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[couchpotatoaniki]

BTS Who-Does-It: Song Edition (Idk What Vibe this is But it's a Vibe ver.)

All the songs I've chosen are some personal favs from what I like to refer to as my Daddy Issues playlist lmao. I don't think these songs are really accurate to each member so I've just done mini little stories for each one based off the lyrics and vibe.

Tw: vaguely explicit content, explicit language, references to alcohol use

Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood is this person's theme song.

If Arctic Monkeys had to choose someone to represent Do I Wanna Know?, it would be this person.

Who is basically DEVILISH by Chase Atlantic?

Crush by Ethel Cain manifested this person.

Who was the inspiration of House of Balloons by The Weeknd?

Who is the embodiment of Marvin's Room by Drake?

Who has the same vibes as In the Essence by ¿Téo?

A few honourable mentions bc why not?

Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood

Teenage Fever by Drake

Billie Bosa Nova by Billie Eilish

Belong to the City by PARTYNEXTDOOR

Own It by Drake

23 by Chase Atlantic

My answers are under the cut but please feel free to send me your answers in the ask box!

1. 'Sweater Weather' by The Neighbourhood is this person's theme song:

The sluttiest thing a man can wear is a sweater, but the way Namjoon's muscles stretch the fabric deliciously hits that spot in your stomach just right. You shouldn't really think of your neighbour this way, but you can't help appreciating the sight of the man through your window--though it's not like he doesn't return the favour back to you. You see the way his eyes dance over your form, especially when you wear those comfy little high-waisted shorts that leave little to the imagination. Heated looks and short, loaded exchanges are the most you get until someone ends up at the others' place. When you're with him, he won't let you leave to face the cold outside all by yourself, not when the beaches you both live by (which he hates but sticks around for you) seem to make the air even chillier with their winds from the sea.

God, the thin shirts you wear leave your neck exposed and he wonders if feels as cold as your hands do, if it'll warm up if he wraps one of his hands around it. He so desperately wants to take care of you--loves taking care of you as if it's the only thing that makes sense, so when it gets cold enough for sweater weather and especially when the skies looks grey enough to unleash even a small trickle of rain, he'll pull you right in into his house to keep dry. Pulls you into his arms and offers up his own sweater to keep you warm. Or he won't and he'll keep you warm in a different way that doesn't involve any clothing.

2. If Arctic Monkeys had to choose someone to represent 'Do I Wanna Know?', it would be this person:

Hoseok normally is talker, a bright ray around people with a social battery to be envious of. Hoseok with a crush, however? That man is generally one of few words, afraid to spill that confession that sits right at the tip of his tongue. When he falls, he falls hard and deep and it feels vaguely maddening, even more so when he doesn't know if you feel the same and needs to keep it to himself. He wants you so damn bad to the point where he thinks of you in his drunken stupor, comes up with songs about you, calls you half-conscious just so the last thing he hears is your voice as he falls asleep. Sometimes he wishes you'd call him like that.

You could be together, if you wanted to, if you'd just give him the word and he'd kiss you like he dreamed he would. He'd fuck you like he dreamed he would, the way he can't fuck anyone else when you're the only thing on his mind. But until then, he'll keep his mouth shut (except for through his songs, they're all quite telling) and just keep crawling back to you because he can't let you go.

3. Who is basically 'DEVILISH' by Chase Atlantic?

Yoongi makes no pretence to show himself as anything he's not--but what he is isn't really socially acceptable so he puts barriers up, makes himself distant and cold. Then by some random coincidence he meets you, sweet and kind and definitely to innocent for him. Well, he doesn't know if 'innocent' is the right word, not when he catches flickers of something when you look at him. Something... corruptible. Lord knows someone who's thrown himself in Hell and let it consume every fibre of his being shouldn't think someone like that, never mind touch them.

You're the Good one, the type to follow the rules and have a healthy work-life balance, deserving of the white picket-fence suburban wetdream with a good partner who treats you like he loves you, like you're the angel deserving of worship. He has demons and the last thing they would do is get on their knees for anyone--they'd rather make you do that instead. But you're too sweet for him to do that so for this, at least, he tries to make an effort of resisting. He wants you to settle down with someone else because he's absolutely no good for you. But there's only so many times the devil can refuse you, especially when you willingly worship him with your hands and tongue and body like he's some god deserving of your affection.

4. 'Crush' by Ethel Cain manifested this person:

When you've got a family like Jungkook does--overachieving brother, emotionally unstable mother, absentee father, the works--you don't really blame him for being the way he is. It's basically a stereotype at this point and he doesn't really care all too much about going against the grain, just against society or whatever the hell that means. There's something captivating about about him, though, you see the influence of the crowd he hangs around with as clear as day--it's what most people see--but you also see a bit of the good boy in him. The one still hanging onto to the cliff edge by the skin of his teeth to not be a total disappointment and fall into the waves of depravity. It's losing day by day since he has a problem saying 'no', but you don't mind that. And he doesn't mind you knowing that.

He won't admit it, but he likes you as his ride-or-die. Likes as the one he tells his shit to, the one he fucks in the back of his mum's Mercury, the one who knows he's not as tough as tries to make himself look and is still in his corner after he gets pummelled on the streets for doing something stupid. Your own parents are concerned about the company you keep, about his company, but you don't particularly care because it doesn't really matter in the end anyway. Good men die too, so you'd rather be with him for however long life has a hold on you.

5. Who is the inspiration of 'House of Balloons' by The Weeknd?

The man is a viper, a classic charmer with hypnotic eyes and lips that spill alluring words that convince you to do almost anything. Seokjin is not dissimilar to a Venus flytrap, but since he met you once again--an old face that he had forgotten from when he was a kid--he's only really had one thing he's wanted to consume. Adulthood changed you into something he wants to keep all to himself, far from the naivety you both shared in childhood. Close once and all of a sudden distance came between the two of you and then you became just another memory among memories at the back of his mind. But seeing you in the flesh at a random club, he can't ever remember a reason why he forgot you in the first place.

You barely recognise him when he reintroduces himself to you, but flickers of the boy you once knew still ghost in his features, and it clicks in place. But there's something about this new version of Seokjin that intrigues you, and you can't ignore how this new interest forms in your lower stomach as something warm. You see the hunger in his eyes, and you know that were he to take you to his place, he'd never let you leave again. And when you get there later in the night, you don't think you'd mind his monopoly over you--not if he makes you feel this good.

6. Who is the embodiment of 'Marvin's Room' by Drake?

It's been a while since you and Jimin broke up--a few years give or take--but he was never able to forget you. He indulges himself with all sorts just to fill that void your absence left in him. But tonight seems to be some sort of breaking point where he just can't ignore how no matter what he does, that void never fills quite enough as he'd like it to. So with something strong in his system--tequila or vodka, he can't quite remember right now--he rings you up. and from how you pick up his call, he knows that the lucky bastard you're with right now is not around.

But that relationship had ended not too long ago so you didn't feel guilty picking up his call--not as much as you did when you were trying to get over him by getting under someone else and it still not working. He plagued you mind, regardless of all the bad that surrounded the ending of your breakup, and recently you've just felt so alone that you pick up even while your friends' voices scream at you not to. You can tell he's drunk, but you're eventually a bit tipsy too from a glass that magically appears in your hand. The next thing you know, he's at your door and underneath the stench of alcohol and smoke and whatever remnants of the club he was at, he still has that unique intoxicating smell you miss. It doesn't take long for your bodies to collide, clothes left haphazardly on the floor, and for him to warm the sheet you felt were so cold earlier in the night.

7. Who has the same vibes as 'In the Essence' by ¿Téo?

Taehyung never expected you at his door, soaked to bone in the middle of a storm like this. He especially doesn't expect someone he would loosely consider as a office rival that he respected at his door, dressed up as if you were out someplace nice and fancy. He can spot the rainfall dripping through your necklace and rings, the way it highlights all the curves and divots of your body and makes your well-fitted outfit a bit see-through. Well, a lot see-through. Little is left to his imagination and his brain has a short moment to rewire itself until he remembers you're still standing in the freezing rain with little in the way of layers to keep you warm. Inviting you in, he can't seem to ignore that familiar need in his chest, in his dick whenever you and your smart mouth are around.

It's over a cup of warm herbal tea, and a quick explanation of a botched date that left you stranded in a nearby restaurant, that those guards in your eyes he hates so much begin to crumble and you both start divulging in conversation that feels too intimate for late in the night to be safe. At one point, he notices that you've both eaten up the space on the sofa, used mugs forgotten on the coffee table, and both of your hands start wondering. He can see that shadow in your mind, tempting you into giving into him like he's been secretly begging you to do for years now. Sees it growing louder as your hips sway gently against him and he prays that if you give him a chance, he'll change. Would be the thing you need in life, because there is no going back from having you like this, vulnerable and open with him in a way you never were before--and mixed in with the smell of rain and your perfume, it becomes the most addictive essence he can't bare to part with.

[couchpotatoaniki]

An Annoying Kind of Pretty

Pairing: College Rival!Jungkook x College!Reader (British college, so basically senior year in highschool--they're 18) Word count: 4k+ Tags: mega fluff, light swearing, mentions of very mild violence (banter...maybe), mentions of clowns, reader is terrified of them, honestly, just cute shit, and they're being idiots A/N: I'm in the middle of reading Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute by Talia Hibbert and this just sprung to mind soooooooo yeah

No matter how much you scrub, you can't get this darn plate clean. At this point, you're ready to smash it to pieces so you don't have to spend another second on it. But, alas, this is not your dish and therefore dish-smashing rights are revoked. A true travesty, considering how ugly the damn thing looks anyway. Society would be better off without it.

But you scrub, scrub, scr--"Are you done?" A deep voice rumbles behind you. Involuntarily, your eyes close to hide the annoyance flickering through them, lest he somehow sees through the obscured reflection of the kitchen window. This time you've spent together has taught you he's almost decent at guessing body language (almost--he's still otherwise a useless male).

Gosh, if only you could destroy the plate and take a shard to one of his annoyingly pretty brown eyes. Honestly, the fact that a man like him has such wonderful features is what you'd consider to be a crime that nature has committed.

"What does it look like?" Yeah, maybe you should relax your jaw before your teeth grind to dust. Your dentist would have a heartattack if she saw the stress they've put them under lately (she likes to talk about them like they're some separate entity, a bit odd but she's sweet and likes to rant about her cats so you can happily bare it).

"Looks like you're slacking off."

Excuse me? "Maybe I'd be more efficient if you didn't leave your dishes to grow a mini ecosystem in your kitchen. You're likely worshiped as a god by bacteria since you created them their own little world."

He rolls his eyes. This you can't see through the haze of his reflection on the slightly filthy window but you've somehow grown accustomed to his mannerisms. Like a shitty superpower.

"Don't be so dra--"

"If you dare say 'dramatic', the next thing I'll be cleaning are your insides off the floor and countertops."

His reflection raises a hand in mock surrender. "Touché. But for your information, I don't live here."

This makes you turn around, pinning him with a glare. "If you don't live here, which ogre or troll does?"

"My brother. But he's been... ah, what's the word--" he waves his hand in a circular motion with his eyes closed, only to open again at the snap of his fingers--"backpacking across mainland Europe for past three months."

A huff leaves your nose as you return to the gruelling task at hand. You're going to need a shower after this, maybe two, just to make sure you don't catch the Black Plague or some other disease that would trigger another pandemic. "Then why am I here?"

"Because you owe me, remember?"

"Yes, you--not your brother that can't even remember to put away his dishes before he goes on stupidly basic holidays."

"'Stupidly basic'?" Jungkook's frame hobbles into the corner of your eye as he mocks you with a smirk. Darn him and his unusually large (and unfortunately well sculpted) build. A disgustingly natural beauty that demands attention, but you'd rather poke your eye repeatedly than admit that to him lest his cocky smirk and big head grow more than it already has.

Yet, you can't help a glance in his direction. Props to you though, your face managed to not betray your soul and remained in it's usual disinterested state.

"If I had a penny for every time I've heard someone backpacking across Europe, I'd be so rich I wouldn't have to pay you back with my services."

"Considering you sprained my wrist and my ankle, I'd request both payment in money and services."

The thought of the Incidents sent and involuntary shudder down your spine. About two weeks ago, you were minding your own business in the library, one thing led to another and long story short, you accidently pushed the usually well-balanced hulking man onto the hardwood floor and his hand landed at a funky angle. Less than 72 hours had passed and various shenanigans ensued involving 12 glue sticks, streamers, a helium tank, and an unwanted clown roaming the gymnasium which led to his second trip to Accident and Emergency.

In all fairness, he shouldn't have even been there helping to set up the farewell assembly for the final years in the first place. His fault, really, but he wouldn't hear of it since you did crash into him as you were running away from a definite (maybe) psycho killer.

"How many times do I have to apologise," you huff.

His finger taps his chin in mock thought. "Preferably forever, seeing as though I am having to limit my activities while it's the summer holidays before we go off to uni. But I suppose having you as my little servant until I get better is decent enough."

You send him another glare before carrying on. Almost spotless, this dish. "This is abuse of power."

He raised his cast as well as a deadpanned expression onto his face. "And this was just regular abuse."

"It was self-defence."

"Against me or the very innocent clown you claimed was 'chasing' you?"

"Both. And he was chasing me. I was terrified."

"Remind me when your birthday is?"

"Why?"

"No particular reason. Certainly not a clown-related one for retaliation. None whatsoever."

Your head turns so quickly to him that it almost gives you whiplash. "You dare."

"We'll just have to see."

Huffing, you finish up the last of the dishes, with Jungkook sat on the countertop beside yours (with a bit of difficulty). Guilt begins to bleed out of your heart and pool into a warmth in your cheeks as you once more mumble an apology to him, the dishes suddenly looking more appealing for your eyes to land on. "I... I really am sorry, though."

He sighs--as he usually does when you once more feel horrible about the state he is in and try to voice it. "Stop that."

For the millionth time, you purse your lips, ready to let a few beats of silence pass before you could say something to return it back to that annoyingly fun hateful banter than the heavy and suffocating air that follows an apology. Jungkook, however, did not care for your mental plans (you don't really think he cares about much of anything besides his grades, friends, and snacks like a typical man).

"Can I... admit something to you? So, like, Truce?"

"...Truce." You reach out for a cloth to wipe anything left on the countertop, but ears keenly remained on him.

"I'm kinda... glad you fucked up my arm." You send him an incredulous look, to which he blurts in response, "don't get me wrong, it hurts like shit and I'm no masochist, but having you here doing my bidding--" his lips quirked at the sight of you murderous glare, "--and keeping me company is... nice."

"...'Nice'." The word feels funny to your ears as you hear it, and even funnier when you speak it.

"Yes, nice." His feet swing a little, his head hanging a little sheepishly. "My friends are cool and all, but you're, like, really fun to piss off." Okay, you might actually end up killing him. "And we don't really hang out all that often during the holidays. Plus, you've got a different vibe to you that I think is... nice--" There's that fucking word again, how on earth did he get higher marks than you in English? "--and my parents work a lot regardless so having you as company is, I suppose, ni--"

"Get a grip, dude." Your eyes roll by themselves. "You're rambling."

His lips pout and his cheeks puff to make a ridiculous (yet adorable) face of a child being lightly scolded for no reason. "You said Truce."

"I'm hearing you out, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but you're still being mean."

"Boo-hoo." He look up at you and his narrowed eyes make you retract your statement. "I mean, sorry. Carry on."

"That's it."

"What's 'it'?"

"The thing I wanted to tell you."

"What thing?"

"You know...the thing."

"You spewed a lot of crap in that short frame of time, I truly have no idea what you're talking about."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed once more, this time in suspicion. "You know exactly what I mean."

"No I don't." It's pitiful to say that your face is losing the battle to keep your smile away, which ultimately makes him gasp and point accusingly towards you.

"Yes, you do, you egg."

"Going for the Shakespearean insults? Wow, I must've really ticked you off," you laugh.

Lucky for you, the nearest thing to him was an almost-finished kitchen roll, otherwise he would've landed you in A&E too from his well-aimed throw to your forearm.

"I'm trying to be sincere." His voice is at that whiney pitch he uses when he's frustrated but not enough to care about it. He tends to only use it around his friends, but the more hellish (a potential exaggeration) time you spend with each other, the easier it slips out of him.

"Stop saying 'nice' like someone's pulling it out of your arse and not in a fun way."

"Well, what else am I supposed to say?! That I think your wonderful and funny and interesting and I like it when we spend time together!"

You try not to let the admission show up in your expression, not when it's making your heart race a mile a minute. "I mean, yeah. Don't stop on my account, keep telling me how you think I'm the most amazing person on the planet and you worship the ground I walk on, please."

He rolls his eyes and smiles in that adorable shy why which tells you that he knows exactly what you're trying to do and appreciates the way you relieve the tension. "Jesus, even when you take the piss out of me you still say 'please' in a way that makes me want to..." he trails off, then sighs. "Nevermind, ignore me."

Oh no, you're not going to let it go that easily. "Hard to do when your pig-headed ego takes up half the room." You take your gloves off--making a mental note to burn them in the incinerator for all they've had to deal with today (it's a mercy, really)--and turn towards him to give your full undivided attention. As if that would make it any easier for him to speak. "Go on, please."

He rolls his eyes again, trying even harder to hide his smile but it's fails just as easily. "Stop it."

"Stop what? Could you tell me, please?" Your head cocks to the side and your eyes challenge him in a teasing sort of way.

"God fucking damnit, Y/N. I don't know how I'm going to survive uni with you," he laughs, but the way he looks back at you feels a little too fond.

It takes a second to process what he just said. "Um, what?"

"What?"

"You said... wait, are we going to the same uni?!"

"Um, yeah? We got into the same uni."

Shock takes ever your expression for a moment. "You remember which uni I applied to?"

He looks at you incredulously. "Yeah, of course I remember. And don't be so damn humble about your exam results, I know for a fact we're both getting in."

You take a second to find a response in your head, which seems momentarily empty except for that one phrase 'of course I remember.' "Well, that's beside the point." Jungkook raises a brow at you, not buying it but willing to shelf the matter for now. "What did you mean by all that earlier?"

He looks down, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I have no idea what you mean."

"No no, you can't get out of it that easily."

"I think I can."

You take a few steps to his side and try to perch yourself up on the side of the counter next to him. He doesn't say anything as he helps you up with his good hand wrapped around your waist--and neither do you in case the combustion of heat in your body will expel flames out of your mouth the second you open it, right for your rival to see. "You're infuriating, you know that right?"

"Really? Haven't heard you say it before."

"Shut up," you chuckle, lightly shoving his shoulder with your own.

"Never. I know how much you love my snark, even if you don't admit it," he grins in return, looking at you in a way that makes your insides turn and twist. God you didn't think you could hate his stupid face even more than you do now (or something like that).

Then there comes a moment where everything went still. You think it's slightly unfair that this boy is able to bend people to his will with his looks and charm, and now apparently he can bend time too. Okay, maybe in this instance it doesn't feel as bad because you strangely don't mind having time suspended when he's there with you.

Those brown eyes flicker down to your lips so quickly you wouldn't have caught it had you not been intently gazing at him too. Rushes of heat fill every inch of your body, and to be honest, you don't know how to respond to it.

Times like these are few between you two, mostly because most of your interactions happen where there's a number of people around. But when it's just the two of you...

It feels slightly dangerous, but in a warm, comforting way that's so addictive you get a little scared of how much you don't want it to end. And also how his lips don't look as repulsive to press your own again as much as they usually do.

Damn him and his witchery.

"Anything else you want me to do?"

He raises a brow. "I want you to do a lot of things, you're gonna have to be more specific."

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "I mean, any cleaning up you needed me to do for your unhygienic brother?"

"Ah... no. The dishes were the main thing."

"Okay..." Silence stretches around the two of you until you find enough boldness within you to break it. "What were the other things?"

"What other things?"

"That you wanted me to do."

"Uh, I think you might fracture my balls too if I said them."

"Coward."

The corner of his lips curve. "There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity."

"Wow, I didn't think you knew it existed since you tend to cross it a lot."

"Har har," he deadpans, making you smile.

Your hands run over your thighs, a nervous tick you have that you have no doubt he's clocked onto by the way his good hand reaches out to squeeze one of them gently. Your hand, that is, though a corner of your traitorous mind that's steadily becoming louder over the past couple of weeks the longer you spend time with him thinks that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if it was your thigh instead. It's certainly big enough and you've seen the way he handles modelling clay for his art homework. There's no doubt he'd be able to relieve the tension of the muscles there. Or anywhere else--ah, no. Nope. Absolutely not.

"Sometimes I kinda kick myself for doing this deal with you." At your quizzical look, he clears his throat. "Makes it harder to ignore you when you're right with me for a good chunk of the day."

"You couldn't ignore me even if you tried."

He snorts. "Tired and proven."

Your brows scrunch, though your heart still beats against your chest. "What, really? You've tried to ignore me? Damn. Here I was hoping it would've worked out."

"Oh, I tried a few years ago, I think? Closer to when we first met. But unfortunately, you're hard to ignore."

Mockingly, you straighten you back and lift your head up. "Given how perfect I am, smarts and looks and all."

His smile is a bit weaker this time. "Yeah... Practically impossible to keep my mind off you."

Silence flows once more for a moment or two and you realise his hands is still wrapped around yours. "You know I tried too...in the beginning. Unfortunately, that didn't last long either."

His brow quicks. "Given how perfect I am, smarts and looks and all?"

"The opposite, actually. You were too dumb and ugly not to. Out of pity, really." From your teasing expression, he knows that he was right.

"Riiiiight, 'pity'. We'll go for that blatant lie if you want to save face."

"I have no idea what you mean."

"I think you do."

"I think I don't."

You don't realise until now how close your faces have gotten, able to feel the soft gentle breaths against your lips from his. It feels so difficult to maintain the distance but even more so to move closer to further.

"When you asked me what I meant by all that... ask me again."

"What?"

"Ask me what I meant by everything I said before."

You've been sensing this coming for a while now, longer than whatever time you've spent together in his brother's now-clean kitchen (thanks to you). Like the sky is falling, but you can't seem to look away from it.

"What did you mean?"

Jungkook's tongue peeks out to run along his bottom lip. "I meant that I... I think you're amazing, potentially out of my league--"

"--definitely out of your league--" Definitely what you would consider a lie because look at him and his social skills and his grades and passion and whatnot.

"--and so damn sweet and kind."

"Did you not just hear me call myself out of your league? Or pay attention to most of our conversations in general."

He sends a questioning look to you, as if he can see through your bullshit. "I think we both know you don't think that--for some stupid reason, because you actually are out of my league."

"Don't be humble, it doesn't suit you."

"I'm not. Just truthful. And the truth is, I find it hard to be around you and not fall for you. I see the person you are when you let your guard down with people you care about and how annoyingly well you follow that moral compass of yours even if you use fancy mean words to distract everyone else."

You snort. "If only you heard my thoughts about you while I was doing the dishes. Maiming was not off the list."

He tried to bite back a laugh. "Given the condition of those dishes, I would give you a free pass for homicide."

"Good thing your teen boy-genes haven't totally overtaken your common sense of hygiene."

"I think we can both agree we're growing out of the 'teen' bit of our lives."

"Nope," you deny quickly, waving your hand out as if to undo what he just said. "I'd like to stick my head in the sand and forget about how quickly life is moving into adulthood until it hits me like a train--"

"--or a clown--"

"--thank you very much," you end tightly, sending him a light-hearted glare.

"As I was saying," he continues, amusement lighting up his face, "it's hard not to want to kiss you at times."

"Even when I'm mouthing off to you?"

"Especially when you're mouthing off."

Even though you were expecting it, it takes a minute to process. "Oh."

"Yes, 'ohhhhh'," he mocks, nudging you with a teasing smirk.

"That must've been annoying in class then."

"Very," he nods solemnly. "There were times I wanted to throw caution to the wind and traumatise everyone."

"From the shit some of my friends say, I don't think people would be that shocked if you'd kiss me."

"Huh, maybe you're not as airheaded as you make yourself out to be."

"Rude," you mumble. "I pay attention. I just tend to...second guess."

"I think my feelings for you were a bit obvious. I mean, I think I could've survived without having you be at my beck and call this summer but I said yes anyway."

"Manipulative bastard."

"Anything for you," he sends a cheesy grin your way, making you laugh at the sudden and very inconvenient butterflies fluttering about in your stomach.

"'Anything'?"

"Okay, from that tone, I can tell you're imagining something horrifying so let me change that to 'anything within reason'."

"Coward."

"You are slightly terrifying."

"Why, thank you," you smile, and he smiles too with that buttery warm look of fondness again before he leans in slowly, giving you enough time to move away. But when you don't, he pressed his lips against yours and fucking hell it's the softest thing you've ever felt.

You don't know how long it takes for the kiss to break but even breathless you still miss the warm softness against your mouth. And apparently he felt the same because it takes very little time for him to capture your lips again, untangling his hand from yours to cup the side of your jaw, keeping you in place--not like it was possible for you to leave his addictive taste anyway, it might take dark magic for that to happen.

Maybe something even more potent, when his tongue slips its way past your lips and you find that he's stolen every single thought that occupied your mind. Again, time slips away until you're lungs are burning from the lack of air and you both pull away--though not too far from one another.

"So," he says breathless.

"So," you repeat in the same manner, mind still a little fuzzy.

"That was... something."

"Good something or bad something?"

"I don't think 'good' is a strong enough word I want to use." You hum in agreement, and reluctantly pull a little further away, his hand dropping back down onto yours. He looks at you curiously. "So..."

"So..."

"Would I be too soon if I asked you to take pity on a poor simp like me and be mine?"

"Hmmm," you hum in thought. "Given your performance, I'm inclined to accept."

"I can upgrade you from being my reluctant servant to my reluctant lover." He wiggles his borrows and you groan.

"With a romantic declaration like that, I find it hard not to accept," you deadpan, before sighing and leaning against his shoulder. You want to bottle up that sound up and listen to it until you get sick of it--which you have a sneaking suspicion is about as likely as the sun imploding in your lifetime.

"Would you let me continue to wreak havoc on your life?"

"Naturally."

"Then yes. I accept." He raises a brow expectantly and you clock on to what he's waiting for. "I'm not saying it."

"Say it."

"No."

"Please?"

"I take back my answer."

"No backsies."

"What, are you five years old or something?"

"Just say it! Say you'll be my lover."

"If you manage to make this relationship last for 50 years, then I will."

He huffs, leaning his head on top of yours, fingers linking with yours. "I suppose I can agree with that. I'll keep a note of it in my calendar."

"How unusually organised of you."

"Like I said, I'd do anything for you."

"Within reason, of course."

"Of course. Doesn't need to be logical reason, just reason."

"Good to know. Now, let's get out of your brother's place. I feel all the germs crawling all over me and need an extra hot shower--maybe two--to feel even remotely clean after that ordeal."

He laughs as he pressed a kiss on top of your head. "Yeah, okay, we can do that. Though I hoped you reminded me before I kissed you."

"You just did again after I told you, dumbass."

"In my defence, I did tell you it was hard not to. If I die of some unknown disease, I blame on you." You roll your eyes with a smile as the two of you hop off the counter and make your way out, hands still clasped together.

[couchpotatoaniki]

One Year ❣︎ Eleven: Friends Are There Through Thick And Thin

Chapter summary: You hear San out, which leads to an unexpectedly difficult talk for the both of you. Things are shifting, and neither of you don’t know what to do.

Pairing: Mafia!San x Fem!Reader Series Genre: Mafia AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, lotta crack and stupid shit ngl Chapter warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse, mentions of ptsd, anxiety, hints to sleep paralysis, Word count: 5.1k+ A 365 Days parody

A/N: I’m back from my hiatus and my god I missed this so much 😭😭 this chapter’s a bit angsty but the next one will make up for it, I promise.

Previous: Chapter Ten

For the rest of the series, click here

Speech and bracketed speech in bold means they’re talking in Korean

Speech and bracketed speech in italics is whatever the reader wants their native langue to be that’s not Korean or English

Speech without either means they’re talking in English

“The first time I met the Jeong family was shortly after Ma died,” San began, in a low relaxed tone as if he was talking about what he had for lunch yesterday. “I was quite young, but my father was grief-stricken and I stepped up to support him. He didn’t want me to but he wasn’t as strong as he used to be in arguments with me after her passing, so he just let me learn the trades of our business.”

He chuckled darkly, rubbing the tip of his thumb along the soft plush of his lower lip. “Should’ve listened to him,” he admitted with a hint of regret in his voice and a darkness in his eye you recognised from your own reflection. “Should’ve stayed a kid a little bit longer like Ma wanted me to and not want to be the hero that could fix everything like she seemed to do.”

His deep gaze bore into you for a few beats until he spoke once more. “The first time I met the Jeong family, the patriarch was beating the ever living shit out of his own son.”

You tried your best not to freeze, and although you knew of the treatment Yunho had endured there, it certainly felt a whole lot different hearing it from someone else. Hearing it from San.

He noticed your shift and gently grasped your hand over the table, running his thumb soothingly against your knuckles to try and ease the horror he could feel building inside you.

“My dad,” he resumed in that detached tone again, “had grown up with a horrible mother and an even worse father. When he met Ma, he was still a bit of a...’fixer upper’. But he changed. Said he wanted to give himself a reason for her to be proud of loving him, a reason she would want to call him her husband when the time came for him to propose--and most importantly, he was just so tired of hating his own soul. Wanted to love it as much as she did.”

A soft, intimate smile played against his lips for a brief moment. “Once, she told me that loving him came as easy as breathing.” His eyes flickered to yours, so much weight behind them, and his hand that held yours seared with a heat you couldn’t find yourself to pull away from.

“By the time they had me, they were very clear on what morals I was to have. And neither of them stopped drilling it into me until their dying breath.” San chuckled humourlessly. “Sometimes I still hear their ghosts whisper it into my ears, in the gentle way they spoke.”

His eyes closed as he recounted one of the last things he ever heard his father say all the way back in Santorini five years ago. “(We too have morals. There are some lines we must never cross.) One of them was that family and friends were sacred. You can’t hurt them. Can’t fix them through pain.” 

You do your best not to think of Isaac but his face flashes for the briefest of moments in your mind and you hate yourself all the more for it.

His eyes shut more tightly as if trying to stop seeing the memory once more, a shuddering breath released from his lungs. “I’ve seen and done some horrible shit, Y/N, but what I saw that day? Fucking hell. No child should ever have to suffer that much, never mind at the hands of one of the few people in this cruel world that was supposed to protect him.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as memories resurfaced for you too--of Yunho and his breakdowns, of the scars that littered every inch of his torso, of the slight limp in his left leg and occasional shoulder pain from broken bones that never managed to set quite right. Memories of that sweet, sweet boy made of sunshine and smiles consumed in nightmarish slumber, still trying to fight off the ghosts of his past that felt all too real to him. Frozen. Unable to move. Unable to protect himself.

San may have seen part of the actual abuse Yunho had to endure, but Y/N had to witness for the past five years how he tried so damn hard to not slip back down, even if it sometimes oozed out of the cracks in the walls he built. And Seonghwa? Jesus, Seonghwa was the one who who truly saw it all--how it almost broke Yunho, how he almost broke himself to try to get away from his own mind.

Guilt resurfaced as a heavy knot in your throat, imagining Yunho starting to slip back again. There were triggers but he’d worked well to cope in a healthy way, they all supported him in managing his responses, in helping him re-associate some of those triggers with better, nicer things. But being this close again? God, you should really go back home, end all of this.

But you need to do this. Yunho needs you to do this much at least.

“Y/N,” San coaxes you away from your thoughts, and if he noticed that you disappeared for a few moment, he did not mention it. “I care for you. More than any person on this earth. Would travel through the nine circles of hell and back to protect you. You know that right?”

Strangely, you did. From the reverent way he looks at you, holds your hand, speaks to you. Faking something like that must have needed intervention from some higher being. Without another thought, you nod.

“Good. So you know that I want to keep you far away from things that may harm you. I’m already a dangerous person with many enemies but the Jeong family have a darkness I couldn’t bare to have you near.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, San,” you whisper, voice feeling fragile in such a raw moment. “Got plenty of darkness in me already.”

He looks at you with this sad sort of smile. “I know. Wanna kiss you for being so strong and scorch the world for not stopping itself from hurting you.” He brings the hand still in his own up to his lips, letting it brush along the slightly rough skin in the barest of kisses as if content with feeling the warmth of your soul through your very fingertips. “I’ve been around enough sorrow to know when there is still goodness in something and you have so much goodness in you despite what you’ve been through.”

He pauses.

“Maybe one day you’ll find enough comfort with me to confide in it all. But until then, let me shield you from the unnecessary pain.”

You don’t remember how much time passes as the words seep into your very heart and bones and soul. While the very concept of being cared for and shouldering the burden you carry has always been an unspoken rule between your family and even more so the boys, you’ve never had someone say that to you and it feels almost overwhelming to hear it. As if your brain is having a hard time processing the fact that here is someone on this godforsaken earth who cares for you as deeply as San does and would want to stay by you side in spite of all of that.

In spite of the damage to your soul and pieces missing from your heart.

Even while you were with Dominic, there was a side of you that you felt was unworthy of being seen--shameful even--though it wasn’t you fault. You still had to keep guards up sometimes even with Mingi, and in this very room where the outside world with every messy thing that came with it was just noise far down below, you started to feel the toll it took on you. The energy is sucked out of you, the weight of keeping it up all the time.

Suddenly, confiding in Choi San didn’t seem like a bad idea at all.

But then you remembered that some of the bricks that made up that wall you held up against him weren’t yours to share with him.

“There’s...” Tongue flickering out to lick your lips, you’re unsure of how to phrase this in a way that won’t divulge in too much information, “I just...” You take a deep breath to calm your nerves. God, why was your heart racing that fast?

San could tell the conundrum you were going through. Went through the same after all, with how much he could divulge you with for he too had walls built up and for good reason.

He took the initiative. “You asked about Jeong Yunho specifically... why?”

“I wanted to know what you knew about him.” But neither of you mentioned how from the crumbs San gave you, both of you knew that Yunho was the boy he was talking about. Stiffening the air like dust in an abandoned house.

“Why?” he repeated.

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Damn it, you were good at this. Good at coming up with shit on the spot--why isn’t your brain working right now? Why do you want to tell him the truth? That truce between you two is starting to shrivel up, walls pushing back up again--

“Remember, Y/N, I can’t give you an answer if you don’t give me a good enough reason in return.” San’s last plea to get you to open up so he could do the same.

You pull your hands from his grasp to run through your hair, and the walls start to go up even higher the both of you can feel it.

Blowing a frustrated breath out you get up from your seat, turn your back to him as you make your way to your nightstand.

The man lets his face crumble as his heart drops in his stomach all the while he watches you walk away from him both physically and mentally. He leans back into the chair, feeling--for the first time in a long time--defeated.

He sees you grab the glass of water on your nightstand and finish the whole thing in a few big gulps. He wants to tell you to be careful, that you’ll choke, but his voice is caught in his tight throat unable to come out.

Setting the glass back down, you take a moment before you turn back to him. There’s something in your eyes that tells him, maybe your wall isn’t fully up yet. There’s some cracks. And then you ask him, in a soft voice, “stay with me the night?” You try to regain some playfulness by narrowing your eyes in a mock glare. “No funny business.”

He musters up as much of a smile as he can at the moment--it’s weak and tired, but there’s the remnants of that brief truce there. He doesn’t speak and neither do you as he walks to the opposite side of the bed and crawls in with you.

You both lie on your backs, you looking up at the ceiling while he looks at you. Making no move to touch you, not even move closer to you.

You close your eyes, letting him gaze at you with those curiously sad eyes of his. So attuned to his breathing, you can tell even when a lot of time--or a little, you can’t tell as the concept doesn’t seem to exist in this room right now, but it feels like a lot--he still hasn’t fallen asleep yet. His thoughts are loud but not loud enough for you to hear them.

He feels the same way about you. Knows that you’re awake, mind running with thoughts that escape him and damn it fucking hurts to be this shut out from you.

You want to speak the words--any words to him or at least intertwine one of your fingers with his. To show some semblance that things have changed, that you have not shut him out completely like he might think.

But at one point, you lose the mental battle and fall into a dreamless sleep.

When you wake, San is nowhere to be found. You’re curled up facing where he would be and feel around to notice that the spot is cold and that side of the bed is made. He’s been gone for a while, you confirm once you notice the time on your phone, because it is almost one in the afternoon and he must have had business to attend to.

That didn’t stop the faint pang inside you at his sudden absence after last night.

Groaning, you roll you body up, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes while you think how could things change so much for you in such a short space of time since you met San.

His crazy seems to be rubbing off on you, since you feel some kind of attachment to him? Or at least, you feel a little more empty when he is not there. Jesus, at this rate, you might actually want to stay with him by the end of the year.

You find that thought terrifying, though not as all-consuming as you expected it to feel. Like the kind of terror that came with standing at the edge of a cliff that you can just as easily back away from into the safety of land rather than stare at the rough dark waters crashing on jagged rocks below.

You have been through enough shit to know when you really need to talk to someone about how you’re feeling. And right now you need to talk to someone.

Run through the talking points in your head as you freshen up in the bathroom, already knowing that today feels like a pyjama day. You feel sick just thinking about the idea of talking about your feelings, that familiar sense of dread curdling in your stomach. So you don’t leave the confines of your bedroom for a late breakfast--you can barely think of stomaching the smell of breakfast.

Cold sweats lace your palms as you click on Mingi’s contact on your phone, practice some level breathing as ringing presses against your ear. It doesn’t take long for you to hear his voice.

“Hey, wassup?”

“Hey,” you try to say confidently but it comes out as a strangled whisper from the funny feeling in your throat.

A pause, and then, “What happened?”

The instinctive answer comes out despite all the mental preparation. “Nothing.”

“Y/N, what happened?”

“Nothing...”

He sighs, “The last time you answered the phone like this and I played along, you were in a horrible situation. I’m not making that mistake again. Now tell me, what happened?”

You don’t know why but hot fat tears spill from your eyes in quick succession against your will. Silent as they come, you know he can tell. He was always able to. “Mingi, I don’t know what to do,” you whisper as it all comes crashing down on you.

“It’s been weeks since everything’s happened and I don’t know why but it’s all come crashing down and I just don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, that okay,” he coaches, “Just grab onto the closest threat. Start from there. Bit by bit.”

“I just,” you try to take deep breaths and make a clumsy attempt to explain the pent up emotions, “it’s so stupid but it only really just hit me how much Dominic hurt, you know? I didn’t love him but I did like him and just... being treated like that, like I’m nothing of worth fucking hurt. It was the first time I was with someone since...him and it ended up hurting me again and I swore I would never let my heart get hurt again and...and--”

You pause. Breathe.

“And then there’s what I’m putting Yunho through simply by being here with San, all because I wanted to escape my problems and feelings again. I can barely even do my job right because I can’t get a straight answer out of him--or any of the others because they’re tight-knit and won’t betray San like that even if it is to shit-talk his ex.”

Not even Wooyoung, who you seemed to have the most rapport with out of the three boys. You tried getting information out of them over the few days San was avoiding you (and admittedly you, him) from the initial bathroom confrontation, but each of them were tight-lipped and you knew without them having to say that San told them to remain that way about the subject.

More waves of fatigue wash over you, and you lift your legs up and rest your forehead on your knees. “And the worst part is, is that San cares about me in a way no one has. At least, not in the same sense you guys do. And it feels different but my brain is telling me it’s the same honey trap all over again. I’m holding myself back from opening up to him, which is the smart move all things considering, but some part of me wants to open up to him and that scares me so damn much.”

Mingi doesn’t interrupt even as you pause again, knowing you well enough to be able to tell when you’ve finished talking and when you’re taking a moment to find the truest words to string together even if it sometimes doesn’t make sense when it is translated from your mind.

“Last night, he came to me and told me that if I wanted answers out of him, I would have to hear why he didn’t want to tell me then tell him why he should tell me.” You sigh. “Mingi, he knows about what they did to Yunho--or at least snippets of what his dad did to him. I’m sure he knows that I know that too because I made the stupid fucking decision to ask about Yunho specifically. He said he didn’t want me near people like that...”

Isaac’s presence filled the silence but neither of you mentioned it.

“He asked me to tell him why I needed to know...and I just...couldn’t. It wasn’t my place and we both kind of shut down on each other and for some fucking reason, it hurt a bit. I just...” You let out another heavy breath. “I don’t know. It feels so messy.”

A beat or two passes before he exhales. “Okay. Yeah, that is pretty fuckin’ heavy.” You smile, breathing out a little amused laugh. “But that’s okay, Y/N. None of this shit ever comes easily.

“First and foremost, before we touch any of that other shit you just said, you need to get it through to your head that you are in absolutely no way, shape, or form, the reason why all this is being dredged up again. You of all people know how the past has a nasty way of catching up to us, and Yunho was going to have to face it sooner or later. Yes, the fact that you’re with San means that it did come sooner, but that doesn’t make it bad whatsoever.

“Yunho has his own demons and we can’t protect him forever, no matter how much we want to. If anything, this couldn’t have come at a better time. Our future isn’t exactly secure in the field we work in so at least it’s coming now when we are all here to support him through his problems and help him grow. But remember, we’re not powerless kids anymore. Yunho knows that too, he’s just trying to get his brain up to speed with it in his own way.”

You want to protest that you can do more, but the words die on your tongue as you tell our brain that Mingi is right. Yunho has to work through his own demons, and you being there to baby him through the process would be more counter-productive than anything.

Mingi clears his throat. “You’re stubborn and a major empath, so I dunno if any of that stuck.”

You smile faintly. “I’m trying to make it.”

“Good. Now, onto the whole spaghetti of emotions you’re having about San and relationships.” He sighs, “you weren’t wrong when you said it was messy. But don’t think for a second that it’s not supposed to be. Your hearts been stomped on to high heaven so I don’t blame you one bit for not wanting to give San a chance.” You open your mouth to protest but he already hears the fight coming and cuts it out of the roots, “I know we joked about you falling for San at the beginning and you have this whole aversion to the concept of ‘love’ so for arguments sake, we’ll just say you like him and chalk this situation as Fate being the bitch that it is.”

He hesitates for a moment. “I was actually planning on telling you this later, when you had finally come to terms with your own feelings about the whole Dominic thing but it seems like you did that already--which, by the way, I am very proud of you. Even if it did come out as a part of an emotional explosion since you have a horrible habit of bottling everything in until you’re bursting at the seems.”

“Thanks,” your tone is deadpan with an underlying tone of amusement to it.

“No problem. Anyway, Seonghwa made Yeosang and I do some more research into San--he was doing all this fancy computer wizard shit again and I did some incognito spy shit--and he really doesn’t seem that bad of a person. I mean, yeah, he’s got as much blood on his hands as the next mobster but he just seems to be a nice person? Again, relative to him being part of the mafia world. So if you wanted to open up to him... I mean, I don’t see why not.”

“He could have that side to him, the one he doesn’t show to everyone. He could hurt me.”

“Y/N, don’t take this the wrong way... but that will always be a possibility with anyone you meet--be it a potential friend or partner or whatever. You learn from the pain and mistakes, and recognise the signs more easily if you see them again so you don’t get hurt as badly as the last time. You left Dominic when he cheated on you, recognising that as one of the signs that he didn’t care for you as you wanted him to. You learned from the last time. And what did you learn from Dominic that you’ll keep an eye out for?”

You don’t realise that the tears had stopped until they started again at his gentle tone and careful words. This time, slower. “I wasn’t as important to him as his ego and reputation was. He was very different to how he was in public and how he was in private,” you sniffled, recalling all the times he would try to seem Big and Masculine in from of his friends often at your expense.

It happened on your way to Jeju, when you were struggling with the luggage and he was chatting to his friends about how he was going on a casual holiday, forgetting that it was supposed to be a birthday trip for you and Mingi. Even at the birthday dinner, he tried to make a speech that fed his ego as the Good Boyfriend at the expense of one of the most important people in your life.

“The point is, you can’t be so afraid of being hurt again that you shut everyone out. That’s a painfully slow death you’ll be experiencing. You live, you hurt, you learn, you move on. What did Auntie L/N always say when we were being angsty kids?”

You mouth quirked at the memory of your mother. “Let the negative emotions come, let them teach you, but never let them overstay.” God, you missed her.

“Yeah. You’ve got that wise woman gene from her. Maybe rather than only using it for others, use it for yourself too.”

Sniffles filled in the silence as you let that sink in, silently promising yourself that you would try to do that. That you would try to be kinder to yourself.

“As for the Yunho shit in relation to San...trust your gut. You know what to say and what not to.”

“Okay,” you mumble, feeling another tsunami of fatigue wash over you again now that this is all off your chest. “You said you did some spy shit? Are you Seoul right now?”

“Damn, I was planning on surprising you. Just a few towns over, actually, but still in Choi territory.”

“What if I speak to San? About letting you come here to visit me? I don’t think he’d say no.”

He thinks for a second. “Hm, well I’m gonna see you anyway so you might as well see if you can get a less fun way too I suppose.”

This time your chuckle comes out stronger and once Mingi feels like you’re in a decent mental state, he lets you end the call.

Any second-in-command worth their salt would be attuned to their leader and able to take over the heavy lifting when it was beginning to get too much for them. And Hongjoong was priceless so it didn’t take much for him to sense San’s off mood. He was not as sharp today, was not as focused as he usually was and that was strange in and of itself.

San was always great at compartmentalising and separating his work and personal affairs so they did not bleed into one another--which was a fucking feat considering most of the men in these circles lived and breathed their work life (not a very healthy thing to do) and also the fact that San used to date Jeong Dae who came from a very powerful family in their own right.

There was only one being who could frazzle this impenetrable man.

Wooyoung and Jongho had spent the most time with you and so had begun to take a liking to you--then again, the what they considered to be a nice partner was a line down all the way in the ninth circle of hell after their experience with Dae.

More than anything, he was frustrated because you do seem like a nice person--stuffed full of secrets that you hold tightly to your chest more so than the average person--but he cared more for San’s heath and right now, he looked fucking terrible.

He knew that if the other man got a whiff of how Hongjoong was trying to take care of him, he would get annoyed from being treated like a child. Would try that much harder to take on more of the work. Years of having to deal with him taught him the fine art of how to manipulate the stubborn ass into looking after his own wellbeing but being willing to share some of the workload.

But even masters of craft come along a new situation they are unsure of how to handle once in a while.

“San?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles absentmindedly, staring at sheets of paper the blue-haired man knows for a fact is reading two-three times over just to get the words to make sense to him through the foggy lethargic haze clouding his brain. Could see it in his eyes.

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

He takes in a deep breathe. “Uh... not much. Couldn’t sleep.”

“How come?”

“Just...couldn’t.”

He hums in response, not taking his eyes of the sheets in from of him. “I think we both know that’s a lie.”

San slaps his own documents onto his desk, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Then what do you want me to say? Do you want me to open up and talk about my feelings?”

Hongjoong presses his lips in to a thin line. “That’d be a start...” When he feels San’s growing agitation, he finally looks up at him. “You don’t have to go into detail about anything if you don’t wanna, but dude, you can’t just pretend whatever is on your mind isn’t, ya know?”

His words don’t seem to persuade him to talk, at least he thinks they don’t when the other man picks up the closest sheet of paper next to him...and then throws it back down and sits in a huff back in his chair. “She just... she just won’t open up to me. Like, I’m trying so hard here and there’s that barrier between us. Last night,” his tone softens a little as the memory washed over him, “it seemed like things were shifting. Like she was starting to let me in.”

He take a few seconds to calm the growing irritation he felt. “I extended an olive branch and when it was her turn, she just...shut me out again. I mean, I suppose she tried to offer an alternative by letting me stay with her--” he ignored the other’s raised brows “--but it wasn’t the same.”

Even with the holes and lack of your side of the story, Hongjoong had an idea of the whole situation. “Right, I can’t believe what I’m about to say but...are you sure she’s not totally at fault for that?” He notices the look he sends him. “Okay, hear me out. Imagine you’re in her shoes and some rando just up and kidnapped you. No matter how nicely you treat her, she isn’t going to bare the deepest parts of her soul to you after a few weeks. She’s not trusting, like she’s a... like a...”

He tried to find the right analogy, right at the tip of his tongue, but San beat him to it with a quiet answer. “Like a wounded animal.”

“Uh... Yeah. I think. She’s got that vibe about her, that she’s been hurt before and so keeps herself closed off. And maybe you need to think about yourself too. With what we do, you’re going to have to keep secrets from her--you are keeping secrets from her by being cryptic and not willing to answer her questions. I mean, you’re not entirely wrong for not wanting to tell her about the Jeongs, but do you really think she would want to give up any of those pieces of herself she holds so close to her chest to someone who won’t fully do the same for her?”

Hongjoong has a strong sense you’re a lot more intelligent than what you make yourself seem, but he doesn’t say that. “I don’t know what to do or how to fix your situation--only you and Y/N can do that--but you should at least see her side of things too. And maybe just take it a bit easy when you’re this annoyed because you’re not getting much done and that’s pissing you off even more.”

“...Geez, dude. Okay.” San rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll, uh... are you good with handling this?”

“It’s literally my job.”

“Alright,” he huffs in amusement, then stands up to gather his coat and phone, ready to call his driver to take him back to the apartment. “Oh, and--”

Hongjoong cuts him off without looking back at him. “Yeah, everything’s ready at home. I’ll let the house staff know that we’re coming back this weekend and to make sure it’s all perfect.”

San smiles at him in gratitude. “What would I do without you?”

“Not a damn thing, that’s for sure.”

Yeah, Hongjoong doesn’t need to be told if he’s a good Second. He damn well knows it from the grateful look in his best friend’s eye. That’s enough for him

☕︎ Tag list: @little-precious-baby , @sparklychangbin , @asterizee (I think you're @/shawkneecaps I'm sorry if I got that wrong 😭😭), @wooyoungsbxtch , @megjoonyeol , @kpop-khh-writer-trash , @baguette-atiny , 

If you wanna be tagged, feel free to ask! 

[couchpotatoaniki]

I love how my brain has already come up with a One Year spinoff before I've even started properly getting into the main series 😭😭😭

[couchpotatoaniki]

:')

[couchpotatoaniki]

Hi everyone!

It's been a long time since I posted and I just wanted to update you all on why that is. I've been busy with uni work and on top of that I've been prioritising my mental health (trying to anyway) and been taking some time away.

I've come to realise I'm just not as into K-pop as I used to be and my focus has shifted a lot, which has been a big part in why I'm struggling to write.

NOW THIS DOESN'T MEAN I'M NO LONGER WRITING KPOP, I WILL STILL CONTINUE MY SERIES (One Year, and Stories From Alternate Universes both BTS and ATEEZ editions) and some oneshofs here and there but that will be all.

This account was always just for me and my own interests and that's exactly what I'll keep it to. So far it's mainly books, fantasy, and mythology, and I'll be writing about those as well whenever I get the energy to.

Thanks for understanding and having the patience to deal with me like this lmao :D

[couchpotatoaniki]

Bond girls are out. Blanc girls (underprivileged women who screw over rich assholes with the help of this silly detective) are in.

[couchpotatoaniki]

happy holidays to the people who never get to hear it said to them

to laborer who works and sweats through ramadan with no sympathy from their employer

to the kids who’ve had to explain that, no, hanukkah isn’t “jewish christmas”

to the students and workers who aren’t allowed to take time off for their holidays when time off is freely given for christmas and easter

to the kids who are called “savages” and “barbarians” by their teachers when eid al-adha is covered in class

to the parents who wonder if they ought to get an xmas tree for their kids so they don’t feel so alienated at such a tender age

to the families in diaspora who are celebrating without their loved ones

to those living as minorities in places that demand they shed their culture and identity in the process of assimilation

i see you. you are valid.

[couchpotatoaniki]

Lmao, the doctors took one look at my gallbladder and was like "we need to take this shit out, the number and size of stones in here is NOT cool" so yeah, fics are on hold at the moment 'cause I've just come out of surgery :D

[couchpotatoaniki]

Hii, how are you doing bestie? I'm not sure if you have requests open, but I just read your two ateez mtl and I'm in need of a headcanon of hongjoong falling in love with a latin american girl, if you can, a Brazilian woman would be literally the best ( I wonder why lol). I agree with you about the personality being more important, so feel free to explore with what would get to this man's heart the most. Ty!!

Hiya, I'm doing good bestie :D How are you?

Wow, giving me a lot of free reign with this lmao but I shall do my best to get this done as well as I can! Thanks for requesting it and I'm happy to hear you enjoyed my other mtl (I should probs do another one soon, so if anyone has any requests, feel free to send them in!)

Edit: The fic is gonna be called #SweetTooth :D

[couchpotatoaniki]

do you guys think this applies to yall 😭

[couchpotatoaniki]

One Year ❣︎ Ten: Chats That Aren’t Just ‘Chats’

Chapter summary: You and San reach a kind of impasse after the conversation the two of you had in the bathroom, and the stakes are higher for the two of you than they first appear to be.

Pairing: Mafia!San x Fem!Reader Series Genre:  Mafia AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, lotta crack and stupid shit ngl Chapter warnings: swearing, brief violent depictions, brief mention of blood, implications of mental health issues, tame sex jokes Word count: 4.1k+ A 365 Days parody

Previous: Chapter Nine For the rest of the series, click here

Speech and bracketed speech in bold means they’re talking in Korean

Speech and bracketed speech in italics is whatever the reader wants their native langue to be that’s not Korean or English

Speech without either means they’re talking in English

San’s mother had raised him to be a good man for as long as she was alive, ignoring the whole mafia business he was in charge of. However, he had been doing very dubious things now that you’ve come which reflected on his personal character rather than his title of a made man. The first glaring one that came to Wooyoung’s mind was how he had kidnapped you from your family, friends, and boyfriend (albeit, an unfaithful one).

However, following you into the bathroom could also be considered as one of those dubious actions that made him question whether he should be helping Hongjoong knock some sense into his old friend and boss. Not that you were a bad person--you certainly were one of the most entertaining people Wooyoung had the pleasure of hanging around--which was rare in his line of work since people were either deadly serious or what he considered to be absolutely bat-shit insane. But the air surrounding San was not a very comforting one as he slunk into the bathroom after you.

San, on the other hand, was trying to reason with himself over the very same thing. Then, when his hand reached to push against the wooden door, he found that he didn’t really care. As long as he didn’t misread that look in your eyes, he wouldn’t do a damn thing.

“Following girls into bathrooms, huh?” you chuckled, body leaning against the wall opposite him, arms crossed over your tummy in a casual, relaxed manner. Nothing about your body language suggested discomfort, so San took that as a signal to step forward, letting the door shut closed behind him.

“Not a regular occurrence, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Thanks for clearing that up then, I guess.” Your amused eyes ran over his form more openly, and for the first time since he was a young child, San felt... shy. “Regardless, I’m glad you took the hint and came--though let me squash any hopes you have for me throwing myself at you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” his lips quirked upwards, as if there was some kind of silent joke between you before it dropped. “That man who spoke to you... are you alright? Did he make you uncomfortable?” The thought of him sent a jolt of violence through the man, one that craved to rip his throat out and leave the pig to choke on his own filthy blood.

Your shoulders shrugged, a nonchalant expression on your face as you waved off San’s questions. “Nothing I haven’t handled before.”

That answer wasn’t reassuring in the least, but he decided to let it go in favour of finding out what you meant before. “So, why did you want me here?”

“Privacy.”

One of his brows arched. “And you don’t want me to get the wrong idea?”

“Certainly not, (Flower Boy).” There was that dancing gleam in your eyes again, one that made him want to have all the wrong ideas. “I have a proposition.”

“Definitely helping your ‘no-bathroom-sex’ case.”

San hadn’t realised he had moved until your eyes had snapped to his feet, now less than a meter from you. “My proposition,” you started, the quiver in your lips telling him that you were suppressing a smile or that chuckle he loved to hear, “is for you to help me with something.”

“What would that be?”

“Getting information.”

The tone that had washed over your voice mean business, triggering that cold side of him to come out. After all, if you were asking him for information, that meant you were looking for something that could potentially get you killed. “Why?”

“Because,” you shrugged.

“Not an answer.”

Noticing his change in demeaner you pushed yourself off the ceramic-tiled wall to eat up the small distance between the both of you, until you were merely inches away.

“What you said back in the plane over here,” San murmured, almost as if the thought in his head had slipped into the open, like she wasn’t supposed to hear, “about this not being the first time dealing with the mafia... was that true?”

He did not want to admit it, but that ignited a terrified flame in his heart. Why were you already mixed up in his world? What on earth required you to deal with his kind? Why weren’t you afraid yourself?

Tongue running over your bottom lip, your eyes bore into him. Perhaps he should keep that pretty little thought in his head for a bit longer. “I need your help finding out more about a certain person--or should I say family.”

“No.” If this was a question about a family, then that meant you wanted to know more about a particular mafia group--an even more dangerous endeavour. 

A frown framed your lips, slight pouting, which you didn’t seem to realise would form, that had dragged San’s focus for just a moment before he pulled himself back to your next words. “Perhaps I phrased that wrong. I would like for you to tell me what you know about a certain person and their family.”

“My answer hasn’t changed.”

“Jeong Yunho.”

At the sound of the surname, he took a step back from you. “Why do you want to know about the Jeongs?”

“You run in the same circles. I thought you’d know.” Of course you knew a lot more, but you were already taking such a head-strong approach by directly asking him about your friend, you refuse to show even more of the cards in your hands.

“No--”

“Please.” Identifying a slight tremble in your voice, one he might not have even caught had ne not been as close to you as he was, San sighed.

“Don’t ask this of me.”

“Unfortunately, I have to. Just what you know of that name is enough.”

“Why?” his exasperated. “Why do you need to know about the Jeongs?”

You voice caught in your throat. Something in you told you that lying would not be a great move to make, and something even deeper in you wanted you not to lie. ”That, I’m afraid, I can’t say. Personal.”

His warm brown eyes, for the first time, had hardened at you. As if he was trying to say ‘ditto’ but couldn’t bring himself to physically speak it--which was true on some level. He wanted to keep you from his ex’s family, to make sure you were safe, but there was still this pang of jealousy of your curiosity over another male--even if he was considered dead for the past six years.

Without another word, the mafia boss left you in the bathroom, more frustrated than before since now you would have take the path that required more work and sneaking around.

Three Hours Ago

It had been a few days since you told the boys of Jeong Dae. Worry had wrapped itself around your throat, tightening at every thought of how Yunho would be reacting right now. Thankfully, no one here knew you as well as your friends or family, and so wouldn’t be able to tell if something was wrong.

Especially Mingi. It was as if his spidey-senses tingled every time you were in his vicinity. Honestly, it was a surprise he hadn’t already called you while you had the intention of doing so in mind since your conversation.

At least now, you gave Yunho some time to process things before going back in.

The ringing of your phone was a stark contrast against the background noise of the capital city. Loud honks of cars driving by, chattering people moving through crowds of other chattering people, faint sirens of police cars and ambulances on the way to somewhere. No matter how high you were up in the building of stupidly lavish apartments, the lives of other still penetrated through the air and into the room you were in.

Unlike the mansion in Jeju, this place was done up in a modern minimalistic style with a greyscale colour scheme. White and grey marble floors, soft linen on a floating queen-sized bed, a 70-inch flat-screen smart tv, and built-in lights creating a soft glow around the room. On the small square coffee table that was crowded by two white leather armchairs rested a clear vase filled with water that contained a classic bouquet of red roses, baby’s breath, and a few big leaves. Really, the only thing that gave the room a pop of colour. Two other doors in the corner had led into an equally spacious and modern walk-in closet and bathroom that looked like it could be dubbed as a spa room.

Click.

“Hello?” Mingi replied.

“Hey,” you breathed, getting yourself ready. “Is Yunho okay?”

There was some shuffling in the background. “Um, not really. You know how he feels about Dae.”

You did, which was why it felt pretty hard telling him. But then again, it was better for it to come out now, and from you. “Fuck, I should really be there.” Your hand carded through your loose hair, guilt clawing at your throat.

“Don’t worry, we’re here for him. Yeosang is making sure he eats his meals, I’ve been going out and doing stuff with him, and Seonghwa’s keeping an eye out while he...” Mingi trailed off, and you understood almost immediately.

“He’s training again, isn’t he?”

“You know how he gets when he’s reminded of her. And having you in such close proximity isn’t making things better for him, even if you’re more than capable than handling her.”

Heart clenching at the thought of Yunho working himself to bone, going past his physical limit. To think, if Seonghwa wasn’t there (or Yeosang and Mingi, for that matter anyway) Yunho would go down the same rabbit hole, breaking his body--literally--in order to get stronger and safer and securer.

The damage that family had inflicted on him went deeper than anyone but himself could heal, and even after six years, there was still a long way to go. This little nugget of knowledge did him no good. Yet, withholding that kind of information from him would draw consequences he could not afford right now.

“Hey,” Mingi’s voice drew her back, “you’re drifting off again, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you whispered, getting up off the bed to change into something casual you dug out from your suitcase--San had told you he had some business to take care of and that she was going with him. Miraculously, there were some extra clothes that managed to appear in some suitcases that she did not bring with her to Jeju. It didn’t take a lot of brain-work to know San had gotten some more outfits for her, especially considering how she had not bought anything when they went on their little shopping trip with his cousin. “It’s hard not to.”

There was only an agreeing hum at the other end of the line.

“Is there anything I can do from my end? Anything at all? Or maybe I should leave and come back ho--”

“Actually, I think Yeosang might have something.”

There was some more shuffling, a door opening and closing, and she could barely hear the conversation between her two friends before Yeosang took the phone five minute later.

“Where abouts are you right now?”

“Seoul,” your eyes drifted to the enormous window which dubbed as the wall itself, looking out onto the skyline in front of a setting sun. Colours bleed through the sky; soft yellows into burnt oranges into rose, fuchsia, periwinkle, sapphire, and onyx. The world’s most elegant, consistent rainbow. “Not familiar with the address.”

“That’s fine, just checking where you are.” There was some click-clacking from what you assumed was his trusty keyboard. “If you’re really hellbent on helping, it’d probably be best if you find out what exactly is known about Yunho. Knowing what the mafia world is aware of will help a lot in terms of damage-control.  And if you can, find out what the Jeong’s plans are regarding him. if we’re lucky, there shouldn’t be any, but better safe than sorry.”

“There needs to be damage-control?” you voice whispered.

A second or two passed on the line, Yeosang thinking of what he should say. “Potential damage control. It’ll be like another recon mission. Find out what the enemy knows, report back, and we’ll discuss from there.”

“Can you stop being a cryptic asshat and tell me the plan?” Eyes narrowing at nothing in particular, you pulled out a random shirt and a pair of fresh underwear.

Yeosang took none of your tone to heart, knowing very well how antsy you get whenever one of the group finds themselves in trouble. So he told you what was discussed between the boys the day after your previous call.

“And Seonghwa’s signed off on this?”

“Obviously.” You could just hear the eyeroll in his voice, and that brought back a spark of mirth.

“A’ight then, guess I better get on with it.”

“Y/N?” Mingi’s voice returned, and there was a strange softness to it that wasn’t natural in his usual tone.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

“...I know.”

“And...” you could tell he was biting his lip--a nervous habit of his that never went away in the time the two of you had known each other. “We still know you’re sore after Dom--”

“I’m not--”

“So please still treat this as a holiday despite the work. Enjoy yourself and whatever fucked-up shit you have planned for that Choi guy,” your best friend snorted, adding a light-heartedness to the mood.

You could hear Yeosang mumble ‘poor boy’ in the background, and that too had pulled a chuckle out of you. If you were honest, you had no idea why you were still enjoying being here, pretending to play the captive, when there was no real up-side to this. At least, with this Jeong stuff going on, you had something else to do, but that was only a recent development. As for before that, you couldn’t find an excuse and you couldn’t care about it either.

“M’kay,” you hummed, and once goodbyes were exchanged, you hung up and made your way to the bathroom for a warm shower.

What better time to start digging for information than the present.

Present

The room was silent, with little noise to slice through which had began to drive him mad. Silence wasn’t something San hated. In fact, there were times where he sought out the stillness of the air, the calm it brought to his mind so it could finally sort his thoughts out.

But the thing about silence, he had come to learn over his years of being alive, was that there were many kinds.

This was the kind he did not like.

Uncomfortable. Clingy. Stiff.

A few more seconds and he swore he would have suffocated had he not left the confines of his bed sheets.

Yet, that still did not help, and with exhaustion from the past few days, he lacked the energy to do anything but think about it as he sat on the other side of the room on one of the off-white leather armchairs beside the window-wall.

Not even the night could stop the city of Seoul, raging with an assortment of lights and cars and people. It looked less lonely down there, less silent. San wished he could press skip until the point where you became his, or at least where you stopped somehow avoiding him and he stopped avoiding you. After the conversation the two of you had several days ago, you seemed to melt away--became quieter, a wallflower as much as you could be. With the workload increasing now that he was back in home territory, he could barely even make the time to go out and find you--even if he wanted to. There were still things that weighed down on his mind pertaining to your last interaction.

The only thing keeping him grounded was the reports Wooyoung and Jongho would give him--reports of you when they spent time with you--and even then, he wanted to throw them off the nearest ledge for being around you much more than he was able to.

Slowly exhaling, the man closed his eyes for a second, trying to... well, he didn’t know what he was trying to do. Calm down? Relax? He didn’t need to do any of that, but he needed to close his eyes.

Oh, wait.

He needed clarity.

But he was not about to get it staying in this empty yet suffocating room. He needs to leave. San needs to see you.

The next thing he knew, he was staring at something large and grey with his fist pressed again it. Not a moment later, the door pulled back to reveal you, in your Sylvester and Tweety pyjamas, hair loosely braided back from your face that looked like you too had not gotten enough sleep. Was he occupying your thoughts just as you were running rampant in his? If only technology had advanced enough for him to read your mind, see what your spotlight focused on and what was hidden in the dark crevices far away.

“Is...” your eyes shifted from left to right and back again, checking if there was anyone else there at such a time of the night, “is everything alright?”

He contemplated lying. It would be so easy for him to say that he was just checking up on you, see if you were still there and comfortable. So fucking easy. But since when did San ever do ‘easy’? After all, he fell for the one person who surrounded themselves with his grief--whether you wanted to or not.

“No.”

The mobster did not need to elaborate for you to move aside and let him in. It was something you were used to back home, with your family, both the ones of blood and of choice. They had a problem, came knocking on your door, and you’d invited them in or take them out--whatever the mood called for, really--and then you’d ask, “do you want to talk or do you want to be distracted?”

Eyes following your hand gesturing to the leather chairs set in an identical way the ones in his room were. “I want to talk.”

Nodding, you sat on the chair opposite him, both of you facing towards window, bright lights from lamps and signs and stars illuminating a kind of soft glow that made you both look like ghosts or memories or dreams. Anything but real.

San was convinced you were not real, even if everyone could now see that you were.

How things switch back and forth in his mind...

“Then talk.”

His tongue ran across the seam of his lips, you eyes narrowing on that motion for a few moments before ripping back up to see his eyes trained on the cityscape. “I...” His words failed him, melting on his tongue before he could get them out. He didn’t know how to get them out.

It was easy for you to see the struggle his mind went through to compute his thoughts into words. You have had those days too, where speaking comes about as easy as setting a lake on fire, so you let him take his time, fingers working against the hem of your shirt as an afterthought.

He takes about a minute.

“I wanted to... fuck, I don’t know.” San sighed, rubbing his thumb against the underside of his jaw, as if trying to ease it into loosening out the words he wants to say.

So you help him.

“What was your first thought? Before you came here what did you think about?”

“I thought about how I just needed to... breathe? I don’t know--”

“Of course you know, otherwise you wouldn’t have come to me.” Yes, you were busy trying to find out information on the Jeongs but there was this kind of pull you had to speak to San for a while that you could not quite explain. It was a great thing that he came here, to your space (even if the whole ass apartment was his) so you could speak in whatever comfort you were able to create here.

He licks his lips again, and nods. “You’re right. I just... I needed to breathe. That room was too stuffy.” One of your brows lifted, sceptical or mocking, he couldn’t tell. Perhaps both. “Been...busy, with work and all that and I suppose what we spoke about in the bathroom a few days ago hasn’t really dissolved away as I had hoped it would.” Now both your brows drew in, confused, yet you remained silent.

“I, uh, brought you here for a reason. To see what life was like if you returned the feelings I hold for you and decided that I was enough to make you stay. I know it’s far too early for me to be having this kind of chat with you--far too sober, even--but it was bound to come out sooner or later.” He leaned into the back of the chair, eyes closed with his chin tilting up. “I care for you more than what’s, ah, considered as healthy for me and when you asked me that question in the bathroom, about people in my work-sphere,” he sent you a pointed look, evidently refusing to acknowledging the exact question about Yunho, “I realised there’s perhaps a fork in the road as to how exactly I’d fulfil what I wanted you to see: do I throw caution to the wind and tell you what you want to know even if it comes at the cost of being an even bigger target than you already are or do I protect you by withholding information you ask for at the cost of creating a distance between us? I threw myself in work to avoid seeing you and having to deal with that problem but I realised a few things tonight.” His eyes opened just enough for you to see the tired molten brown of his irises being eaten away by his pupils as he stared right back at you.

He’s scared, in a good or bad way, you can barely tell anymore--and that scares you.

“First thing, I can’t stay away and ignore your exitance for a couple of days now that I’ve found you, so God help me if I have to spend another five years away from your side--nevermind a lifetime.”

For the first time in a while, you felt a fluttering in your stomach that you knew better than to call a tummy bug. If it were the words that did it or the way he spoke them or the language of his body, you had a hard time piecing together which had the most affect. But in reality, it was all of it combined together that winded you. Raw words (in the language he was raised with and came second-nature to him, no less) that no one has said to you without having to process and mould first to get the desired effect, and the way his ridged body went limp with each honest word he got out, as if relieved to have you hear them...

It’s depressing to admit, but no one of a romantic stance had ever spoken such things in such a way to you before.

Not Dominic.

Especially not Isaac.

You don’t know how to quite handle it, other than lock it away until later, when you’re all by yourself and ready to have some sort of plan as to what the fuck you should do with it.

“Second thing,” San continues on, as if he didn’t just make you feel funny things when you shouldn’t be feeling jackshit in the first place, “is that, unfortunately, my dilemma isn’t something I can solve by myself. Cost-benefit analysis doesn’t really work if I have no clue what the benefit is for you and what you’d give for it.” He leans forward slowly, like sharp movements might scare you away, and gently envelopes one of his hands over one of yours. They do feel rather nice. “As much as I want to make the decision for you and protect you as much as I can, my Ma raised me to give choices. So I’ll give you the choice to ask me that question again after I tell you why I don’t want to and you tell me why it’s so important. But make no mistake, if I think your reasoning isn’t nearly good enough, I’ll refuse to answer just like I did before. Do we have a deal?”

You couldn’t find it in you to make a joke or sarcastic remark at his request.

Not this time.

“We have a deal.”

☕︎ Tag list: @little-precious-baby , @sparklychangbin , @shawkneecaps , @wooyoungsbxtch , @megjoonyeol , @kpop-khh-writer-trash​ , @baguette-atiny​ , If you wanna be tagged, feel free to ask!

[couchpotatoaniki]

See You Later Moodboard

Type: Oneshot

Genre: Yandere, fluff, suggestive, dark romance

Tropes: University student AU, convenience store AU, 'touch her and you die' (literally), grumpy/sunshine (?)

TW: stalking, murder, general Yandere behaviour

Honorary Mentions: Mingi's a bit tapped 'cause he's a stalker in this fic but he's also really smart so... there's that ig?

Aesthetic: look at the damn moodboard

☕︎ If you're interested, feel free to ask for an excerpt or added to the taglist!

[couchpotatoaniki]

‘Carry Me Home’ had my heart clenching, formed a lump in my throat and made my eyes blurry a second time.

i read this last year and just a few days ago, this story came to mind and i started searching for it bc i want me some angst so yea. i found it, read it and made me hurt all over again.

to think that taehyung did felt something for y/n but didn’t act right on it bc he is a bad boy and bad boys don’t fall in love sucks so much :((

You know what, I'm glad I got that message across because I wrote that at midnight in one sitting and listened to a borderline-angsty song so I could barely tell if it was coherent or not 😭😭

I wanna come up with s funny reply to this but honestly, that fic was ripped out of deep moment I was having about labels and validity of emotions and self-love and toxicity.

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO MAKE A FUNNY-FUNNY-HA-HA ABOUT THAT.

But it's really amazing to hear your thoughts and that you've gone back to read it even after a year, it makes me feel so happy 🥺🥺 (but it also makes me wanna give you a hug ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ)

[couchpotatoaniki]

I m so happy you have posted , i remember reading namjoon version when it came out .

You have done a great job describing a relationship with a narcissistic , i had to take a break while reading cause it was very intense 😓

I m looking forward to read the other members versions

Take your time and take care of yourself 🤍

Thank you so much! I was trying to raise awareness of narcissistis behaviour so I'm really glad that message got across (sorry about the intensity, but then again it's Yandere, so I go hard or go home 😂😂)

I very much look forward to writing the other members, I have their whole personality and Yandere Type planned out so hopefully, they'll be released sooner than a year 😅😅

Seriously tho, thank you so much and I really appreciate you reaching out 🥺🥺 I'll do my best, and I hope you take care of yourself too! 💜💛💙

[couchpotatoaniki]

I only noticed that tomorrow is the 1 year anniversary of me posting SFAU: Yandere!Namjoon and I've only *just* posted Yandere!Seokjin.

I am ashamed 😔😔😔

...NOW TO GO ONTO YUNHO AND YOONGI--

[couchpotatoaniki]

Stories From Alternate Universes: Yandere!Seokjin

To understand the storyline of Dr Gertrude, please read the Stories From Alternate Universes; BTS Version (headcannon masterlist).

To understand the Yandere storyline, please read the Seven Yandere Stories From An Alternate Universe (Yandere!BTS headcannon masterlist)

Warnings: yandere behaviour, mental health issues, narcissism, swearing, stalking, brainwashing, violence, sexual harassment (kissing), emotional/verbal abuse, fear/threat of violence, cliffhanger

Word count: 4k+ (not including Doctor’s Notes)

A/N: This one hits slightly close to home, since there are traits which stem from some people I used to know. Dealing with a narcissist (especially in the romantic aspect or as family) is scary business and certainly no joke--it often feels like a trap you can’t escape from, especially since you don’t really know what’s happening until a good deal of damage is done and leaving is hard. Though I can’t really give much advise from a personal perspective, I can definitely recommend you watch Dr Ramani on YouTube. Her videos have helped those in my life who have dealt with narcissists so I suggest you have a look through. I am in no way romanticising toxic and yandere behaviour that is shown. Please, don’t treat people this way and if you find yourself stuck in something like this, the first step is telling someone you trust--someone who cares for your long-term happiness.

Doctor’s Notes:

Out of my seven case studies, Kim Seokjin is one of two people who will isolate his victim, a trait that stems from his delusional mind. A few notable behaviours and characteristics while studying him are as follows:

He wants his victim to himself, no one else, and does this not necessarily through violence, but through repetition of thoughts and beliefs

Faces many insecurities, so will push them onto his victim to make them believe they have these insecurities instead

To cure said ‘insecurities’ in his victim, I found that he believes only he can--in a sense--’purify’ them with what he believes is love

In an attempt to get closer to the victim, he will begin to alter their memories through constant repetition--effectively brainwashing which has very negative side-effects

This previous point is so that the victim begins to change their actions and thoughts, making it much easier for them to integrate into his life--where he believes he can keep them forever

Brainwashing, although is mainly used on his victim, is used on himself as well--from what I have observed, it acts like a coping mechanism of sorts

Self-brainwashing includes removing violent memories, memories of rejection, or any other memories that bring about unpleasant emotions

Believes his victims are more deluded than he is, and attempts to ‘save’ them by keeping them away from any outside influence

Appointed Nickname: The Mad

For more detailed information of His Story, continue reading

His Story:

Since he was a child, Seokjin was gifted with beauty. He looked good no matter what he was doing, what pose he pulled, and the ease that came with it meant that he was more drawn towards modelling.

Sure, on his rise to fame, his ever-growing ego had a feast from all the compliments but all things must crumble under the watchful gaze and scrutinising remarks of strangers. What was he to do? Listen and destroy himself or ignore it?

Obviously, the pride in him cooed the kindest words, bandaged up his wounds like a mother would. He needed no one but himself--listened to no one but himself.

And maybe his agent on occasions.

But mainly himself.

Then along came you.

Lazy, laid-back, dressed-in-rags you.

A stand-in for the photographer who had a last-minute family emergency. Something about his wife being in labour...? But who cares. It was Seokjin’s shoot so he wasn’t happy with getting anything less than perfection.

Simply the idea of a stand-in sent alarms off in his head, that you were sub-par and wouldn’t do his unblemished skin and glorious bone structure the justice it deserves.

He gave you hell for it. Sneering at you the moment the lens was pointing anywhere but him, stealing your coffee cups, barging into you intentionally--hard enough to make you lose your footing but not enough to knock you over.

It was never enough to knock you over.

Why wouldn’t you just knock over?

The few agonising days of shooting were over, and you sent the pictures to his agent to be approved of before you officially sent them over to whatever magazine he was starring in. You didn’t care enough to ask, wanting him and his business to be the past so you could continue your free-lance photography.

Of which Seokjin found out about, of course. Funny what a quick Google search of your name could do. It added to why he was so unpleased with you. But once he saw what your magical camera did to him, he was... slightly impressed.

How your particular lens could make him look even more ethereal, bring out more of his natural beauty than any other, he couldn’t understand what set you apart out from everyone else.

He got his agent to pull a few strings to find out where you came from--why you were the stand-in. Turns out, you were just helping out the original photographer as an old friend of his. And for that exact reason, he saw you again with that God-given camera of yours.

Some pretentious gala for New Years, where all the celebs would mingle and pretend they didn’t just make a sarcastic jab at whoever they were speaking to.

And there you were again. Still had those bags under your eyes. Still had that disinterested stare that never seemed to focus on anything. Still dressed in those tattered-looking clothes that look like they were made at least a decade ago.

Eventually, when he was ready, he made his way over to you, thinking he could perhaps... fix you?

The closer he got, the more potential he realised you had. Just covered in too many flaws.

But despite his generosity of gracing you with his presence, you didn’t seem to care. In fact, you were almost irritated by it. Now that kind of disrespect just won’t do. And why would you act in such a way? It’s not like he’s done anything bad to you--not anything he can remember at the moment...

So he does his best to trap you with him for the next shoot--and he is very much successful in that. This time, he asked less people to be there so he could have more privacy to verbally dissect you with his questions. Some general, some more in-depth. All of which you reply with simplicity, not giving away too much while you were just trying to do your damn job.

But there were some things he could go off of (our social media didn’t give much away either since it was all about your work). Single child, self-employed with a few side-gigs here and there, owner of two cats--now that he could possibly use since he has a cat of his own.

And that was it. The cat.

He showed a few pictures of his darling little Siamese, Reggie, and there it was--the slightly wider eyes, more focused gaze, slightly titled head as he showed more pictures.

Standing there so close to him gave him the opportunity to catch your faint scent. Like fresh rain and forest berries. Only, you moved away too quickly for him to revel any longer than a mere second. Too short to savour something so addictive--something he caught his thoughts drifting off to that night, replaying the same scene in his head over and over and over again.

How could he lock away that memory, preserve it like a flower encased in ice, without it fading? How could he keep smelling that scent without it fading away?

The thought of never smelling that beautiful scent the moment he woke up, the moment he slept, every moment he breathed--that broke something in him. He had to have you.

Besides, why wouldn’t you accept his proposal? He was your saviour, the person who could bring out the best in you and banish those flaws surrounding you. It was a win-win.

For the next few months, Seokjin orchestrated meetings between you, some though his agent in the form of more shoots (you couldn’t really say no since the pay couldn’t hurt even if spending time with him mentally did) and some though “coincidences” like ‘bumping’ into your go-to supermarket or closest park to your apartment or favourite café.

Private investigators are truly a God-send.

In the beginning, you were more than uncomfortable seeing him around so much to the point you began to avoid those places. Tut tut tut, did you really think it was that easy to get rid of him? He was still confused as to why you were so unnerved by his friendliness, no longer remembering how he treated you when you first met.

The more you tried to avoid him, the more you saw him, until you were exhausted to the point of accepting your current situation. Yes, it’s weird having Seokjin being there every time you decide to leave your house, but this was getting ridiculous and despite your love for sleep, you were getting sick and tired of being locked up in the house and spending money on petrol to hid around town.

So, the two of you became friends. Or that’s what Seokjin believed while you were simply humouring him until he gets bored and leaves you alone. It’s not like you were unaware of his strange fascination with you, but you’ve dealt with worse figures and he seemed harmless.

How wrong you were...

He pointed things out about you like the acne on your skin (it was just a spot on your cheek) and the worn-out fabric of your clothes despite the cold (you felt warm when you left the house that day), and though you often got annoyed at him pointing out and exaggerating things about you, it was admittedly nice how he gifted you things to help with it. A man who’s occupation required him to look good, he used all the best products and wore expensive brands, so his gifts were actually helpful.

However, it did take a while for you to be completely comfortable with accepting such expensive things, but one thing you had learned about Seokjin is that he was nothing if not relentless.

As time passed, you grew to accept his criticisms and help since they had actually seemed to be true. Yes, he was still as clingy as ever, but some sense of compassion within you grew for the man. He seemed so alone, maybe he just needed a friend.

That was your theory, until he asked you on a date.

Food lodged in your throat, your fist pounding at your chest to get some air into it. “Sorry, what?” you coughed.

Seokjin frowned at the brash way you hit your body--choking or not, you should at least have a bit more grace than that. But more so than that, he was upset of you initial reaction to his statement. “Ready for our date tonight?”

“What?” The corner of your lips quirked up a little, brows furrowed to show exactly how perplexed you were without being unkind. “Could you repeat that?”

His head tilted to the side, looking confused. “Why should I? You said you were free last week and could do tonight.”

Eyes narrowing, you wracked your brain for any memory of the sort. “No, I don’t think I said that last week. Hell, you didn’t even ask me out last week.” You kept your voice low, afraid of any passer-bys eavesdropping on your conversation.

The two of you were sat on a random bench in your favourite park, your daily walks were now accompanied by him ever since he started popping up several months ago. Deciding it was time to take a break, Seokjin found the most ‘appropriate’ bench under the shade of a rather tall oak and tugged you along. He sprung that question on you while you were mid-granola bar.

“Yes, I did. It was Tuesday, we just finished up at our shoot--you had that beige jacket I bought you in one hand and a vanilla latte in the other--and I asked you when I walked you to your car. I remember it as clear as day.” His eyes looked hurt as he said, “don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Uh...” You tried to think back to that day, no longer surprised by his detailed recollection since you were used to his freakishly good memory by now. But you could barely remember that evening, nevermind a conversation you had when the only thing on your mind was a nap, but you doubted you would’ve agreed to it anyway. “Sorry, Seokjin, but I don’t recall you ever asking me that. I... I must’ve been frazzled or... something.”

He sighed, clearly disappointed in you--and although he was a great actor, he didn’t seem like he was faking this at all. Because in his mind, that conversation really did happen--even if it didn’t. He couldn’t ask you with the risk of rejection, so his brain simply overwrote what happened that day as a... coping mechanism of sorts. You, however, weren’t aware of this--how could you be?

“What should I do now? Booked the reservation and everything...” he muttered, eyes fixed in this hands which twiddled with the hem of his sweater. It was a sign of discomfort and vulnerability you weren’t familiar with, so this display had rattled you a little.

In a rush to try to spare his feelings, you offered him something else. “Why don’t we still go? As friends?”

His sharp glance of sadness at your face told you it was the wrong thing to say. “Wouldn’t be the same. I had it all set up for date-date for you and I--not a friend-date. Nevermind...”

He moved to stand, acting as if your mere presence burned his heart so in a state of panic and guilt, you blurted out, “okay, we’ll treat it as a date-date!” His head spun fast enough to make you think it might fly clean off his shoulders. Catching on before he thought anything different, you added, “but only this once.”

“Again,” he stood up, ready to leave you to deal with the aftermath of whatever this conversation was, “you wouldn’t be putting any feeling into it so there isn’t a point...”

As you watched his form begin to retreat, your hand shot out to grab his wrist. “I’ll try... I can’t guarantee anything but I’ll try to see you in that way just this once--that’s all you can ask of me at this point.”

“... Deal.”

It was not just that once.

Seokjin certainly had a serpent's tongue on him, the ability to convince you to another ‘date-date’ came too easy for him for it to be human. The first date, he took you to a restaurant near a beach for a candle-lit dinner, ending the night with ice cream and a walk in the moonlight. By now, you were used to his obvious displays of wealth yet the nature of this had you more uncomfortable than the first time--as if he expected you to be impressed by how much money he made, as if he expected you to fall into his arms and love you because of it, just like everyone else had.

And yet, with each date he forced upon you, you grew more and more resistant to him, to this--whatever ‘this’ was.

Came up with ways to avoid meeting him after it got to a point where you were more than uneasy; he tried to kiss you on your fourth ‘date’, but you swerved out of the way just in time while using pandas in the zoo you were at as a distraction. Sometimes you were ill, sometimes you were busy with work. But with every excuse, he grew suspicious. In retaliation, he made it harder and harder to avoid him as he kept showing up at your house (how did he know where you lived?) and the places you were supposed to have worked, just to ‘check in’ and ‘see how things were going’.

You tried to brush it off as his usual clinginess, but there was a nagging thought at the back of your mind that suggested otherwise.

Then his normal comments about how you presented yourself grow more insulting the longer you avoided him. No longer about your skincare and clothes, but about how you trampled on his heart when all he has done his love you--and though you never particularly cared for how you were perceived by him, but his incessant verbal harassment was close to bringing you to your knees.

Hardly having the energy to fight back after facing such behaviour for a number for a number of months, you thought it would have been better just to give in. It’ll make him stop, right? And Seokjin did--he stopped for a bit, noting your complacency, so he rewarded you for it.

There’s a term for it, you were sure.

Love-bombing.

He showered you with gifts you no longer had the energy to refuse, kisses you no longer had the energy to dodge, affection you no longer had the energy to shield yourself again.

He kept saying that it wasn’t so bad now that you weren’t resisting, and the more he said it, the more you started to believe him too. Sure, you couldn’t breathe in this suffocated atmosphere that was Seokjin, but you weren’t tired anymore. You could reserve your energy for other things like work. You just had to accept he was there in your life forever.

There were, no doubt, blips here and there. Sides of the man you thought you knew surfacing once you had moved in with him (he wouldn’t let it go until you did, and you were so exhausted). You began to notice certain tendencies that often appear out-of-the-blue--throwing things, slamming doors, yelling out of nowhere. He’d never hit you, not when he loved your body almost as much as his own.

Yet, that was still not the reason you were so terrified of him.

It was his behaviour afterwards; as if at the flick of a switch, he pretended as if everything was alright after one  of his ‘episodes’. In fact, you had begun to realise something--he never remembered he did anything. Either his memory was altered or wiped al together, like a hallucination or black-out.

“Tell me something, baby.”

Humming in response, your gaze moved from the crossword puzzle over to Seokjin. He had that clench in his jaw that told you nothing good, despite his lax body sat next to you on the sofa.

He turned his phone off, throwing it to the side haphazardly, and turned to you. “You love me, right?” he asked, hand rubbing up and down your thigh in a seemingly comforting gesture.

“Yes,” you recited, already used to this question popping up constantly and uttering the right answer to go with it. But the familiar churning of your gut told you that this wasn’t all.

“I’m the only person allowed to love you... right?”

“Right...”

“So tell me,” his tongue ran along his bottom lip, as if trying to smooth out the words before they left it, “why do you let that coworker of yours love you? Is my own not enough for you?”

The image of a fellow photographer that you were paired up with--Yeonjun, his name is--popped up in your head, since it was the only coworker you had. He was friendly and nice, not too bad of a person to work with on this collaborative project you were currently doing.

You had a faint idea this would come sooner or later, since Seokjin’s irrationality was something you were somewhat familiar in dealing with by this point. And yet, you still couldn’t fully believe he was really saying this. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know--what with all the side-glances he gives you and offering to hang out during breaks. Not to mention how he get’s a bit too touchy-feely.”

You were no idiot; Yeonjun’s affections for you were fairly obvious but so long as he didn’t cross any boundaries you were uncomfortable with. The most he ever did was hug you, even just a gentle nudge with his elbow when he made a joke (admittedly, he was funny). He acted as if you were friends, and any feelings he had beyond that was something he never burdened you with so you never said anything.

“He’s just being nice.”

“Nice is one way to put it.”

Sighing, you rolled your eyes to land back to the puzzle in front of you--already seeing this as a waste of time.

“Don’t do that--it’s rude,” he chastised you, fingers curling around your chin to rip your face towards him again. “Tell me, why do you let him?”

“His feelings are his own,” you said, lips slightly puckered with how he was holding you. “They’re not my responsibility...”

“So you like his affections?”

“No, that’s not what I--”

His fingers loosen from their grip as he stands, pacing in front of you. This was the build-up.

“That’s not what I mean,” you whisper. Already, you’re aware of the pattern, not wanting to make it worse despite the fact of how it escalates too fast for you to really do much damage control.  First, the pacing. Then, the swearing. Next, the stillness. Last, the aggressive displays.

“What do you mean? If I was enough for you, then why do you let him be like that?!” His hands gesture around to add emphasis and there is always that involuntary fear that creeps up your throat.

“It’s not as if I can control how he feels...”

“But you can put an end to it so why haven’t you fucking done that already?!”

Your eyes squeeze shut briefly. The swearing.

“It’s not that simple--”

“The fuck it isn’t ‘simple’. Just tell the bastard to fuck off.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Seokjin’s body froze to a stop right in front of you. His large hands now tucked inside his grey sweatpants, his eyes don’t move from yours--unblinking, his chest not rising and falling with breath. The stillness.

“Your ‘best’,” he sneers, voice cold and detached, “isn’t good enough. It’s never good enough.” He leans closer, thumb brushing against your flushed cheek while you try to prevent the bile burning your throat from coming up even more.

Moments pass, and he takes a few steps back. Gives you a bit of room to breathe but not for long. It’s the calm before the storm and by this point there’s nothing stopping the final stage from reaching its climax. Nothing you say will stop him, and yet you still try.

“Okay.”

He blinks a few times. “That’s it?” his voice raises. “‘Okay’ is all you have to say? Looks like our little photographer's already done a number on your heart.” His teeth are bared and clenched in a terrifying smile, white as your knuckles have now become as you clutch the crinkling paper, puzzle forgotten.

Seokjin grabs his phone and throws it against the wall, hard enough for the cracking of the screen to ring through the air, louder than his cursing yell. The condition of the phone gets even worse when it hits the hardwood floor, shattering even more but that doesn’t seem to phase him.

 In fact, his tense shoulders relax almost immediately; yours, on the other hand, are locked up--as is the rest of your body, and it’ll remain in this state until your deep in sleep. So deep, even your body isn’t aware of the man cradling you from behind.

Huffing, he sits down beside you. “You know what, I’ll just tell him. The disgusting thing about men is that they can’t take the hint when a girl doesn’t want them until someone else tell them.” The irony doesn’t slip past you, but you’re too busy focusing on extinguishing the flames of fear that burns your blood.

He pats his pants as if feeling for something. “Hey,” he says, his voice back to normal without any malice behind it. A switch flicked. “have you seen my ph--” His eyes scan the room, landing on the damaged item he was looking for.

“Oh god,” he muttered, retrieving it to assess his destruction. The screen lit up, showing cracks covering every inch. Barely even readable, the touchscreen no longer functioning. “How did you end up like this?” He looks at it once more before placing it on the table beside me. “Looks like I’ll have to get a new phone. Do you want another one? Yours is a bit old.”

“Whatever you think is best,” you utter, not meeting his gaze.

“New phone for both of us it is.” He presses a kiss to your cheek before bringing you into the nook between his arm and torso. “I was thinking we could get the ones I did the ad for...”

Seokjin continues on the conversation as if the last few minutes never happened, talking about exciting things that happened during that shoot, then the shoot he’s currently doing now.

Tears clog your eyes, unable to see much of your surroundings but you continue on the conversation. You’re in a position where he can’t see your face, but if he did, it’d be like all the other times.

Whispers in your ear of how he was just trying to save you from your mistakes, how you’ll always have him to fix you when you slip up. Always.

Years pass by, with very much the same song-and-dance, slowly driving you insane. That little spark of fear never really died away, but it also never grew more than that. Unable to predict his mood always had you on edge, and the whiplash you would get from his behaviour made you jumpy.

Weary of the next little thing that made him snap.

He ground into you that you needed him. That he’d always have you, no matter what you did. It was like a constant knocking on the door and when someone knocks on the door enough times, eventually you answer it.

With how Seokjin was, you became secluded, afraid of any sort of contact you having would trigger that switch.

By isolating you, by having such a hold on your actions and feelings, he erased your exit. Now, it felt almost impossible to leave.

Almost.

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