwarts professor in shock. “You knew my mother?” He asked.

(Y/n) nodded, “I knew her in my fifth year, her seventh, she was helping me with the charms portion of OWLs, I sucked at charms, still do as a matter of fact. It was only thanks to her that I passed at all. Speaking of OWLs, are you guys going to be prepared for the exams?”

“Thanks to your package we will.” Hermione stated, to which (Y/n) smiled a bit wider.

“I’m glad it helped. Would you mind if Severus joins us on our way to Hogsmeade? We need one more to fill the coach and he’s waiting at the door.” Professor (Y/l/n) waved at the tall mass of black standing next to the entrance to the castle.

The trio had no time to answer as the potions professor joined them on the journey outside of the castle. (Y/n) quickened her pace to keep up with Snape, and they stood close enough together that their robes touched. 

Harry was surprised when Snape reached out and took Professor (Y/l/n)’s hand helping her into the carriage before climbing in himself. The three fifth years scrambled for the seats opposite to their teachers and all five sat in awkward silence for the duration of the ride to Hogsmeade. As soon as the carriage stopped, the trio jumped out and started walking towards Zonko’s.

(Y/n) giggled, tightening Severus’ old scarf around her neck and grabbing his hand gingerly before tugging him in the opposite direction.

Hermione paused in her spot and turned around to see the two professors walking down the street, hand in hand. She tugged on Ron’s arm and both boys followed her gaze to the couple making their way to the Three Broomsticks.

“Didn’t she say she was meeting her husband?” Ron whispered, his voice hitching.

“She must be cheating on him,” Harry sputtered, “with Snape of all people.” 

“We have to go after them.” Hermione agreed, and all three of them took off.

When Severus and (Y/n) reached the warmth of Rosmerta’s pub, they quickly found a booth and slid into their respective seats, not knowing that the three teens had followed them in.

(Y/n) took Severus’ hand in her own and rubbed the back of it gently, causing the gaunt man to blush and look away. She beamed at him taking out her wand and casting a quick spell over his left hand. The invisibility spell withdrew, revealing the silver ring on his finger.

Snape was quick to hide it in his other hand, his embarrassed face too much for (Y/n). She gave a small laugh and brought her own rings out of invisibility, sliding her left hand into his right. 

After a quick glance around Severus took both of her hands in his and gave a slight smile, while looking into her eyes.

Hermione’s eyes widened, they had misjudged their teachers too quickly and now all three would be stuck watching their potions professor make goo goo eyes at his wife.

Rosmerta stopped by their table and dropped off a fancy looking fruit tart and two butterbeers. “I ordered them ahead of time Sev.” (Y/n) explained as she unwrapped two forks from a napkin. 

‘Sev’ huffed and looked his wife in the face with a smile, “This is nice, but we could be marking the assignments that need marking.”

“Knowing you all of the things that need marking have been marked.”

“Touche.”

The trio could no longer stomach this side of Snape and made their exit, running toward the other shops, in desperate need of mind bleach.

The group was lucky that they had decided to disappear at that moment as a mistletoe plant was dangled over the couple’s head by Minerva and Fillius who were laughing to themselves at the next table. 

Looking up, Severus cupped (Y/n)’s cheek in his sturdy hand and planted a soft kiss to her lips. 

And they stayed like that, under the mistletoe, enjoying a day that seemed made for two snowy day lovers, just like them.

Author’s note: Hey my wonderful readers! I hope you liked this oneshot. Please request new stories and I will get them to you ASAP. Also, please comment your reactions and criticisms, it means the world to me when you do.

[rnufharose]

Blood, Sweat, and Tears - Chapter 2

Word Count: 1375

Trigger Warnings: None

︻デ═一 ♥

The brunette listened to the soft chatter of the people, all dressed in black hanbok, suits, or dresses, waving their glasses of refreshments in their hands as they remembered the sweet old lady that once brought life into this house.

She was a kind lady who left the hustle and bustle of Seoul for a quiet life in this town just one hour away. It wasn't so far away that she would feel the distance of the place that was once her home, but it wasn't close enough for her to have to see the violence that plagued its streets.

In this town, she made a difference, listening to the people who lamented their worries at the local clinic where she volunteered. She greeted the people and her neighbors with kindness in her smile and stars in her eyes. She gathering soybean paste for her delicious soup and kimchi to compliment each dish. She played her piano on rainy days to push aside the gloom, and on sunny days, she would walk under the path of apple blossom trees with her beloved granddaughter.

Life was a multicolored kaleidoscope in the presence of Kang Soonbok, but with her death, the world became grey.

Haneul would never see her Halmeoni again.

Upon mulling over that notion, she could feel her tears stinging at her waterline, and her face hardened, staring straight ahead.

Hold it in.

That was what her thoughts told her, screaming at her not to make a fool of herself in front of the others. She had to be strong if she wished to continue on.

Shedding tears wouldn't bring her back.

"Neullie...?" A soft voice came from another female, who stood a centimeter shorter than her, her dark hair pulled into a half up-so, her hand on Haneul's elbow. "Neullie... gwenchana...?"

She turned toward the girl slowly, inhaling gently and holding her hand, giving her an affirmative, "I will be, Surin..."

Someone else walked up to her--a young woman with long brown hair, tips dyed blonde, and she pulled the brunette into a hug, "I'm so sorry, Haneul..."

She chose silence, closing her eyes and hugging her back before pulling away, "I'll be okay, Unnie..."

"Your Halmeoni will always be remembered at the clinic. She made a lot of patients and their families smile," Minsoo assured her. "If you need anything, Surin and I are here for you..."

"Gomawo," she muttered before taking a step back. "I--I... I need some... time alone... if that's okay..."

"Of course," the younger of the two women nodded vigorously, and Haneul turned around, walking past the people that occupied the living room, traversing through the corridors until she came across those screen doors.

She slid them open, the scent of floral perfume still permeating the air, the futons with purple sheets were still neatly rolled out on the floor, and there was the low table with incense that would burn on rainy days, the old piano residing in the far corner of the room with the bookshelf staked with many books that had been collected over the years.

The final items in the room were the two picture frames. There was a handsome man with raven hair and an attractive smile on his plump red lips, his eyes turning to crescent moons, that beauty mark that went unnoticeable just underneath the corner of his right eye. On his arm was her grandmother in her youth, her brown hair falling past her shoulders and a fringe covering her forehead, her chocolate brown doe-like eyes holding stars as she smiled up at her husband.

The second picture was taken years ago when Haneul was a child. Even as she got older, Soonbok retained that beauty her granddaughter had inherited, a streak of grey in her hair as she smiled at the camera, her laugh lines beginning to show as she held Haneul close to her, who was dressed in a yellow shirt with a mauve-colored dress over it, with stockings and matching mauve Mary-Janes, a wide smile on her soft face with one of her baby teeth missing, her newfound adult tooth growing in.

Picking up the picture frame, Haneul stared at her grandmother, her vision clouding with tears once again, lips quivering.

Halmeoni! I love playing the piano and singing with you!

My Halmeoni is my favorite person in the whole wide world!

When I'm older, I'm going to help this town just like you!

I know I'm strong and beautiful because my Halmeoni is!

Halmeoni! Jeongmal saranghae!

A single tear dropped onto the face of the picture frame, and Haneul drew out a shaky breath, sniffling and wiping her eyes with her knuckles, endeavoring to stop herself from crying, but her attempts to stay strong had all but vanished. She released a sob, crouching to the floor, clutching the picture frame to her chest as her small shoulders trembled, ultimately allowing herself to cry.

"Bogoshipda... Bogoshipda, Halmeoni..." She mourned, covering her face in her hand as she sobbed harder.

We were happy... we were peacefully living our perfect quiet life. Where did it go wrong? Why did she have to leave me so soon? She thought.

"It's not fair," Haneul hiccuped. "It's not..."

What she wouldn't give to turn back time, to be the one to take those bullets instead of the one person who was most important to her.

"It should have been me..."

︻デ═一 ♥

He stepped into the house, eyes scanning the halls and signing his name in the small booklet, running his long fingers through his blonde hair before setting the bouquet of lilies to the side. He adjusted his suit jacket, bowing toward the guests as he continued to look around, eventually catching two familiar faces in the living room. He ducked underneath the doorframe and called gently.

"Surin-ah, Minsoo noona," Ilsung walked toward them and the younger woman smiled with melancholy.

"Ilsung oppa, you made it."

"I had to see her," he tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks, furrowing his brows. "This is all so sudden... where is Haneul?"

"She said she wanted to be alone for a few minutes," Minsoo explained. "I imagine she's still somewhere in the house."

"I'll go find her," he said before thanking them, placing a hand on Surin's shoulder as he walked past them, walking through the next set of corridors. He heard the sound of quiet sobs coming from one of the bedrooms, following it until he came across the open screen doors.

His eyes widened slightly, staring down at the brunette who was curled up with the picture frame in her hands, tears cascading down her cheeks.

The blonde male stepped into the room cautiously, kneeling beside the girl and pulling her hair behind her ear, "Angel...?" He asked and she opened her eyes, meeting his dark gaze with her glistening chocolate ones.

"It should have been me," she lamented. "Oppa... I should had taken the hit! Not her! Sh-She's gone because of me! If I had only stepped in front of her then she would still be here!"

He couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. Before he knew it, Il-sung had his arms wrapped around the petite young woman, holding her to his chest as she sobbed loudly, his shirt stained with tears.

“Don't you dare say that," he told her. "It's not your fault, okay? You did nothing wrong. She would have put her life on the line for you no matter what."

"She's gone!" Haneul wailed. "Halmeoni...! She's gone...!"

He had never seen her this way. Seeing her shed tears stirred this unpleasantness in his chest, squeezing his insides as he felt her shake in his arms. It was like the light in her life had faded, and she was running through the darkness, in search of that luminescence that made her life vibrant.

"She's not gone, Angel," he rubbed her back. He couldn't bear to see her cry. "Everything is going to be okay, I promise... you're not alone... you're not."

[peaches-of-1]

Peachtober | Day 22: Ghost (Part 1)

Phantom of the Opera!AU

Phantom!Taehyung x Christine!Reader x Raoul!Chan

This is based off of the film since it is more readily available as a source of reference in regards of scenes and set up. I have never seen the stage play, so there’s that too. Anywhosies, enjoy the not so fictional tale of The Phantom.

Old feeble feet exited the fine carriage with his family coat of arms emblazoned on the side. He had come alone, only a few servants to help bring home whatever he wanted to keep from the old opera house. Now that Chan had gotten older and it was too aged to be enjoyed, he decided to let the public auction off whatever they could salvage. He was helped into his wheelchair and brought inside the opera house.

As he was rolled into a place where he could hear clearly the items being sold, a woman about the same age as him stood tall and regal like her mother always had. She had known Chan for a long time but hadn’t seen him in many years. Of course she’d be here. Their eyes met.

“Soyeon,” his lips silently formed, shocked to see her here.

She had been in America last he knew.

“Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen.” The auctioneer announced as a white gloved man brought it out. “A paper-mache music box in the shape of a barrel organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey is Persian robes playing the cymbals.”

Chan looked away from his old friend Soyeon and to the brown mechanical music box with tarnished cymbals still attached to the poor creature’s hands.

The auctioneer continued to speak as the gloved young man showed it off, “This item was discovered in the theater vaults, still in working order, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Showing here.” The gloved man turned it on.

From the music box played a familiar tune. Chan’s throat tightened, and Soyeon smiled at the memories that the sound brought. It had been a beautiful masquerade…

“2k won. Let’s start at 2k won, anyone?”

A person raised their hand.

“Two thousand, thank you.”

Chan raised his hand slowly, so his maid raised hers to get the attention of the auctioneer for 3k. Soyeon raised her hand. 4k. Then to 5k. 6...7k, sold! To Bang Chan, the former owner of this very theater.

The music box was placed in his elderly hands, A collector’s piece indeed. Every detail exactly as she said. Will you still play when the rest of us are dead? He teared up thinking about her, the one he loved even after all these decades.

“Item 666, then...a chandelier in pieces.”

Silence settled over the small rich crowd. Many of those that were here now were mere babes back then and heard the tale from their parents or perhaps grandparents.

“Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera, a mystery never fully explained.”

But rather experienced. Soyeon and Chan knew that chandelier very well as they had been there on the very day the auctioneer vaguely described. Perhaps afraid to gain the attention of the old Phantom.

He continued, “We’re told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which features in the famous disaster. Our workshops have repaired and wired it for the new electric light. Perhaps we can frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination.”

Chan scoffed and began a coughing fit. If only he were just a ghost. Soyeon thought to herself why would he be scared now if he wasn’t frightened then?

“Gentlemen.”

The sheet was removed, the lights turned on, and the crystals raised up to the sky. A wave of tumultuous nostalgia rolled over the auction’s patrons.

The shining crystals illuminated the red and golden interior of Korea’s oldest theatre. The halls were alive with the bustling of dancers and singers and actresses and riggers and musicians, etc. of all ages and sizes. Language upon language was spoken whether it be song or native tongue, maybe even learned from another cast or crew member.

Music booklets were handed out by Conductor Himcham as people got ready for the last dress rehearsals before Opening Night in just a few hours. Hair and makeup could be smelled from onstage. Vocals were warmed up and alcoholic drinks were sneakily shared as one of the crew looked through a hole in the wall to see into the ladies’ dressing room.

Junjin and Andy were guided by the former manager, Mir, through the busy halls where they were bowed to since they were new faces but obviously older than much of the cast, a sign of respect. You and Soyeon raced down the steps and dusted your pointe slippers while in costume and talking excitedly.

Mir interrupted the music, “Pardon me. Pardon!” and waited for everything to settle down. “As you know, there have been rumors of my imminent retirement for the past few weeks. I can now tell you that these are all true…”

People gasped and chattered and were silent at the same time.

“It is my pleasure to introduce to you the new gentleman who now own the Opera de la Gu: Park Junjin and Lee Andy.”

The performers applauded knowing that the man’s time had come and hoping these men would treat them right.

Mir continued, “I’m sure you’ve read of their recent fortune they’ve gained in the junk business.”

“Scrap metal, actually.” The shorter of the two said.

The taller spoke, “And we are honored to introduce our new patron to Vicomte de Cheongdam.”

More applause as the young blonde entered, but you rushed to the front to see if it really was him. You looked wide eyed with Soyeon at your side.

“It’s Chris.” You said and looked at her. “Before my father died, at the house by the sea. I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts.”

You couldn’t stop staring at him with a bright smile plastered on your face.

“He called me Little Lotte.” You blushed at the memory.

“Y/N, he’s so handsome!” Soyeon exclaimed.

Chan spoke, “My parents and I are happy to support all the arts, especially the world renowned Opera de la Gu.” He looked at all those he’d be paying to perform for the masses.

A beautiful woman in her full bejeweled and bedazzled costume approached the Vicomte with her hand outstretched or him to hold. When he did, she curtised.

The old owner introduced her, “Gentlemen, Miss Jessica Ho, our lead for five seasons.”

“Brava! Brava!” Her maids and men in waiting cheered, knowing they’d get yelled at if they didn’t.

“Call me Jessi.” Her raspy yet squeaky voice replied.

The chubby man with a fake beard cleared his throat.

“Mister Park Jae-sang.” Mir said to introduce the man.

More applause.

Chan then spoke, “An honor, sunbaenim.” He then looked around. “I believe I’m keeping you from your rehearsal. I’ll be here this evening to stare in your triumph of opening night.”

He gave a small bow and left, but not before Andy and Junjin spoke with him for a moment. Everyone applauded at the tiny speech while Jessi told them sweet farewells. She then went to her makeup crew for touch ups saying how much they loved her.

Himcham called for attention, “Once more from the top, Jae-sang-ssi.”

Mir spoke to the Vicomte, “Thank you so much for your inspiring words. So wonderful and encouraging.”

They all passed by right in front of you and Chris didn’t give you so much as a glance despite your heart calling out to him. You looked down out of embarrassment at getting your hopes up, and Soyeon noticed.

“He wouldn’t recognize me.” You said.

“He didn’t see you.” Your bestie assured.

Her mother spoke to Andy and Junjin, “If you please, my good sirs.” and brushed them off to the side of the stage.

You and other dancers flew past them chained to each other in groups of three while Madame CL looked on to give you notes. She wouldn’t accept anything but the best as you knew from living under her roof since you were young.

“We take particular pride in the excellence of our ballet.”

“I see why.” Andy said. “Especially that little blonde angel.”

The blonde leaned down in a way that only years of training could make graceful and came up in a similar manner.

“Soyeon, my daughter.” Madame CL said, shooting them a frightening glace of warning.

The men and woman moved to scan the rest of the dancers.

Junjin stopped her and pointed his cane at you, “And that exceptional beauty. No relation, I trust?”

“Y/N. Promising talent, Park-nim. Very promising.”

You were too busy practicing your routine with the other girls to realize you were being chatted about, doing splits after coming out of a spin.

“Y/L/N) you say? No relation to the famous violinist?” The shorter man asked.

To which CL responded, “His only child. Orphaned at seven when she came to live and train in the ballet dormitories.”

“An orphan, you say~?” The taller one showed interest.

“I think of her as a daughter, also.” She cut off any hope of pursuing her pupil. “Gentleman, please stand to one side.”

As they were singing, Psy stepped on Jessi’s dress, and she scolded him, breaking character. Even though she was the one who was staring at the new managers instead of where she was supposed to be going. The two men continued to chatter about the girls they found attractive as Psy was being helped onto the large paper mache elephant. Jessi turned to smile at Junjin and Andy, but found their attention elsewhere, making her pout even as she sang the last crescendoing note.

The men failed to hoist up their male lead, causing his hat to fall off. All at once, things fell to pieces.

“I can’t believe it!” Jessi complained. “All they watched, all they want is the dancing!”

Mir had returned to the two men to say, “Well, the Vicomte seems very excited about tonight’s gala.”

The diva herself approached and then chuckled, “I hope he is as excited by dancing girls as the new managers because I will NOT BE SINGING!” She marched off to her dressing room cursing in both Korean and English. “Bring my doggie! Give me my doggie, bye bye.”

Andy looked at the past manager who was going through his last headache, “What do we do?”

Mir sighed, “Grovel. Grovel!”

The men also sighed and began to beg and kneel, pleading her to stay. They were able to calm her down...eventually...by persuading her to sing her solo song from Act III. Two seconds ago she was crying and complaining about her headpiece, but now she was all smiled.

“If my managers command it.” She moved center stage. “Conductor?”

Himcham rolled his eyes, “If my diva commands it.”

“I do!” She replied and then told everyone to shut up as she got ready and the conductor got into place. She sprayed her special throat spray that was a home mix and tasted like rotten bananas.

“Madame.”

“Maestro…” She gave a smile to Andy and Junjin and if the Vicomte was there, she would’ve given her biggest one to him.

Staff cleaning up the seating area stuffed their ears with cotton balls. A luxury not afforded to the rest of the cast.

Jessi began to sing, “Think of me, think of me fondlay when we've said goodbye/Remember me, once in a while please promeese me you'll tryyyyyyyyeeee/When you find that, once agayn, you long to take yer heart back—”

Suddenly, one of the painted backdrops fell on top of Jessi, knocking her down. The canvas, along with her heavy dress made it impossible for her to get back up on her own. She squealed and screamed for help.

“Lift it up!” Someone called.

“He’s here.” Soyeon said, grabbing your hands. “The Phantom of the Opera.”

Everyone looked to see if they could find him in the rafters.

“Good God, S, what is going on up there? How could you let this happen?” Mir yelled.

S, as the rigger was called, turned the wheel to lift the backdrop back into place, “Please, sir, don’t look at me for this. I wasn’t even at my post. I promise there’s no one there, sir. Or...if there is...it must be a ghost.”

Just as he said that, a letter with a red wax skull seal landed at CL’s feet. She was looking for him, but hadn’t seen any trace other than the envelope. She picked it up.

“Madame, these things do happen.” Andy said now that Jessi was on her feet.

Jessi spat back, “For the last three years ‘these things do happen’ and did you stop them from happening?” She pointed at Mir, raging. “NO! No you did not!” Then she turned her rage on the new managers. “And you two! You’re as bad as him with your dumbass ‘these things do happen’!”

She picked up her dress and took off her shoes to throw at them, “Until you stop these things from happening, this thing,” She pointed to herself. “Will not be happening!”

Lead singer and local diva Jessi left calling once more for her dog and her box. This time, she really left. The new managers looked at each other, worried because they’d have to cancel tonight’s show without her.

“Gentlemen, good luck. If you need me, I’ll be in Australia.” Said Mir as he quickly got out of there.

“Jessica Ho is...she will be coming back, won’t she?” Andy asked.

Madame CL chuckled, the opened letter in her hand, “Do you think so, Mister?”

They looked at her.

“I have a message from the Opera Ghost.”

Junjin exclaimed, “Oh, God in Heaven, you’re all obsessed!”

“He welcomes you to his opera house.”

“His opera house?”

CL continued, “And commands that you leave box #15 empty for his use. He also reminds you that his salary is due.”

Any grabbed the note, “His salary?”

She nodded, “Mister Mir used to give him 3,900,000 won a month.”

The tall man gasped and took the leader to read, “3 million 900 thousand?”

“Perhaps you can afford more with the Vicomte as your patron?”

“Madame, I was hoping to make that fact public tonight when the vicomte was to join us at the gala.” Junjin said with troubled eyes. “Obviously, we shall now have to cancel as it appears we have lost our star!” He ripped the paper and threw it onto the ground.

Andy piped up, trying to calm the worried faces, “But surely there must be an understudy?”

The conductor scoffed, “Understudy? There is no understudy for THE Jessi.”

“A full house, Andy! We shall have to refund a full house!”

“Y/N could sing it, sir.” CL said with utmost confidence and knowing what he wanted.

You looked up and glanced between the two men.

Andy looked you up and down, “What? A chorus girl? Don’t be silly, Madame CL.”

“She has been taking lessons from a great teacher.”

“Who?” He looked directly at you.

Returning his gaze with softness, you responded, “I don’t know his name, Sir.”

CL placed her hand on your shoulder, “Let her sing for you, Misters. She has been well taught.”

“Alright.” Andy said, knowing they should at least give you a chance. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

You began to walk to center stage with a bundle of nerves in your stomach, doing your utmost to remember what you had been taught. Of course all that the Angel had helped you learn wouldn’t fail you now, or so you hoped.

“From the beginning of the aria then, please, Y/N-ssi.” Mir said, raising his wand.

Junjin grabbed his friend’s arm, “Andy, this is doing nothing for my nerves.”

“Well, she’s very pretty.” He replied.

You sang the song you had heard for months on end from the wings and were now getting a chance to perform it yourself, “Think of me, think of me fondly/When we've said goodbye~/ Remember me, once in a while/Please, promise me you'll try/When you find that, once again, you long/To take your heart back and be free/If you ever find a moment/Spare a thought for me”

People began to come back to the stage, some half undressed, to see the girl Madame CL held so much affection for sing her heart out with a voice they had not expected. How did she gain such a talent? Musical genius must’ve run in the family. Even from the catwalk, crew stopped arguing about being at their given posts to look down at you and hear you sing.

On stage now in the finished dress, star clips cascaded down your hair. You looked into the audience while music played. This was really happening.

“We never said our love was evergreen/Or as unchanging as the sea/But if you can still remember/Stop and think of me/Think of all the things/We've shared and seen/Don't think about the things/Which might have been”

Chan was watching from Box 5 since he had not been there for the warning letter and no one had passed the news onto him. He watched as memories from your shared childhood played in his mind. CL and Soyeon looked on with pride.

“Think of me, think of me waking/Silent and resigned/Imagine me trying too hard/To put you from my mind/Recall those days, look back on all those times/Think of the things we'll never do/There will never be a day/When I won't think of you”

The Phantom listened from the deepest parts of the catacombs to his pupil’s singing. He had wished to see your performing debut but it had been taken from him. It’d be ok. He’d get his revenge soon enough. Just hearing your voice was blessing enough.

Cymbals crashed gently as horns played.

“Can it be?” Chan asked himself. “Can it be (Y/N)?” He stood and applauded. “Bravo!”

What a change! You're really not a bit the gawkish girl that once you were. The blonde young man thought and then raced down the stairs to make his way backstage and continued to think to himself, Long ago. It seemed so long ago, how young and innocent we were. She may not remember me, but I remember her.

He did not noticed CL lurking behind a doorway curtain.

You remembered to breathe on stage as you focused hard on this part, “We never said our love was evergreen/Or as unchanging as the sea/But please promise me that sometimes/You will think…” you began to vocalize as you had been allowed to do via sheet music and the conductor. “—of me!”

The audience exploded in cheers, whistles, and applause as the music finished. Meeting eyes with Conductor Himcham, he gave you a silent, “Bravo.”

You smiled and lived in the moment, scanning the audience of the awed faces. You had done it!

Now backstage, everyone was drinking and mingling even before the gala began. Chan fought through the crowd to where your dressing room was, being stopped halfway by Junjin and Andy who had chorus girls hanging all over them. Soyeon was also looking for you, knowing you’d be at your father’s shrine.

And you were. A picture of him was there as you lit the white candles on either side of it.

The voice you knew so well came through the vents, “Brava. Brava. Bravissima~”

You then heard Soyeon calling your name, “Where in the world have you been hiding? Really, you were perfect. I only wish I knew your secret. Who is this new tutor?”

With a solemn face, you responded, “Father once spoke of an Angel. I used to dream he'd appear. Now as I sing, I can sense him. And I know he's here. Here in this room, he calls me softly. Somewhere inside, hiding. Somehow I know he's always with me. He, the unseen genius.”

Your blonde childhood friend looked at you with a confused and utterly puzzled expression upon her face, prompting you to explain.

You looked up at her, “Soyeon, when your mother brought me to come live with you, whenever I’d come down here alone to light a candle for my father, a voice from above and in my dreams. He was always there.”

She looked at you with attentive and curious eyes.

“You see, when father lay dying, he told me I’d be protected by an angel. An angel of music.”

Soyeon asked, “Y/N, do you believe...do you think the spirit of your father has been coaching you?”

“Who else, Soyeon? Who?” You replied fervently.

She shook her blonde curls, “Y/N, you must have been dreaming. Stories like this can't come true. 친구, you're talking in riddles, and it's not like you.”

Both of you spoke your thoughts out loud with you calling to the one who taught you for so long, “Angel of music, guide and guardian, grant to me your ​glory.”

With your friend asking, “Who is this angel? This Angel of music.”

“Angel of music, hide no longer, secret and strange Angel.” and Soyeon repeated the plea and reached for your hands.

You looked about the halls, “He's with me even now.”

“Your hands are cold!”

“All around ​me.” You did not hear her words.

She gasped, “Your face, Y/N, it’s white!”

Your attention was elsewhere, “It frightens ​me…”

And finally you met Soyeon’s eyes as she comforted you, “Don’t be frightened.”

CL met you two when you were returning to the main area and said she wanted to speak to you in particular. She guided you to your dressing room and shut the door on some men who wanted to have a “private interview” with the female lead, you. Then the woman turned to you and smiled.

“You did very well, my dear.” She touched your face lovingly and then went to your vanity to pick up a red rose with a ribbon tied around it. “He is pleased with you.”

She handed you the rose which you held and looked at, rubbing the black ribbon with your fingers. She left soon after to allow you to be alone with your thoughts.

It had been a while since Chan had seen the excited managers. He had been distracted by other company members, but was finally close to your door when they called out to him once more.

“Seems like we’ve made quite the discovery with Miss Y/L/N.” Junjin grinned.

Andy added, “Perhaps we could present her to you, dear vicomte?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, this is one visit I would like you make...unaccompanied.” He grabbed the bouquet of flowers Junjin was holding. “Oh, thank you.”

And he gave a bow to CL before he went in since she was coming out at the same time, giving him a polite yet cold smile.

“It would appear that they’ve met before.” The tall man said.

“Indeed.” the other replied.

As he opened the door, Chan paused and stared at the now grown up beauty, “‘Little Lotte let her mind wander.’”

You smiled and laughed to yourself, “Remember that poem too?”

“‘Little Lotte thought: Am I fonder of dolls…’”

Both of your voices said in sync, “‘Or of goblins or shoes?’”

“‘Or of riddles of frocks’” You words overlapped with his own nostalgia.

“Those picnics in the attic.” and then the face you knew from the start kept quoting the poem your father read to both of you as children. “‘ of chocolates?’”

You couldn’t hide your pure happiness at seeing him again, “Father playing the violin…”

He crouched in front of you and held your hands, “As we read to each other dark stories of the North.”

You then made a face, “‘No, what I love best, Lotte said is when I'm asleep in my bed and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head!”

He joined you once more to repeat the line, “The Angel of Music sings songs in my head!”

Your old friend gave a sigh and held you for a moment, “You sounded like an angel tonight.”

You thanked him and then told him what had been told to Soyeon not too long ago.

“Father said, ‘When I’m in Heaven, child, I will send the Angel of Music to you.’ Well, Father is dead, Chris, and I have been visited by the Angel of Music.”

His eyes widened in assurance, “Oh, no doubt about it, and now we got to supper.” Chan stood and made his way to the door.

“No, Chris, the Angel of Music is very strict.” I said.

With a dumb smile, he replied, “Well, I won’t keep you up late then.”

“Chris, no.”

“You must change. I’ll order my carriage.” His hand was on the door. “Ten minutes, Little Lotte...and call me Chan.”

You stood from your chair, calling after him, “No, Chris--Chan, wait!”

The door closed behind your childhood love. You sighed. He had changed so much and yet he was still the boy you adored. Even after all these years, you were still his Little Lotte. You began to get out of your dress with the help of the costumers and took the star pins out of your hair. As you did so, you hadn’t realized you were being locked in once the ladies left.

He was silent as a mouse. Not a single click of the lock to warn you as you tied the front of your sheer and lacy robe which rested upon a pale colored silken slip. Soon, a wind caused your candles to go out, the only source of light in your room. A voice came from the vents. One you knew so well and had been expecting.

“Insolent boy! This slave of fashion basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor sharing in my triumph!”

You looked around for the source of the voice, “Angel! I hear you! Speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me!” You placed a hand over your heart as you gazed at the floor. “Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last, Master!”

The husky tone replied, “Flattering child, you shall know me. See why in shadow I hide. Look at your face in the mirror. I am there inside!”

Following his orders as usual, you faced the mirror and saw a figure cloaked in black, a white mask covering half of a face. What was behind yourself. He was not there, not a reflection but past your own image. Behind the mirror itself is where he stood.

“Angel of Music! Guid and guardian! Grant to me your glory! Angel of Music, hide no longer! Come to me, strange angel.” You sang as the very mirror opening along with the wall.

“I am your Angel…” He held out his hand to you and you approached. “Come to me: Angel of Music”

Even the violent rattling of someone trying to get in did not break the gaze you had on your angel.

It was Chan, with gloves in his hands, who had come to get you. He was worried for your safety, confused as to why the door had been locked in the first place.

“Whose is that voice?” He asked to himself. Then he called through the door. “Who is that in there?” your childhood crush called from outside though you did not hear anything at all.

No sensation did you feel or process other than the alluring figure before you. Even as Chris called your name, all you heard was the voice of the Phantom as you took his outstretched hand, covered in black.

“I am your Angel of Music...Come to me: Angel of Music”

“Y/N!”

You both then travelled the secret halls as he led you down the surprisingly well lit pathway. He kept his hand holding yours firmly and looked back at you to make sure you were still there from time to time. Sometimes, you looked back because you had no idea what was going on. Where you were.

Thoughts flowed through your mind at this sudden reveal, In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice which calls to me and speaks my name. And do I dream again? For now I find the Phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind.

He pulled you forward with motivations of his own passing though his head, Sing once again with me our strange duet. My power over you grows stronger yet.

“And though you turn from me to glance behind~” Oh he noticed, but assured you that, “The Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind.” as if he could read your thoughts.

The two of you went down some steps now. This was a place so very unfamiliar to you although much of your formative years had been spent running the halls of the Opera House. He helped you into a gondola that helped to cross the ever flooded part of the theatre vaults.

A gate rose to reveal what looked like his home. There was a bed. Pianos. Candelabras with intricate detailing. As soon as you hit land, the Phantom threw off his cloak and stared at you as your eyes looked curiously around his lair. The Phantom’s Lair, beneath the Opera House. Music sheets and aged posters for past shows were everywhere.

You let yourself speak aloud, “Those who have seen your face draw back in fear. I am the mask you wear--”

“It's me they hear…”

“Your spirit and my voice in one combined. The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind.” Both of you sang, changing certain possessives respectively.

Something deep inside of you warned to beware the Phantom of the Opera.

He sang as you looked around at his expansive lair, “In all your fantasies, you always knew that both man and mystery--”

“Were both in you…” The words came from your mouth before you could stop them.

They made him smile as you joined voices once again, “And in this labyrinth, where night is blind the Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind…”

He then demanded, “Sing, my Angel of Music!”

As always, you sang out what your heart held, “He's there, the Phantom of the Opera~” followed by a wordless melody since no words in any language that you knew could describe what you felt.

As he goaded you on with “Sing!” you let your voice crescendo and go up an octoave.

“Sing for me! Sing, my Angel of Music!”

Higher still.

“Sing for me!”

You reached the highest part of your register in order to make him proud, to please the mysterious man that gave you your voice in the first place. He seemed to smile behind that half mask of his. A beautiful face from what you could see, hidden behind porcelain.

He then spoke as you walked arm in arm, “I have brought you yo the seat of sweet music's throne. To this kingdom where all must pay homage to music. Music…” he breathed. “You have come here for one purpose and one alone. Since the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me to serve me, to sing for my music. My music…”

With a firm stance, he stilled your movements and met your eyes for a moment, “Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses. Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor. Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender. ”

He moved your gaze to him and held you so that the two of you were in the perfect position for a waltz. The only sound was his voice. The only feeling was of his hands on your body. The only sight was his face.

“Turn your face away from the garish light of day. Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light and listen to the music of the night. Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams. Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before. Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!”

You breathed in his scent of everlasting petrichor.

“And you'll live as you've never lived before.” He promised as the two of you turned in endless circles. “Softly, deftly, music shall surround you. Feel it, hear it closing in around you. Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind in this darkness which you know you cannot fight the darkness of the music of the night.”

You knew you could belong to him fully, but what about Chris? A memory of his blonde hair glowing in the candle’s flame came to mind.

A firm grip on your hand pulled you back to the one in front of you, “Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before, let your soul take you where you long to be.”

Your eyes did not leave his form even as you noticed beautiful busts and commissioned artwork as well. None of them could compare to the striking looks of the Phantom.

His deep voice lulled you as the spinning stopped and he stared intently into your eyes, tan skin and dark eyes persuading you, “Only then can you belong to me.” his hands held your face and slid down to your shoulders. The look in his eyes looked as if they couldn’t believe you were actually in his grasp.

He turned you around, hands gliding across the front of your corset to hold you passionately from behind as he continued to serenade you. “Floating, falling, sweet intoxication.” Gloved hands.

One held your own as you leaned into him. The other on your hip. Eyes closed, you breathed him and his husky melodic voice into yourself.

“Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation.” He placed your hand upon the unmasked side of his face.

Skin to skin contact that made you shiver. You wanted to face him once more, so you did. Opening your eyes, you saw how much he craved you.

“Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write. The power of the music of the night.”

Again, he linked his arm into yours and walking commenced. He took you somewhere else, to behind a curtain where you saw yourself. A 3D version of you head to toe in wedding attire. Seeing such an image made you faint.

Taehyung realized he might have taken things a little too fast, seeing as he was now carrying his affection’s unconscious body in a princess hold all the way to his ben where his love could lay until waking from her exhaustion. Suddenly being the lead in a show to this might have been too much for her.

Y/N had worked so hard tonight with her stage debut as the lead. All the adoration. However, all she needed was him. Taehyung knew she’d come to realize that.

““You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night.” he asked as he touched her face, so glad and still unbelieving she was with him.

All he could do was stare at her as the curtains around the bed closed around Y/N who seemed to glow. The Opera Ghost was just a man who had been treated like a monster, who had fallen in love from afar. And he would have his love, and his love would have him. All he had to do was wait.

You awoken to the sound of rhythmic cymbals and a light tune. Where had you woken up? Whose room had such a monkey as a music box? No one that you knew, was it? You saw the box through black lace curtains which you spread apart in order to stand, your white and sheer pull over floating about your feet.

“I remember there was mist,” You said to yourself as you began to walk into the main room. “Swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake. There were candles all around, and on the lake, there was a boat.”

Emerging from the bedroom, you saw the candles from your hazy memory.

“And in the boat, there was a man.”

Alas, there was the man still in his white mask as he turned towards you. He must’ve heard you talking to yourself above his organ keys. You couldn’t help but give him a smile and find your way towards him though he turned to nervously stare at the ivories before him.

“Who was that shape in the shadows?” You asked him directly. “Whose is the face in the mask?” At his one sided blush, you giggled. “What is your name?”

“Vuh...V, but please, my dear Y/N, call me Taehyung or Tae. Whatever is to your preference.” He kissed your hand which soon traveled to his face.

Your gentle hands caressed his tanned and glistening cheeks while watching him revel in the touch. However, you had always been the curious type and you wanted to see his entire face, what was behind the mask.

“Tae, what a beautiful name. I’m sure you have an even more beautiful face.” As soon as the mask had been removed from his visage, he whipped around in anger.

You gasped.

“Damn you! You little prying Pandora!” He screamed as you saw his face. “You little demon, is this what you wanted to see?”

The man stared at his face, half of which was deformed with scars and large bumps and let sorrow creep in for a moment before returning to chastising the one who revealed such a side.

“Curse you! You little lying Delilah! You little viper!” He hissed, spraying spittle onto your cowering form. “Now you cannot ever be free!”

The man saw the pure fear in your eyes and walked away, knocking down an array of paper weights.

“Damn you...Curse you!” Frustration seeped into his tone as he covered his deformity with one hand.

Was he cursing your or himself at this point? That you could not tell, but tears threatened to spill as you wiped your face and began to sit up in your white corset and undergarments as you still weren’t properly dressed.

Then he began to speak again, Stranger than you dreamt it. Can you even dare to look Or bear to think of me--this loathsome gargoyle, who burns in hell, but secretly yearns for heaven? Secretly...secretly, Y/N.”

W...H...Heaven? Was he calling you his Heaven? Tae looked at the false figure of you in a wedding gown and floral veil. This glance had seemingly given him an idea as he stated his thoughts aloud.

His eyes seared into yours as he came towards you, “Fear can turn to love. You'll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster…”

To call himself a monster, to make all the assumptions wasn’t fair to either of you. Yes, you had taken his mask, but you did not think of his face being worth damnation.

“This repulsive carcass, who seems a beast But secretly dreams of beauty. Secretly, secretly...Oh, Y/N.” He hid his face behind his hand once more now that he was sitting next to you on the floor.

Your tears fell down your face due to pity--no--compassion for all that this man had come to believe about himself. All of these lies...all of his life it seemed. You reached out your hand holding the mask in it, returning it as you felt guilty for what you had done, causing so much of his pain to come to the surface.

The clock tolled as he stuck the mask back onto his affected side.

“Come,” his husky voice said as he offered his hand. “We must return. Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you.”

Junjin read the headline of a paper which echoed the same thing as all the others, “‘Mystery after gala night,’ It says, ‘Mystery of soprano’s flight!’” He scoffed and handed the paper to one of the theatre assistants. “‘Mystified,’ baffled 경찰 say. ;We are mystified. We suspect foul play!’”

The man folded up his sleeves and sighed before he continued walking, “Bad news on soprano scene. First our Jessi, now Y/N. Still at least the seats get sold since gossip's worth its weight in gold.” He smiled in spite of everything. “What a way to run a business, spare me these unending trials. Half your cast disappears, but the crowd still cheers. Opera! To hell with Gluck and Handel It's a scandal that'll pack 'em in the aisles!”

However, Andy had a different view of things, nearly screeching as he saw his business partner, “Damnable! Will they all walk out? This is damnable!”

“Andy, please don't shout. It's publicity, and the take is vast. Free publicity--”

“But we have no cast!” The shorter man hissed.

Junjin motioned to the door outside, “But Andy, have you seen the queue?” and then he noticed familiar handwriting on pristine white paper. “Oh, it seems you've got one, too.”

Andy rolled his eyes and read the bothersome letter:

“Dear Andy, what a charming gala! Y/N enjoyed a great success. We were hardly bereft when that Jessi left. Otherwise, the chorus was entrancing, but the dancing was a lamentable mess.”

The taller man took his turn to read his own note:

“Dear Junjin, just a brief reminder that my salary has not been paid. Send it care of the Ghost by return of post. P.T.O. No one likes a debtor, so it's better if my orders are obeyed!”

Both of the men exclaimed, “Who would have the gall to send this? Someone with a puerile brain!”

Looking at both letters, Junjin noticed, “These are both signed ‘O.G.’”

“Who the hell is he?”

“Opera Ghost!” They immediately realized.

Andy leaned against the bannister, “It's nothing short of shocking.” the two men went back and forth with their comments.

“He's mocking our position--”

“In addition, he wants money--”

“What a funny apparition--”

“To expect a large retainer--”

“Nothing plainer--”

“He is clearly quite insane!” Andy scoffed.

Suddenly, a rather angry and irritated voice called, “Where is she?”

The men looked behind themselves to see it was their patron Bang Chan.

Andy asked, “You mean Jessi?”

The blonde nearly laughed, “I mean Miss Y/N, where is she?”

Junjin shrugged, “Well, how should we know?”

“I want an answer.” Chan said firmly. “I take it that you sent me this note.”

The taller man was puzzled, “What’s all this nonsense?”

“Of course not!” Andy said with his friend replying soon after, “Don’t look at us.”

The young man thought out loud, “She’s not with you, then?”

Both of the older men spoke at the same time having “Of course not!” overlap with “We’re in the dark.”

“Sunbaenim, don’t argue. Isn’t this the letter you wrote?” Chan showed his own note from his jacket pocket.

Junjin brushed his hair back, “And what is is that we're meant to have wrote?..er, written.” he said correcting his grammatical mistake.

Their blonde patron handed the shorter of the two older men the note to read.

“Do not fear for Miss Y/N as The Angel of Music has her under his wing. Make no attempt to see her again.”

The three men looked at each other, mystified.

Chan then broke the stares, “If you didn't write it, who did?”

Jessi and her entourage burst into the room with the singer yelling, “Where is he?”

“Ah, welcome back,” Andy said sarcastically.

“Your precious patron. Where is he?” She said.

He made himself known with a bow towards the woman, “What is it now?”

The overly made up woman squawked, “I have you latter, a letter which I rather resent.” 

“And did you send it?” Junjin asked.

Chan shook his head, “Of course not!”

Andy added, “As if he would…”

“You didn’t send it?” Jessi questioned with disbelief.

“Of course not!” The patron repeated.

“What’s going on?” the taller former scrap metal businessman asked.

Jessi held out the note, “You dare to tell me that this is not the letter you sent?”

“And what is it that I'm meant to have sent?” Bang Chan reached out a gloved hand and read this note.

“Your days at the {Opéra Populaire} are numbered. Y/F/N will be singing on your behalf tonight. Be prepared for a great misfortune should you attempt to take her place.”

Both of the new managers took their star soprano by the arm and spoke in tandem, “Far too many notes for my taste, and most of them about Y/N. All we've heard since we came is Miss Y/L/N's name.”

Madame CL’s voice suddenly came out of nowhere, “Miss Y/N has returned.” she said from behind the gaggle of employees with her daughter Soyeon right beside her.

Chan’s heart nearly lept out of his chest, “I hope no worse for wear--”

“As far as we’re concerned,” Andy added getting a cold glare in return.

Before anything more could happen, Junjin asked, “Where precisely is she now?”

CL responded directly, “I thought it best that she was alone.”

“She needed rest,” Soyeon piped up.

The angelically handsome patron stepped forward, “May I see her?”

A shake of the head as the older woman answered, “No Chan-nim, she will see no one.”

Jessi and her love asked, “Will she sing? Will she sing?”

With a partial smirk, CL said, “Here, I have a note.”

Everyone surged forward demanding that she let them see the note, but Junjin was the only one who added ‘Please’ and so she gave it to him.

“Gentlemen, I have now sent you several notes of the most amiable nature, detailing how my theater is to be run. You have not followed my instructions. .I shall give you one last chance. Y/N has returned to you, and I am anxious her career should progress. In the new production of Il Muto, you will therefore cast Jessi as the pageboy and put Miss Y/N in the role of Countess. The role which Miss Y/N plays calls for charm and appeal. The role of the pageboy is silent which makes my casting--in a word--ideal I shall watch the performance from my normal seat in box 5, which will be kept empty for me. Should these commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant

                                             ~ O.G.”

Jessi scoffed and rolled her eyes while she exclaimed, “Y/N! It's all a ploy to help Y/N! I know who sent this, The Vicomte—her lover!”

Chan feigned surprise, “Indeed?” before looking over at Soyeon. “Can you believe this?”

As Jessi began dramatically lamenting in English, Andy tried to soothe her by saying, “여왕님! This changes nothing. You are our star! 여왕님, we don't take orders .”

Junjin wanted less drama, so he tried to comfort the diva as well, “This is a joke. 여왕님! The man is mad!”

She wasn’t taking any of it, though, “Traitors! Liars! Bitches! Hos! I can’t believe I ever--”

“Miss Y/N will be playing the pageboy—the silent role.” The black haired manager said.

Andy caught on quickly, “Jessi will be playing the lead.”

Although it’s what she wanted, the diva wasn’t going to bend that easily, “It's useless trying to appease me! You're only saying this to please me!”

Madame CL did her best to warn the two men, “Who scorn his word beware to those. The angel sees, the angel knows.”

Jessi packed up all her things with the help of her crew, “You have reviled me! You have rebuked me! You have replaced me!”

Chan literally did not have time for this, so he went to find wherever his love had gone, “Why did Y/N fly from my arms?”

The managers were still grovelling, “여왕님, pardon us. Please 여왕님, we beseech you.”

As the main doors to the theatre opened, there were dozens if not hundreds of men with roses. Before any of them could ask to give their roses to Y/N, the doors were closed and the managers used this to their advantage.

Andy held out his hand to the long haired woman, “Your public needs you~”

Junjin followed suit, doing the same, but on the other side, “We need you, too~”

Still pouting, Jessi replied, “Wouldn't you rather have your precious little ingénue?”

“여왕님, no!” The managers said in unison. “The world wants you.”

After getting Jessi’s dressing room back in order and much practice and constant praises being sung nonstop, the opera was coming soon. Tomorrow in fact. Makeup and rehearsals seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye, all the while Madame CL trying to warn them that this was a bad idea. This would not turn out well, ignoring and blatantly going against the Phantom’s wishes. However, they would not listen.

Andy shrugged, “We get our Opera.”

“She gets her limelight.” Junjin explained away the concerns.

Meanwhile, Chan was worried and thinking very deeply about what all of this could mean, “Y/N spoke of an ​angel. Is this her angel of music...? Angel or madman? Orders, warnings. These lunatic demands! Surely, for her sake…I must see these demands are rejected!”

Madame CL helped clean up stray clothing while the cast was getting dressed, “Heaven help you ​those who doubt. This miscasting will invite damnation. Oh fools, to have flouted his warnings! Think, before ​these demands ​are ​rejected!”

Who'd believe a diva happy to relieve a chorus girl who’s gone and slept with the patron? Chan and the second string entwined in love's duet! Although he may demur, he must have been with her!

Junjin scratched his head, “You'd never get away with all this in a play.” and wiped the sweat from his brow as he himself got dressed for opening night.

Andy offered him a good luck shot of soju, “But if it's loudly sung and in a foreign tongue, it's just the sort of story audiences adore.”

There was no denying that, “In fact ​a perfect opera!”

Chan was dressed in his own formal attire headed towards a certain box as he spoke of his plan to the most trusted Madame CL, “In Box Five a new game will begin…”

Soyeon and the young man spoke their thoughts to the older woman, “Y/N must be protected!”

CL grabbed his arm, “This is a game you cannot hope to win!” but then she sighed. “If his curse is on this opera…Then ​I fear ​the ​outcome should you dare to --”

The play began as a bedazzled and richly dressed crowd gathered in their seats, creating a full house as is always best for a business based on acting and the arts. The intro was great and the actors were so very in character that no one could tell that the lead hated the woman who was playing her male love interest. A comedy. A good laugh or several in fact. It was just that entertaining.

No one knew that vengeance was right around the corner as black gloved hands switched out a certain diva’s throat lubricant with something less helpful.

Jessi as the Countess sang her line, “Serafimo—away with this pretence!” and ripped off a tear away skirt to reveal manly breeches underneath. “You cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's absence!”

And Jessi spread her fan to hide the false smooch before stepping to the front to sing one of her songs, “Poor fool, he makes me laugh! Hahahahahaha…”

Her vocals very birdlike in tone but more controlled and taught enchanted the audience even more.

“Time I tried to get a better better half!” she gave a large smile.

Countess Jessi sang along with the three person ensemble, “Poor fool, he doesn't know! Hohohohohoho…If he knew the truth, he'd never, ever go!”

Suddenly, a menacing voice came from above, asking, “Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?”

All music stopped as eyes turned upward and yet unable to see the black cloaked figure which spoke.

Soyeon gasped, “It’s him. It’s the Phantom of the Opera.”

You couldn’t hear her and yet shared the sentiment, “It's him! I know it, it's him!”

Jessi snapped at you out of character, “Your part is silent, little toad!” and then gave a laugh and smile to the audience, fanning herself gracefully.

A dark chuckle reverberated off the walls, “A toad, Madame? Perhaps it is you who are the toad…”

She took this chance to get her voice spray, nagging her assistant for always getting it on her chin and then cleared her throat. Life performances rarely ever had a second take, but it seemed like this was a special occasion.

Countess Jessi repeated, “Serafimo, away with this pretence! You cannot speak, but kiss me in my—!” she wasn’t able to go as high as usual and instead began to croak like a frog in the middle of her line.

The crowd chuckled, and she tried to hide her embarrassment as she continued, “Poor fool, he makes me laugh. Hahahahaha--croak!”

More giggles which grew into full on laughter.

Jessi was so embarrassed that she grabbed her skirt and ran off the stage. Even the curtains closed to signify a much needed break. Junjin and Andy quickly made it on stage and spoke to the very amused crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the performance will continue in ten minutes' time... where the role of the Countess will be sung by, er--” Junjin quickly looked behind the curtain to find you and bring you to the forefront. “By Miss Y/F/N.”

The crowd applauded and you were sent off to go change into the backup dress. There was a sense of dread in your chest, however. This is not what you wanted. Not at all. If he wanted you to sing for him...this was not the way to get you to do so. At least, not very willingly.

Andy smiled, “In the meantime, ladies and gentlemen, we shall be giving you, giving...you the ballet! Yes, the ballet from Act Three of tonight's opera” He made eye contact with Himcham, “Maestro—the ballet, now!”

There was a lot of mess and mishap as the cast quickly moved up and around a bunch of things which seemed to add to the comedy of the show, but it was a mockery. Embarrassing, but it was just one night. Right? Just a small bump in the road. Music played and the dancers did their things, hauling live animals in the scene to make it more realistic and interactive.

However, above it all in the rafters, a chase was going on. An unlucky rigger had been looking for the Phantom ever since he left in the middle of Jessi’s croaking incident. However, now that he had found the ghost, he was looking to escape, to tell anyone that he was real. Yet, one of the ropes used to keep sandbags and set pieces above the stage was being unused, still in the perfect shape to hang someone.

Which it did. Him.

His body went limp and was then tossed over the side to make sure the job was done. Pandemonium! Screaming! Gasps! A few people puking in the audience and backstage. What else was there to do? People began to get up and leave. The poor chorus girls, too. It was as if time froze as a few of the ensemble members got close enough to see if it was him.

Quickly, Chan went to go find his love. You had just gotten into the wings with your makeshift dress under the cloak needed for the next scene when you saw the body fall. There was one of Taehyung’s roses waiting for you in the dressing room, no doubt in your mind that it was him that caused all of this.

“Chan! Chan!” You called as you saw him.

“Y/N, Christine, come with me!” he said as your hands met.

You shook your head, “No, to the roof. We'll be safe there.”

Junjin announced as best he could above the main crowd and over the screams, “Ladies and gentlemen. Please, remain in your seats. Do not panic; it was an accident ... simply an accident! These...these things do happen with uncareful crew.” he said, trying to grasp at anything to calm the viewers.

“Why have you brought me here?” asked Chan once you two made it to the roof.

You were close to tears as fear had stricken your heart, “We can’t go back there!”

He held your hand, “We must return!”

“He'll kill you! His eyes will find us there!” You gripped his hand tightly before walking further onto the roof.

“Y/N, don't say that…”

“Those eyes that burn!”

Chan tried to catch your hands again, “Don't even think it.”

Still, you could not listen. You had seen what he was capable of, murder. You knew it was no accident. How could it be? He was there. Taehyung was there and did not like being seen, so if he had been…you didn’t want the same to happen to the man you loved

“And if he has to kill a thousand men--”

“Forget this waking nightmare.” your childhood crush said.:

“The Phantom ​of the Opera will kill and kill ​again!” You felt close to hysterics, but what else were you to do?

“This Phantom is a fable. Believe me, there is no Phantom of the Opera.”

You knew, though. The way you looked into Chan’s eyes made him start to believe, too. Yet, he could not.

“My God, who is ​this man who hunts to kill? I can't escape ​from him. I never will!” Your voice spoke to the wind and to the man who had returned to you.

My God, who is ​this man--this mask of death--whose is this voice you ​hear, with every breath? He thought to himself, not wanting to add more questions into your already frazzled head.

You turned to him once more, “And in this labyrinth, where night is blind the Phantom of the Opera is here. Inside my mind.”

Chan had begun to speak at the same time as you, “And in this labyrinth where night is blind, The Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind.”

Though it was different. He believed it to be part of your imagination where as you knew he was real and he was everywhere you were. Inside and out. This unforgettable man who called himself V...Taehyung.

Finally, Chan made you look at him and let you breathe a moment before saying, “There is no Phantom of the Opera.” and put his hand on your cheek.

You closed your eyes, wishing it were true, “Chan, I've been there to his world of unending night. To a world where the daylight dissolves into darkness…Darkness.” Your feet made tracks in the snowy rooftop as you stepped back, “Chan, I've seen him! Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape from that face? So distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face…”

Eyes in the snow, the memory came to you all so vividly, “In that darkness. Darkness,” you turned around and faced the city. “But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound.” The red rose tied with a black ribbon was firmly in your grasp as you couldn’t help but smile at the way he made you feel. “In that night, there was music in my mind, and through music, my soul began to soar! And I heard as I'd never heard before…”

The blonde man in his black suit stood where he was, “What you heard was a dream and nothing more.”

“Yet in his eyes, all the sadness of the world. Those pleading eyes. That both threaten and adore~”

Bang Chan sighed and looked at the ground before looking at your cloak covered back, “Y/N~ Dear Y/N~”

On the wind you heard Taehyung call, “Y/N~~” and looked around to see if he were really there or a part of your imagination.

Chris held you from behind, enveloping your body in his arms as snow fell on the pair of you. If only it were a dream and nothing more. He led you to a spot on the roof in which one of the large pegasus statues would guard against most of the falling snow, making you forget about the rose in your hand, letting it fall into the cold.

He made you feel safe unlike you had felt ever since being enchanted by Tae’s music in his lair beneath the theatre. Still, Chan was there, making himself known and deciding to confess his feelings completely.

“No more talk of darkness. Forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you.” He said, turning your body to face him. “Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you. To guard you and to guide you.”

Was he being true to his words or just saying so? Right now, you needed something real. Something light to replace the smog in your mind.

You looked at his shoulder, unable to bring yourself to gaze at his face, “Say you love me every waking moment. Turn my head with talk of summertime. Say you need me with you now and always. Promise me that all you say is true. That's all I ask of you…”

He nodded, “Let me be your shelter. Let me be your light. You're safe, no one will find you. Your fears are far behind you.”

“All I want is freedom, a world with no more night.” You looked into rich brown eyes and smiled. “And you, always beside me, to hold me and to hide me.”

Chan smiled and led you by the hand back into the main area since it seemed like the snowfall had lightened up a bit, “Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me with you here, beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too. Y/N, that's all I ask of you~”

You felt nothing but the truth within his words, his honesty and passion in every breath, “Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning.”

Then you looked up at him shyly as he held you around the waist, “Say you love me--”

To which he gave the swift reply of, “You know I do.”

“Love me—that's all I ask of you~” Both of you spoke your hearts’ deepest desire.

It felt as though you were one person and the way he kissed you, it made you melt into him and him into you. The heat of it enough to melt the snow around your loving embrace. Chan then picked you up and spun you around, making you giggle in pure joy. He held you so tightly and yet so gentle as if you were a treasure. And you were.

His treasure.

Again, you spoke in unison, “Anywhere you go, let me go too! Love me—that's all I ask of you~”

You shared in another loving kiss but had to pull back this time, “I must go. They'll wonder where I am.” Then you smiled brightly, the light even reaching into your eyes to glitter. “Come with me, Chan.”

He stayed still a moment, “Y/N, I love~ you!”

It felt as though your heart skipped a beat. It was just the two of you in the most pristine of settings and confessing your love for one another. You giggled and pulled him along.

“Order your fine horses! Be with them at the door!” You said, opening the door.

“And soon, you'll be beside me!” Chan beamed as well.

“You'll guard me and you'll guide me~” The words came out of your mouth, reciting the promise he gave to you.

The pair of you ran off.

Not knowing that Taehyung had been there the entire time, and that she had broken his heart. Why did Y/N not know that he had been there? Could she not sense him with the other man there? With a tight throat, V picked up the fallen rose and mourned the loss of his heart. His cold tears trickled from underneath his mask. The Phantom crushed the rose beneath his fingers, letting the red petals fall and create red blooms on the white surface.

“I gave you my music…Made your song take wing. And now, how you've repaid me: Denied me and betrayed me…He was bound to love you when he heard you sing.” He sniffled and spoke with a choked voice. “Y/N, oh Y/N…”

In the background, he could hear your joyous love song with someone who was not him.

“Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning~...”

Taehyung threw down the remainder of the rose and tossed back his cape before mounting one of the roof chariots to yell at the heavens, “You will curse the day you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you!”

(part 2 on mstrlst)

[vgperson]

What Did I Translate in 2018?

[postapocalyptic-narnia]

Any Way the Wind Blows

Chapter 2, complete Word count: 3347

Shasta awoke to disorienting afternoon sun. He was laying on sand, hair salt-stiff, ratty towel under his head like a pillow and a low rusted dome over him like a roof. He blinked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Memories from the night before clicked into place like cogs: splashing down the flooded highway, winding his way up the cliffs, crawling into the dilapidated shell of a half-buried pre-Fever car. He rolled over, the back of his shirt caked with sand, and saw the bike wedged between the remains of the back seat and the empty window frame.

His back hurt from sleeping on uneven ground instead of his hammock. His knees were bruised from tipping off the bike on the curves of the road the night before. He didn’t even know why his neck was so sore. But waking undiscovered, safe, and far from home was more than he had expected, and his spirits were light as he rolled over and patted the bike’s dark nav screen. It flickered to life. “Fingerprints accepted. Hello, Shasta.”

“What’s the plan for today?” he yawned.

“Planning in progress. How much food and water did you bring?”

Shasta rifled through the little cargo rack, blinking. “Maybe… two days’ worth? But I have the ration stamp book, so I think we can get more food and fuel at outposts along the way.”

“Until your name and description are distributed for arrest.”

“What?!” He sat up hard, denting the roof of the car and then wincing, rubbing his scalp.

“You do realize that you just stole a valuable piece of imperial loot, don’t you?”

He groaned. “You mean I’m a thief now?”

“You took a stolen item with the intent of returning it to its rightful owner. I would call that noble,” the AI pointed out. “But yes, in the eyes of the empire, you are a criminal.”

Shasta exhaled, blowing his hair from his eyes. “So how are we going to get to the embassy without being caught?”

“The speeder’s communication system was lost in the storm. If you are correct in saying that the fisherman’s radio doesn’t function, it should take a day or two before word reaches a speeder outpost of the theft. After that, it’ll take another day or two for word to spread past Bithersee. That gives us two to four days before outpost officials will know to look out for us.”

Shasta lay back down, interlacing his fingers over his stomach. His legs stuck out through the window of the half-buried car. “The first place they’ll look for me is Bithersee. It’s the closest town, and the only one I’ve been to.” That he remembered, at least. This whole friend-of-Narnia business was stirring up questions of his birthplace that he thought he’d put to rest long ago.

“Will you be recognized if you go into Bithersee, then?”

Shasta considered. “Probably not– the fisherman never let me actually get off the boat. What are you thinking?”

“You know the empire as well as I do, Shasta,” it said. Shasta snorted. By all accounts his ignorance was hard to match. “Help me puzzle through this. You need a disguise that discourages questions, but that explains rapid travel.”

“A speeder, then,” Shasta said immediately. The AI buzzed, processing. “No one questions speeders on imperial business. And that would explain the bike, too.”

“Could you convincingly pretend to be a speeder?”

Shasta closed his eyes, picturing the speeders that travelled the highway over the sunken city. Most were old, with grey-speckled hair and fierce eyes, but he’d seen some young speeders. They had the same air about them– a haughtiness, an awareness of both their surroundings and their importance. And then of course he’d need the scarlet uniform… and boots, and maybe a helmet or headscarf to keep out dust. He imagined himself in speeder robes, shoulders thrown back, chin high. It was all glittering seaspray, a mirage in his mind, of course. But that certainly looked like someone who would get the job done. Someone other people would listen to.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I think I could.”

---

Shasta crawled out of the shell of the car, leaving the bike hidden. The distribution center in the middle of town, where citizens and fishermen turned in ration stamps, doubled as the last speeder outpost before the highway crossed the gulf. If any building in town had unused speeder uniforms, it would be that one. But while he could get food and water and fuel, and probably even boots and a headscarf, without raising suspicion, asking for a speeder uniform would certainly draw attention. As soon as the fisherman or the speeder got to town, his description would spread, and anyone with two brain cells to rub together could figure out that the skinny boy needing speeder gear was actually Shasta, motorcycle thief and apparent speeder impersonator. The disguise would be worthless then.

So he kept his head low as he passed the faded city limit sign, wondering how to steal a speeder uniform without being noticed. The spine of Bithersee was a single road, the pavement cracked and faded. Dirt paths curved away like ribs, twisting between scattered huts and disappearing toward the glitter of the distant harbor. In the heart of town stood the distribution center, built on stilts to protect it from the floods that came every storm cycle. A gutter wrapped around the roof, funneling rain water into the community water tank underneath the building. A storm beacon protruded from the roof, but it was off: no storm would come for another two weeks, at least.

He paused, squinting up at the storm beacon. If appearances served, it was the same make as the ones he’d maintained for years: an antenna and a bulbous lightbulb squatting on a control box. An access ladder hung next to the dilapidated wooden stairs that led to the distribution center door. Shasta mounted the steps and knocked.

“Come in,” a woman called. He stepped in, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior; the only light came from a few windows criss-crossed with narrow boards and tape. The stale smell of sawdust permeated the quiet air. A woman in a sandy-brown uniform sat behind a desk piled with papers and metal trinkets. Aluminum cans were stacked in one corner of the room. There were three doors behind her. “What are you here to collect?” she asked.

“Boots, ma’am,” he said meekly.

“Who are you? I don’t recognize you,” she said, frowning.

His heartbeat stuttered. “Uh– I’m working on one of the fishing boats.”

“Whose?”

Shasta racked his brain for the name of a fisherman his guardian had mentioned in his long, barely coherent market day stories. “Melik?” he tried.

She nodded, apparently satisfied. “He’s getting old, then?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, holding in a sigh of relief. “Needed an extra pair of hands, so here I am.”

“He give you money for the boots, or should I write out an IOU?” she asked. A greedy part of Shasta wanted to put it on poor Melik’s tab, but he knew the panic of unexpected expenses too well to follow through. Good rubber-soled boots cost as much as gasoline for a whole storm cycle.

Instead, he pulled the fisherman’s stamp book from his pocket. “I have ration stamps to exchange.”

The woman held out one hand, fishing through the stacks of papers with the other. “Let me see the stamp book and head into the nonperishable storeroom, then we’ll get you straightened out.” He handed it to her. “Nonperishable door’s that one,” she said, motioning to the door on the far left. Shasta crossed to the door in the center, pulling it open. The room behind contained aisles of food: dented cans, bags of grain, plastic water tanks. This must be the perishable storeroom.

“On your left,” the woman called, still rifling through the forms. Shasta opened the door on the right. The smell of gasoline hit him like a wave. Dark spatters stained the walls; logbooks, bike parts, repair tools and batteries filled a row of shelves; a radio stood in the corner, and a pile of dirty speeder uniforms sat beneath a grimy window.

A hand pushed the door shut. Shasta turned to find the woman behind him, eyebrow lifted. “Other left,” she said.

He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, ma’am.” He let her push him towards the third door. This room was filled with clothes and construction supplies, as far as he could tell– he rummaged through disordered shelves and bins until he found a pair of boots that were snug on his feet. The woman watched from the doorway as he tried them on, taking a few steps. He’d never had shoes sturdier than sandals; the weight was unfamiliar.

“You want socks to go with those?” she asked, pointing at the next bin. He ducked his head and pulled out a pair of socks, scanning the room for anything else that might be of use. A screwdriver on a nearby shelf caught his eye. He pretended to stumble on the untied laces of his new heavy shoes and bumped into the shelf, grabbing at the screwdriver and sliding it into his pocket. Heart thumping, he pulled off the shoes and returned to the doorway. “Anything else?” she asked.

“No, ma’am.” The screwdriver poked his thigh. Stealing from the empire wasn’t the same as stealing from a random fisherman, he reminded himself, feeling a twinge of guilt regardless. Watching the woman rip out enough gas stamps to fuel the boat for three weeks didn’t help. Shasta had made sure to leave enough food and water to last the fisherman through the next storm cycle at least, but the loss of his gas reserves, his ration stamp book and his source of free labor would hit the fisherman hard.

“Alright, you can take this back to Melik,” she said, handing him the booklet. “Then sign your name here and you’ll be good to go.” She gave him a form and a pen.

He tucked his new boots under one arm and scanned the paper, unable to read it. The fisherman had tried to teach him his letters when he was little, but had given up after a few weeks. The boy didn’t need to read to rake seaweed or fix storm beacons or mend nets. He could write his name and little else, but that would be a dead giveaway of his identity when the speeder came looking. He scratched an X on the dotted line and returned the paper and pen.

After he left, he paused halfway down the steps, pulling on his socks and boots, then turned his attention back to the building. He hadn’t seen any roof access aside from the ladder beside the front door. There were six windows total, three on the north side into the front room, and three on the south side, with one opening into each storeroom. He crept up the stairs on all fours, staying out of sight as he reached the access ladder and began to climb. It creaked under his weight and he froze, then continued up. Hopefully the woman was back at her desk.

This is a terrible plan, Shasta told himself as he reached the roof and crept up the slope towards the storm beacon. Failing more suitable material, the fisherman had tried to teach him to read using the storm beacon manual he got when he was promoted to roadkeeper. That was where he first saw diagrammed the workings of the control panel that he was now opening with the stolen screwdriver. Normally when a storm came, the antenna received a command from some imperial transmitter and the lightbulb began flashing red silently. But if the transmitter failed or a storm hit early, the beacon had an extra trick to alert the town to heightened danger. A manual override– with a siren. Shasta loosened a pair of screws and yanked the lever.

The lever came loose in his hand as an ear-piercing screech split the air. Set the lever on top of the control panel– throw the screws as far as possible– slam the control panel shut– stow the screwdriver. A second later, Shasta scrambled over the ridge of the roof and slid down the south side. The screws bounced off the roof and vanished as he caught his fingers on the gutter, pulling himself to a stop before he followed their fate. He glanced down at the cracked pavement– at least eight meters below his dangling feet– and gulped. This is easier than balancing on the boat in rough seas, he told himself. Just edge a little more to the right… his toes brushed a window ledge. There.

On the other side of the building, the door slammed open and the woman cursed loudly. Shasta lowered himself into a squat on the windowsill, still grasping the gutter with one hand for balance. With the other hand he shoved his screwdriver under the window pane, levering it free. He wiggled his fingers in under the window pane and pulled it up a few inches, pausing to catch his breath. Sweat beaded on his back as he held himself against the window. The access ladder creaked– she was out of the building. The siren continued wailing. He rolled the screwdriver into the room and let go of the gutter to grab the window with both hands, sliding it all the way up with a grunt. His arms ached as he climbed into the room, landing with a thump on the pile of speeder uniforms. He grabbed one, tied it around his waist, and shoved the window shut. Mercifully, the glass muffled the keening of the siren. By now the woman would be struggling to unlock the combination lock. Shasta let himself out of the room and ran to the nonperishable storeroom on the far left and grabbed a coil of rope he’d seen near the door, then went to the perishable storeroom. He knocked over buckets of dried fruit and smashed a jar of precious honey capsules, catching his finger on a shard of glass as he stuffed pills of crystallized honey into his pockets. That should provide a good motive. That done, Shasta knotted one end of the rope around the freshwater tank and yanked the window open. The screaming of the siren returned; he grimaced as he shimmied down the rope. His finger stung. His new boots thumped as they hit the ground.

Shasta stumbled over to the rainwater tank under the distribution center and flopped to the ground beside it, panting. Now he just had to wait until she realized the screws were missing and went back into the distribution center to fetch replacements so he could run without being seen. She wouldn’t search for the culprit until that infernal noise stopped, unless he had drastically misjudged the situation. Which, he thought with slightly hysterical laughter bubbling in his throat, would probably result in immediate arrest and imprisonment while the bike rusted away and Narnia fell. No pressure.

He could still hear the woman’s boots stomping on the roof. Don’t take too long to go back in or some townspeople might come investigate the siren, he thought, the new fear pricking him like broken glass. Sweat trickled down his back, dampening his shirt as he sat against the cool water tank. Were those footsteps coming from the roof or the ground?

A child’s head appeared around the water tank. “Who are you?” Shasta suppressed a yelp, his hand flying out instinctively to quiet the girl. Her eyebrows furrowed. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

This was bad. This was very not good. He needed a distraction. “Do you like honey?” Shasta whispered. He didn’t know enough about children to guess her age, but she was young, probably waist-high if he were standing, with big curious eyes. He fished a honey capsule from his pocket, holding it out on his open palm. She popped it in her mouth, considering for a moment, then her eyes lit up.

“Yes!”

Shasta let out a relieved breath. If she had grown up at all like him, she had only heard about honey’s sweetness. With bees so rare, it was a luxury she might never taste again. He pulled out a handful of honey capsules. “Will you help me? I need you to go up and tell– wait, stick your head out and tell me if anyone’s coming.” The little girl dutifully looked around the water tank.

“Nope, everyone’s at their house. Like I’m s’posed to be,” she said, grinning.

“You’re supposed to be at home?”

“If I ever heard the big noise,” she said. “But I wanted to come see it first.”

Shasta tried to look stern. “You should definitely go home if you hear that noise again. But this time you’re lucky.” She eyed his handful of honey capsules with bright eyes. “If you go up the stairs and yell at the lady on the roof that you saw a boy inside the building, you can have all of these,” he said. “Deal?”

She nodded quickly, sticking out her hand. Shasta poured the honey capsules– probably more than she could buy if she sold whatever shack she lived in– into her hand and watched them disappear into her pocket. “Tell her there’s a boy inside the building stealing things. And don’t tell her about me, okay? Or the honey. If you tell her about me or the honey you’ll get in trouble.”

“Only say there’s a boy inside the building stealing things,” she repeated, head bobbing, then she ran off. Her bare feet skipped up the steps. Shasta crouched, readying himself to run.

“Lady! Lady, there’s a boy in the building!” Her shrill voice rose above the siren.

“What?” the woman shouted back.

“There’s a boy! In the building! He’s taking stuff and things!” the little girl shrieked. The woman’s response was a wordless cry of frustration. Shasta felt another twinge of guilt. Imperial official or not, he hated to make her job harder. Can’t be helped, he told himself firmly, muscles tensing. The access ladder creaked. A second later, the door slammed. He took off like a shot, new boots flexing and thumping against the dusty pavement. As he ran, he stripped the speeder’s uniform off his waist and bundled it in his arms to hide the bright red fabric. His heart drummed in his chest against his clenched fingers. He crossed the road like a bullet and tore away from the distribution center, kicking up dust as he ran.

He didn’t slow until he was well and truly out of sight of the distribution center, throat and legs on fire, hidden by dunes and rocky plateaus as well as distance. The siren had dropped from a scream to a squeal to a faint whine, and then abruptly stopped. He trudged towards the car, head bent, his prize clutched against his chest. When he finally saw the ruined car where the bike was hidden, he collapsed to the ground and crawled in, not caring that he was rubbing dust all over himself and the uniform. It would add to the authenticity, or something. He needed water. Pulling his plastic canteen from the cargo rack, he gulped down water, letting it run down his chin as he gasped for breath. When he couldn’t drink any more, he slapped his hand against the AI’s nav screen and lowered himself to the ground, groaning.

“Fingerprints identified. Hello, Shasta. I take it you were successful.”

“I almost got caught,” he panted. His heartbeat still pounded in his throat. “AhhhhHHH. I could have gotten life in prison right there.”

“Did you get the disguise?” the AI asked.

“If there had been anyone besides that little girl– if the window had been locked–”

“Did you get the disguise?”

Shasta rolled over, pressing his face against the cool, dusty metal of the fender. A smile stretched his dirt-streaked face. “Yeah, I got the disguise.”

Tagged: @lasaraleen

[maiakana]

Accent - Lee Felix

Stray Kids

masterlist

Key: fluff, humor, honestly some ranting haha

Characters: reader x felix

Count: 3.1k words

Part: 1 2 3

Description: who knew a late night run to the grocery store also meant running into a boy with a peculiar voice, literally.

Note: this was my first chapter of a fic I wanted to write but I kinda liked it as a one shot so here we go! I’m still learning so bare with the writing and mistakes! most likely will make a part 2 or 3 but no promises segrtergsefb

GIF Originally Posted by @felixeslee

You tugged your scarf closer to your face as you walked down the streets of Seoul. You were creating a mental map in your head of the area surrounding you.

Although you've been living in Seoul for 3 years already, you haven't quite gotten the hang of going around. Having almost no other connections in the country has also been making it more difficult.

The words were ringing in your ears, the lingering chill that spiked down your spine, as if they were just spoken.

"Y/N I forbid you, I swear you better come back here before you regret it."

Old news you didn’t need to think about, baggage you were still letting go.

It was later in the night, most residents and tourists have retreated into their homes and hotels by now.

However, a good handful of people were still milling about, friends hanging out, adults having late night drinks, or late night shopping. Specifically grocery shopping, which was where you fell in the categories.

The streets were illuminated by golden glows and neon colored signs, advertising hole-in-the-wall restaurants and tourist attractions. Instead, what caught your eye was everyone's fan favorite: the 24 hour convenience store, it indeed deserved that name.

A breeze from outside rushed behind you as you entered the store, your brown hair flew around your face, along with your scarf. You grabbed a basket with one hand as the other is busy trying to tame your airborne hair.

You started down the aisles, picking out the cheapest food items and ingredients you could find. The life of a student.

There was no one else in the store but the cashier, an old man who was busy watching the small TV monitor on the wall and counting money at the register, most likely his earnings from earlier in the day.

You hadn’t gone grocery shopping in a long time, living in a small dorm by yourself didn’t really prompt a lot of needs that needed to be replenished often. Not to mention your lack of eating, sometimes remembering mealtimes was easier said than done.

You filled your basket with the last few snacks that your hands could grabbed before striding towards the register. You politely greeted the cashier, reaching into the pocket of your long coat and pulling out a few coupons and cash, ready to hand them over.

While the old man scanned your items, you noticed all the posters and pictures plastered all over the wall behind him.

Idol groups: boys and girls alike, all very beautiful, a little unreal you might add. Many of them were group photo shoots but some had members individual headshots.

You recognized many groups displayed, from the big-shots like BTS, EXO, and Twice. To upcoming phenomenons like NCT's 18 member super group, just to name a few.

A sad smile curved on your lips, you had a push and pull relationship with idol groups, never quite cemented your opinions on them.

You've never had a issues with the idols themselves, in fact you used to be a huge fan, following so many groups, listening to their music, and even learning their fanchants, the whole shabang. That was the pull towards the appeal. Idols used to be your role models for as long as you could remember.

Repeat that: used to be.

The industry that produced Idols was what killed your appeal. That's the push. When you were younger you had no idea what it took to be in the limelight of the idol industry, of the trainee life.

But who could you blame, a majority of the world never knows that it takes to be successful, you were no different.

Over time, the idea of boys and girls your age being subjected to their looks and physical appearance, whether their voices were deemed alright, and collapsing from over exerting their bodies dancing. It was all too much for you, even as someone on the side lines.

Don't even get yourself started on the negatives of the fans and fandoms. However, the only light to shed on this was that at least Kpop isn’t the only industry that had extremes among those that enjoy it. Western music fans that were toxic over there, were just as extreme too.

You knew that most fans were regular people and just enjoy the music and the bands but sometimes the polarizing few become too much. Maybe it's human nature to have bad apples everywhere.

One incident you remembered a few years ago was the Shinee’s Taemin and APink’s Eaeun situation. A perfect example of the viciousness of fans and their hate and outbursts whenever they saw their idols do something they don't like.

They'd stalk, harass, and belittle anyone that was even in a 10 ft vicinity of the star. Following them around saying disgusting insults, hammering the nails even further. You don't think you’ve ever seen two people in such distress before.

It was such a shame really, for all we know Shinee's makane may have really loved her like he said on the show.

Now years later, the two are left to only avoid each other on stages and music shows when their groups cross paths. Minimizing contact at all cost to protect Eaeun from further harassment for just being around him.

And that wasn't even a scandal, some fans just couldn't stand their oppa being potentially happy with another person.

to be honest that whole section was me being emo after I watched so many videos about it and for all i know none of it was true or real or it was real and they were hurt because of it, either way i don’t feel like deleting it so sorry to anyone annoyed by it lmao

Although idols weren’t on your radar anymore, you would always know of them, it's inevitable. You were living in the time where they were growing the most international.

Music has always been a love of yours and that's all you’ve been focusing on ever since you came to Seoul. That's probably the last connection you had to idols, your love for music, your love for what you do.

The old man finished ringing you up, bagging all of your groceries and handing you the receipt.

"Hold on dear," the elder said, as he crouched down and shuffled with something under the desk.

Restlessly, you tapped your fingers against the counter. Looking around at all the idol merchandise, your eyes were drawn on to the TV monitor.

"N E X T  W E E K  O N  M N E T!" 

On the TV screen, many different clips of a few boys wearing dark clothes in a dance studio flashed by. There was a voice over, by an older man, explaining the tasks the trainees had to overcome. It was an idol survival show.

In some flashes they were sitting in a half circle talking intensely, in others they were dancing to choreography as one person sat out giving thorough feedback. However, the last clip showed a lot of the boys individually, either writing lyrics or practicing the lines.

You had barely caught the large strikingly red S and K at the end of the clip before the old man bounced up from searching below, stealing your attention again.

"Aha I found it!"

He brought out a small booklet, as if it was a manual you’d get along with a new speaker you'd buy. A manual it was not. You looked at the cover featuring a subtle sky blue with the Hangul lettering in white.

SCOUTING: COMPANY AUDITION & EMPLOYMENT INFORMATION

"You, young lady, look like these idol kids that are hung up on this wall," he gestured behind him while placing the small book into one of the bags. "We're given these little things all the time by a handful of companies to 'scout for rough potential.’ We only give them out during the day but since you're here so late I figured why not give you one eh?"

You stared oddly at the bags full of your food and now with a book that's basically a catalog of idol company hotlines. Looking back and forth between the wall of posters and the old man's kind smile you felt your cheeks blush at the gesture as you hesitantly smiled back.

"Uhh . . . thank you sir you are very generous," you stiffly bow, thanking him for the bags, still slightly baffled by the idol comment.

Ironic. You still remembered being told the same thing once, but that it’d be the only thing you’d be known for.

How superficial.

To save yourself from further embarrassment you briskly headed for the door. The chilly fall air brushed against your cheek, the bags in your hands slightly swaying due to the quick pace. Walking only a few feet away from the convenience store, you looked down at the bags thinking about what the man said.

Yeah right, become an idol your ass.

Before you could look up you felt your right shoulder collide into another figure, earning a loud yelp from the both of you. You dropped your bags as you stumbled slightly losing your balance while the other person, who you realized was a guy, stumbled on his step too.

The guy reached his hands out and gripped your arms on both sides steadying you. Because of the small tug from his motion, you had accidentally taken a step towards him, slightly closing the space between you guys.

"Are you alright?" a deep voice asked, filled with concern. Shocked, our eyes flickered to meet his. English?

He had ebony brown hair parted on the left side of his face. It was a tad longer than most of the men’s hair you see around but the way it flowed just to his eyebrows perfectly framed his sharp pale face.

He was decked in all black clothing, sneakers and all. He was only maybe 3 or 4 inches taller than you yet his dark hoodie and jeans seemed to make his figure tower over you. His jaw was angular, skin a little paler than yours and lightly dusted across his nose and cheeks were freckles.

bahaha apparently he is 5' 7  rn its okay tho because i’m hella short

"Yeah I am,"  you mumbled back, stunned by his dark eyes staring down at you.

He grinned at you showing of a white smile. He gently let go of your arms and crouched down to pick up the fallen bags. "I think we're both going to run into something worse than each other someday if we don't pay attention to where we're going."

You quirked up an eyebrow. "You speak English?"

"I don’t know, does it sound like I'm speaking Spanish?" he chuckled at his own joke. 

His voice was like the ocean itself. A deep flowing tone, miles under sea level, it was a complete contrast from the pretty face it was coming from.

Your ears seemed to ring listening to his voice. An accent of some sort? It wasn't an American accent like your own, nor was it European, it was distinct. You couldn't really put a finger on it.

"Don't take offense to this but are you a foreigner too?" you questioned.

"Hmm I wonder what gave it away," he flashed you an amused look, carefully handing over the bags full of your groceries. "But yes I am, you?"

"I guess we're both in the foreigners club here," you said looking up at him. "I'm from the States."

"Ahh so I got an American on my hands."

You furrowed your eyebrows at him half amused and half curious.

"And what's that supposed to mean huh?" you shot back. He laughed at your counter, the happy sound echoing through the street.

"I knew you couldn't have been another Aussie," he shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head a bit, as if thinking about how he wants to form his next comment. "Your accent made that clear, love."

You couldn’t help but giggle at his words, him following suit. So he's Korean Australian, that's new. 

You thought it was only the British that said love.

An electronic ding rings out of the boy's jacket. Quickly pulling his hands out of his pocket with a phone in grip, he opened up the device to view a message he just received.

Sighing, he typed a quick reply to the other person on the other end. You noticed the slight bags under his eyes as his faces was illuminated from the phone. His posture was relaxed but slightly rigid in some movements.

He was clearly exhausted.

When he looked back at you, you took a step back putting some distance between each other, bending down and respectfully bowed to him, greeting him in Korean.

He bowed and greeted you back.

"I'm sorry for bumping into you, I didn't realize it was possible to bump into someone in plain sight," he said, shyly scratching the back of his neck.

You waved him off. "It's okay, I should've been watching where I was going but thank you for helping me."

"It's the least I can do after I sent you spiraling," he replied. He flinched as a few more buzzes went of from his phone, clearly whoever was texting him wasn't willing to wait much longer.

Time to go.

"Looks like my fellow foreigner has to go," You said, tilting your head to the side. "Seems urgent."

"Just my hyungs," he sighed, rubbing his eyes a little. "It was my turn to get snacks for home. Didn't realize I was on a time frame though."

"Lose a bet?"

"Something like that," he said. He held a hand out with the same grin on his face from before. "Well Miss America it was nice bumping into you."

You reached out to shake his hand.

His big hand I'm sorry I snorted writing this haha was warm, delicately holding onto your smaller one, they seemed to tingle at the touch. "I could say the same thing too, Aussie."

You let go of each other hands and exchange a small bow again. The brown haired boy started a step towards the convenience store until he paused and turned back to look at you. He seemed to be debating if it was worth to ask you something.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" He asked.

"Haven't even known each other for an hour," you jokingly raised an eyebrow at him. "Straight forward I see."

He laughed while taking off his beanie, running his fingers through his hair a little. He played the edges of his sweatshirt looking a way a bit, fidgeting.

"Well if you aren't doing anything tomorrow night you should come to Sinchon. I heard there's a lot of busking in the streets since it'll be Friday," he rushed.

"And you want me to come watch with you?" you pressed back. It was an interesting hang out choice for sure, but he's sparked your curiosity. You wanted to mess with him a little longer. "How will I find you? Doesn't seem safe to just give my phone number to a stranger I met on the street. I mean come on we haven't even exchanged names."

His face perked up. Clearly surprised that you were playing along with him. "It's Felix, Lee Felix. And what does my favorite foreigner call themselves?

"Ha ha ha you think you're so witty don't you? I'm Min y/n."

His eyes glistened under the city lights, you felt your heart pound faster at the way his face changed into content after learning your name. "So what do you say miss y/n? Care to join a night of fun with your favorite foreigner?"

"Hmm, maybe you'll see me there," you joked sarcastically. "How am I supposed to turn down the offer of a lifetime?"

You weren’t lying to be honest, even though the idea of watching some buskers was interesting, you weren’t completely sure if you could go. You had a long schedule for tomorrow but you didn't have the heart to ruin his excitement.

Felix's hand shot down back into his pocket to fish out his phone again before handing it to you looking away quickly, avoiding your eyes.

"Maybe you'll feel better if we had a way to let each other know when we'll be there," he mumbled, his cheeks tinting a bit pink.

"Is that how you're going to ask for my number?"

"If it's working then yes."

Laughing at his honestly you gingerly took the phone out of his hands and put in your number. His fingers lightly brushed against your own causing tingles to travel up your hands. 

Ignoring the flutters in your stomach, you frantically typed in your info, becoming very embarrassed every time you made a typo. Feeling a heavy gaze watching you, you had barely missed the small comment that slipped out of his lips. 

"Cute," he muttered under his breath.

You felt like digging yourself in a hole while you waited for him to put in his own number on your phone, openly spamming in some middle school emoji choices for the heck of it.

His cheeks raised up as a smile lit up on his face. "Can't wait to see you there!" You nodded happily at him trying to calm the nerves that were spreading through your body. 

What kind of trouble were you getting yourself into?

You urged him to finally head towards the store, it was like you could hear more message alerts already coming of his phone from a mile away. Waving goodbye as we walked away from each other, you couldn't help but feel the excitement building up already inside. You haven't had a light hearted conversation like this in a long time.

You closed your eyes seeing the painted image of his dark eyes looking down at you, hearing his deep voice that hilariously did not match his face. 

His voice.

You whipped around from where you were, only a few feet further from the store and where you just spoke. You spotted the same boy right in front of the store, just about to push the door in.

"Hey Aussie!" 

Your shout echoed through the empty dark street. The sky was clear and the moon was out, a perfect chilly day in November. 

He turned to your direction surprised at your call. Doing the same head tilt like before, he was about to reply until you beat him to it.

"I like your accent." 

His eyes twinkled a bit as he smirked back, amused.

"I like yours too."

[oytae]

Spring Coupons

You were positive that being Min Yoongi’s little sister had nothing to offer; you were wrong.

Kim Taehyung x Reader

Mature

4,839

It took a lot to rile you up or for someone to get under your skin. You prided yourself on being level headed and calm in the most awkward of situations. However, being compared to your older brother was an insult you didn’t take lightly.

“Yoongi-oppa has come so far. ___-unni, aren’t you jealous of how amazing your brother is?”

The slight twitch of your eyebrow and clenching of your jaw were definite warning signs that you were anything but jealous.You jealous? For what? The idol life was harsh and draining. Idols had little to no privacy and barely any time to themselves. You’d choose to be a university student any day of the week. But being an idol did have its perks. You were a first-hand witness to that.

The abrupt rapping noise at your door startled you from your thoughts. “___, I won’t knock again. If you don’t get your ass down here right now I’m taking the lock off your door.”

You simply rolled your eyes and hopped off your bed. Quickly grabbing an oversized sweater, you made your way to the stairs. Your gaze wandered to a family portrait. You were none too surprised to see your older brother in the spotlight. With a quiet scoff, you reach the crowding of people in the kitchen.

“This is honestly unnecessary. I don’t need to celebrate something as trivial as this.” Your eyes scanned the intruders. Of course, none of your actual friends were in sight. That would only inconvenience Yoongi and the other members.

There was an awkward silence until someone coughed. “Ahem, well happy birthday, ___-ah!” It was Jimin that tried to break the tension.

Unable to stay annoyed at the smiling man, you sighed, defeated. “Thank you Jiminie-oppa.” You turned to look at the cake that was decorated with simple designs. “So are we all just going to stand here or are we going to eat some cake?” You tried to sound enthusiastic and everyone bought it enough to begin passing pieces out. Despite its looks, the cake tasted very good. No doubt Seokjin made the cake from scratch and the thought brought a smile to your face.

Hoseok and Jungkook casually walked up to you with bright faces. Hoseok extended his hand that held a small envelope. “This is from Kookie and me. We hope you like it.”

You took the gift and gingerly began opening it. It was tickets to a spa retreat. Eight to be exact and that made you suspicious. “Thank you,” you said politely.

Yoongi gave you quite a bit of cash, while Namjoon and Jimin gifted you with a laptop. Seokjin was gracious enough to get you this shirt you’ve been dying to have. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the presents, but what caught your attention the most was Taehyung’s present. It was a handmade coupon booklet. The cover read: Fill these with whatever you like and I’ll do it. It held ten blank pages.

Unlike the others, Taehyung pulled you into a warm hug. “Happy birthday, ___-ah! I hope you enjoy my present!” Of course, you liked the gift. It was rather cute,  but with someone so like Taehyung, this gift was so unlike him. Truthfully, you expected something Gucci related.

“I’ll definitely put it to great use,” you replied gasping a little. He was still hugging you and his grip only seemed to tighten with every passing moment. Tapping his shoulder a little, he finally relented and let go. His gaze lingered longer than it should’ve and it left you knitting your eyebrows together the entire night.

Happy birthday, ___!

You were fuming by the time you and seven others boarded the bullet train. You knew those tickets were too good to be true. Of course, Yoongi and the rest of the goons would tag along. You had already been an adult for one year, but Yoongi insisted that you needed parental guidance. You both knew that the boys could barely take care of themselves. This was just him being a stupid, protective brother. 

“That scowl on your face won’t change anything,” Yoongi said leaning toward your ear. “Stop being dramatic and enjoy this free trip.”

You huffed while continuing to gaze at the rapidly changing scenery. You would’ve enjoyed it, but the windshield laugh coming from Seokjin only darkened your mood. “I would, but I have no friends in sight.” You glanced at your watch and sighed. You were going to be late and miss most of the sessions. Damn it. This was all Hoseok’s fault. He just couldn’t decide on what headband to bring. 

“I thought we were your friends,” Jungkook said tilting his head to the side.

You ignored Jungkook’s remark and continued to rant. “I’ll be all alone in the hot springs and my room. I get lonely!” Everyone knew that was a lie. You much rather spend your free time alone reading a book, but you wanted to complain about something. “I want friends I can spend time with.”

A couple beats of silence passed before anyone spoke. “Have one of us room with you,” Namjoon suggested innocently. “I’m sure none of us would mind.”

You felt heat rush toward your cheeks and before you could object Yoongi interrupted you. “That sounds great. Problem solved.”

“Wait just a minute,” you tried again, but everyone began talking over you.

“So who’s going to room with ___-ah? Seokjin asked. “I wouldn’t mind keeping her company.”

Hoseok surged forward with a bright smile. “Let’s play rock-paper-scissors to determine who gets to room with ___-ah.”

Immediately seven hands flashed out in a blur. “Awe, I lost,” Jimin whined. Next was Hoseok, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Seokjin. It was finally down to Jungkook and Taehyung. Everyone held their breaths, yours included, when they began the last round.

The building was very modern, despite its location on a mountain. The air was refreshing, unlike the cities you’ve been to. Despite everything, you were glad to be here. This little vacation was long overdue, especially from all the studying you had to do not too long ago. The exam to get into a prestige university was nerve wracking, but you managed to pass with flying colors. 

You smiled, letting the cool breeze whisk around you, playfully grabbing at your hair. Without a second glance to the boys, you grabbed your suitcase and walked straight in.

“Hello, miss,” a worker said bowing. “How can I help you?”

You quickly grabbed your ticket and handed it to him. “There will be seven others with me, all boys.” You flinched as you said the last part. It sounded horrible out loud, but the worker paid no mind and simply smiled while taking your ticket.

“Is there any specific rooming you’d like?” he asked politely. This guy must think you’re a sex crazed pervert to be lounging with seven guys.

“Uh-” you were cut off by Yoongi and the others.

You stepped back as your brother began pointing to the roommates. The worker started tapping things into his computer, all the while nodding. Namjoon and Hoseok. Jimin and Seokjin. Yoongi and Taehyung. And that left you with Jungkook.

Before Jungkook could even get close to the key, you snatched it from Yoongi’s hand and made your way to the room. Scratching the back of his neck with a nervous laugh, Jungkook followed closely behind you.

The room was spacious and had a beautiful interior. The futons were already laid out and you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself on it. It was soft and inviting.

“___-ah, don’t you think you should take a bath first?” Jungkook asked suddenly. “I’m sure you’d feel a lot better.”

“I’d feel a lot better if one of my friends were here,” you replied harshly. You didn’t want to hurt Jungkook. He meant no harm, but the whole situation irked you. So you decided to take it out on the poor boy. “I can understand Yoongi tagging along, but why all of you? God, this is so annoying.” You were starting to sound like a brat.

You heard him shuffle his feet. “I’m really sorry. It was Yoongi’s idea that we should come. We haven’t had a break in awhile and he said it would be good for us.” You immediately felt bad and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” you began sheepishly. You always forget that the idol life is taxing. You slowly stood up and faced Jungkook. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just frustrated.” You paused for a moment to see a smile break across his face. “You guys deserve to relax as well. I’m not the only one working hard.”

A knock suddenly interrupted the conversation. “The next treatment starts in ten minutes. Hurry up and get changed.” It was Yoongi and he sounded annoyed, as usual.

You made your way to the closet and grabbed two robes, tossing one to Jungkook. He stared at you innocently, making you sigh. “Are you going to stand there and watch me change or will you turn around?” You turned around without hearing his response and started to change. Before you could even lift your sweater off you heard a quiet squeak and the creak of the floorboards. The action made you laugh.

After you both finished changing you made your way to the room marked: Relaxation. Turning around you saw Jungkook nowhere in sight and chuckled to yourself. So much for keeping me company. Pushing the door open you were met with a comfy looking spot for you to lay down on. You quickly took off your robe and took your place on the bed, covering all the essentials with the thin sheet provided. After a few minutes passed a female masseuse came in and began giving you the best massage of your life. You were in pure bliss the entire time, softly moaning each time she worked a knot out. 

You barely registered that your massage was over when you were gently pulled from your sleep. You quickly shot up and glanced around your surroundings, dazed. Your sudden actions startled the masseuse and she lept back slightly. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry. I accidentally fell asleep.” You quickly wiped the drool from your chin and grabbed your robe to wrap around you.

The masseuse simply smiled and reassured you that almost everyone fell asleep during the sessions. “Well since you arrived late the other sessions are already over, so you should go take a relaxing bath in the hot springs and be on time for tomorrow.” She smiled and pointed toward the door to exit. You bowed your head and walked out the door.

The walk to the springs was short and you had no trouble navigating your way there. Entering the changing room, you quickly discarded your robe in the clothing bin and opened the door to the open air. It was warm and inviting, and you wasted no time getting wash off so you could enjoy the bath. After you rinsed off you inched toward the water. The seconds your toes touched the water you let out a content moan. Slowly sinking in, you tilt your head back and smiled to yourself.

After a few minutes passed you finally noticed you were the only one in the bath, which was to be expected. It was fairly late, but you weren’t complaining. You rather enjoyed solitude, especially to gather your thoughts. This whole trip wasn’t something you wanted after finding out who you had to go with, but dipping into the hot springs completely kicked those thoughts to the curb. You were happy that Yoongi forced you to come. Not that you’d ever admit that.

Suddenly, the sliding of a door snapped your head upright. You narrowed your eyes to try and see through the steam but could only make out a silhouette. The figure was rather tall and bulky to be a woman, but every woman was built differently. Finally, the person came into view and you gasped, covering yourself.

“Tae-oppa,” you began slowly, “is there any reason you’re in the woman’s bath?” You watch as his body went rigid and his eyes finally seemed to find yours. “Fuck,” he said. He grabbed the towel at his waist and gripped it tight. Surprising you, he crept forward. “This is the worst time for this to happen.” He was mumbling to himself.

“I should leave,” you tried, but the sentence was lodged in your throat as soon as Taehyung got close enough to really see him. His gaze was hard and unbashful as he stared at your nude form that rippled beneath the water. He was unusually quiet and it sent shivers down your spine.

Against your better judgment, you began to rake your eyes across his bare chest. It was surprisingly broad and it oozed masculinity. You gasped when you finally noticed the budge from his towel. It was on full display and Taehyung seemed to have no shame in you discovering it.

“I think I should go,” you squeaked out. You hurriedly fumbled for your towel and started to wrap it around you, but before you could scurry off he caught your arm. You whipped your head around to meet his gaze.

“You can stay,” he said in a low tone. His voice was already deep and it caught you off guard with its unusual gruffness. Without waiting for your answer he dragged you back to the bath and gently pushed you forward. He dropped his towel and eased himself into the water, watching you the whole time.

You made a silent scream in the back of your throat and awkwardly untwisted your towel, all the while trying to cover your body. You slowly lowered yourself into the water.

His eyes were on you the entire time, even as you shuffled away from him. It was unnerving and made you oddly shy. Well of course! You’re naked in a bath with fucking Taehyung. Who wouldn’t be nervous?

You stared down through the water at your hands, not daring to look up. It felt incredibly hot around you and the air seemed heavier than possible.

The water splashed around you and your head immediately snapped up. You watched as Taehyung made his way over to you. He glided gracefully though the water and stopped inches in front of you. You had to crane your neck to maintain eye contact. You watched as he slipped his tongue out to lick his lips. Jesus Christ.

“God, you look so hot right now. Taehyung said suddenly. “Your face looks so good next to my cock.” Your eyes snapped down to see that your face was indeed mere inches away from his throbbing member. It stood proudly against his faint abs.

He suddenly grasped his cock and slowly began moving his hand up and down. The movement was slow and lazy, but it was enough to demand your attention. It wasn’t too long, but it was thick and a lone vein ran along the underside of it. You involuntarily licked your lips in anticipation.

“Fuck, don’t don’t do that,” he moaned. His pace quickened, but only for a moment before he stopped completely. “This is all your fault. I was looking for Jungkook when I passed by your massage room and all I could hear were your quiet moans.”

“It- it wasn’t my fault that the massage felt so good.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

He gripped his cock tighter. “I bet I could make you feel so good. My cock could pound that pussy of yours. In fact,” he stopped stroking himself, “why don’t you show me that pussy right now?”

Your mouth gaped open slightly. “But that’s wrong, this is wrong. Yoongi is one of your best friends. You’re an idol for God’s sake. What if someone were to walk in?” You were a blubbering mess by then. “You can’t ruin your image.”

Taehyung laughed quietly and he brushed his thumb across my cheek. “I’m only human and I have needs.” His gaze darkened significantly. “I’m sure anyone can understand that. Right, ___-ah? So will you touch yourself for me?”

You were taken aback by him. The Taehyung you knew was so sweet and always smiling. Most of the things that came out of his mouth were utter nonsense, but here he was, asking you to masturbate in front of him. It made you wonder if the seemingly naive Taehyung was only a facade to hide something darker.

Despite all the warning signs, you shakily eased yourself out of the bath and sat on the edge. Your hand began to snake its way toward your most private area before Taehyung stopped you.

“No, let me really watch you.” His voice was almost a whine. “Open your legs and let me see your pretty pussy.”

His words immediately shot to your core, bringing a familiar warmth. You were no stranger to masturbating, but an onlooker was something completely foreign. Voyeurism wasn’t something you ever thought about, but nonetheless, you opened your legs and sensually began rubbing yourself. Pulling back the hood, you easily found your clit. The pads of your fingers made figure eights onto the sensitive bud. The sensation made you shudder.

Your eyes never left Taehyung as you continued the ministrations. The gaze you received from him only spurred you on. You became less bashful and felt more relaxed. One finger finally found itself surrounded by your warm heat and you moaned quietly, thrusting it quickly.

“That’s it,” Taehyung cooed while rubbing his cock. “Keeping doing that, baby girl. God, I knew your pussy would be pretty and pink. I fucking knew it. I think you can add another finger.” His hand began to pump himself harder, and his breath became more shallow.

You quickly added another finger and shuddered at the fire building in the pit of your stomach. It was unbelievably hot and Taehyung’s words were music to your ears. You were sure you could get off simply by his dirty talk. “I’m going to cum soon.” Your voice was shaky. You closed your eyes and pumped faster, awaiting your release, it never came.

Taehyung had suddenly ripped your fingers from your pussy and raised them to his mouth, licking off your juices. He moaned. “Fuck, you taste so sweet. Let me eat you out, baby. I’ll make you feel so good. I’ll have you a shaking mess.”

You simply nodded your head and leaned back to rest on your elbows, carefully watching as Taehyung lowered himself between your thighs. He wasted no time and immediately lapped up the juices from your hole. His tongue then wrapped around your clit. The sudden sensation made you throw you head back with a moan.

“Yes, Tae-oppa, keep doing that,” you said breathlessly. “Don’t stop.” You looked back to see him staring at you with blown out pupils. The lust was unmistakable and you were sure you mirrored him.

Again, you were at the height, about to fall off when Taehyung removed his mouth. You groaned in frustration. This was the second time he denied your release. “Please, Tae-oppa.”

“Please what?” he asked with a relaxed tone. He leaned back down but kept his eyes on yours. “Tell me what you want. You’ve got to be exact. I’ve never been good at following directions.”

“Please eat me out,” you whined. “Fuck me with your fingers. Just anything. I need to come.” You were a whimpering mess by then, and Taehyung seemed satisfied with the slow torture. 

He smirked. “As you wish.” His mouth latched itself onto your clit and two fingers slowly eased themselves inside of you. There was a slight burn, but nothing you couldn’t handle. “Fuck, you’re still a virgin,” but Taehyung was quick to add, “of course, your Yoongi’s little sister.” He chuckled to himself and started to thrust his fingers at different angles, trying to find that certain spot. After a few moments, he knew he found it when you let out a long, throaty moan. He quickly adjusted his angle and began to thrust in that direction. The pleasure hit you in waves and you latched onto Taehyung’s wrist to steady yourself.

The other hand that was free raised up and roughly grabbed one of your breasts. His long, slender fingers kneaded the soft skin. “Your boobs are so gorgeous. I’m really a boob type of guy.” The comment made you laugh, but it was cut short by Taehyung’s sudden angle change.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” you repeated feverishly like a mantra. Your walls clamped themselves around Taehyung’s long fingers and he stilled himself to let you ride out your orgasm. You tried to stifle your moans by cupping a hand around your mouth.

“That’s it, baby girl,“ he said quietly. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous when you cum. Your face looks amazing.” Taehyung was completely enraptured by the way your face contorted in pleasure. His fingers slowly slid out with a wet noise and he wasted no time in cleaning them. “God, I could get high from the way you taste.”

You slouched backward, still panting. You gazed at him with half-lidded eyes and you saw he was still hard. Did he not cum? “Tae-oppa, you didn’t get to cum.” His cock was hard and red, throbbing angrily at you.

Suddenly, Taehyung looked sheepish and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s fine. I can deal with this myself.”

You felt bad that he didn’t get to cum and could see the pain etched on his face. Despite the fatigue, you knew you couldn’t leave him like that. He looked like a kicked puppy. In the most seductive voice you could muster, you purred, “Baby, let me help you with that.”

His eyes immediately snapped to your pussy and you felt a rush of excitement. “Are you-” you interrupted him by grabbing his cock. It was so hot in your hand and you couldn’t help but tighten your grip around it. He let out a small gasp and you smirked to yourself.

Getting up, you grabbed Taehyung’s shoulder and indicated for him to get out of the bath. He eagerly followed your instructions. “Lay down.”

His eyebrow immediately rose into his hair line. “Why?”

Without answering him you roughly shoved him down. As he lay back you saw his cock bounce against his stomach. You slowly slide over Taehyung to straddle him, his cock dangerously close to your heat. You pressed your palms against his chest and began to teasing rub your pussy with his cock. Taehyung growled and harshly grabbed your hips. You were sure there’d be marks there tomorrow.

“I’ve always liked you, ___-ah,” Taehyung confessed suddenly. His cheeks grew red and he looked away for a moment. “I know this is a sleazy time to confess, but I can’t help myself. You were always off limits because you were Yoongi’s little sister and I wasn’t sure how to approach you.” He was flustered by now and you longed stopped grinding against him. “You may not know it, but your personality is really similar to his and it was hard to talk to you. You’re honestly the female version of Yoongi. God, I’m so embarrassed now.”

You threw your head back and laughed. “I know.”

“Huh?” he asked astonished. “How did you know?”

You shrugged, “One day I was heading toward the studio to deliver some headphones to Yoongi and I heard you talking to Jimin about me.” You leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Did you really like that dress I wore to the awards ceremony? So much you wanted to rip it off me? You’re a naughty boy, Tae-oppa.”

Taehung became oddly quiet and his eyes were now hooded by his blonde hair. His grip lessened around you. You suddenly became nervous. Shit, you shouldn’t have told him that. That was totally out of line.

Without warning Taehyung flipped you over and capture both your wrists in his hand. His eyes made you shrink back slightly. They were dark and unrelentingly. “Oh, ___-ah, you’re a nosy little brat aren’t you. Do you know what nosy brats deserve?” His grip around your wrists tightened almost painfully. “They deserve to be punished. I’m going to punish this naughty cunt of yours. Do you understand me?”

You could only nod your head and that’s all Taehyung needed. His lips quickly wrapped around a perky nipple, and he rolled it around his tongue. The feeling was completely foreign and it made you cry out slightly.

Using his other free hand, he gripped his cock and held it at your dripping entrance, teasing you by rubbing it up and down. You thrashed in his hold and that only seemed to piss him off. “Tsk tsk, ___, if you keep being naughty I’m going to make you regret it.”

You gulped, noticing Taehyung had completely dropped the suffix from your name. “I- I understand. I’ll be good,” your voice wavered, “Sir.” You weren’t sure why you said that, but it seemed to rush out of your mouth and Taehyung’s face lit up.

Taehyung chuckled darkly. “That’s right, ___. I’m your Master. If you don’t call me correctly I’ll punish you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir. You’re my Master,” you said breathlessly. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Then why don’t you open up these legs more so I can fuck this cunt of yours properly?” His words were said softly, yet his eyes only seemed to darken.

You did as he said and opened your legs as far as they could go.

“Ah, that’s a good girl.” Still holding his cock he slowly entered you. There were sudden bursts of discomfort and pain, but you simply gritted your teeth. After he was fully sheathed inside of you, he paused and rested his forehead against yours. Relaxing his features he asked, “are you alright?”

Your heart thumped erratically in your chest. Despite everything, this was still the sweet Taehyung you practically grew up with. He valued your comfort over his pleasure. ��Y- yes. You can keep going.”

Sighing in relieve he began rocking his hips back and forth at a slow pace. “Tell me whenever you’re ready for more.” You leaned back slightly to really look at him. His eyes were closed, trying to maintain his control. Yet, his face held unmistakable pleasure. It was etched on there. You saw blonde strands of hair sticking to his forehead, sweat dripping down his face.

Feeling comfortable and oddly arrogant, you tightened yourself around Taehyung’s cock. His eyes snapped open in surprise. “Don’t tell me this is the best you can do.” Your tone was mocking.

“God, I’m going to have you on your hands and knees with your mouth wrapped around my cock one day,” he groaned out. “That mouth could be put to good use.” He quickly snapped his hips upward and you let out a surprised moan. He found your spot immediately and wasted no time in drilling into you. “Fuck, you’re so wet and tight. Your pussy feels amazing around my cock.” His thrusts were at first sharp and calculated, but they soon became sloppy. He was a man searching for his release.

He had long let go of your wrists and roughly gripped your hips so he could lift you to meet his thrusts. Your arms were snaked around his neck, hanging on for dear life, as he pounded into you. “Faster, faster,” you chanted. Sir, I’m about to come.”

His thrusts became faster and deeper. “Where do you want me to cum?” he choked out.

“In- in my mouth,” you barely managed to say.

“Fuck, you’re such a dirty slut.” The derogatory word made you tighten around him slightly. His hand snaked down to vigorously rub your clit. “Do you want my cum in your mouth?”

“Yes, please,” you cried out. “I want your cum in my mouth, Sir.” You were full out begging. Suddenly, your legs spasmed and your walls clenched painfully around Taehyung’s thick cock. He stilled himself as you came down from euphoria.

After you finished your high, Taehyung thrust himself in you a few more times and quickly slipped out of you. His hand roughly began pumping himself and before he released everywhere, you lowered your mouth to catch his salty semen. It had a surprisingly bitter aftertaste, but you enjoyed it nonetheless.

You immediately slumped onto the ground, your head resting on the floor. Taehyung soon followed after, making himself comfortable by sprawling across you. Your shaky breaths were the only noise for a few moments before you caught your breath.

Almost hesitantly, Taehyung hovered over you and planted a place kiss on your lips. They were lush and soft. Before he could move, you grabbed the back of his head and smashed your lips together again, affectionately returning the kiss. 

“I think I know what I can use those coupons for now.” Taehyung’s quiet giggles filled the hot springs. 

“Whatever you like, princess.”

[praisehiminthehallway]

A Year With NED

November 28, 2019.  One whole year has gone by since Rob and I sat together in an exam room on the 5th floor of the Allegheny Cancer Center at AGH on the North Side. Being there together was nothing new, we’d been there a lot.  We were familiar with the hallways, the staff, where the best electrical outlets were for charging a phone, Rob could tell you where to get the best cup of coffee and that it was worth it to go over to the hospital for a salad rather than grab one in the café located in the cancer center.  I knew that on Tuesdays that little cafe had pizza from somewhere in Pittsburgh that, ironically, my chemo-infused body craved. But that day we weren’t camping out in the infusion room for another treatment, we were waiting to see my oncologist who would share with us the results of a post-treatment CT scan that I’d had two days earlier.  This was my first scan since being told I had stage 3 rectal cancer, 11 months earlier.  Mentally I was preparing myself for more rounds of chemo, though Rob reminded me that after radiation, surgery and two rounds of chemotherapy there was no reason there should be any remaining cancer.  However I had learned that cancer doesn’t care. That sometimes good news is wrong.

I remember this day vividly and still laugh when I think about Dr. Raj walking in the exam room where we sat.  I was SO nervous to hear the results, and he was kindly making a bit of small talk and, as he did, reviewing the treatment I’d received, when he interrupts himself to say “Well, I guess we’ll look at your CT results first….”  Uh… YEAH! Please! And that was the day we heard, for the first time, the words “No Evidence of Disease” (NED).  And they really were true.

That day I was given a booklet that read “Survivorship” on the front.  I remember having tears in my eyes as I studied that word on the ride home. It felt too good to be true.  I wish I could say that I went home that day and rested in complete peace that the Lord had once and for all healed my body.   That not every ache or pain has made me wonder if somehow cancer has crept back into my body somewhere, somehow or that maybe a tiny, microscopic malignant cell was hiding somewhere that couldn’t be seen in that CT scan.  My doctors, whom I have continued to see regularly, remind me that they’re watching me like a hawk.  My scans and scopes and blood work are on a 6 month cycle right now and you would think that would be frequent enough for me to find peace and rest in between, right?  

I believe with all my heart in an almighty, all powerful, healing and miracle working God.  I am also well aware of an Enemy who desires for us to NOT have a peace that passes all understanding and for us to NOT rest in complete confidence that the Lord of all creation has ordained each of our days and that He fulfills His purposes for us.  That is the battle that I have fought since the physical battle of fighting cancer came to an end last fall.  I’ve shared with a couple of friends that it has felt like when the physical battle ended, the mental battle began.  

But the great thing that I have been reminded of over this past year is that while we live in a fallen and broken world and will naturally have to battle the Enemy on many different fronts, that we have a powerful King who protects us, who goes ahead of us in the battle, and who ultimately has already won for us.  In the book of Exodus you can read the story of how God protected His people from an enemy king by bringing a great storm to separate the waters of the sea so that his people could run to safety.  Before that happens He says to his people, as they were beginning to worry about how they might escape, that they need only to be still, that He will fight for them.  Moses, the leader of God’s people, answered their cries and doubts by telling them “Do not be afraid.  Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today” (Ex. 1:13).

And because Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever, those words are just as true and applicable for us today as they were when spoken to the Israelites.  Just because my physical battle against cancer is over does not mean that I will never face another battle.  Obviously the Enemy decided since he couldn’t take my body, he would try for my mind and peace next.  But thankfully, I’m not in that battle alone. None of us are.

A year ago, I was handed a “survivor” booklet that has stared at me from a shelf next to my bed.  But it has taken me 10 months, at least 10 visits with my oncology team and a whole lot of prayer and grace to be able to say out loud that I am a cancer survivor and actually believe it.  

As always, worship music has been a resting place for me, a place where the melody is my weapon in the battle.  I have loved this song that my pastors wife introduced me to a few months ago, and of course I think that Shane and Shane have the best rendition.  It’s called “Is He Worthy?”, and it’s written a little differently than most songs, it has a call and response lyric to it.  But I love them because as I say or sing those words I am reminding myself that though we live in a broken world, that it’s not meant to be our home, we will be made perfectly whole again and that God still dwells with us and because of that darkness CANNOT overtake us. There is so much hope in that.  One day, there will be no more battling, physically or mentally/spiritually/emotionally, for those who have surrendered to Christ..  That, I am thankful for...  Even more than being able to say the word “Survivor” out loud.

Here are a few of my favorite verses from the song Is He Worthy:

Do you feel the world is broken? (We do) Do you feel the shadows deepen? (We do) But do you know that all the dark won't stop the light from getting through? (We do) Do you wish that you could see it all made new? (We do) 

Is all creation groaning? (It is) Is a new creation coming? (It is) Is the glory of the Lord to be the light within our midst? (It is) Is it good that we remind ourselves of this? (It is) 

Does the Father truly love us? (He does) Does the Spirit move among us? (He does) And does Jesus, our Messiah, hold forever those He loves? (He does) Does our God intend to dwell again with us? (He does)

Is He worthy? Is He worthy Of all blessing and honor and glory? Is He worthy of this? He is

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1A1sAdFXMIc