#but you realize that maybe you were idolizing that past version of yourself that never really existed

[unfinishedslurs]

do u love the colors of the comphet

When it’s over, when Henry Creel is dead and dust and they’ve emerged battered and triumphant. When she and Jonathan have ended things. When there is no more fighting to be done, she and Steve give it another go. 

She knows he’s going to ask the same way she knew in ‘83. There’s no waiting this time, no need to wonder if Jonathan might want her too. They gave it the old college try (He lied to her. He was lying to her for months, and she knew something was wrong before that. She thought they could work it out. She’s so fucking sick of lying to herself being lied to). 

He asks with wide, hopeful eyes, running a nervous hand through his hair. He doesn’t have anything to be nervous about. She made up her mind before he even asked. 

She can do it right this time. She can love this boy the way she wants to. The way he wants her to. They’ve both grown in the years since. She’s going to do this right. 

That’s the mantra she keeps in her head when he picks her up and spins her. I can do this. 

She can’t do this. 

It’s somehow the same and different from when they dated the first time. They’re going through the same motions, but there’s something lacking. They’re both older, more jaded. They’re not kids anymore, and it shows. 

They rarely kiss. He hesitates now in a way he didn’t before. Sex is something they don’t bring up at all. Eddie makes a crude joke once, something or other about what Nancy is like in bed, and she and Steve make eye contact. There’s something there, something like mutual understanding, before Robin smacks Eddie upside the back of the head and the moment breaks. She keeps thinking about it long after. Whatever it is that they shared, they don’t talk about it. 

Maybe they’re lying to themselves, both of them. Puppets going through the motions, too stubborn to admit they’re play acting as real people. Still, she can’t give this up. She can’t make the same mistakes all over again. 

Robin corners her two months into the relationship. Part of Nancy is surprised it took her this long. The rest of her is angry she brings it up at all. 

Saying she’s cornered might be doing her a disservice. They’re having a sleepover, painting their nails and talking about boys. Everything a girl is supposed to do. Except Robin is awkward and fumbling, and every name she brings up sounds like a question. Nancy only has Steve to talk about, and barely talks about him at all. 

Finally Robin sighs and puts down the nail polish. “I feel like this subject is making us both miserable,” she declares. “I don’t want to talk about boys, I was just doing it because I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do at girl sleepovers. I haven’t actually been to a sleepover since I was in middle school and the other girls decided I was weird, but I’m pretty sure the point is to have fun. This is not fun. This is agonizing. We should talk about something else.”

“Steve isn’t making me miserable!” She snaps, before realizing she sounds way too defensive. 

Robin peers at her. “Yeah, see, that’s not what I said. That’s not even a little bit close to what I said. Maybe we should talk about this instead. What’s the deal with you and Steve?”

“What deal? There’s no deal.” She turns around and rummages through the nail polish selection. Robin doesn’t exactly have a variety. Her options are red, dark red, and black. She chooses the brighter red with the absent thought that the black would look good on Robin, with her long fingers and dark eyeliner. Then she banishes that thought away. 

“There’s definitely some kind of deal.”

“There isn’t.”

“Nance.” 

She can’t help but turn around then, drawn in by the tone of her voice. There’s a glass wall inside of her, and someone is pounding on it, trying to get out. She wants Robin to see it. She wants someone to see behind the glass. There’s something in her trying to get out. 

“Nancy,” she says again, eyes searing into her soul, “are you happy?”

She smiles, fake and fixed on her face. The glass stays firmly in place.  “Of course I am,” she replies. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The next time Robin wants to hang out, she’s busy with college preparations. 

It’s not just Robin. She thinks everyone can tell something’s wrong with her. Eddie gives her these looks every time she and Steve are in front of him, like he’s putting together a puzzle. Her mom keeps trying to talk to her. Jonathan keeps trying to talk to her. 

They know, she thinks wildly, every time. She doesn’t know what it is they know. She doesn’t want to find out. 

She avoids them all. 

When she and Steve go to dinner, the waitress captivates her. 

Long, dark hair in braids. Long fingers tapping against the notepad. Dark eyes in a dark face. She’s always loved brown eyes. Nancy has never been one to be jealous of other girls (lie, lie, lie), but suddenly heat floods her body. She wants to be as gorgeous as this woman. She wants her full lips, popping gum. She wants the woman’s swaying hips as she turns and leaves their table. She wants— she wants—

She tears her gaze away to find Steve already looking at her. 

The heat is dosed by the ice that fills her veins. All her senses go on high alert until she realizes he’s actually staring past her. She turns around to see the bartender. He’s handsome, she thinks, tall with tan skin and brown hair carefully styled. He’s talking to a customer, teeth shining as he laughs. 

When she turns back, Steve has firmly fixed his eyes on her. She could almost believe he’d never been staring at the bartender at all. 

There’s something there. Something just out of reach, something she could put a finger out and touch if she were braver. She doesn’t. There’s no gun in her hand here, no adrenaline to keep her going after it all falls apart. 

“What did your dumb boyfriend do this time?” Mike demands, storming in her room. Nancy has half a mind to yell at him to knock first before she registers his words. 

“Steve is- Steve is fine,” she says, startled. “He’s great, actually. Nothings wrong.“

“Then why are you so miserable all the time?” Mike accuses. 

“I am not miserable!”

“You are! You both are, and neither of you will tell anyone what’s wrong, or why-“

“I don’t know why!” She shrieks. Mike falls silent, eyes wide, and Nancy suddenly realizes she’s crying. 

“I don’t know why,” she repeats. “Everything is fine. He’s like, the perfect fucking boyfriend. It’s me, I’m the problem. There’s something wrong with me. There’s a beautiful boy who loves me, and I’m- I’m trying. I’m trying so hard to love him back, but I can’t. I can’t. There’s something wrong with me.” She’s desperate now, wiping away tears as she curls into a ball. She feels pathetic, crying in front of her little brother. She’s the oldest, she should be keeping it together, she shouldn’t let him see her like this. But she can’t help it. There’s something in her screaming to get out. 

Mike, with all the grace and bewilderment of a newborn deer, gingerly pats her shoulder. 

“Have you…talked to Steve about it?”

She gives him a cutting look. It’s probably not as effective as she wants it to be, with her red eyes and tear streaked face. Mike holds his hands up. 

“I’m just saying! He’s your boyfriend, you should talk to him. And if you don’t want him to be your boyfriend, you should really talk to him.”

“I want him to be my boyfriend, I just need to get past whatever this is—“

“Nancy,” Mike says. “It’s not just you. He’s miserable too.”

“Because of me. I just need to—“

Mike shakes his head. “I don’t think it is. If it were because of you, he’d be acting different. More…kicked puppy, or whatever. He’s just being weird,  and won’t tell anyone why. Dustin said he asked Robin, and she doesn’t even know.”

Nancy doesn’t have anything to say to that. 

“I think you need to talk to him,” he says again. “I think you need to talk to each other.”

“When did you get so smart?” She asks, instead of crying again. 

“I’ve always been smarter than you.”

She kicks him for that blatant lie.

“Are we holding onto a dead thing?” She asks out loud. 

He rolls over and looks at her. She’s worried she’s hurt his feelings, broken his heart again, killed any chance they have at a relationship, romantic or not. Then he snorts. 

“Robin got to you too, huh?” He asks, flopping back onto his back to look up at the sky. 

“Mike, actually.”

“Mike? That shithead? What does he know about relationship problems?”

“Are we having relationship problems?”

“I mean,” he says, wry twist to his mouth, “we haven’t had any arguments.”

“Nope.”

“Or general drama.”

“That might be debatable.”

“There’s no need to spice up our sex life.”

She snacks him for that one, and he laughs. She props herself up to look him in the eye. His face is more open than she’s seen it the entire time they’ve been dating. 

“I think you have to be in a relationship to have ‘relationship problems,’” she tells him. “Are we in a relationship?”

He visibly considers this. “I mean, I asked you out, and you said yes. And we never broke up.”

“We haven’t kissed in at least two weeks.”

“Did you want to?”

She takes a moment to think about it. “Not really,” she admits, and his face splits into a grin. 

“Not that you’re not still wonderful, Nancy Wheeler,” he says, teeth shining, “but I don’t think I want to kiss you either. Isn’t that weird?”

When they dated in high school, it was like he couldn’t stand being away from her. He spent every moment he could kissing her, wherever he could. Sometimes it felt almost like a performance he put on for the people around them, lifting her up and spinning her just so everyone would know how in love they were. It was stifling at times, feeling like something to prove. Still, it was how he was, so in love he could burst with it. 

Now, she wonders if it was always a performance. Maybe they’ve both been on a stage, and neither of them noticed the lights blinding them until now. 

“It is a little weird,” she says finally.

“Right?!”

He holds out a hand to shake, the other one firmly in his pocket. God, she wishes she could love him. “Good go, eh Wheeler?” He asks, smile crooked and shaky. 

She snorts. “We made ourselves and everyone around us miserable,” she points out. But she takes his hand. 

[moonlightdreamzz]

THIN APOLOGIES / PART 1

SUMMARY ✰ Mark is your boyfriend, and Vernon is your best friend. You're sick of Mark not treating you right, and Vernon is too. He's also sick of watching from the sidelines when he knows no one can make you happier than him.

PAIRING ✰ Idol!Mark x Idol!Reader x Idol!Vernon

GENRE ✰ ANGST & FLUFF

NOTE ✰ This is actually the first story I ever wrote in my entire life three years ago. It’s my baby. I said to myself, I should rewrite this because the original version was written like the beginner I was at the time. I hope you all enjoy. It’s so good.

© moonlightdreamzz

Blonde by Frank Ocean has been playing on loop for hours over your speakers. For what seems like days, your gaze has been fixed on the candle blazing in front of you. There are numerous reasons why you can't take your eyes off its flame—the first being that if you do, you'll be forced to see all of the decorations and food you prepared for Mark, who has decided for the third time in a row that you aren't important enough to show up for. All of his favorite things are strewn throughout your living room, unused.

The second reason you can't tear your gaze away from the flame is that you're intrigued. The lavender-scented wax is nearing the end of its life after being used for so long. What happens when there’s none left? Does the flame die peacefully? Or does the jar burn and combust, leaving you regretting not extinguishing the flame sooner?

Sick isn't the word to describe how your boyfriend has made you feel over the past few months. You’ve tried to see the positives of his absence right now, but it’s utterly impossible. What could you say to yourself? At least you got ditched in the comfort of your own home this time, Y/N? And not in a restaurant, or a random parking lot his manager drove you to?

Mark always has his excuses of course. His favorite one to use was that you don’t understand the sacrifices it takes to be an idol. When the two of you first began to have issues, you took those words to heart. You know how much he’s sacrificed to be where he is, and you never wanted him to think you were that girl—the girl who got in a relationship with an idol and acted like she didn’t know what she was signing up for. As time passed, you realized that he was just manipulating you.

He’s so good at it too. Or maybe he’s just an incredibly beautiful man, whose doe eyes could convince anybody that he indeed is a good person—he just doesn’t think sometimes. You just wish he’d understand that you indeed do understand his life, it’s simply his unfulfilled promises that are so incredibly frustrating. Summer Walker once said, “it doesn’t matter how hard I I try, I say it nice, yell it out loud, write it down, I’m tired.” She damn sure was right.

“Why plan a date you can’t come to? Just tell me it’ll be awhile before I’ll see you again.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I thought I could make it.”

Your phone begins vibrating on your coffee table infront of you, interrupting the reflecting that you’re tired of doing anyways. You know it’s Mark, back again with whatever his reason is this time for not showing up. For a second, you consider not picking it up. Maybe if he knew what it felt like to be abandoned, he’d stop doing it to you.

You inhale deeply before picking up the phone, surprised at whose name is popping up.

“Vernon?” You whisper to yourself. You feel a brief burst of happiness before immediately shifting to concern due to the time of night.

You and Vernon have been close friends since debut. Some would say it’s because you two are the English speakers of your group, but you only saw that as a plus in your friendship. In reality, Vernon was a quirky, artsy, adorably curious boy, and you always felt this weird urge to…protect him. You figure he was drawn to how you never judged him, and how open you were about what you referred to as “Vernon’s philosophies”. He got your jokes, and you pretended you understood his. The rest is history.

Laughter escapes your throat, scaring you simultaneously as you can’t remember the last time you genuinely found anything funny. In the midst of your giggles, Vernon begins to FaceTime you, and you don’t hesitate to answer the phone.

You can see through the phone how hard he’s trying to be irritated with you, but you also notice how bad he’s failing at doing so. The corner of his pink lips are twitching, and his hooded eyes are melting along with it as neither of you break virtual eye contact with each other. This only makes you laugh even harder. His flawless features don’t hold long, and he’s smirking boyishly now.

“You really think this is funny, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well you know what I think is funny right now? You’re alone right now.” He jokes.

“Ha ha,” You laugh sarcastically, “Am I really this worthless? Like be honest.” You question, a sad smile naturally creeping onto your features as reality attempts to set back in.

Vernon’s eyes roll aggressively, followed by a deep inhale. You know him. He wants to tell you about yourself, and remind you of all the times you promised him you’d have more confidence, just to end up asking him questions like this in the end. It takes him longer than you expected to find kind words to say to you, but you appreciate the fact that he cares enough to spare you, because he wouldn’t do it for anyone else.

“Don’t ever call yourself worthless. He’s the worthless one. If he can’t see how amazing you are,that’s his problem and you shouldn’t just sit here and take it, Y/N. That’s not even like you.”

“But…I love him.”

“Yeah...that always sucks doesn’t it?” He says, almost as if he’s speaking to himself and not you. “I know it’s late, but how about I come keep you company Y/N?. You deserve to be happy for at least a few hours don’t you think?” He chuckles.

He’s no longer looking directly at you. He’s looking at whatever is below him now. Vernon coming to keep you company isn’t a terrible idea. Right now, you so deeply crave to be around someone who actually cares about you, and he’s a clear candidate.

“Yeah! Let me get dressed and I’ll come pick you up.”

“Do really think I’d let you leave your house at this hour to do anything for me?”

“Well, how else are you gonna get here? You don’t have a car and I know your manager is knocked out.”

His boyish smile returns, and you already know a sarcastic comment is closer than around the corner. “You ever heard of uber?”

Now you’re the one rolling your eyes. Was this okay? I mean, the two of you are only friends, but Dispatch nor fans would care about that if they so happened to be stalking you. Him coming over late could turn into a whole situation that you aren’t in the mood to hear about.

“What if you get caught?” You question, although unconsciously do you begin to tidy up in your living room.

“I didn’t.”

He didn’t? Was he already—

Your doorbell ringing interrupts your thoughts.

“Vernon!” You scream through the phone, so many questions running through your mind.

“Are you going to let me in, or are we gonna hangout from outside the door?” He snickers slyly.

You should have known he was up to no good the moment you couldn't identify where he was from his surroundings. All you saw was darkness, but you imagined he was walking around his neighborhood or simply in the dark, because that was so Vernon.

With precision and quickness, you run to the door and open it. You’re still dolled up; face beat like it’s prom night from the date you should’ve been wrapping up by now. Vernon steps in, and for a second it seems like he’s frozen in place. It’s embarrassing, as you often got reactions like this when you dressed up because without an occasion, you were going to choose sweatpants, a graphic tee, and crocs everytime.

“Woah.” He utters.

“What? You just saw me on the phone, Vernon.” You question amusingly before walking to your kitchen to grab him a water.

“Thank you.” He whispers as he takes it out of your hand. “It’s just…you’re so…ugly.”

You know that he thinks you’re going to hit him immediately, so you wait an extra second before punching him lightly in his stomach.

“Shut up!” You laugh, loudly this time. It’s a rare occurrence these days for anything to unconsume your mind of Mark Lee, but Vernon’s doing that with ease right now. “You stay your ass right there and I’ll be back. I should probably take all this off.” You whisper while pointing to you and all your current glory.

“Take your time.” Vernon utters, no funny business in the room now. His smile is gentle as he nudges you towards your room.

You began walking in slow motion down your hallway. “Oh trust me, I will.” It doesn’t take you long to strip down to your natural state. You remove your clothes first, settling on a gray t-shirt you’ve had for years. If you didn’t have company, you’d stop it at that. You decide on some matching gray pajama shorts. The sight of Mark’s clothes in the drawer pisses you off all over again. As you remove your makeup, you can't help but squeal with delight. The wipes that you bought in replacement of the ones that took way too many to clean your face, was worth the investment.

The final touch is your bonnet, which you slip on your head with ease. Your icy feet drag over the hallway floor, a flood of fatigue washing over you.

“Awe.” Vernon coos when you reappear. In the midst of you getting ready for bed, he carefully placed all of the decorations you left out for Mark out of sight in the kitchen. He really wanted to throw it away, but that wasn’t his decision to make. Netflix is waiting for two of you.

“Don’t awe me.” You plop yourself on the couch so hard you’re pretty sure Vernon levitates for a second. You push the button to recline your seat, shutting your eyes right and leaning your head back with a sigh. “Thank you, Vernon.” You say the second you realize he cleaned up your clutter. The room feels less heavy now that you’re not forced to look at your wasted hard work. You feel his gaze on you, but energetically, you can’t interpret why he’s staring at you. You’ll settle on pity.

“Ah, I haven’t done much. Plus, you’ve always been there for me.”

Your comfort turns into guilt, recalling all the times you haven’t been there for your close friend in the midst of you and Mark’s relationship crashing. “Not like this.” You utter.

“Well, no you haven’t surprised me with a big box of donuts and a new video game,” He chuckles, “But you’ve been there for me. A lot of times unknowingly, if I’m being honest. Your presence alone…does a lot for me—I mean, for people.” He rambles. “Plus, I’m one of a kind, anyways.”

A smile creeps onto your features at him teasing you lovingly. You’re beginning to doze off, which typically makes you stare at things unintentionally. Your target tonight is Vernon, who is sitting extremely close to you right now. Your hand begins to entangle themselves in his locs, causing his eyes to flutter in relaxation.

“Enough about me.” You protest softly, “What’s going on in the life of Hansol, hm?”

“Nothing much,” He whispers, enjoying the feeling of your hands running through his scalp. His eyes are stuck on the ceiling, but you know he’s still listening to you. “I’m like a robot these days. I wake up, go to practice, go back to the dorm, sleep, repeat.”

“Why didn’t eat make the list?”

“Oh yeah, that too. But you know me. If I have to pick between sleeping and eating, I’m picking the first option.”

“Oh I know.” You can’t count on one hand the amount of times you scolded Vernon for sleeping too much, even though you do the same thing the second you get a break from schedules.

“Too much of a good thing, is a bad thing, Vernon.”

“Not everything.” He whispers, seemingly dazed out now. You’re ceiling wasn’t that interesting. He has something on his mind, but you’re not sure if you want to pick his brain. If he wanted you to know what’s on his mind, he’d say it. At the same time, you’re his right hand woman, and he’ll just have to deal with you being in his business.

Your eyebrows raise in an interrogative fashion. “Give me an example?”

“You.” He says simply. His eyes lock themselves into yours confidently, but you’re unsure how to feel. What was he trying to say? Is he flirting? Is he just being kind? It’s always been so hard for you to understand him when he gets like this.

“What about me?” Is all you can manage. You’re not sure why you’re nervous now, but you are. You hope you’re not making it obvious that his comment has made your breathing unsteady.

“I’m just saying it’s impossible to get tired of you. ‘Too much’ of you,” he air quotes, “would make the world a much better place.”

“You think so?” You question genuinely. “Mark doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Mark is a fucking idiot.” He spits out.

“I’m not gonna disagree.”

“I mean look at everything you did for him today, just for him to not show up?” Vernon begins to frantically point in all directions of your home, including at yourself as well as your kitchen. “What kind of boyfriend doesn’t come home to this?”

Silence is the only thing you can provide right now. One because he’s right, but two, because you’ve never seen Vernon so riled up on your behalf. He was the one always talking you off cliffs, not the other way around.

“Sorry,” He clears his throat. His voice is back to his regular tone now.

“Don’t be. Thank you for caring about me.”

You don’t know why, but you feel a desire to nuzzle into Vernon’s shoulder, so you do. Naturally, he wraps his arm around your shoulder to allow you more comfortability. Maybe it’s wrong, maybe it’s not, but it doesn’t feel wrong being in his arms right now. You know if you consider Mark, you should pull away, but when’s the last time Mark considered you?

“Is this okay?” He questions, his tone a mixture of hope and concern as he’s likely reading your mind right now. He had a knick for that when it came to you.

“It’s okay.” You decide. I mean, who’s going to catch you?

The two of you lay like that for the remainder of the night, watching a movie that Vernon puts on, but you can't concentrate. All you can think of is how you're lying in the arms of another man, your heart fluttering. That isn't supposed to happen. However, your thoughts are brief because you quickly find yourself dozing off in his arms that feel as if they never want to let you go.

It’s the wee hours of the morning when your phone rings, and then vibrates, indicating someone has called and texted you.

You and Vernon sleep through it.

TO BE CONTINUED

© moonlightdreamzz

[sluttyten]

kinda hot though

Yesterday <- || -> Kinktober Masterlist

Day Twenty-Five: Sweat Kink & Public Sex w/ Kun

Words: 3,701

You’re not quite certain when you first realized it was a thing for you. Certainly it wasn’t while you were growing up, not when the boys in class around you reeked of body odor. Not when you were in college either, reporting for the school paper, and the male athletes you interviewed would be drenched with sweat after practice or a workout.

Maybe it was just him, then.

Qian Kun.

There was something magical about his sweat, strange as it may sound.

The first time you met him was when you were covering a piece on the massive NCT 2018 comeback showcase. He was prim and proper, excited and nervous to finally be debuting. He was handsome and cute, and you liked his smile.

Over the next few years, you met him several more times. There were interviews you had with the group, showcases and press conferences. You were happy to land these opportunities, fortunate to get to watch Kun grow not only as a debuted idol, but as a leader, and more importantly as a man. You liked to see how he’d changed each time you met, and each time you found yourself a little more attracted to him.

You built a bit of a camaraderie with Kun (and the other members, too, but mostly with him) over those interviews, and when the day came that you received a job offer from SM Entertainment themselves, you took it.

That they were starting their own magazine should have probably come as a surprise, but it didn’t. They were expanding into yet another form of entertainment, and this one would of course be focused mainly on SM artists. They had top-notch photographers, world-class journalists, editors, social media managers, everything. Somehow, you’d been chosen, possibly because of how closely you’d worked with several of the groups in the past.

Working on this SMagazine (just the working title before the first edition was ever published), you were enjoying yourself.

Basically, the journalists for the magazine were given a fair amount of freedom to decide on their own articles, free roam of the Kwangya building, ample opportunities to interview SM artists, and even decent opportunities to interview artists of other music companies. This was going to be a K-pop focused magazine, but not one filled with gossip and drama. Think of it as the Hallyu version of Rolling Stone, focusing exclusively on the Korean-based music scene, most heavily on the K-pop aspect of that, with a highlight on SM artists.

You took the chance to roam freely around the building, and that is tragically where you awakened the kink you never imagined you would have.

Sweat had always been gross and smelly.

The idea of entering the practice rooms was rather unappealing, but you had plans to write about the long awaited comeback of WayV, and your article writing process was due to begin right there in the practice room.

They were all there, stretching and warming up before practice when you entered the room. Greetings were exchanged, and a simple introduction and explanation about your presence. You take a seat at the back of the room, just observing, working quietly on taking notes. Your eyes follow Kun, and occasionally, you notice him watching you in the mirror as well.

It’s an intense practice. The choreographer pushes them hard, and they all take it well. They only spare you momentary glances before the shirts come off of Ten, YangYang, and Xiaojun. Slowly, the others lose their shirts, all except for Kun. Instead, he gets red-faced, panting as they call for a break. He leans over with his hands on his knees, catching your eye in the mirror.

As the others file out of the room to go use the restroom, to grab something to drink, or to just be free of the room, Kun approaches you.

You can smell his sweat as he sits down beside you, and surprisingly, instead of feeling repulsed, you want to lean in for more.

Kun pats at his forehead with the edge of his sleeve. He just wants to talk about your article, to figure out what exactly the angle you’re working on is, and you do your best to answer him, but that’s difficult when you’re truly so distracted by him, by how handsome he looks right now, by how tantalizingly his sweat mixes with cologne. You can’t look away as a bead of sweat drips down the side of his face.

You can barely compose your thoughts to explain to Kun that you don’t have the idea for your article fully formed yet. The general idea is that it’s about WayV’s comeback, but the exact angle, you’re not positive about.

“Maybe I should write about you.” You face forward, forcing yourself to tear your gaze away from him. “The patient leader. All that you’ve done in preparation for this comeback. Producing music, writing, performing.”

Kun cracks a smile at that, you see it in the mirror. You also see the way that he’s looking at you as he says, “I don’t think I need the ego boost of you writing a whole article just about me.”

“No?”

He leans back now, his shoulder bumping against yours. “No. Though, maybe it wouldn’t be such an ego boost. The others would all rip me a new one about it. Tease me to hell and back.”

“Maybe I’ll just ask you all about that stuff for my own interest then.” You turn your head back to face Kun, and you knew he was sitting close, but it still surprises you how close he is. Close enough that you can see each individual eyelash, his pores, the stubble on his upper lip. “Because I am interested.”

Kun cocks an eyebrow at that. “You are?”

“Very much.” You can’t stop yourself from bringing a hand up, sliding your finger along the side of his face, along the trail left by his sweat.

At that moment, the door into the room bursts open again. You jerk your hand back to your lap, and Kun twitches, his hand slipping over, fingertips brushing your thigh. He looks over towards the door, towards the members that are coming back inside.

“Meet me later. After practice.” Kun murmurs out of the corner of his mouth. “Do you run? I go for a nightly jog; we can talk then about our… interests.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Before their choreographer calls practice back in session, and before any of the others can come over to eavesdrop or interrupt, Kun gives you the location to meet him and the time.

You sit through the rest of their practice, but you can’t focus anymore, and it’s not like there’s a whole lot here to take notes on for the article. It’s mostly you just watching, trying not to just stare at Kun rolling his hips and running around the room sweating.

You excuse yourself a little early, taking the opportunity to go cool off before your jog later.

It’s late when you go meet Kun for the jog. The night is warm and dark, but he smiles brightly when you step up beneath the streetlight where he told you to meet.

“You came.” He pushes away from the streetlight. “Ready?”

Jogging is not something that you regularly do, and you warn Kun of that before you take off.

“We’ll take it slow, then,” he promises.

So, although it’s been a while since you last went for a run, it doesn’t actually take you long to fall into the rhythm of it. Whether or not Kun slows his usual pace to match yours, you don’t know, but he does keep even with you as you run together along the pathways beside the river.

Talking while you jog isn’t very easy, but you both manage. You do actually talk about Kun, what his position as a leader has been like over this temporary inactivity of his unit of NCT. You talk about his skills producing and the other fun things he’s been doing—skydiving and learning to fly a plane among them—as well as him being an advocate for his group.

He asks you questions about yourself too, of course. When your passion for writing began, what kind of places you’ve worked or traveled to for work, your favorite type of thing to write. And more, Kun asks you about you, more personal questions than just about your career.

The warm night air clings a little more once you really get the blood pumping during the jog, and soon you’re feeling quite damp. Perspiration glistens beneath your clothes, not necessarily to the point of actually sweating, but close enough to it that you begin to feel very gross. The same can’t be said for Kun.

When Kun finally stops after about two miles, you slump against the low wall beside him that runs between this path and a street on the other side.

You do your best to catch your breath, and Kun stretches a little, shaking his arms and running his fingers through his hair.

As a car passes by on the street behind you, Kun’s face is illuminated by the beams of its headlights.

He’s so sweaty.

Shiny and dripping. His cheeks are stained pink from the exertion.

Kun straightens up and looks over at you as another car passes by. He’s really sweaty, you watch as a bead runs down alongside his nose to his lips. He licks his lips and wipes at one side of his face.

“Sorry,” he offers you a smile, “I’m all sweaty. Bet you got enough of that earlier, and now I’m subjecting you to it again.”

You shake your head. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

In fact you quite like it.

“It’s kinda hot,” You admit, to Kun’s surprise. “Like, everything about you is, but I think I like you sweaty.”

He pushes his fingers through his damp hair again, watching you for a moment before something seemingly clicks, Kun’s mind made up. He reaches over, taking your hand, and he starts walking. “Come with me.”

Kun leads you a bit farther down the running path, to a spot where there are no street lights, just a stretch of darkness, and an even darker spot beneath a walking bridge that crosses over the path.

“Is this what you meant by interested?” Kun asks as he comes to a stop beneath the bridge. “In me? In being with me?”

“I want to have sex with you, if that’s what you’re asking.” You just put it all out there, reaching for his neck, feeling the dampness of his skin against your palm.

Kun just looks right at you, which is something you can feel more than see right now. It’s very dark beneath this walking bridge, hiding you and Kun from sight of any other late night walkers or runners as you lean in, tilting your head to the side.

You’re surprised by your own boldness as you hold out your tongue and lick the side of Kun’s face, from the curve of his jaw up to his hairline, teasing the salty tang of his sweat on your tongue. Kun moans softly, his hands coming around to settle on your waist.

“Gross,” he says, but the whimper and weakness in his voice tells you that he actually likes it.

The taste of Kun’s sweat lingers on your tongue. It’s so warm tonight, the heat penetrating and making the way that your bodies meet feel even hotter. Kun is still sweating, and you feel gross but also incredibly aroused when you bury your nose in his hair and breathe in.

Kun backs you up against the wall of this tunnel beneath the bridge, pinning you between his body and the wall. He turns his head, brushing his lips along your throat, pressing fingers into your hair, dragging your lips down from his forehead to his for the first messy, hot and rushed kiss.

Kissing Kun is great. Your senses are overwhelmed with him. He’s pressed against you in all the right places. His scent is all that fills your nose. The breathy pants and desperate sounds of you kissing paint the night. Kun tastes like sweat and something sweet, like he’d eaten just before he came to meet up for the jog. And when you break the kiss, he’s all you see. Just his warm brown eyes right in front is yours, a bead of sweat making its way down to the bridge of his nose, his lips swollen a tiny bit from the ferocity of kissing him.

You can’t help going back in to kiss him once more, diving into another few moments of heated kissing. When you slide a hand down his back, you can feel the way that Kun’s shirt clings to his sweaty back, and when your fingertips dip down beneath the band of his running shorts, you find it’s like a puddle of sweat. Your fingers spread, slicking his sweat over his skin as your hand explores lower, pushing his shorts down over his ass.

“I wanna have sex, Kun. Need you.” You moan into the kiss, groping his sweaty ass as you lift a leg up to his hip, trying to entice him into fucking you right now.

To your great satisfaction, Kun does exactly that.

He spins you around to face the wall, hands pulling your hips back as he yanks your shorts and underwear down. The fabric pools at your ankles, stretched tight as you spread your legs for Kun to move forward.

His fingers move quickly, sliding right against your entrance. He spits, and you feel the wet heat dripping down to join his fingers, spread around as he uses his spit as lube, pressing the fingers of one hand inside you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you see the shadowy shape of Kun behind you, his hand working over his cock, and you don’t care that you’re not at all prepared to be fucked, you need him inside you now. You reach back, fumbling in the dark as you try to touch his shoulder, instead finding his neck, and you pull him forward against you. His skin is slick beneath your touch, and it’s truly amazing to you that this time yesterday you were basically disgusted by sweat, but there’s just something about Kun that makes you want to drown in his.

His belly and hips and cock press sweaty against your ass, thighs stick against yours, and when his lips meet your neck, all you can do is moan and breathe in the way Kun smells right now. You turn your head to the side, and Kun captures your lips in a kiss, pushing his hips forward against you, grinding against the soft swell of your ass.

You whimper into the kiss, pressing back, wanting and craving and needing more.

Overhead, you hear the rumble and catch a tiny glimmer of light as someone rides a bicycle over the bridge. They pass over you, none the wiser to Kun sliding a hand down over your belly, his hand dipping down to explore between your legs while he continues grinding against your ass. His sticky, sweaty skin clings to yours, some of his sweat dripping over your skin, and you’re going absolutely wild for it, like you feel like you’re losing your mind.

At last when he shifts, pressing his cock down between your cheeks, you moan out so loudly that Kun laughs, covering your mouth with one hand.

“Shh, it’s late but there are still people out.” He leaves the words tucked against the back of your neck. “I’m gonna fuck you now, can you keep quiet?”

That’s not a promise you can make, but you nod regardless. Kun doesn’t move his hand from your mouth, which is wise because as soon as he grinds forward, circling the tip of his cock at your entrance, another whine spills from your tongue. When he actually rolls his hips, his cock sliding right inside you, you swear and reach out for him. One hand covers the hand he’s got over your mouth, the other darts back to hold his hip.

Kun doesn’t go easy on you, and after watching him earlier during their dance practice, you hadn’t wanted him to. You’d seen the powerful snap of his hips reflected in the mirror earlier. You’d imagined on your way home how he would look doing that with you directly in front of him. And now, you’re fortunate enough to be finding out. Asked and answered: fucking fantastic.

The heat of the night grows only more intense and humid there trapped in the space around your bodies. The frenzied activity of Kun’s hips snapping against yours builds the heat both internally and externally, sweat dripping from both of you, the sound of skin on skin echoing off the walls of this short tunnel.

You hear voices carrying on a small breeze, and you know that you should stop, that they might take this path, intending to pass through this tunnel beneath the bridge. You can't get caught with Kun, it would ruin both of you. But you can’t stop either, not now.

Luckily, the voices pass over you, and every time after that that you hear other night walkers or bicyclists, they take the bridge instead of the tunnel beneath. Luckily, Kun’s hand stays firmly over your mouth, muffling all of the sounds you’d falsely promised not to make.

Your heart races as the intensity of the sex rescues it’s peak. You can feel your heartbeat in your bones, in your fingers and your toes. You can barely draw breath because of Kun’s hand clamped over your mouth, and that just raises your pleasure even more, a twisted sense that makes you want to drag his hand down to your throat instead, to feel him choke you as the knot inside your belly finally snaps, your orgasm wracking through you.

Kun follows almost immediately.

He pulls out as you experience the last moments of bliss from your orgasm. Your body clings to him, not wanting to let him go, but then you’re empty, throbbing and pulsing around nothing, just hungry to have his cock in you again.

You spin around and drop to your knees. You ignore the jarring bite of the rocky pathway against your bare knees. All that registers is the slide of Kun’s skin beneath your hands as you grab his hips, the smell of his sweat growing so strong that you feel faint as you bring your mouth to his cock.

Kun can’t see you well in the low light, but he can feel you. The heat of your breath on his cock, the brush of your lips and your tongue as you hold your mouth open.

You feel the movement of his hand over his length, hear the wet sound of him jerking off, and you hear his soft shuddering breaths as he reaches climax.

Kun’s cum lands on your lips, his tip pressed right to the soft skin, spreading like a creamy lip gloss as you reach too for his cock, guiding him into your mouth.

You suck him dry, tongue dipping into the slit as he gushes cum. His hips rock forward, shallow presses of his tip over your tongue to extend his pleasure. You swallow down everything he gives you, savoring the somewhat bitter taste of his cum, the salty taste of his skin on your tongue, and the smell of his sweat when you press yourself as far down on his cock as you can, nose brushing the damp hair at the base of his cock.

You pull off of him gasping for breath, your mouth and chin feeling sticky. Your whole body feels covered in a gross layer of sweat, which is disgusting, but you still feel less grossed-out by Kun. You move in, wiping your face against his sweaty thigh, smearing his cum over his skin, catching your breath while breathing him in.

You lowkey feel like a slut, but it’s okay.

You enjoyed yourself. Kun enjoyed himself.

When you’re back on your feet, he wipes at your mouth and chin, doing his best to clean off the cum before he moves in to kiss you again.

It takes a few more minutes before either of you is ready to pull away from the other.

But this time voices draw near, and you see a flashlight beam cutting through the night, casting shadows on the tunnel wall as they approach.

Quickly, you both pull your shorts back up. Kun takes your hand again, leading you out the other side of the tunnel, away from the people, back along the way that you came.

Your legs feel a tiny bit weak, and you groan as you remember that right now you’re about two miles away from your starting point. And now you still have to run those two miles back.

This is a lot more exercise tonight than you’d originally signed on for.

“Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll make it,” you groan, raking your fingers through your sweaty hair, hoping to tempt a breeze to cool your scalp. There’s no such luck. The night is still and silent now.

“We can do it,” Kun insists. “I promise, it’ll feel so rewarding when we’re finished.”

Two miles. A total of a four mile jog with a break for some intensely hot sex. You do it, but at the finish line, back at the bench beneath the streetlight where you first met Kun tonight, you don’t find a rewarding feeling but rather an overwhelming exhaustion.

“Oh my God,” you groan, slumping down on the bench. Kun collapses beside you as well. It’s too fucking late now, the paths are almost entirely barren. The time on your watch shows it’s nearing three in the morning. As fun as this experience was, you’re absolutely exhausted, and you don’t know if going for a run with Kun again is something that you necessarily need a repeat of.

But the very sweaty athletic sex, that you’ll take another round of, many repeat performances and exhibitions of his stamina.

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man.

              ~~~~We might still be in love, if you were a better man. ~~~~

Taehyung x OC 

Rating 18 +

Angst. 

Implied Infidelity in the past. 

Chapter 1 ~ Walk out the first time. 

"Are you okay?" My mother's soft voice came from behind me and i panicked, hurriedly swiping at the tears that were streaking down my face. Heart pounding, I grabbed a bunch of tissues from the dresser, patting my face down hurriedly , making sure to keep my back to her. 

"I'm fine, Mom." I said , voice surprisingly steady as I turned around to smile weakly at her. She stood near the doorway, a petite woman of fifty with greying hair and too many wrinkles. 

I thought she looked older than she was and i knew I had a part to play in that. Sighing, I tried not to cry more, moving to gently take my son out of her arms. 

He was four years old, fast asleep and smiling sweetly in his slumber. He had downy black hair, feather soft and warm brown eyes. He looked incredibly like his father, the resemblance stunning even though he was so young. I stared at him some more, laying him down on the bed and brushing the hair off his face. 

"Are you sure there is no mistake? Taehyung ssi wouldn't hurt us like this..." My mother said, sounding broken and I felt a pang of sympathy. But also annoyance. 

Us. 

Us....like she had an equal share in the hurt I was feeling.

 I was the one getting a  divorce but my mother made it sound like it was personal to her as well. Like somehow, the fact that she now had to meet her friends and tell them that her daughter was divorced could compare to the pain I was feeling. To the sheer anguish that was filling me.

To be fair though, my mother had loved Taehyung very much. Her favorite son-in-law . My sister's husband had been a mean drunkard who had brought a lot of misery to our family. Taehyung by contrast had been a loving, filial son in law. He had cared deeply for my parents, paid for my father's funeral ( even though the man itself was nothing more than a drunk , cheating fool who had abandoned us )  and he had been the most kind man . 

I swallowed. 

Maybe , you should have forgiven him. Maybe , you shouldn't have divorced him . So, he slept with another woman. Fine.  It was one night... just one night. you should have gotten over it! Was it worth it to spend all these countless nights alone? To break your mother's heart a thousand times over? 

 The funny thing was, i had forgiven him. Maybe right after I had found out. He had stood there, looking shell-shocked and horrified and his eyes had begged me for forgiveness and my heart had cracked , the way it always did whenever I saw him in distress. And when he had looked me in the eye and said, "  I’m sorry,  Jang mi..." I had forgiven him right then and there.

 But it was the forgetting that was hard. The fear that it would happen again. The fear that somehow, I was the reason he strayed. And that kind of fear can be debilitating. For the first three weeks, I'd tried to pretend it hadn't happened. I had tried hard to see him the way I had always seen him but it had been impossible. everytime I saw him, my heart had broken anew. It had been hard but I had to accept that things would never be the same. That I would forever look at him and remember what he’d done. That I would forever wonder if he would do it again. 

So we had done the wise thing. 

At first a break.

 A few days apart to get our head on straight.  Then I’d found a job and I had to move closer to the office to make the commute easy. And then suddenly, I wasn’t seeing him even during the weekends , to spend time as family for our son’s sake. And just like that , a whole year had passed and we  were separated. Only meeting to hand Hoshi over to each other. 

"I'm sorry mother." I said softly. I knew that she blamed me, a whole lot for the separation. 

People with children  didn't leave each other over infidelity in my country. You hit your husband, denied him from your bed maybe but you didn't break up a family over one night of bad decisions. You just didn't .

But for me, it was beyond the act. It was the broken trust, the shock of knowing that some other woman had given him something I couldn't, the fact that he had even wanted it from another woman had been enough for me to crumble on the inside.  

But, none of it mattered now. 

He wanted a divorce. Officially. Wanted to end it for real. 

It was jarring, how badly it shook me. I felt unaccountably lost and confused and disoriented. I couldn't imagine not being Taehyung’s wife , i realized with a stunning sense of self realization.

 Call me irrational, but apparently, I couldn't stop thinking of him as my husband , even after two years. Soon he wouldn't be my husband. 

He would be  my ex -husband. 

i hated that word. 

It had such a plethora of negative connotations to it. When you hear it , you just brace yourself for unpleasantness.

 Because it is unpleasant. A marriage ending, a family breaking, feelings hurt , hearts shattered,  angry words tossed...its all a very unpleasant experience for everyone involved. 

An ex husband was seldom a harbinger of happiness, more often a reminder of choices gone wrong, regrets and wasted time. and I didn’t want to associate Taehyung with a word like that.

Taehyung who was still the kindest, warmest human being I knew. The best father in the world. 

I felt like someone had sucked all the strength out of me.

I didn’t really want to think about the call I’d gotten from Taehyung last night. An appointment with a divorce lawyer.  It had been followed by an apology because apparently, someone in the law firm had let the info leak. And now it was all over the sleazy tabloids that fed on people’s misery. 

It was impossible to escape it too, Taehyung was famous. An idol. And actor. The country's sweetheart. And he was the epitome of perfection. The beautiful, talented actor with an impeccable record of well behavior. 

I knew that literally everyone on the planet thought he was a literal angel. 

 I remembered how much , by contrast, I had been hated when I'd married him.

I could just imagine how much more it would all be this time around. And i wondered if it bothered Taehyung too. Did he perhaps wish he’d never met me

? 

It had been sheer luck that we had met.... 

In fact, if Jimin's  car hadn't broken down right outside our home on that cold December night, I wouldn't have even met Taehyung. A great cosmic shift, somewhere some butterfly flapped its wing a certain way and suddenly, Jimin’s car ran over a thumbtack and his phone was dead so while he tried to fix the damage , Taehyung  just had to knock on our home and I had been the one to open it. 

Boom. That was it. Love at first sight. 

 I had been a high school kid and he had been barely nineteen. Fresh faced and cheerful , the struggling idol from a small company. He hadn't been surrounded by fans or chased by saesangs. He hadn't had security tailing him. No daesangs, BBMAs, or acting awards. No blockbuster movies to his credit , no chart-bursting songs either . 

And I had fallen in love with that version of him. 

The hardworking, talented young man who worked twice as hard as anyone around him. 

 That's right. You've loved him for fifteen years.  So it's understandable that you're upset. Now, maybe you can move on too. Go on a few of those blind dates that Jiyoung is always setting you up on. Go live your life instead of being a zombie. Get a hair cut. Dye your hair red. Do something to get your life in order. 

"I still find it hard to believe that he would want a divorce. Jangmi yah... did you tell him you forgave him? Tell him you wanted to try again..." My mother said again and the distress in her voice was equal parts heartbreaking and exasperating. 

"Mother, I don't want to try again . We aren't married anymore. It's over, whatever it was between us. " 

 Whatever it was. 

How cruel, to have all that love, all that affection  reduced to a phrase like that. 

What a pity. 

"But what about Hoshi? He needs his father..." My mother cried out and I willed myself not to snap. She means well, I thought miserably. 

"He has a father. Taehyung is an excellent father and you know that. Don’t start that again.” 

My mother sighed.

"I still feel that this wouldn’t happen if you tried a little bit. He’s a good boy. Such a good boy and you could never do anyone better. Why are you so full of pride, Jangmi... so prideful...you should be a little humble. Think of the kind of man he is...where would you find a man like that ? And moreover .... Taehyung loves you. i know he does." My mother said stubbornly. 

I sighed, feeling my fingers shake from the effort not to scream. I wasn’t strong enough to have this conversation with her. Not now. Possibly never. Taehyung did  love me. Had never made any effort to hide it. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t. 

And I wanted to yell at my mother she was at least partially to blame for me walking out on Taehyung. 

My father had left us for another woman , when I was twelve. I had seen the toll it had taken on my mother and I just knew that I would never let a man do that to me. My mother had later confided in me that it wasn’t the first time. He had done it before. A lot of times. And my mother had always forgiven him. Let him back into our lives. 

And one night, drunk on soju she had confided between hiccups, ‘ I wish I’d walked out the first time.” 

And that had stuck with me. 

Walk out the first time. 

If he cheats on you , walk out the first time. Don’t stick around waiting for him to do it to you again. Walk out the first time. 

 And so I had. 

“ Should I talk to him? Tell him you’ve changed your mind? “ My mother began and I felt my patience snap.

“No!! Could you just, for the love of God, stay out of this, ma? It’s over. Our marriage is over and it has been over for a long time. A piece of paper doesn’t really change that, does it? Its not my fault you can’t get over it but that’s a you problem. And you need to fix it yourself.  “ I shouted. 

My mother immediately recoiled, eyes shuttering down. 

“Of course. You know the best. Who cares how anyone else feels, right, Jang Mi? You always know best.” She said softly, and I exhaled, shaken. There it was. The guilt trip. It was never ending. 

Please... I just need to go now.” I moved to grab my bag, :” I need to go get ready for the meeting with the lawyers tomorrow. You can keep Hoshi with you tonight.  I’ll come pick him up after I’m done and then I’ll drop him off at his father’s place.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With Taehyung and I, our break up hadn’t been terrible. 

It hadn’t been terrible because our own penchant for being terrible had always been very minimal. We didn’t do swearing or fights or threats and it always annoyed our friends that we got along so well. That it was so easy for us to forgive and move on with each other . That we were the one couple who didn’t hold grudges or bring up past mistakes. 

Which is why, when we did break up, none of our friends had tried to change our minds over it. They had accepted it rather calmly, shocked at first because it was so out of the blue but not opposed to the idea itself . They just trusted us to know the right thing to do because we were easily the most mature , the most level headed couple in the entire group. We were usually the sounding boards , the voice of reason in whatever petty conflict our friends were involved in . 

So when it was us, needling a little advice, a little guidance, our friends had been woefully ill equipped to help. They had merely hummed and nodded and empathized. Maybe that was another reason I’d left. I hadn’t considered the alternative. No one had asked me to consider the alternative. 

Our friends had watched us drift apart watched us break up, but they hadn’t really asked us  why.  

Because if something had caused Kim Taehyung and Jang Mi to break up, man, that must’ve been a really huge issue. 

So the break up had been amicable. Gradual and slow but mostly amicable, eased by our mutual love for our son. We wanted him happy and he was happy when we were happy. So we put on a front, laughed and joked in front of him and let him have some semblance of normalcy in his life. 

It wasn’t easy. 

From him,  it had been nothing but a mess of   heated glances, touches laced with intent and eyes begging forgiveness . every gaze of his was a silent scream for a second chance that I was not at all ready to give. 

Because for me, the raw hurt and anger and frustration that bubbled up every time I saw him , it had nowhere to go. It stayed churning in my gut, made everything bitter and unpalatable and I wanted to hurt him for hurting me. How could I think of a second chance when the hurt from the first, was still so fresh, an open wound festering. 

Self esteem in tatters, I had hated him fiercely. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting was at his company, and I arrived at nine in the morning, with a few more minutes to spare.  I knew the place like the back of my hand, was here at least  once a week either to pick or drop Hoshi off and I knew that the conference room in the third floor was sound proof and cut off from the rest of the building for extra privacy. 

Which was a little too late because I’d found two tabloid newspapers waiting outside my apartment this morning. 

I opened the door carefully, surprised to see Taehyung sitting in one of the chairs, bent over a sheaf of paper on the table and next to him a leggy girl in a small skirt hovered, fingers resting lightly on his shoulder, bent at the optimum angle to show him her curves. 

I sighed, looking away.

It was way too early for this. 

“Mia!” Taehyung’s voice made me look up, and I watched as he stood up, pushing the chair away and moving to me . He was easily the most good looking man in the country. And he looked so good at thirty five that it was impossible to look away from him. 

He was dressed in a pale blue shirt and black slacks and it never amazed me, how good clothes fit him. 

I took in the broad shoulders, thick arms and the lean waist, the carefully styled hair and the breathtakingly beautiful face and sighed when he kept coming closer, hands held out. . 

Of course, the customary hug. 

i let him wrap his arms around me, my face buried in the comforting warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne filling my brain . He always smelled so good it made my heart hurt. I tried not to let myself get carried away. Tried to remind myself that this wasn’t anything more than a.....

A facade ? Or was it? Was his affection genuine? 

Was I just too cynical?

I shook my head, pulling away and smiling a little at the genuine venom in the leggy girl’s face. 

“Are you okay? Where’s Hoshi?” Taehyung brushed the hair off my face, eyes warm and I wondered if he’d forgotten we were here to get a divorce.

 Whenever we met, Taehyung acted like we were still together. 

No, that wasn’t it. 

He just didn’t act like we had broken up. He was affectionate and open and cooperative. It always left me in a sort of limbo, unable to navigate our relationship with clear boundaries. There were no line to stop myself from crossing, because he just didn’t draw them. 

“ Ms. Lee says we just have to go over the details like the alimony and the custody and the division of assets and then we can just proceed. Get it all finalized.  “ He said casually, when I moved away and sat on the chair opposite him. 

“Okay .” I said casually. 

He smiled and turned back to the girl next to him.

“I’ll join you after the meeting Lisa.” he gave her a nice wide smile and the girl practically bloomed under the attention before bowing curtly in my direction. I watched her walk away, slightly amused.

“Bit younger than your usual type.” I commented , glancing at him. He gave me a look.

“I’m not dating her.” He shrugged. 

“Does she know that?” I retorted.

 It was dumb. Uncalled for. I was being a bitch, really but the urge to evoke some kind of reaction from Taehyung was something I’d never really out grown. I liked getting under his skin.

Taehyung sighed and gave me a little smirk.

“Are you jealous, Mia mine?” He teased. 

It felt a little like someone had dug a nine inch dagger straight  into my heart. 

That stupid nickname. 

God I couldn’t bear it. 

Swallowing i looked away. 

“Sorry. “ he said quietly, a few seconds later. 

I nodded curtly. 

“Don’t do it again.” I said hoarsely. 

“Why not?” He whispered gently. 

I groaned. 

“Taehyung... “

“it’s just a name...why does it bother you so much?” He whispered. 

“The same reason you’re asking me for a divorce.” I said softly.

He blinked.

“Mia...”

“Because we both know its time to stop.” I said quietly. “ Stop dancing around each other , stop doing...whatever it is we’ve been doing these past two years and give our relationship a name. “ 

“I’m not very fond of labels.” He shrugged. I glared at him. 

“Well tough luck. Labels are good. Labels are great. They let you draw boundaries. “ I retorted. 

“You sound like you’ve had enough of me.”

“Well, haven’t you had enough of me?” I snapped.

“Not even close.” He leaned forward gently, eyes pinning me to the table with a gaze so strong he may as well have used his body. And it didn’t help that two years wasn’t enough time to forget how it would feel if he  had  used his body. How it would feel to be stretched out on that table, him on top of me, hands working my clothes open, lips kissing their way down my jaw. 

I could almost taste him, taste the minty freshness of his breath, feel his tongue in my mouth, the hardness of him inside me. My thighs clenched because I hadn’t gotten laid in two fucking years and even if i did, no one would ever compare to the man in front of me. 

“Mr. Kim? Mrs. Kim? “ 

The lawyer’s voice broke the spell and i straightened, swallowing. Ms. Lee had walked in , and I watched her close the conference door behind her before locking it gently. 

She was young, dressed in a business suit , a no nonsense bun and had small round framed glasses. She gave me a nice smile, shook hands with us both and placed her briefcase on the table before glancing between us. 

“Shall we begin?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : its gonna be a bumpy ride. 

[thejustmaiden]

So out of nowhere I was tagged and quoted by a SR shipper for a blog of mine posted in August of last year. Talk about throwback but, hey, gotta appreciate that level of snooping. 😉

Back in the day I actually used to encourage discourse amongst Inuyasha fans- both shippers and antis alike- but I've since realized that it's a lost cause. But for you, @feministmetalgreymon , I'll grant this exception. Just 'cause it's been a while so why the hell not. haha

I want to assure you, however, that nothing you say will ever convince me that Sesshomaru and Rin are meant to be together romantically or that the story intended it so. Nor will you find any validation here. You can ship them for all I care, but please for all that is good and holy while I have your attention try- I mean really try- to understand why it is so many of us Inuyasha fans are so against this pairing in the first place (newsflash: it's not about ship wars), and why we believe a romance between the two of them is completely and utterly out of character.

For those of you interested in reading this, the blog of mine in question that the above shipper mentions in their counter-argument is here for reference. It's titled "Jaken = Rin's Dad?" I'm going to try and keep this short, but I'm also making no such promises. After all, I'm not exactly known for my brevity. haha Now let's get crackin'!

Like you, feministmetalgreymon, did for your recent blog here where you took screenshots of mine to address certain parts, I will be doing the same and dissecting yours accordingly.

[Snippet 1]

I worked with kids for many years as a teacher, and many people in my family have too or still do. Two of them happen to be just over 5 feet which is quite short for the average adult woman living here. I've also worked alongside many a women of short stature, and never did I hear any of them complaining of issues with their students having difficulty differentiating them from their own peers just because they were short as well. I'm sorry but that's just ridiculous. Kids are quite smart and pick up on a lot more than you seem to give them credit for. Height is not the only characteristic they look at to determine who's an adult and who's not, and it's foolish to suggest otherwise. So unless you're a babysitter who's still in their teens and/or who has very childlike features or behavior then I'm afraid what you're getting at is total hogwash. This is just another example of how you shippers offer nothing of real substance to your reasoning, it's only ever cherry-picking or strawmanning from you guys. Stop deflecting from the real issues please, because this certainly isn't one and only winds up being a complete waste of time for all parties involved.

[Snippet 2]

Okay, calm down now. I wasn't insinuating that relationships between parents and children can't change over time in terms of how they get along. Of course that's possible, as all families experience their fair share of estrangement and abuse. What I was speaking about was in reference to the overall dynamic between the two. Because a bad mother or father can still be viewed as a parental figure to their child even if say they're not in said child's life anymore. Since Sesshomaru and Rin share a healthy bond- and just a friendly reminder that in my blog I even said that he doesn't have to necessarily be labeled her father but that a romantic relationship later would still be inappropriate- I didn't deem it necessary to address what you brought up. Plus, it kinda, umm, misses the point?? Please, let's stay on topic. And it's not captured in the screenshot, but stop acting like there isn't a small part of them that idolizes their parents at some point during childhood. Just like you mention later on how it's normal for kids to have innocent crushes on adults that they eventually grow out of? Well, guess what, the same concept applies here. Kids eventually learn that their parents are far from perfect and make mistakes too. Rin is so damn young in the OG series though that we never even get to see her reach that maturity level.

[Snippet 3]

LOL! Alright, okay, so the "unbreakable bond" bit you're mentioning was actually me quoting you sessrinners. Did you not catch that? I literally spelled it out. *sigh* The whole point I was making is that shippers like yourself make hypocritical and contradictory statements all.the.goddamn.time. One moment you guys claim that Sesshomaru and Rin were essentially strangers and meant very little to each other, only to say in the same breath a few seconds later that they were destined to be together and their bond is like no other. I agree, their bond is special, but why must that mean they're going to fall in love?

That is the root of the matter here. Too many animes/mangas have romanticized this older adult man & young girl growing up falling in love trope that it's become way too normalized and widely accepted across the world- and yes, in some cultures more than others. Sadly, you lack the awareness to recognize how this all works. You know how we know that? When we see that you shippers are so desensitized to sexualized images of girls in the media that you share posts like this one below which *subtly* imply a future romance although one half of that pairing is still just a child in the pic and then try and pass it off as cute. That's like super fucking problematic and it scares me that you can't see that (or deny you do). 🤢

After all that's said and done, Sesshomaru leaving Rin in the village with Kaede is to me the strongest indicator more than pretty much anything else he's done for Rin that proves he is her adoptive father. It's so funny to me how you somehow see the exact opposite though. 🤔 What I think is happening is that you got yourself on some squeaky clean ass shipper goggles fresh out of your little echo chamber. Because I hate to tell you, but what you're fantasizing is what you want to see and not what's actually there on screen or was written into the story. I'm strictly talking about Inuyasha and the manga of course. [For the TL; DR version skip to the last paragraph.]

Parents looking after their kids is what parents are supposed to do. A good parent will do anything to keep their child safe and ensure they are cared for, so what he did for her by leaving her there was in her best interests clearly. Besides, as a babysitter, you more than most people should understand that parents aren't always able to be there for their kids so sometimes others gotta step in to help. Haven't you heard of the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child?" Which in Rin's case is literally true! 😂 Sometimes kids are even sent off to stay with grandparents and that's who raises them instead. Or maybe they have to temporarily live with an aunt or uncle because their single parent's job requires they work out of town 4-5 days of the week so they're hardly home. But that doesn't mean that the parents care or love their kids any less, and it's foolish to assume that Sesshomaru must have thought very little of Rin simply due to the fact that he made the decision to leave her in the village. Come on, y'all are acting like he abandoned her there!!

It's just given the circumstances Sesshomaru finally came to learn that Rin traveling with him was no longer safe. I also like to think it's because he wished for her to live a more normal life and to learn how to fully trust humans again. Plus, continuing to travel with him as young as she was would have proven dangerous and unwise. Now for you to know all this and still manage to turn his past actions towards her while she was just a child into a romantic gesture is what boggles my mind. Regardless of how you look at it, from my perspective or your own, Sesshomaru is in the wrong. Either he's a father figure who impregnates his daughter at the young age of approximately 14. OR he's this man she used to travel with who maybe isn't a father to her but who nonetheless basically rapes her since kids her age can't consent to sex with an adult. Idk about you but it sounds to me like nobody here wins with either scenario we're given. In other words, you should be just as mad as we are. If only one side didn't choose to forsake their morals they know we both have in common for the sake of a ship. Welp. 🤷‍♀️

I agree, incest is disgusting but that's not the only problem we have with this pairing. A romantic bond forming between Sesshomaru and Rin would also constitute as grooming.

You realize that over the years he visited her in the village that he brought her gifts too and essentially watched her grow up right before his very eyes, right? I mean, I know you do, but I really shouldn't have to explain further why pursuing a romantic/sexual relationship with each other is plain and simple wrong. And before you say it's not because he didn't have any malintent, please understand that considering their history and power dynamic up to then that yes this is still considered grooming even if Rin supposedly "wanted it" or "made the first move." Whether you consider him her father or not, as the adult who took on a role resembling that of a caretaker in her early life- a critical developmental time for a child- Sesshomaru is obligated to turn down any advances by Rin and most definitely should not initiate any himself. As the first close adult figure she's had in her life since her parents died, it's unfathomable to imagine how Sesshomaru could go through with taking advantage of this young girl who was under his care and supervision since they met. To think he could be capable of betraying that trust sickens me to the core.

This. Now THIS is how a parent/guardian or a similar adult caretaker (babysitter, teacher, etc.) talks to a child. And, in turn, this is how some young children talk to adults. You'd be insane and delusional to deny it! We see it in our everyday lives, do we not? From where else do you think our stories draw most of their inspiration? Yes, obviously these fictional universes have aspects of fantasy that don't exist in the real world, but so how then do you suppose we're able to relate to them? The reason for that being is because these stories are written by people for people, so naturally there are going to be real life aspects embedded throughout. Sure, a little escapism doesn't hurt as we don't need to take everything so seriously, but ultimately we all need to recognize that the messages in the stories we tell matter. Most stories possess a combination of both light and dark themes, but when it specifically comes to the latter we gotta be careful with how we tackle this in children's media since kids are far more impressionable.

So if at the center of a story we have two of the main protagonists whose mom is basically their same age and to top it off she knew their dad when she was just a girl and who just so happened to help raise her, wouldn't you say that's beyond fucked up or at the very least so fucking weird? Like why would we think it's even remotely okay for our children to watch this garbage?? Really think about it. Try and be objective for once and think about how it would sound explaining this storyline to an outsider who's never watched IY or HNY. Well, antis have tried this before many times and we always get the same reaction: Ewww!

Like I said earlier, if you wanna ship it then fine, but 1) please stop seeking our approval or trying to change our minds - your ship wish came true didn't it, so why do you need us to validate it? 2) even though it's not canon, respect that we don't support this sequel portraying pedophilia in a positive light. It's harmful af to not only allow but glorify the continuation of sexualized images of young girls everywhere. And I shouldn't have to say this, but just because this trope is popular as you say does not make it right. Lolicon themes in the media have been an issue forever and it needs to stop. Yes, even some people in Japan or "the East" would agree. Shocker!

We're pissed off and rightfully so because Yashahime's TV rating is 14, not to mention it airs at the prime time kids in Japan watch TV after getting home from school. That's Towa and Setsuna's age, true, but if Rin being the mom when she's like only a year older than them (please don't argue w/ me about the math- antis have so far been right every time with it) is straight-up disgusting and not something we should be supporting or endorsing. Rin's a whole ass child!! Please don't start with the "but times were different then so her having kids at 15 is acceptable" argument either, because we've already debunked that and every other single excuse you guys throw at us. Besides, how or why would you expect young viewers to know these historical "facts" anyway, especially if as you suggest fiction doesn't affect reality so what does it matter? Yet here we are, arguing over a fictional show in real life almost a year and a half into the "Sesshomaru fucks?" sequel being announced. My ass, your ass, hell all our asses fiction doesn't affect reality!

Look, I do apologize if the tone of this blog came off as snippy or condescending at times. I do not wish you any ill will, it's just I'm not really sure what you expected to get out of all this besides maybe getting on my nerves perhaps. haha A lot of you shippers have been desperately scrambling to interact with us, lurking in our tags, jumping onto our posts screaming canon and getting so defensive even though you sought us out first. We've been sticking to our tags, so how about you stay in your lane too. By the way since we're on the topic, have you seen Twitter or Reddit?! SR shippers there are the actual worst and many Inuyasha fans (not just antis) have complained of not feeling welcomed to engage in fandom spaces anymore. Shippers swarm them and scare them off simply because fans don't like your ship and refuse to accept it. It's pathetic, really. No one should ever be bullied or harassed just because they don't like something you might. We're all fans of Inuyasha, aren't we? So let's act like it. Yashahime on the other hand, you guys are welcome to that pungent heap of trash. Fans have a right to criticize it too, but if you like it then good for you, so keep on liking it and don't mind us.

I'm almost done, but real quick back to Jaken! Let's not forget about how the official Yashahime website- which came out after my blog, mind you- described Jaken. This translation isn't the best one available but it's the only version a fellow anti friend could track down. They do recall a better one done by a native Japanese speaker who was also an anti, and that member confirmed that Jaken is indeed called Rin's babysitter. So you see, I was right in my interpretation. In the original post I did compare Jaken to a brother, but after talking to others (some comments can be found under said post) I did acknowledge that he's more of a reluctant babysitter who's not related. And if he's not at least a brother to Rin, then he's definitely not her father.

At the end of the day, the creator Rumiko Takahashi has the final word. Which is guess what? Hogosha. 💖 Probably should've just started out with that and saved us all the trouble, huh? Good day/night to you.

Papamaru bids you adieu now. 🤞

[hyungieyoongi]

Epilogue: “Run Away to You” Part 7

To the person who never stopped supporting and loving me, even when I ran away from him – I promise from now on to always run away to you.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Genre: Angst (if you squint) + Fluff (nobody look at me I’m so soft)

Warning: Brief mention of reader’s panic attacks and mental health

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

Part 6 \\

--- 

One year later...

You stood in the wings to the right of the stage, watching Yoongi stand side-by-side with his fellow members as they took their final bow. The love and energy from ARMY was overwhelming, your heart swelling with pride as you saw the look of pure happiness radiating from Yoongi and the rest of the boys.

BTS had held a series of surprise concerts in the past couple of months, and tonight was the last one in Seoul. Yoongi had made sure you attended each one with him, no matter where it was in the world. He told you he had always wanted to travel with you.

You looked out into the stadium, ARMY bombs lighting up the seats, illuminating the arena with a wash of purple light. You smiled, tears coming to your eyes at the beauty of it all.

As you took in the sight, you couldn’t help but reminisce on the past few months with Yoongi and everything you both went through to get to this moment.

You had been honest with the world in your video, explaining that you had to step away from your career for your mental health. You opened up about dealing with panic attacks and the toxic pressure of the acting industry. You explained how you needed to get your creativity and passion back for new projects by disappearing for a little while. There were so many people who had sent you messages of love and support, welcoming you back with positivity and warmth.

But the other side was picking you apart relentlessly. They accused you of trying to use Yoongi to get back into the spotlight now that you had gotten tired of living the “normal” life. They were saying that the pictures of you and Yoongi were all a ploy to get attention to restart your acting career.

If only they knew how much trouble those pictures had caused you.

You remember how you found it ironic how much the first few weeks of your life back in the public eye were so like your life when you first went into hiding. Moving into a new apartment, donning baseball hats and masks whenever you stepped outside, the threat of unwanted and uncontrolled publicity controlling your every move.

You had to have security with you, especially in the early days. The press wanted to get the scoop on your disappearance and your time with Yoongi, often flanking you with cameras if you popped out to get a coffee or go to the store.

Yoongi’s label put out an official statement to explain away the potential romantic implications of the picture, saying that the two of you knew each other from your time in the business and you were “old friends.” They cautioned the two of you to avoid being seen alone together in public, but Yoongi put his foot down, telling the label that you were not going to be hidden away forever.

Your publishing company was thrilled to hear that you no longer wanted to publish your book under a pseudonym; your name recognition was guaranteed to start a buzz around your upcoming release. Yoongi would often try to peak over your shoulder when you were working together, trying to read what you were writing. You would tease him, telling him he had to wait to read it just like everyone else.

Not to mention you were a little nervous to tell him that the story that you were writing was not-so-loosely inspired by your own relationship with him.

Navigating the public world again was made better by having Yoongi there with you, albeit privately at first. You would often have dinner with the boys or go watch Yoongi rehearse when you weren’t in editorial meetings or writing your book.  

Being in love with him again had been the easy part.

The harder part was the conversations late at night about when and how you wanted to go public. You both were trying to balance the needs of his job as an idol with your timidness over putting too much of yourself back out there too soon. You were attempting to show the world your genuine personality this time around. There was no production company to impress or an acting job that was dependent on your popularity; you were just hopeful that his fans would be more receptive to your relationship if they already felt like they knew the real you. You never wanted to go back to feeling like you were suffocating under the weight of the pressure.

You decided as a couple on a deadline – six months. After six months of dating privately, you had to decide whether you wanted to be together publicly.

Yoongi came to your apartment six months later, looking pale with nerves and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. You hadn’t spoken over the past two days, wanting to give each other the space to decide what was best on your own.

You told him you had already made your choice the night when you went to dinner with him and the boys at his apartment – you weren’t about to change your mind. He carelessly dropped the flowers on the ground, sweeping you up into his arms.

You both knew that you would face backlash, maybe even some hate, but you were stronger together than apart. He was it for you, and you weren’t going to let him go just like he promised you he wouldn’t. It hadn’t been easy, but it certainly was worth it.

You turned your head to watch as the boys waved goodbye, exiting stage right and stage left. Yoongi walked toward the side of the stage with purpose, eyes alight with adrenaline. You smiled brightly at him, his arms coming around you as he practically collided with you, head landing between your shoulder and neck as he breathed out heavily. Your hands instinctively went to his head, running your hands through his slightly sweaty locks as his heart rate came down from the high of the concert.

“You were amazing, Yoongs,” you told him. He leaned back, placing a firm kiss on your lips, surprising you. When he pulled back you were greeted with a gummy smile. Staff started to flutter around you, dabbing Yoongi with a towel and handing him an open bottle of water. You stepped away to let them through, not wanting to interfere with their jobs. Before you could move too far away, his hand reached through the bodies surrounding him, searching for your own. You wrapped your fingers around his, Yoongi using the grip to pull you back to be closer to him.

The staff adjusted to your presence again, shuffling you both along toward his dressing room. Intertwining your fingers with his, he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your knuckles. You thought you saw Jin amidst the flurry of activity, hearing a distinctive laugh that you were pretty positive was directed toward the blatant show of public affection between yourself and Yoongi since he got off the stage.

With how lucky you felt in that moment, you couldn’t seem to find it in yourself to care.

---

“Remember, I warned you that you might not like the book. I was dealing with a lot when I started writing it, and I promise I changed the characters enough. Only you or I will even notice the similarities. I mean, the characters get a happy ending and so did we, but…” you were rambling, your newly printed hard copy gripped firmly in your hands. 

A week after his final surprise concert wrapped, you had come over to Yoongi’s apartment to gift him the copy of your book you had promised him, but you were reluctant to actually let it go. Yoongi was trying – and failing – to get it from you, leaning back with an exasperated sigh when he realized you weren’t going to budge.

“We have been dating for over a year now, Y/N, I think I can handle the fictional book version of our relationship,” Yoongi said, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“But it might bring up old memories. Bad memories,” you said quietly, averting your eyes. Yoongi propped your chin up with his index finger forcing you to look at him.

“Stop worrying so much. Our past is the reason why we are together now. I’m not scared of it anymore,” Yoongi admitted with a nonchalant shrug. Your cheeks burned, Yoongi chuckling at your pink face before kissing you sweetly. Even after all this time, you still became flustered at his romantic gestures.

You finally handed the book over.

“You should probably check the dedication page first,” you murmured, slightly embarrassed. Yoongi’s lips quirked up in a smirk, slowly flipping to the dedication page in the copy of your book in his hands. His expression changed to something unreadable and soft as he read the words dedicated to him:

To the person who never stopped supporting and loving me, even when I ran away from him – I promise from now on to always run away to you.

I love you.

You held your breath as you watched him read the page twice, your knee jumping up and down in nervous anticipation. Yoongi put his hand on your knee, stopping your movements. He leaned forward, your book still in his other hand. You felt yourself instinctively move closer to him, seeming to melt into his warmth.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into your ear.

He would always be your happy ending.

Part 6 \\

---

To everyone who read and followed along with this fic – it has meant so much to me to have people read this little series of mine and interact with it. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. 

Taglist: @loveyoongles​​​ @agustd-2020​​​ @delacyrose224​​​ @sunshinejunghoseokie​​​ @jinsearthh​​​ @alpacaparkaseok​​​ @sheebaba​​​ @diamonddia-mond​​​ @dearyoongii​​​ @tarahardcore​​​ @kawaiiixchan

Check out my other work! ❤️

[thedisguisedaltruism]

fond stares, vast place, loud heartbeats

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, concert au

pairing: wonwoo/gn reader

summary: wonwoo hates the crowds, but he has to save up all his energy since you’re taking him as your concert buddy for taylor swift’s 1989 tour. little did he know, he will soon realize that he was actually in love with you, thanks to taylor and her wicked songwriting.

word count: 2,192

a/n: dumping this shit because too much feels for you are in love live :((

2015

“Wons, turn it up, turn it up!”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but snort from your excitement to see your longtime idol live. You worked hard to save enough so you could see Taylor Swift since then, and now you’re about to witness your turning point in life.

...together with your best friend, not to mention how he loathes crowds.

I Know Places is currently playing on the car stereo and you're warming up as you hit the high note in the chorus, dramatically pressing your chest with eyes shut. Wonwoo takes his final turn as you finally arrive at the stadium.

"Missed the note there, my friend." He teases. You could care less from his assed remarks because your mind's been in euphoria since you woke up from a power nap a few hours ago.

Outside the venue has already gathered a big crowd, and you patiently wait for your best friend who's double-checking the doors if they're surely closed.

Wonwoo has been your best friend for five years, and being grateful to have him is an understatement as he has witnessed your ups and downs in college. He knows that apart from your family and him, Taylor and her music has already played such a great role from adolescence until adulthood.

As a sucker for books, Wonwoo was undoubtedly impressed by Taylor's songwriting prowess since he listens to your discussions during the free time about the lyric analyses that you read across the internet, and you usually play her live performances whenever you pull off all-nighters that's why he agreed to be your concert buddy because he wants to see the person who could give rainbows to the person he likes.

Yes. The person he likes.

Wonwoo thought being in a Taylor Swift concert is not bad at all. It's like having a big crowd of best friends gathering in one huge place to have fun with their most talented best friend. Everyone's perfectly singing along to every lyric, breathing to each punctuation, and screaming at the top of their lungs.

Honestly speaking, he was having fun, and boy, he could sing along to a few songs while waving with his light-up bracelet. 

Aside from being fascinated by the live performances, he would sometimes steal glances at you, making him amused by your kaleidoscope of emotions you've shown from the past eight performances. Sometimes you'd turn to him just to sing while holding your chest, and go back to screaming how much you love Taylor Swift.

After the succeeding crowd-jumping performances, Taylor comes out with her black Gibson acoustic guitar to perform an acoustic version of her song just like the old days. The crowd has once again roared, and you scoot close to Wonwoo to whisper that Taylor's going to sing your favorite song from 1989.

He knows the story behind it. You told him on your graduating year at the rooftop of your college building while chugging an energy drink just to keep yourself awake from pulling off an all-nighter for your thesis, it was about Taylor’s known actress friend falling in love with her producer on this album—someone with the name Jack—if he could still guess correctly.

Taylor has already ascended for a clearer sight of crowds from the top seats, instructing everyone to sing back the specific words. Wonwoo watches you hugging yourself while craning your neck so you could see Taylor from above.

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Buttons on a coat

Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

  You and Wonwoo first met at the same elective during college freshman year. You were sitting near the door, sparing the next seat with your bag since someone from your class politely asked you to but unfortunately, she never came back and it was perfectly timed that Wonwoo immediately spotted the vacant seat beside you, exhausted from running before he gets late (yes, in a goddamn first day of class). 

  He learned that you’re taking up creative writing that’s why said elective was important for your course. He told you that he was taking up computer science, but he still needs to take the elective.

  ...and then, your friendship started.

  You have friends, but they’re few for your liking because socializing is exhausting. Wonwoo, on the other hand, despised being exhausted around people and that’s the reason why both of you became friends quickly. Reading was Wonwoo’s stress escape and yours was binge-watching k-dramas and reality shows.

  You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

  Since both of you chose to live in dormitories at college, sometimes you’d walk together around the university park late at night and talk about stuff happening in your life outside academics. One time, you told him how you’re pissed at your family’s insights about coming out since they happened to share once about how your cousin came out at a family gathering and the next moment, he was already in the hot seat. You told Wonwoo that you wished you were there to end all of your religious hypocrite relatives.

  Wonwoo, within the years of friendship, was never the type to initiate a conversation, but he’s an excellent listener. He could watch you talk about Taylor Swift, the perennial hate for your Major professor who’s academia-obsessed since she sets a standard too high for her liking while her class is on the brink of dropping out, and how you were fascinated about him staying up all night for computer games and still ace programming exams.

  Suddenly, the crowd started to roar out of the blue, making him shake his head from spacing out. Still standing, much to his surprise since he hates getting tired, he realized that he’s just watching you being helplessly in awe at Taylor Swift no matter how neck-stiffening it is, how your eyes sparkled with bliss just like the days when you talk with him about the things you love.

  And then he felt the pace of his heartbeat quickened.

  The crowd was already singing along with excitement—he has no idea what kind of reason it is—but he remains watching you like you were excruciatingly hard to reach, despite how you could hear his loud heartbeat if this was an empty place.

  One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says “You're my best friend”

And you knew what it was

He is in love

  You screamed you’re my best friend at the top of your lungs together with other sixty thousand people at Taylor despite how your best friend, who’s silently watching beside you, couldn’t calm himself down unnoticed.

  You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

  Suddenly, you turn to Wonwoo as Taylor does her guitar break before singing the bridge, and you were surprised to see him just staring at you instead of watching Taylor from up above and tell you how skilled she was at playing guitar. The way he’s looking at you wasn’t even judging, teasing, or the usual antics that he does.

  He’s just looking at you fondly and you thought maybe, he’s extremely happy that you get to see your longtime idol live after all these years and you deserved it so much.

  ...except that your tentative guess is incorrect.

  “She’s really good, isn’t she?” you yelled at him proudly while pointing at Taylor with emphasis.

  Your best friend could only nod and gesture at you to look back on your idol.

  And so it goes

You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round

And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words

  That made Wonwoo look up to Taylor Swift in an instant and judged her as he could so. As Taylor stopped, the crowd screamed once again, but nothing is deafening as his heartbeat while watching you cheer in chorus.

  He didn’t know if he should feel betrayed, because you were his partner during graduation ball and you were just having the best time of your lives because fuck it, despite being anxious about what’s to come after the graduation, both of you were so happy to have been able to survive despite the shit hole life your university has given.

  He also happened to frame a picture of you in his office peacefully sitting beside the stacks of scratch papers for software development. He secretly requested for its original copy at the official student publication of your university during that one major event as he saw it on Facebook.

  He realized that he’s in love with you after all this time.

  Much to his misfortune, you suddenly looked at him again and your eyes met that he couldn’t look away, but this time it was replaced with worry. You caught him twice, and knowing Wonwoo, he’s not usually vocal when it comes to express his discomfort.

  You gently hold Wonwoo’s hand. “Are you having a bad feeling? We could go out if you want to,” you whispered just audible enough for him to hear.

  And that’s how he lost it. 

  It took him another deep breath to sink in that you chose his well-being over your once-in-a-lifetime moment with your idol.

  Like… holy shit, he was so lucky to have you in his life and he thought this time, he wants to step out of his shell and gather the courage to tell you how much you mean to his life. He’s had enough secretly pining over you for years.

  But first, he wants you to be happy and enjoy your time with Taylor. He shakes his head no and holds your shoulders to turn to Taylor who’s now descending for the next performance.

                      “I can’t believe she’s real, what the hell, she was fucking real, Wonwoo.” you sighed. “Oh my god.”

  You couldn’t stop wiping your face after spacing out which made Wonwoo chuckle. After the concert and almost a painful hour of waiting to get out of the stadium, you mutually agreed to stop by the nearest convenience store.

  Although you only bought a coffee and went back inside Wonwoo’s car.

  “Me too.” Wonwoo whispers. That made you remember what happened during You Are In Love performance. You looked at him and tapped his shoulder.

  “You looked unwell this evening. Were you honestly okay, Wons?” you ask.

  He only blinked in response.

  It took Wonwoo a few seconds to gather up his courage. Now that it’s only the two of you alone, he thought he must let it out.

  “Yeah, I was just overwhelmed. You don’t have to worry.” he jokes, his attention remained at the store. He could see from his peripherals how your eyebrows furrowed, obviously not convinced enough by his excuse.

  “What you told me about Taylor the first time you introduced her to me was...true,” he sighed deeply. “She sings what we couldn’t put into words.”

  For someone like Wonwoo whose eloquence is something to look up to, you were confused by what he meant.

  Wonwoo turns to face you and takes your icy palms to wrap them with his large, slender, and warm ones. 

  “I love you.” He says, straightly looking into your eyes.

  Your eyes widen in surprise.

  “Please don’t joke around!” You hit his shoulder, but all he does is let out a burst of breathy laughter.

  But honestly, your heart skipped a beat after hearing his sudden confession.

  Tracing circles on your hand, Wonwoo smiles at your bewildered expression. “You were wondering if I was having a bad time? No, it’s all Taylor’s fault for making me confess to you tonight. That took me a long time I guess.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “I love you and Taylor made me realize that I should confess before it gets too late.”

  You looked up at Wonwoo while pulling your hand from his gentle hold and laughed. It was unbelievable how both of you have been painfully oblivious despite being helplessly pining towards each other.

  It was your best friend’s turn to get puzzled so you took the time advantage to confess.

  “Idiot, I liked you too, ever since we first met.” sounding bashful, you looked away hoping that you didn’t sound like an idiot. So much irony for making fun of your best friend a few moments ago. “I have no idea that you felt deeper than I thought I have.”

  Even if you already knew how Wonwoo’s mind works for five years, he is always full of surprises.

  Or maybe he was so happy tonight that he kissed your hand and never let go of it as he started driving you home.

[usaginotwst]

the entire angst category for the emoji ask but for ... 👀 jamil and azul

oh hey now!! 👀👀👀

pain train incoming

💔— What could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

🚪— What would kill their trust in their partner/close them off? Could this ever be amended?

(these two go together in my opinion)

If Azul got the courage up to show his partner his cecaelia form and they reacted negatively, he would be heartbroken. There's a reason he still hates the way he looks and he thought that they were going to be accepting. Maybe they just aren't the one...

If Jamil's significant other confessed that they actually had feelings for Kalim instead it would cause irreparable damage to his heart. If it had been anyone else it would have stung, but to hear Kalim's name come out of their mouth was just solid proof that he would never get out from underneath that idiot's shadow.

🥀— How well would they handle a break up?

I think that Azul would compartmentalize things and take it relatively well, actually. He would handle it like a business deal, asking you where he went wrong in a way that made it sound like he was asking for his year-end review. Once you part ways he continues on like nothing happened for a couple days. However, there's only so long a person can go without feeling their feelings, and only so much room for work before you reach a breaking point. He will sob at his desk when he reaches this point and then misses class for a week before the twins drag him out.

Jamil would also compartmentalize and focus on work to distract himself, however I think that he would deny the breakup at first, not understanding what you're talking about. How could he be getting broken up with? You were in love, or so he thought. He was only a teen, but Jamil's mind had created scenarios of married life with you, far away from the Al-Asims and The Land of The Hot Sands entirely. You were his escape, his life, his love. He might get indignant about the whole thing, refusing to understand what you're talking about.

But when it finally hits him, he shuts down. He doesn't speak to anyone, but continues on like normal. He pretends you never existed. It was easier this way, easier to move on, he told himself. But the worried looks Kalim and the basketball club gave him in passing made him think twice. It wasn't until he looked at his reflection, gaunt and lifeless, that he realizes that he needs to take time for himself and process things.

⛈— How often do they get emotional? Are they open with their partner about it?

☔️— What are they like when they’re emotional? How quickly do they recover?

(i'm covering these guys together!!)

Once Azul trusts you completely he'll be more forthcoming with his emotions, though it took ages for you to get past his posturing showman's exterior. It's difficult to allow yourself to be emotional when your genuine distress was dismissed as you being dramatic or a crybaby during childhood, so when you finally seen his tears, it's a breaking point of emotional exhaustion. You see, despite no one at NRC doubting his power and reach, Azul works tirelessly to prove himself. Though it seems he's trying his hardest to live up to some unattainable standard he's set for himself rather than proving himself to others.

This kind of stress can lead to him leaning on your shoulder in private, sighing deeply before he finds himself soaking your shoulder with his tears. Never again will he allow others to tease him about being a crybaby so you're the only one that can see him like this.

I feel like Azul also has the potential to be a sap when he's down bad for someone, so if you kiss him in intimate places like his pulse points, he melts. His eyes soften, his brows knit together, and if you look close enough, you can see his bottom lip tremble slightly as the feelings of love become a bit too much for him to process.

Once he's had his cry and the worst is over, he sighs and then falls asleep for a good nap. Once he wakes up, it's like nothing ever happened.

Jamil is a different story. From a young age, Jamil realized that whatever he felt didn't really matter because his needs would always come second to Kalim. He wasn't a slave, but with the way his family operated and idolizes the Al-Asims, Jamil was placed in a position much lower than others in matters of importance. So for all intents and purposes, Jamil shut off his emotions. He became reserved and got his frustrations out through other outlets - cooking, dancing, and (in my opinion) working out.

Jamil was hesitant to allow himself to get into a relationship in the first place. Relationships were a liability should he get the ideas of autonomy, and to be frank, if he loved you, he wouldn't want you to to be subjected to his fate. However, you got through. Bit by bit, you made your way through his defenses and slowly, he let you see the broken and damaged bits he hid away.

All at once you saw the resentment of a childhood taken away, the anger boiling under the surface, and as time passed you could start to tell what his mood what just by the glint in his charcoal eyes.

Once he trusts you completely and you're alone together, he rants and complains and punches pillows, showing you his anger. When you place a gentle hand on his arm, he flinches, takes a breath and apologizes for forgetting himself. But you assure him that you don't mind and that's the first time you see him cry. He cries out of thanks, out of love, and out of necessity - it's been too long. As long as you're patient with him, he will be able to work on expressing his emotions in a healthy manner.

Master of squashing his emotions, Jamil can turn them off like a light switch. He can feel his anger rising and then suddenly he's calm again. After having a long cry, he gets embarrassed and flustered, but he feels better. Will probably also go take a nap.

🔪— How would they react to injury/misfortune befalling their partner? Do they feel at fault?

Azul will regret not having been with you when something happens, but he quickly rectifies the situation by having the twins do a little recon work. If they figure out what, or who, caused the issue, he will have them taken care of without letting you in on the plan, so as not to upset you.

If it wasn't a situation that could be fixed with Floyd's brute strength, then Azul might fluster a bit. He can't keep you under surveillance to keep you safe and he's already blackmailed everyone in charge to be sure that every building was in accordance with Twisted Wonderland's version of OSHA regulations.

He would get anxious to the point of an upset stomach at the thought that maybe he truly was powerless if he couldn't keep you safe and unharmed. The thoughts would plague him.

Jamil would react one of two ways. 1) if it was a non-threatening issue that simply upset you or gave you some scrapes, he would poke fun at you for being clumsy or careless. Or 2) if it was something on a grander scale, say a broken bone, he would chastise you to an almost insulting degree before he begrudgingly takes you to the nurse. He would feel guilty afterward for being rude to you, but it was his first response to the panic that gripped his heart. He would apologize with a hearty meal and by listening to whatever boring story you wanted to tell him that he would normally drift off during.

Scratch that, there's a third way. If it wasn't injury that befell you, but hard times financially with your family or what-have-you, then he would truly panic. He family was okay by their standards, but he wasn't in a position to help you. He would become irritated and would pace around his room, tossing ideas around. If it were severe enough, he would consider sucking up his pride and asking Kalim, who he knew adored you and would do anything for you. But the idea left a bitter taste in his mouth.

💧— Random angst headcanon

Jamil breaks up with you before graduating because he doesn't want you to be sucked into his lifestyle until he can create a better situation for you. But when he finds you again, you've already moved on. It's for the better, he tells himself.

Azul is consistently worried that you secretly think that he's slimy and gross, whether physically or personality-wise. Sometimes he gets bitchy because it makes him so anxious.

that was a lot, but if you want to send in an ask, here's the prompt list!

[funkymbtifiction]

Fi / Attachment Types

I just want to talk a little bit about being an ENFP and an attachment type (6). I was listening to the Big Hormone Podcast last night talk about attachment types and their struggle to decide anything, because there’s a “yes/no/maybe” internal reaction going on, and I have to say that’s true. It’s like simultaneously wanting to say yes, and be attached, and say no, and remain free of attachment. I’m not really sure how I feel most of the time, which makes my Fi kind of hazy.

Since I get asked this over and over (what is Fi? Am I an ENTP or an ENFP?), let’s talk about Fi. It’s a self-referencing system, where you go away from everyone else to decide how you feel about something and measure it against your inner self. It’s the need to live in accordance to your conscience, and it’s a thing inside you that tells you if this is okay, not okay, or “I don’t care.” With me, some things are automatic. I knew when I saw the trailer that I hated the Robert Downey Jr. version of Sherlock Holmes. I didn’t need to see the film, I just hated it. When I did see the film, Ne didn’t change my mind. I still hated it. I even got offended when my friends likened me to Irene Adler. I’m not sure if they meant temperament or vibes, but that annoyed me, to be “likened” to something I hate.

This reaction was instinctive and irreversible. It’s not rational; it’s a value judgment with me as the standing judge and jury: I. Hate. This. I have the same visceral reaction whenever I see a historical figure being maligned, because they can’t defend their reputation. I hate it. This is what Fi is like. It’s an unconscious NOPE that you cannot explain, that makes sense to nobody else, and that is immediate and abstract and you don’t know how to put it into words except NO. I won’t stand for this!!

(Including a gif, because I have a sense of humor about it now.)

This happens to me on and off, here and there. It’s not all the time, and I don’t let my inner responses override my intuition. In other words, I can give someone a fair trial in my mind (seeing their point of view) instead of dismissing them, even if I disapprove of their behavior. Superficial Fi judgments are immediate and fixed, if I can just see or hear something and respond to it… but when it comes to REAL emotions, everything is up in the air. They’re not a Yes/No. This whole argument about Dean being ISFJ or ISFP has sparked some stuff in my past, because I identify with Rory at times in terms of the “I don’t know what I want” aspect of her behavior. I’d never cheat on a boyfriend with someone else, but I’ve been in that place where I don’t know what I want, really, or if I want this friend in my life, and if not, how do I get out of it? I can’t even decide if I want to ask a friend to go somewhere this weekend with me, because I don’t know if I want to go to that place in the first place, or if I’m just being nostalgic. It has become this whole debate in my mind, because I don’t know how I feel, or if it matters, or if the drive would be worth it. And that is how I live my entire life. Of not being sure what I want most of the time or how I feel.

I know this can be incredibly annoying to other people, and that’s one reason I haven’t sought any close friendships in person for a long time, because I know I do the “yes/no/maybe” with them. They’re never quite sure how I feel about them or where I stand or if I’m in this friendship for the long haul or not. Because I’m a reliable person, I stick around, but there’s often giant question marks over my head about how I feel about them. Being a 6, I keep them at a slight distance while also needing them around. I wish I were a gut type, because then I’d just know by how people make me react to them if I like them or not, but instead, it all goes through my head. It sparks endless questions. I don’t listen to my heart because it doesn’t scream at me very loud. My brain is much louder.

Most of the time, I don’t know how I feel about something. I’m going through a slump right now and I’m not sure why, but nothing is holding my interest. I don’t want to do anything. And figuring out what the cause of this is hard, because Fi can’t tell me through the haze of being an attachment type. All I can do as a 6 is ask questions about it – over-think it, like usual. Does my loss of interest in this mean I am tired of it, doesn’t want to do it, or is this just a temporary slump and will I feel differently next week? Would I be happier if I dumped this? Is that what I want? I’m trying to figure out, from a logical place what my emotions are doing, which is impossible, because Fi isn’t rational, it’s subjective and based in the moment. Things happen, and it reacts. All I know today is, “I don’t care about this.” Being a responsible person, an attachment type, I will do it if it needs done anyway, because I am not a quitter. But a very large part of me wishes I could just be “irresponsible” (to my own mind) and slack off on everything. Just dump people and walk away. Just delete things when I’m bored with them. But I can’t, because Fi says “that isn’t who you are. That would make you feel miserable and unhappy, to be someone who just abandons things/people like that.”

So it’s a catch 22 most of the time. How do I feel? Does it matter? Should it factor into this? Am I just being sentimental here? Do I want this person in my life? Do I care about this hobby? Can I understand that point of view? What would I do in their shoes? Can I relate? It’s a life of never-ending questions, combined with a very real need to always be growing and moving forward and when I’m not feeling like that is happening, I get restless and frustrated. Determining Fi isn’t a case of “am I emotional or rational?” It’s very much a sense of, “Am I being the best possible person I can be, in order to live with and LIKE myself? Can I live with myself if I make this decision? Is this who I am?”

Sometimes you can’t, and that’s more difficult than you can imagine. Every place I have let myself down is like this huge, glaring sign of regret hanging up in my mind. You didn’t live up to yourself, you caused pain, you knew you couldn’t live with it and you did it anyway… Fi is about looking at the past, identifying what you did wrong in that situation (whatever makes you feel the worst or like you failed yourself), and then trying to use it as a guideline going forward. AKA, this made me feel like crap, so I never want to do it again. I’ll never just stand there and listen to someone insult my friend… I’ll never not defend what I think; next time I know I have to do something about this…

So I guess, just cut the attachment types in your life a break. They don’t always know what they want, and it’s as confusing and annoying for them as it is for you if you’re not one. And don’t vilify Fi as being selfish or idolize it as being more moral than Fe, because it isn’t. It’s subjective, abstract, hard to understand even for the Fi user (hence the needing to go away and think deeply about how this is making you feel in order to figure it out), and doesn’t make any sense half the time, because it’s just based on “yeah, nope, and I don’t care.”

One time a friend found out I’m not close to my sisters and said she was sorry, because she loves her sisters. I honestly said, “I don’t care.” I didn’t. I don’t. I don’t know them, so why would I care about not being close to them? But that surprised her, and in turn, it made me ask Ne/Fi-related questions: is a lack of caring an implication that I should care? Am I missing out on something? I can’t force myself to care, can I? Should I try to care? Why??

Fi isn’t “do I make emotional choices,” it’s “Do I care and is this me?” and it’s continuous, a sort of “self-focused” determination in all things, through all questions, to find out Who I Truly Am. And it’s much easier for IFPs to do this than EFPs, because IFPs ask this all the time, instantly. EFPs think, well, I need to either find out who I am through direct action and experiences (do things and react to them - Se) or through intellectual debate (ask myself philosophical questions and react to them - Ne). ENFPs have an extremely difficult time self-typing because they are so “heady” in terms of Ne that they often don’t realize how many of their choices are determined subjectively according to their internal reactions. It’s not a logical Ti process in terms of “how does this work,” it’s more about “how do I work?” Who am I??

I should also add that being a 6, I don’t take on too many hobbies or interests that I take seriously, because the double-thinking that Ne and 6-9 do together is emotionally exhausting. I don’t have the mental energy to double-think 900 things, so it’s easier for me just to say no to things that I know automatically will be an energy suck. This is problematic in the long run, however, because without a variety of interests and new information, Ne gets bored. So I need to keep my Ne fed with enough new information and hobbies that it’s satisfied in thinking about things, without introducing the need to make “decisions” with that information, which would cause me to over-think and stall out.

[sunflowerheartsandstarryskies]

My Golden Curse - Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: Hello again, I may have stumbled upon the Pedro Pascal fandom and I can’t get out, and I saw someone posted that they wanted an imagine with Maxwell Lord and the reader in which one of them gets kidnapped and the other just goes ballistic, and I basically kept getting that idea stuck in my head, this was only supposed to be a drabble but oh well. This depiction of Maxwell Lord is closer to the DC Comics version of him and not the movie but it has Pascal’s Lord’s likeness, so it’s like a combination of the two.

Also, I have survived my finals and had taken a break from writing for a while but I’m back and I have some ideas for my Lucifer multi-chapter fic as well. I also have an idea for a John Wick fic but I have no idea if anyone wants to read that.

Warnings: Typical comic-book violence, cursing (like two curse words), blood mentioned, kidnapping, bruises and injuries (like ribs breaking, a concussion, and a few lacerations

______________________________________________________________

Maxwell Lord IV prided himself on presentation. Everything had to be pristine and everything, even the garbage can by his desk had to be impeccable, because his business and himself in general, are put out on display for the public. He is a figurehead and a showman, so when you came along to be his assistant and secretary he was at first apprehensive because you didn’t dress as provocatively as he may have like and you didn’t look as model-esque as his other secretaries in the past. You didn’t apply to Chimtech to be fucked by your boss, you were good at your job and you aspire to show off your skills.

However, time went on when you first started to work for Maxwell Lord and you did a phenomenal job, whenever he was in a meeting you would always make sure to listen and take notes of what he needed while he was in the meeting. Whenever he requested for you to fax an item you would’ve made sure to have done it five minutes prior. Maxwell had no idea how you could be so efficient at your job, but he damn well appreciates it even if he rarely ever mentions it to you.

It’s an odd relationship that you guys have worked yourself in, a friendly relationship it seems, but both of you are teetering on the edge of wanting more. There have been teasing nicknames, mostly from you, you had a plethora of nicknames that you would give him, ranging from “Sandy” to “Ken”, but “Golden boy” was your favorite.

You would never admit this to him or even to yourself but you actually liked his blonde locks. In certain lightings, when you look at him you swear he was Midas, covered in his own golden curse. It was breathtaking to watch him at some points, but you always try to cover up your flustered state.

You knew Maxwell well, some may say too well for a secretary, but you rarely saw the side of him that most of his competitors and fellow businessmen saw, and that was the merciless and ruthless side to his tactics on getting what he wanted. Everyone in the public eye saw him as just the “King of Infomercials” but there was a reason why and how he got that title in the first place. Who knew the infomercial world could be so cruel and hectic?

You were able to catch glimpses of Maxwell’s amazing abilities of persuasion and showmanship, he was able to get people to admit to what they want and get them to go out and seize, whether that was good or bad. There was a particular talent that you find out he has and it was his ability to drag out people’s hidden desires, there were times when the people he used this talent were a shock as the people around them when they admitted to what they really wanted.

He was a golden idol of his own creation; he had to be especially to the people around him. However, that golden facade can only keep him held up for so long when the people he handed gold to realize that it’s fool’s gold.

______________________________________________________________

It was earlier in the day, you just woke up and got dressed in your office attire with a cup of coffee in hand as you try to will yourself to get going. You looked up at your apartment’s clock and it was 7:00 am, you needed to get going if you were to make it to Chimtech in time.

As you stepped out of your apartment building you felt a gloved hand over your mouth and panic flooding your whole body, but before your body could even fully process a flight or fight response you felt a sharp pain in your neck and you passed out.

When you come to, your vision is blurred and you can’t understand where you are and your brain just has confusion filling your senses. Why can’t you process what is around you? What happened to you? After a couple of more seconds went by you felt a rope tightly woven around your wrists, and you comprehended that you were sitting on a floor. What happened to you?

“Ah, there’s the little doll’s eyes! I was wondering if you were beginning to ever wake up,” a voice filled your ears. You blinked furiously trying to get your eyes to focus and you found yourself face to face with a man, who was grinning at you like a shark finding the prey they smelled a mile away.

“I’m sure you understand why you’re here? I don’t need to monologue it to you, do I?” the man asks.

“Mr. Vince, right? You were in a meeting with my boss Maxwell Lord, a month ago, right?” you questioned him as the drug and weariness started to seep out of you, and you gained more awareness of your surroundings. The man, Mr. Vince was a part-owner of a tech company that Chimtech was interested in making an investment in, however from what you were aware of was that the true goal of the meetings with Vince and his company was to absorb it into Chimtech, forcing Vince and the other owners to give up their powers over to Maxwell Lord and the other board members of Chimtech.

“I see the drugs didn’t impair your memory, I assume you are aware that I am no longer a CEO? That I was tricked by your goddamned boss?! That he put me in a corner to give up my company over to him!” he screamed. He was half an inch from your face and you were terrified of this man, he was unhinged.

“What does this have to do with me, Mr.Vince?” you asked, forcing yourself to not push him over the edge.

“Ooooh this has everything to do with your boss, I remembered that you are his secretary, so you must know some secret of his, something I can leverage against him to make him give me my company back,” he said.

“Even if I have any sort of information to give you, the damage is already done, your company is done in, it’s already been processed into Chimtech, there is none of your company left.”

That was the wrong thing to say as you felt a kick to your stomach. You groaned and rolled onto your side, and before you could recover from that there was another swift kick that you felt go directly to your ribs.

______________________________________________________________

Minutes blended into hours of constant yelling from Vince to him pulling you off the ground to throwing you back down like you were a piece of litter to being his personal punching bag. It was all you could do to just protect yourself and persevere through the pain because you were just a secretary, you were never trained in self-defense, hell you never even did track in high school.

Through the pain, you felt complete distortion and a high pitch whining going through your head, and you finally realized it was a telephone- a landline. Where the hell did this guy get a landline in this beat-up place?

Then, you hear Vince say, “Oh you want to hear how (Y/N) is?” you hear footsteps coming towards you then cold plastic was pressed to your cheek then Vince continued loudly, “Well here she is, talk.”

“(Y/N)?” You heard Maxwell, your golden boy, say your name and all you can do was say his name back in a raspy voice.

“What did he do to you?” Maxwell asked.

Before you could say any more the phone was taken away from you and Vince’s voice filled your ears.

“Tick tock Maxwell, I want my money and you can get your fuck toy back.”

Then silence, a sickening silence filled the room which made you feel every ache and pain that has been put on your body has made itself known by increasing levels of agony. You didn’t even feel it in you to even try to correct Vince’s words about you. You just wanted to sleep and not wake up for a whole day, maybe if you laid perfectly still and just not move a muscle the pain would go away.

As you lay there you tearily open your eyes back up and you can hear the tinny sounds of the echoing footsteps of your captor pacing back and forth in the room you were held in. It was nauseating, and you were confused as you thought, When did you close your eyes? How long were you out?

Then you fell back into your head, and you felt like you were spiraling in your own mind mixed with dizziness and nausea. You just wanted this to end.

A male voice was shouting so close to you and you can feel the panic coming out of his voice, and you can tell it wasn’t Vince because why would he do that?

You felt yourself being lifted from the ground and all you could do was cough sporadically from the new movements on your injuries. It hurt, it hurt so bad.

“I know (Y/N), but you just need to keep going a little bit longer,” the same voice told you.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint where you heard that voice before but you thought it was your boss, Maxwell Lord, but it couldn’t be. That would be the last thought that went through your mind before you lost it to the void.

All you can see at first was just bright and it hurt so bad. When you turned your head you saw a flash of gold and your first thought was, ‘Maxwell’. When your eyes adjusted to the room around you it really was your boss, Maxwell Lord in the hospital with you. He was slumped down in a chair beside your bed and you saw there were roses in a vase on the table next to you.

“Gold-golden boy, hey,” you rasped out trying to wake him. You coughed and then groaned as you felt the lacerations and bandages around your torso.

You saw him stir in the chair and his eyes opened and landed on yours. “Hey boss,” you whispered cringing at your voice. Your hands clenched at the sheets around you as you saw him blink furiously and stood up fast. You flinched at the fast movement but he didn’t seem to notice, as he moved closer to you.

“I am sorry about what happened to you, I didn’t think that our clients would go so far as to do this to you. I can’t believe that bastard did all of this to you-”

“It’s okay, I mean it hurts like a bitch but you ended up finding me didn’t you? What happened to him anyway?” you cut him off.

“Ah well, I may have gotten violent with him before the law enforcement could get him,” he said twisting his hands around and that’s when you saw the scrapes on his knuckles.

“I don’t know if you were a white knight to me but you certainly are a golden devil for doing that,” you replied.

He huffed out a laugh at your reply and he opened his mouth to say something but got interrupted when a nurse arrived.

______________________________________________________________

After the nurse left, you found out you still have a concussion lingering still, three bruised ribs and lacerations across your whole torso and arms.

When he listened to the whole list of injuries that you had gotten in the three days that you were with Mr. Vince, he felt rage boil over him but he tried to keep calm as he remembered the battered state he left Vince in. At least he made him feel some of the pain that he made you go through, Maxwell was a very prideful man in how he acts so for him to act like that was completely out of character for him.

He must be looking worried because he noticed your furrowed brows and you glancing at him every so often.

“Did you want to say something?” he asked

“Well, I was gonna ask you a similar question because I think you were interrupted by the nurse. Also are you okay?”

Your question startled him and the mention of the interruption made him clear his throat and fidget with his suit to try to hide the blush that was threatening to come up to his face. Your inquisitive expression on your face was watching him.

“I’ve been thinking that if you would like to leave the company, I won’t force you to stay, especially with what happened this week,” he said.

Listening to him say this made you panic and as you tried to sit up, Maxwell came up to you quickly as he says, “What do you think you’re doing? You got to take it easy.”

As you are situated in your bed you went to reach for Maxwell’s hand as you say, “Why would I want to quit? I love my job and I love working with you even if at times I don’t seem like it. None of what happened to me was your fault, how could you have known that Vince would react to the merger the way that he did.”

Maxwell was startled by this, he never had anyone in his family nor his company is so willing to stay with him especially when they are given an out.

He bowed his head toward you and said, “If you keep saying things like that I might want to keep you by my side for a long time.”

You laughed as you replied, “If you let me I will, you are a weird but kind man-” you stopped yourself as a thought came to your head.

“How long have you been here? What about Chimtech?”

“Ah well if my secretary didn’t get kidnapped and injured I wouldn’t be here right now, but you made me worried and how can I do my best work without my best assistant around me?”

“Now you’re just flattering me”

“But it’s true”

“Hmmm if you say so, Sandy”

______________________________________________________________

Four days have gone by and you were finally released from the hospital to go back to your apartment. You tried to go back to work at Chimtech, but Maxwell found you were released and gave you the rest of the week off to recover. You would become the envy of the company at this rate with how well the boss has been treating you.

Now that you have been just lounging in your apartment watching TV movies, and eating takeout for meals it has given you time to properly understand what happened to you for the past two weeks.

The way your boss, Maxwell, has been treating you made you see a whole new side of him. At first, you thought of working for him as both a blessing and a curse. At first, it was hell on earth, you ran yourself ragged making sure everything was up to par with Maxwell’s standards but after the next three years working with the man you considered him a friend of sorts. Even though you always tried to make sure to never consider employers and colleagues be separate from your personal life but it’s hard to do that when all you have is your work life.

Ever since the kidnapping incident, Maxwell had visited you every day in the hospital he even gave you flowers on the last day of your hospital visit, it was a beautiful vase of sunflowers.

You didn’t realize how long you were sitting on your couch thinking about your boss when you heard a knock on your door. You looked at the clock near your tv and realized it was nearly midnight.

‘Who could come by to my apartment at this hour?’ you thought.

You got up carefully minding the bruises still littering your body, and you opened the door surprised to see Maxwell.

His hair was a bit disheveled and he didn’t have a suit jacket on showing off the suspenders he likes to wear. He looked quite cute seeing him like this.

“Come in, Mr. Lord. What brings you to my place this late at night?” you inquired.

He ran his hand through his hair as he entered your apartment and he turns to look at you as you closed the door.

He sighed as he said, “I don’t know how quite to put this without sounding terrible, but after what happened to you, I can’t stop thinking about you. You are the best woman-the best person I’ve known and for you to still want to work with me after everything that has happened.”

He looked like he was getting frustrated with himself, you were shocked because how could you have gotten the king of infomercials to be so frustrated with his own words?

You took a tentative step forward to him as you placed a hand on his arm.

“Sandy, what’s going on?”

He was silent for a moment before he looked into your eyes with a strong determination as he says, “You know more about me than my own mother does, and after all this time together I’ve grown to respect you more and more. When I saw you in that hospital I wanted to kill the bastard and send him to hell when I found you like that in the warehouse.”

“I-I don’t know what to say, Mr. Lord-”

“Call me Maxwell, none of your silly names, not boss, not my last name, just Maxwell”

You could tell he was earnest with this and sincere it took your breath away to see him like this. He was beautiful and it made your heart flutter when you realize what he might be trying to confess to you.

“Maxwell” you breathed out testing his name out. You said his name once before and that was when you had gotten kidnapped but now this is completely different, almost like a prayer. A prayer to this golden devil of yours.

He smiled when he heard you say his name and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I wish I could kiss all the scars away from your body so you never have to live with them again. I wish that I could be yours, fully and I want to be clear that I would never use you like I may have done to my secretaries in the past. I want to be yours, in any way you may want me.”

“Oh Maxwell, I think I might have to grant your wish this time,” you say blinking away tears that were threatening to spill as you were listening to his confession.

“(Y/N)” he whispered reverently.

He cradled your face with both hands as he studied your face to see any resistance than he gently placed his lips on yours.

You made a small gasp as you finally felt his lips on yours, you clutched onto his shirt as you pulled him closer to you. He tilted his head and pushed your chin up to meet in for a deeper kiss. It felt amazing and you felt loved.

When you parted you were chasing each other’s lips to crash back into each other as you kissed each other until you both need a break. Both of your lips were swollen and you looked at him with such love that when Maxwell saw, he almost wanted to take you then and there but he was mindful of how fragile this love could be.

Author’s Note: I might do a second part if people want it but whew this took a lot out of me, I hope you guys like it!

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanon for being Hela’s child

Hela Odinsdottir x child!reader

Thor/Loki x reader

warnings: blood/death/ alcohol mentions

a/n: been thinking abt hela a lot lmao

prompt: y/n is hela’s child

you were born in hel

and raised on stories of your mother’s triumph

she always left out her downfall, though

growing up to hate the thought of your grandfather, odin

he was always regarded as “backstabbing coward”

“and what will you do when we finally go back to asgard, my child?”

“stand beside you while you rightfully rule the kingdom, mother”

“that’s correct”

after years and years of enduring hel, you’re only home, you were released at the sight where your grandfather had took his final breath

“you didn’t tell me i had any uncles...”

“they’re irrelevant, my dear”

thor and loki being extremely confused upon meeting the evil family members that they had just discovered

“and odin never said anything about hela having a child!”

“i was born in hel”

:)))

straight up attacking them, it was all you had been trained for

you were your mother’s weapon, that was for certain

craving destruction and blood, that was what you were taught—now that you’d escaped your prison, you could finally do that

and you wanted asgard, you were robbed of that much after your mother was banished

it felt so elegant there, nothing like the depths you were trapped in

striking fear into the hearts of asgardians, but something seemed very off

their fear didn’t make you happy like mother had promised?

it wasn’t very glorious when you killed anyone

“mother, you said this would be fun...”

“you’re not having fun?”

“not even a bit”

your only fun was watchcing skurge dance around for your mom

and it wasn’t even that good then

your uncles returning to asgard for a fight to remember

while your mother was distracted with thor, you ran across the bifrost, running into loki

“now just what do you think you’re doing, child?”

“my mother is a monster, i cant serve her any longer”

this god of mischief believed you

“then you better fight like hell to prove it”

your powers were similar to your mother’s, blades were never scarce to you

thor and the rest of the “revengers” regrouping on the bridge

“what the hell is this one doing here?”

“helping you defeat my mother”

“well, okay then. welcome to the team”

valkyrie didn’t trust you right away

you paid no mind to that, you were focused on one thing

“y/n?! what do you think you’re doing with them?”

“getting rid of you once and for all, you..?”

*thor, whispering* “bitch”

“bitch!”

“typically i dont condone the usage of that word, but your mother gets a free pass”

happily fighting alongside your uncles, it was almost as if you could tell each others next move, it was mesmerizing

you saved loki from being hurt

“well then...thank you, little one”

“im 1200 years old”

“i stand by my words”

hela begged you to join her once more, it was startling and pathetic (and maybe even a trap)

happily watching your mother perish, you hadn’t realized how cruel she was until then

“i’m sorry about your mother, young y/n” -thor

“im not”

the asgardians didn’t trust you very much, you would have to earn it

and you did when you encountered the mad titan known as thanos

you swore you did everything you could, but it wasn’t enough

you had to watch thor be tortured and loki be killed, it was scarring

being picked up by the guardians of the galaxy

“who are you?”

“i barely know who i am”

thor needing to go to nidavellir and taking you with him

“im sure you’ll need a mighty weapon to see the fall of thanos!”

“but...am i worthy of such a thing?”

you felt a sense of guilt for your past actions

and even your mother’s

thor put each of his hands on your shoulders and looked you in the eye (with the only one he had)

“y/n, you must understand that your mother...she poisoned your mind with nothing but hate, but i can tell that you’re much different than her. i’ll be here for you from now on, believe me”

dmitri was able to forge you a weapon of your own, you fell in love with it as soon as you laid eyes upon it

also thor almost died??? that would’ve sucked

and then he took you to midgard, the only thing you knew about it was that the people were weak and irrelevant

but when you met the midgardians, you only met warriors (mind you, you had just landed in the middle of a battle)

another significant fight with your uncle thor

“captain! this is y/n, my (neice, nephew, nibling)”

“hello, y/n. welcome to earth”

“thanks, i hate it!”

going out of your way to save as many as you can, it just felt right

“who is that?”

“well, apparently thor had a sister no one knew about, that’s her kid?”

i nearly forgot about rocket and groot, who you thought were the coolest

“rabbit! over here!”

“for the millionth time, y/n, it’s ‘rocket’”

seeing thanos once again, you and thor thought alike over what needed to be done

you attacked him from behind while thor struck him in the chest, but the disaster ensued and you were left blaming yourself once more

“it’s not your fault, y/n. we all failed”

“captain rogers, i could have killed him, i know that im the one to blame”

everyone could tell that you carried an abundance of guilt, your mother didn’t treat you well

you had to control your anger, you didn’t want to be perceived as a threat

eager to kill thanos

thor told you his stories of war, you idolized him after this

“so, y/n, tell me about your childhood”

“what’s there to tell? i was born in hel”

“good point”

happy to watch thanos die

thor and you rescued the rest of your people and founded new asgard

you and valkyrie ended up running it together, though

thor only became depressed, but he did teach you how to play fortnite

“y/n, y/n look! im doing the dance!”

“very impressing, korg!”

you and valkyrie actually became friends

she realized that the horrors inflicted by your mother were not a reflection of your character, you could be guided by valkyrie instead

“val, where’d all the beer go?”

“ask your uncle”

“why do i even bother”

a shot at redemption after meeting a smaller version of the hulk, giving your uncle a small sliver of hope

and him telling you who jane was

“you never told me you dated a midgardian?”

“yes, well, the reason for that was...”

he started crying

“right...”

tony called you “the little hel-raiser”

you did not laugh

maybe you didn’t have the greatest sense of humor

thor took you back to asgard where you met frigga

“thor, do you know if she’s my grandmother?”

“not a clue”

:)

but you met her anyways

“y/n, dear, it’s good to finally meet you”

“oh, yes, you...you too”

she was very kind, you wished that you were able to see her in the natural timeline

you sort of wished to meet odin, as well

yall kinda saved the universe tho, that was pretty cool

valkyrie brought pegasus to the fight, you rode behind her while shooting daggers below

“you’re very good at that!”

when the fight was finally over, thor made the decision to leave new asgard to you and valkyrie

“you’re ready, y/n. they trust you. and valkyrie will be sure to guide you, ill see you again someday”

[hold-my-hand-kuroo]

phases of the moon

tbh when they told me that i’d need eighth grade biology in the future, i didn’t think it’d be for this

also it’s almost 2 AM so forgive me this isn’t proof-read

pairing: tsukishima x reader

i. waxing gibbous

At the young age of seven, you meet your lifelong friend for the very first time. Initially, you’re a little bit scared to meet your new neighbors, especially when you’re told that one of the sons is the same age as you. It doesn’t make it easier that Tsukishima Kei is especially cool for a five year old. He’s quite tall, fast at his subtraction tables, and exceptionally good at naming dinosaurs and reading big words. To you, he’s basically an adult and completely unapproachable, even after sitting quietly in his room while the real adults were chatting elsewhere.

His room is clean, and you’re amazed at the stacks of chapter books resting on his desk. They have pictures of fossils and big-toothed birds and when you open it, pages are filled with blocks of long words; you’re amazed, curious, but unable to read any of it.

“Do you like dinosaurs?” the blonde boy asks, watching you flip through his books just for the pictures. You jump a little bit, surprised that he finally decided to speak to you after what seemed like years of silence. He has a raised eyebrow, but he doesn’t seem too mean. You’re still a little scared. “Or maybe not…?”

“They’re cool,” you finally answer, flipping back to the page that caught your attention. “I like this one the best.”

“That’s the tanystropheus.” His reply is instant, and you start to think that all kids that wear glasses must be smart. He gets up from his chair and walks toward you, taking a seat right next to you on the floor. “Its neck is three meters long which is like, way longer than its entire body.”

He continues on listing facts and saying large words that completely go over your head, and really, you’re in awe at his knowledge. You can’t believe that he’s really seven, but you also can’t believe that the quiet boy from two minutes ago is actually quite talkative. It’s almost like a switch was flipped, turning him into a more animted version of himself. You don’t mind, but you wish he’d slow down just a little bit so that you could follow.

“Which one do you like?” you ask, diverting the topic and hoping that he’d stop. He flashes you a grin before flipping to another page. It’s clear that he has the book memorized.

“I like the pterodactyl.” Pointing to what seemed like a dragon, his eyes are practically glowing. “They can fly, you know?”

“Like birds?”

“Yeah, but birds are a little different since they have feathers.”

For the next three hours, Tsukishima reads to you, and even though you’re confused with some of the names, the effort you put into understanding seems to please him. It’s not every day that he has a companion to talk about dinosaurs to; usually, his friends would call him boring and leave, so he doesn’t bother expressing his interests. In fact, he’s so ecstatic at his newfound companion that you find him at your door almost every day with a new book in hand. Over sweets, preferably strawberry shortcake, Tsukishima reads to you, pausing once in a while to see if you have questions. Sometimes, he’d adjust his glasses a little, and you’d find yourself thinking over and over again, “He’s such an adult.”

Afternoons get loud when Tsukishima introduces the card game Dinosaur King to you. He’s all smiles when you walk into his room one day, running up to you with his deck and a deck of your own that he bought with his carefully saved allowance. Once the two of you get into it, hours feel like seconds. Rather than gameplay, you’re more fascinated by the card design, but since you know that Tsukishima likes a good challenge, you try your best to play well. You find your math skills improving drastically, calculating lost life points almost every day, and when you beat Tsukishima for the very first time, the two of you laugh at your own excitement and flailing arms.

Once it got warm enough to play outdoors, you pass your time in his backyard with his older brother, Akiteru, who’s actually a real-life giant. Even though he’s tall and a whole twelve years old, he smiles a lot and is just like a kid, except not. You don’t know much about him except for the fact that he plays volleyball, and according to Tsukishima, who practically glows with pride every time you watch him practice, he’s very good at it. You think volleyball might run in the family’s blood considering that whenever Akiteru throws a ball for you and Tsukishima to receive, you’d always miss while Tsukishima would bump it back. You’re a little proud that your best friend is smart, athletic, and incredibly kind and wonder if he’s just naturally good at everything.

Childhood is filled with reptiles, backyard volleyball, and laughter, especially Tsukishima’s. You can’t say you hate the sound of it considering that it makes you giggle too. For Christmas that year, you write a letter to Santa wishing that things would stay the same forever.

ii. waning crescent

Things begin changing when you’re both twelve. Tsukishima’s tall as ever, looming over most of the other kids in your class, and with his height comes the expectation for him to be a real adult. You almost feel bad for thinking the same thing five years ago, especially when he starts to smile less. It’s childish, he says at one point, renouncing his card games in place for constant volleyball practice.

If anything, Tsukishima’s more focused on volleyball than ever, and you’re not surprised. With Akiteru being both his idol and the ace of Karasuno, you figured that he’d want to follow his brother’s footsteps at some point. You’re not sure what being the ace means, but Tsukishima’s convinced that only the coolest grown-ups are allowed to have that position; you suppose that’s why he’s trying so hard to act differently, but you don’t mind helping him out. Tsukishima’s the happiest when you’re throwing balls for him to receive or spike after school, and because it’s the only time where he genuinely smiles without holding back, you’re more than willing to keep helping him practice. It’s the closest thing to normal and is painfully nostalgic.

You’re not sure what to do when Tsukishima begins to tease you. Sure, his tongue has gotten significantly sharper within the past few years, but you know well that he’d never tease out of malice. Not to you anyways, so you just laugh and tease back, because you hate letting him have the last laugh.

When rumors being to spread at school about Tsukishima being some big bully, you’re more than eager to debunk each and everyone, to show them all that your best friend, although a little bit cold, is nothing of the sort. He stops you though, because he doesn’t care. You don’t understand what’s so fun about being feared or ostracized, and you definitely don’t know why he continues to push his classmates away, but you don’t want to force him to do something he doesn’t. Still, you wonder if the whispers ever bother him. Being cool and an adult at the same time seemed incredibly lonely.

Yamaguchi is a special exception much to your delight. Rather than being frightened, he reminds you of your younger self being attracted to Tsukishima’s maturity, and you find it oddly reassuring that Tsukishima is still able to let people into his life. You suppose it’s because Yamaguchi is interested in volleyball too, and now, he can pass the ball with someone besides you during his free time since you’re not that good at the sport in the first place. Nonetheless, Yamaguchi urges you to join. “The more the merrier,” he says, and Tsukishima seems to agree but never verbally. It’s been five years though, so you know that when he fiddles with his glasses and looks at the ground, it means he wants you to play with him.

Whenever you’re free, you visit the junior volleyball program to cheer on your friends. Tsukishima pretends that he hates the attention, but you know he doesn’t, and when you’re asking Yamaguchi about how practice went, you catch the blonde’s eyes flickering at you and then away. You know he wants you to ask him too, and you almost always comply if he isn’t being too mean to you. It’s fun to tease him back since it always catches him off guard. It’s then that you begin to hope that maybe, just maybe, Tsukishima would replace some of those condescending smirks with more smiles again.

Your hopes are for naught.

Despite fully immersing himself into the sport, Tsukishima’s first time watching a high school match ends with an abrupt realization. You and Yamaguchi are with him, and it’s devastating to see his face fall when his eyes meet with Akiteru’s in the stands, cheering for the guy he’s been lying to Tsukishima about being. It’s the highest form of betrayal, and after that single match, everything changes.

No longer does Tsukishima walk to volleyball practice with hidden excitement, and no longer does he ask you to practice with him after school. It becomes hard to talk to him, much to your dismay, and you often find yourself sitting in his room in silence as the two of you study. He doesn’t read to you, he doesn’t flaunt his knowledge. He just sits there across from you, not meeting your eyes at all. Maybe it’s out of shame for trying so hard to be someone who wasn’t what they said they were. Maybe it’s just the crippling disappointment eating away at his spirit. You don’t know and neither does Yamaguchi.

His image doesn’t improve that much in class either. You’ve noticed that he has a newfound distaste for excessive energy and big expectations, and it makes him more dislikable by the kids around him. His tongue is venomous, and even though you know deep in your heart that he’s a nice person, nobody se can believe it. Still, he’s never genuinely rude to you aside from occasional snide and playful remarks. That’s the only thing left that you can keep a hold of, so you settle for it.

The two of you are so far away from being adults, but it feels so lonely even then.

iii. new moon

Tsukishima’s aware that he’s different from how he was during his childhood, but it’s always comforting to know that you understand him inside-and-out. He’ll never say it out loud though, since he isn’t exactly good at things like expressing his feelings or showing genuine sincerity, but he expects that you’ll understand. The knowing silence that the two of you shared is practically irreplaceable.

Which is why it hurts a lot more when you choose to confront him.

It’s the night before his summer training camp during his first year of high school that you have your first serious fight with your best friend. In the past, your fights have been more like playful banter or simple bickering. You’ve never raised your voice against him and vice versa, but when you’re sitting on his bed and watching him pack his bags while complaining about what a hassle practice is, you can’t help but question his motives.

“Then why are you still in the club?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. He hums, his usual sound for acknowledgement, but doesn’t turn to look at you.

“It’d look good on my resume,” he answers matter-of-factly. You’re not convinced, especially since you know for sure that his grades are already stand-out and that he could’ve done anything but continue the sport.

You sigh. “Are you sure that’s it?”

“What do you mean by that?” You notice the small change in his tone and suddenly become aware of the awkward tension in the room. Slowly, he turns toward you, feigning a smile. “You know that it’d just be easier for me to continue, since it’s the only sport I know, right? You can’t expect me to learn basketball-“

“Kei, you like volleyball don’t you?” you interrupt, shaking your head. You’re desperate to know why he keeps burying his feelings, especially since the trust between the two of you was a piece of work years in the making. It stung a little bit, and frankly, you’re sick of it. “You like volleyball, so that’s why you keep playing.”

“Haven’t you been listening to me since like, forever?” he asks, laughing sarcastically while rolling his eyes. “I hate sweating, and you know I can’t stand the weird duo. I’ve said it thousands of times, hello?”

“Then you would’ve quit.” You say it bluntly, because in reality, it is that simple. Tsukishima liked to pretend to be complex, but he never was. “I’ve known you for years, Kei, and you wouldn’t keep playing if you actually-“

“I hope you aren’t pulling the childhood friends card.” Now that one hurt. “Even if we’ve known each other for years, you can’t be so sure that you know everything about me, right? I mean, I barely know anything about you-“

“Liar.” You feel yourself getting heated. You’re not sure if it’s because the conversation is getting nowhere or if it’s because you’re shocked by his words, but you don’t want to just drop the topic. “Kei, you’re scared, aren’t you?”

“Of what?” he scoffs. He grips the shirt he’s holding to the point where his knuckles begin to turn white. That’s how you know you’ve hit bullseye.

“You’re scared of trying hard again, because you think everyone around you are better than you-“

“But they are. That’s just facts,” he scoffs again, this time becoming more tense. “No matter what I do, I can’t even compare. Have you see how Hinata jumps? I’d just get eaten up, so why would I even try?”

“Because you want to, but you’re just scared of failing.”

His gaze at you becomes icy, and you feel chills running down your spine. Gulping, you try your best to not waver under his pressure, because you meant everything you said. You know you’ve struck a nerve when his eyes turn into a glare, face close to a scowl. He’s mad, and you’re at a loss of what to do.

“I don’t know why you’re being like this, but I’ll have you know that failing isn’t impressive,” he says with a wave of his hand. His tone is like nails against a chalkboard, and you feel as if the relationship you’ve built throughout the years has completely disappeared. “Let’s say I do try, and I get benched anyways. That’d be worse than if I didn’t-“

“See? You’re scared.” You sit up straighter this time, refusing to lose your edge. He glares at you, jaw clenching, but says nothing. “You want to become a better player, don’t you? You shouldn’t be afraid of being like—“

“Enough.” He’s curt and to the point. If there’s anything that he hates more than wasted effort, it’s being confronted and having the confronter being correct. Of course, he shouldn’t be surprised since it’s you, but he’s still annoyed. “It’s getting late. You should leave.”

You frown. It’s not late at all. In fact, dinner probably wasn’t even ready at your house yet, but you know what he’s trying to say. Getting up slowly, you pace to his door, opening it quietly. He’s not facing you anymore, and you turn around to see that he’s occupied with folding more clothes to add into his duffel.

“Kei…you know I’m telling you this because I know you’re capable right?” you try one more time, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve seen you block before, and you can read other people so well-“

It falls like fake praise against his ears, and in his mind, Tsukishima remembers all the blocks he couldn’t stop, the ones that he knows that even if he tried, he couldn’t have due to a sheer difference in skill and talent. There were other people who were good or even better at his position, and he’d be damned if he were caught trying and still couldn’t compete. He knows he’d lose in the end, and he wants to avoid the sinking feeling of disappointment at all costs.

He thought you knew. You were there with him when he saw his entire dream diminish into nothingness within the span of seconds after all.

“Someone’s getting all cocky just because they’ve known me for a while, huh?” he lies through his teeth, nails digging into his own skin as he says it. He wonders why he can’t come to terms with you, but more importantly, he wonders why he’s choosing to hurt you instead. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself. Like I’ve said, maybe we’re not as close as you think, Y/N.”

You wince. It’s his first time speaking to you like that, and you realize it’s the same tone he used to mock others. Other that weren’t close to him at all. It hurts a lot more than you expected. Still, you refuse to have him have the last word.

“Fine. Be like that.”

The two of you don’t talk for the next few days, and you don’t even receive the regular texts complaining about Hinata and Kageyama while he’s gone at the training camp. It’s lonely without Tsukishima to vent to, and you miss the snide remarks he’d make about the people you hated. He was always there to cheer you up, but now, he only makes you frustrated. You don’t think you’re wrong, but you wonder if you had gone too far that night. Maybe you should have just left it as it was, or better yet, not have brought it up at all.

It’s not until Tsukishima returns home that you hear from him.

“Hey,” you star awkwardly when you open your door. He’s showered but looks exhausted from playing the sport he supposedly hated for days on end. The worst part was that he still wasn’t looking at you, and you’re so bothered by it that you don’t hear his mumbling. “What did you say?”

“Sorry,” he mutters again, staring pointedly at the floor. His brows are furrowed in clear frustration, and when you let out an audible gasp, he only grows more flustered. “I said too much before.”

“Me too,” you respond after taking in his apology. You don’t remember the last time, if ever, that Tsukishima had said sorry to you, and you’re surprised that he’s even capable of doing so. “I shouldn’t have brought it up-“

“No, I was being…rude,” he struggles. It looks as if he’s physically pained with the idea of admitting his faults, and if it weren’t for the situation, maybe you would’ve laughed. “I didn’t mean it when I said that.”

“About what?” you probe, and he grunts, foot shuffling ever so slightly.

“About us not being close,” he practically grits through his teeth. He’s conflicted with what to say next, but you’re more amazed at his honesty. “We are. I didn’t mean it. And you were right.”

He stands still, bracing himself for a response. In reality, Tsukishima Kei is afraid of a lot of things, and he hates to admit it. He knows that you’re aware of his fear of humiliation and being overwhelmed by others around him, but he wonders if you also know about how scared he is to lose you, his closest friend. His tongue is sharp, too sharp for his own good. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t lose sleep during the past few nights worrying about how he might’ve made you cry.

“I like you a lot more when you’re honest, Kei,” you chuckle finally, and he lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders sagging. You can tell that he was anxious and that it took a great deal from him to see you, but it’s almost endearing. “And here I thought that I’d have to open up applications for a new best friend. I was thinking about Tadashi, actually.”

He smirks, looking up. “If you’re in the mood to tease me, could you at least let me in? You’re letting all your air conditioner out with door open, and I’m in the mood to complain about people.”

You comply almost instantly, pulling him by the wrist through the door and into your room. Like clockwork, he sits against your bed right next to you, and it almost feels normal again with him telling you about terrible the training camp was and how he couldn’t sleep because the people around him snored too loudly. It’s relieving.

“I learned how to block better,” he adds finally after debating whether or not to tell you. Your eyes glow, and oddly enough, he can’t find it in himself to hate how smug you look. “I still hated the camp though.”

“Because you missed me, right?” you joke. Tsukishima outright stiffens straight, holding his breath and hoping that you wouldn’t notice. But of course, you do. “Oh man, I really got you there.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, looking away again with a scowl.

iv. third quarter

You remember a few things. The sound of Ushijima’s spike hitting Tsukishima’s hand followed by the slam of the ball that lands back on the floor, the roar of the crowd, and Akiteru’s yelp as your iron grip around his hand tightens and practically cuts off his blood flow. When you break down the memory further, you see Tsukishima just seconds before the block wearing an awfully cocky smirk, and that’s when you realize that it’s all premeditated. From the way he kept glancing at the setter with such a cold and chilling stare to the way his arms moved over toward his left, Tsukishima had played the block over and over again in his mind. It was the seed of his efforts finally coming to fruition.

And then there was his declaration of love for the sport that was no longer “just a club,” his yell that silenced the court and stunned everyone in the stands. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the stray glance that he spared you, as if to ask, “Did you see that?” You almost laughed, because of course you did.

These thoughts flood your mind as you cling on tightly to Tsukishima in the lobby after the game, ignoring all the obnoxious howls and cheers from Tanaka and Nishinoya in the back. You feel like you’re about to cry again, as the tall boy desperately tries to pry you off of his body without being too forceful, pushing you by your shoulders and desperately trying to walk out of your hug. He says something about you making a scene, but you honestly don’t care enough to listen.

“Are…are you crying?” he asks, voice mixed with surprise and frustration, still trying to shove you off. “You’re getting your snot all over my shirt, Iet go, Y/N-“

When you finally do decide to put some space between the two of you, Tsukishima sighs in relief and sends Yamaguchi and Hinata a glare for giggling in the back; however, what he didn’t expect was for you to take his hand into yours, gently tracing your fingers over the bandages. He sighs as you being to tear up again and runs his free hand through his hair.

“Pretty lame, right?”

“Kei, you’re literally the most stupid person I’ve ever met in my life, and I hope you know that.” He’s not used to being insulted, let alone twice since Yamaguchi had also given him an earful in the bathroom. He’s startled and annoyed but chooses silence over bickering. He’s still a little scared of fighting with you for the second time.

“It was only one block, and I got hurt anyways. It’s-“

“It was a whole block against Ushijima,” you wail loud enough for the entire lobby to hear. Tsukishima’s absolutely mortified, giving a look to Yamaguchi and telling him to get something to wipe your tears with, anything. “You touched the ball so many times, and you knew where all the spikes were going, and you read them like an open book, and you made their setter scared, and then you even tried to run to do that slide spike thing, and then you did the yelling thing for the first time ever, and-“

“Okay, okay, I get it, you thought I did well,” he practically pleads, trying to steer you to a less crowded area. The boy is desperate to escape the grins of his team members. “Now will you please stop crying? Actually, why are you even crying? I don’t understand-“

“It’s because you’re stupid.”

You ignore the affronted grunt he lets out and instead wonder how you could possibly explain to him about why you were crying. Would he even be able to understand what it felt like when you witnessed his fall from grace, the abrupt end to his childhood, only for him to rise again and become more than what he could ever expect? You doubt it, but just thinking about it keeps your tears going, and you’re sure that you’d have worst pair of swollen eyes after you were done.

“Why are you crying harder now?” he huffs, exasperated.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes and does his best not to tease you about your futile attempts at hiding your face. He groans inwardly, not knowing what to do when you were emotional. He’s not very in tune with his own feelings, let alone someone else’s, so instead of struggling for proper words of consolation, he heaves a very heavy sigh and pulls you back into his chest. He’s a bit awkward with his hands, not knowing where exactly to put them after you lean in. His arms hover around your waist, but he doesn’t dare touch you. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous, but he keeps his arms awkwardly in the air until it’s time for him to leave for the awards ceremony. Even then, he doesn’t actually want to leave you alone still crying.

“I’m gonna call you later,” you tell him right before he’s about to turn around, “and I’m gonna tell you about how dumb you’re being. Again.”

“Looking forward to it,” he mumbles under his breath, and you barely hear it. Barely. “I’d clean myself up if I were you though. You look terrible.”

Your laugh comes out as some kind of sniffle or snort. Tsukishima shows a face of disgust. As is turns out, mean Tsukishima and happy Tsukishima weren’t mutually exclusive. And you could live with that.

v. full moon

You suppose that after years of pretending to be some kind of mature and cold adult, Tsukishima has to make up for the childhood that he ended earl on. Or at least that’s what you reason as he wraps his long arms around your waist, pulling you in between his legs. Placing his chin on your shoulder, he presses his cheek against yours, moving around ever-so-slightly, because he knows that you’re terribly ticklish.

“Kei, I’m trying to type a paper,” you whine, trying to shake off his long arms. Of course, he doesn’t let you, and you feel his fingers sink into your sides. You let out a yelp. “It’s due in an hour, so I’d really like it if you stopped tickling me.”

“Maybe you should’ve worked on it earlier this week, then.” He’s trying to provoke you, and even if you can’t see his face, you know he’s wearing his signature smirk. “I mean, you had all that time, but instead, you just-“

“Why are you acting like you weren’t the one who made me rewatch all the Jurassic Park movies?”

“You could’ve just said no,” Tsukishima laughs, running a hand through your hair. It didn’t take a lot to realize that he was trying to get you to fall asleep before you could finish properly.

“Even though you were clinging onto me so that I wouldn’t be able to leave the couch?” you muse, refusing to be deterred. Your fingers continue to move at a lightening pace, but you’re not sure what you’re actually writing.

“I don’t remember that happening, though.” His voice is playful and teasing, yet soft enough for you to start feeling your eyelids grow heavy. “Looks like someone’s getting sleepy. Why don’t you just call it a night?”

“I’m almost done, Kei,” you try to reason with him. You hear him sigh, and roll your eyes. “If you want cuddles so badly, help me edit my other pages so I can get this done faster.”

“I never said anything about cuddles,” he denies almost instantly, voice raising. You can tell that he’s flustered and smile to yourself at your small victory.

Despite his protests and clear explanation that he wants you to hurry up because he can’t sleep with your laptop screen being that bright, he takes his phone to access the document that you’ve shared with him, still refusing to let go of you. He always hated editing on his phone, but he chooses to tolerate it just for you. He won’t admit it, but he likes the way your body feels pressed against his chest and how you’ll jolt when he accidentally pokes your rib. He laughs at your little typos while scrolling carefully through your paper, making sure to tease you about them, as he also enjoys it when you get frustrated and try to get out of his arms. He’s fully aware that you can’t, and he’s sure that you know that too, but he finds the effort amusing.

“Why does it feel like you’ve returned to being a kid,” you groan quietly, annoyed that your concentration was being broken. “I know you want to be spoiled and want my undivided attention, so it’d work out a lot better for the both of us if you just edited my work quietly. Like a good kid, Kei.”

“I’m 23,” he corrects pointedly, casually skipping over the fact that he really did want your attention and was getting annoyed that you were so focused on your essay instead of him. Sure, he understands that it’s an important final for you, but he can’t help but feel just a little bit irritated that the bed was feeling colder than usual.

“You look like a hag but have the mind of a toddler, I swear.” Just one more conclusion paragraph and a works cited page. “I’m almost done, baby. Promise.”

“Am I really being called a kid when you can’t even do your work on time?” he snorts, eyes tiredly scanning the wall of words. He yawns and buries his face into the side of your neck. Setting his phone down on your lap, he lets his finger brush against your thigh and laughs when you grumble something about him being more of a kid for stealing your strawberry from your cake earlier today. “When you’re free tomorrow, I’ll buy you a new slice.”

“Yeah, so that you can steal my strawberry again,” you mutter with a roll of your eyes. “I know you, Kei.”

“Such a shame that you couldn’t have it,” he chuckles. “It was good, I’ll tell you that.”

As an act of grace, Tsukishima gives you a moment of silence to quickly add the finishing touches to your paper before watching you hit submit with excessive gusto. Laughing at your over-dramatization, removes his arms and all but drags you to the bed.

“It’d be more romantic if you carried me instead of pulling me around like luggage,” you complain. He extends his arm for you to rest on, and you adjust yourself so that you can face him.

“You’re dating the wrong guy if you’re looking for a Casanova.” He allows for you to take his glasses off and nearly presses into your hand that you place on his check. Moving his palm to cover your own, you hum as his fingers trace over your skin.

“Should I break up with you, then?” you tease, making it apparent that it was just a joke based on the amount of tenderness in your voice. “After all, my boyfriend looks at me the same way he does at dusty, old dinosaur bones.”

“Even though your mom literally called me today asking when we’re planning on getting married?”

“I wish she’d stop,” you sigh and frown. “I can’t believe she’s already talking about marriage when we haven’t even graduated yet.”

“She’s been talking about marriage since our second year of high school. This isn’t anything new.” Tsukishima breaks into a small, rare smile. “We’re going to graduate soon, though.”

“And? Are you saying what I think you’re saying-“

“I’m not trying to imply anything,” he denies with a grin. Cheeky. “Rather, what are you implying?”

“Well, do you want to do the whole marriage thing?” You question him out of curiosity rather than with an intent to pressure. After all, you had a hard time imagining Tsukishima in a domestic setting, especially since all he ever did was bother you and distract you whenever you had chores to do or cooking to get done. “I mean, not like right now, but in the future.”

“I wonder,” he muses. Running his thumb over your ring finger, Tsukishima thinks about which types of rings would suit you the best. His mind plays through design, color, and cut of the diamond, but he does this silently while chuckling at your look of confusion. He doesn’t want to say anything now, not when the two of you were still very much overwhelmed with what life had to offer. There’d be a better, more appropriate time, and he tries to picture what that day would be like and when it’d be. He gets a little excited by his own imagination.

“Kei, what’s that supposed to mean?” He only looks at you in response, eyes tender even if he won’t say exactly how much you make his heart grow crazy and how he feels like he’s the luckiest man in the world. He’s sure you know how he feels anyway.

“You’re tired, right?” he chooses to respond instead. Placing chaste kiss against your forehead, he closes his eyes much to your dismay and protests. “I’m already asleep.”

There’s something about his delicate and warm kisses that puts you at ease. From the way his arm always stayed around your waist at night to the look he’d give you first thing in the morning, you have a sinking suspicion that you already know the answer to your question.

“Love you, Kei,” you whisper, and despite him being “asleep”, you the corners of his mouth quiver slightly before turning upward.

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [05]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 4.7k a/n; can u believe this fic is already over halfway done??? i feel more loved and supported for angel’s trumpet w each chapter! i hope u enjoy a more fluffier chapter and some insight on the separate relationships. thank u for the support!

[04] [05] [06] -> masterpost

Bliss. It’s been so long since you’ve experienced this feeling. 

These past few weeks have been nothing short of wonderful, like the sweetest version of reality. Working as a language teacher at BigHit was wonderful because of the staff and the fact that in the long run, your job would be helping the rookies get to know their fans better all over the world. But your job was also incredibly strenuous, and you felt an immense amount of pressure from the higher ups to teach the rookies as much as you could in between their other lessons and training. You remember the early days you’d be crying in the bathroom, scared of their exam scores because you knew it wasn’t possible to learn a language in less than a year, but the higher ups wanted you to achieve the impossible. 

But now, teaching is like a breath of fresh air. You found it appropriate to reabsorb your classes, and you’re still getting used to the sudden heavy workload. Namjoon was over the moon when you returned to your regular office in the biology department, treating you to coffee and catching you up on what you missed. Chan almost cried when he saw you Monday morning sitting in your lecture hall, saying his grade will finally be salvaged. 

However, the cherry on top has to be your budding romance with Jungkook. 

Maybe it’s the fact that you’re still swimming in the honeymoon phase, but everything just felt right. Of course, you can only hope your W2 self was already going to interact with Jungkook in one way or another, just like you had in your world. As of late you don’t feel like you're tearing this universe apart, worrying that you’re interfering in an alternate universe. 

A buzzing interrupts your thoughts, and you pat around your mattress for your cellphone. You don’t hesitate to answer. 

“Good morning, baby,” Jungkook’s rumbly morning voice flits through your speakers. 

You swoon, shuffling and kicking under your covers. A little part of you is disgusted how easy it is to turn to butter in Jungkook’s grasp, but it’s unsurprising. “Hey handsome,” you reply, trying to hide your giddiness. 

“How do you know I look handsome? My breath smells like leftover mac n’cheese and there’s dried drool on my chin.” 

“Mm, still handsome.”

“Ugh, you’re so gross,” but you can hear him smiling on the other line. “Do you have any plans for today?” 

“Dunno.” 

“Well there’s this new bubble tea cafe I know you’d like so maybe during my lunch we can--”

The rest of the words fade away as you notice an incessant banging on your front door. Whoever wants to come in is far too eager for this early. 

It’s then your calendar notification pings, and you see the big fat message atop your phone: 

Hobi Date 🍷🍷🍷

“Oh shit—” you smack your forehead, you completely forgot today’s the day you would find Sehlyung’s wine lady. “I’ll call you later Kook, okay?” 

You end your call, throwing your phone on the bed as you dash out to answer. Taehyung is yelling from the kitchenette, “I’m trying to eat some damn salad here!” By the time you slide out in your socks and down the hall, Hoseok is already inside your humble abode, holding coffee and donuts. 

“I brought libations,” Hoseok says with a bit of flair, setting them down next to Taehyung’s breakfast. 

“Thanks man,” and Taehyung makes grabby hands towards Hoseok’s coffee, and Hoseok looks horrified before snatching it away. “C’mon man, no coffee no entry!” 

“Taehyung, this is Hoseok,” you introduce, opening the box of donuts and offering Taehyung one in truce. You look pointedly towards Hoseok, sipping idly on his coffee, “Hobi, why don’t you wait in my room before we go, okay?” 

Hoseok tilts his head, eyes darting between Taehyung and you. It’s almost comical, the way Taehyung’s early-morning brain is having a hard time processing what was going on, and you wanting to keep a lid on the situation. “Sure, mom,” he slurps obnoxiously on his americano, waltzing down the hallway and into your room. He slams the door rather sharply, and that’s when Taehyung pounces. 

“Who’s the hippie?” 

“Hippie?” you balk, “Hoseok’s not a hippie.”

Taehyung shrugs, shoving a powdered donut in his mouth and completely forgetting about the limp lettuce on his plate. So much for a balanced breakfast. “I know all your friends, but I’ve never met this one.” 

“He’s new,” you take your pick of donuts as well, picking up a vanilla glazed one with rainbow sprinkles, “we’re gonna go shopping.” 

“Oo, can I come?” 

“No,” you say a little too quickly, causing Taehyung’s eyes to widen in confusion. You quickly backtrack, even going as far as to grab a napkin and dab the powdered sugar from Taehyung’s cheeks, “it’s old people shopping. We’re sending ginseng wine to our families. No brand names there.” 

Taehyung immediately buys it, scrunching his nose. “Not my favorite,” he says to himself. “Well, have fun doing old people things. Maybe Jimin will be willing to do something cool with me.” 

And with that, he abandons the limp lettuce with a flick of his wrist, letting them out your windowsill and into your little garden for compost. You two make your separate ways, you into your room and Taehyung into the bathroom.

When you open your door, you already see Hoseok making himself comfortable on your bed, flipping through your notebook. 

“You really shouldn’t be leaving this out on your desk,” Hoseok waves the yellow pages around, trying to look serious, “Taehyung could read this and you might end up in the cuckoo house.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you search for a sweater, “As if he wouldn’t join me.” 

You pull out a large black hoodie, courtesy of Jungkook. Trying not to look like a smitten high schooler, you subtly smell the collar before slipping it over your body. You melt in the fabric, and you almost hug yourself. Since your time at BigHit, you’ve missed wearing Jungkook’s things, and that’s a constant you can’t ignore. 

“If you end up in the cuckoo house, I’ll end up there too by affiliation,” he flops on your bed, waiting for you to get ready, “so, we gonna nab an old lady today for some wine?” 

“Ohmygod. What is wrong with you? You can’t say it like that, someone could report you!” you laugh, slapping him with a long sleeve. 

“So it’s more appropriate to say, ‘let’s go find the lady’s coked up wine that could’ve potentially sent you to an alternate universe’ right?” 

“Exactly,” you grin, pulling him up with an outstretched hand, “now let’s get going before we both end up in the cuckoo house.” 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Jungkook thought bliss ended once he got a good filming gig and a stable job, but no, it just had to get better. 

He doesn’t want to say he’s all consumed by your presence, but he can’t get enough of you. Sometimes he has to reel it in when you go out on dates, but he feels so lucky to call you his and hold you in his arms whenever he wants. 

You dropped into his life, quite literally. One day you just showed up and barged into his life. At first it scared him, immensely. But as he got to know you, wear you down and realize that the strong, blunt woman he met on the street is just as kind and sweet and soft–

The bottom line is, Jungkook wears his heart on his sleeve and loves loudly. He feels so much for you he can’t contain it. 

Except when Jimin wants to embarrass the hell out of you when they’re going over old pictures during work. 

“Can I tell you a story about how y/n almost peed in that fountain?” Jimin points to the small thumbnail Jungkook took earlier last week. You’re perched on a large limestone fountain, smiling at the little fish tickling the sides of the bowl. 

Taehyung gwaffs, choking on his sandwich. “God, that night was incredible! I got the Snapchat receipts too, Kook. If you want to second guess your standards.” 

A loud laugh bubbles from his throat, and Jungkook eagerly leans over Taehyung’s shoulder to get a better look at the screen. 

He likes your friends, too. To the point that he can safely consider them his friends. Of course he was intimidated the first time, especially when you were so pretty in your red skirt and surrounded by your equally attractive friends, but turns out Taehyung and Jimin are equally dopey and cringey as he. 

As silly as you look crouched over the water and pulling up your skirt, he melts at how carefree you look enjoying yourself on a free night. Jimin is hauling you off the ledge, grabbing you by the waist as you fruitlessly try to kick him away. 

“Careful,” Jimin tuts, sipping at his latte. “She’s gonna kill you if she finds out you showed it to Kook.” 

Taehyung scoffs, stuffing his phone away. “She looked like she was gonna kill me today when she brought that friend over. They were acting really weird,” Taehyung points his kimchi in Jungkook’s nose, “do you know Hoseok?” 

Jungkook blinks, opting to take a bite off Taehyung’s fork, “Kinda,” he shrugs, letting the tang of the kimchi spread across his tongue, “she has office hours when he’s working at the library daycare. They have lunch together.” 

Jimin leans in, hands fold over the white cafeteria table like he’s in the mafia, “What do you mean by weird, Tae?” 

“Like, she wanted him to wait in his room and they kinda just snuck out, y’know?” Taehyung divulges, “Like I love y/n, she the home girl, but who’s secretive about buying ginseng?” 

Jungkook’s chewing slows. He trusts you, however, he doesn’t know what to make of that little tidbit. But instead he swallows his kimchi, not caring that he didn’t chew enough or that it went down uncomfortably, and steels himself. “Probably just stressed about her thesis or something, I’m sure everything’s fine.” he says smoothly, trying to convince himself that he’s right, and he’s pretty sure he is. 

“Awh, Jungkookie’s so mature since he’s started dating!” Jimin paws all over the younger one like they’re long lost siblings. His hands travel to pinch his cheeks and ruffle his hair simultaneously, cooing like Jungkook’s a little bunny who’s merely existing. 

There’s a blush staining Jungkook’s cheeks, but he doesn’t mind Jimin’s bouts of attention. A small smile blooms to Jungkook’s face, and confirms to himself that he’s in a good spot in his life. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

“So, what are you and Jungkook like?” 

You shrug, “We’re good. It’s only been a few weeks though.” 

“No, I meant your Jungkook.” 

By definition, your Jungkook isn’t necessarily yours. However, the term is the byproduct of your current setting, and an unfortunate reminder that the Jungkook you’re dating now can never be definitively yours. 

(Or…? Can it?) 

“We were,” since when did you refer to you in and him in a past tense, “kind of a slow-burn, actually. We’d pass each other in the hall and exchange conversation during lunch in groups but, he kind of just crept up on me.” 

The train is going at a break-neck speed, the fancy rail floating across the track as it beams you closer and closer to your destination. Gone are the concrete jungles and carefully architected trees. You’re finally starting to see some natural foliage and blue seas. Today’s journey is a bit of a shot in the dark, you don’t even know what the person you’re searching for looks like, but it’s the only clear lead you have. 

“So you didn’t always know you loved him?” Hoseok asks, fiddling with the wire of his buds. 

You shrug, “I had a feeling. He’s an easy guy to fall in love with,” you don’t want to mention that nearly half the world is smitten by the Golden Boy, but from the bittersweet expression on your face Hoseok has an inkling. “There’s just a lot of factors that come with relationships. Factors that aren’t worth it. It’s easy here.” 

“It would be easy,” Hoseok replies to the air, closing his eyes. 

And he’s right. It would be easy to continue on with life, forgetting about the possibility that one day you could wake up in W1. It would be easy to forget about your other life, Beomgyu’s forgotten quiz that’s still probably lit up in your MacBook back home, Sehlyung’s wish for you to approve Jin’s new outfit. 

You wonder how your life back home is going, whether they’re moving on just like you seem to be. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

You really have no idea what Sehlyung’s wine dealer looks like. Work friends are work friends, where you’re close enough to share sexy secrets to each other but not as close as to divulge family life. 

You know that Sehlyung lives in a small town closer to the shore, as she’s mentioned one too many times that her feet are baby smooth from the constant sand exfoliation. You’re vaguely aware that this is the right area, at least you hope because W2 Sehlyung could be living in Guam for all you know.

Passing by the village square, you search idly for an old lady selling ginseng wine. You didn’t realize how much a shot in the dark this could possibly be. 

“Hey,” Hoseok whisper-hisses, and you try not to ignore the spit that brushes your ear, “you said to look for an old lady, right? All these ladies. They’re old.” 

He’s right.  

The village may be small, but there were over fifty booths with plenty of old ladies selling something. It would take hours, you didn’t even know if this lady would still be selling ginseng in this life. 

Your hands fall limp at your thighs, and you point to a small house at the end of the square. It’s cute, almost cottage-like, looking more high-end than the other shops on the street. “Maybe we should eat something before we do some searching. Otherwise someone’s gonna have to scrape us off the street.” 

“Good idea.” 

Surprisingly, the interior of the establishment is nothing like the front. There’s a very authentic quirkiness to it, down to the colorful blown glass vases and the eclectic amount of alcohol lining the bar. 

Not feeling like waiting for a table, the two of you wait by the bar, hopping on the two available stools in the corner. 

The two of you don’t waste any time, telling the waiter passing by that both of you would like a heaping bowl of glass noodles. 

“Care for a glass of something sweet?” 

Looking up from their dessert menu, you see an older lady leaning over you to pour you and Hoseok a cup of tea. She’s the definition of a chill grandma, from the easy way she smiles to the colorful hoop earrings she wears. You watch as she carefully pours you a cup for you, and you get a glimpse of the beautifully painted ceramic teapot, adorned with watercolor flowers. 

“If you have some angel wine,” you lick your lips, looking straight at her, “that would be lovely.”

There’s no hesitation in her work, and the lady continues to pour Hoseok’s cup with impeccable grace. She doesn’t bat a lash at your slight jab, even goes so far as to send you a crinkly smile. 

“Fresh out, m’fraid,” she replies easily, “sold my last batch to a lovely blonde over a month ago.” 

You swallow your surprise, the bile coming up your throat returning slow and achingly hard. Hoseok’s eyes dart between you and the old lady, and you clench your hands under the table. “Thought so,” you smile tersely, “then, do you have any recommendations?” 

Hoseok noisily slurps tea, as if he’s watching a melodrama. The old lady nods eagerly, placing her ceramic mug on a nearby potholder. “I’ll whip up something extra special.” 

It isn’t until the old lady whisks away from the bar and into the bathroom does Hoseok blurt, “Is the special thing drugs? Is she giving us drugs?” 

“Who knows,” you thank the waiter who sets down two metal bowls of glass noodles in front of you, “maybe the next drink will send us to the moon.” 

“Don’t even joke about that,” Hoseok grimaces, “my fuckin’ dream is to visit the moon.” 

As you two eat in silence, the restaurant slowly dwindles down as the lunch rush leaves and the start of dinner commences. Being a weekday, there aren't many coming down to eat out. You let yourself be immersed in the hubbub of the cottage, the clinking of clean tea cups and the laughter of staff sitting in the corner table. 

The lady finally returns when you’re nearly done with your meal. There’s a tall frozen glass in her hand, ice particles clinging to the barrier. There’s an umbrella and a pineapple adorning the rim, looking uncharacteristically bright and tropical. She places it next to Hoseok’s tea.

He narrows his eyes, “This doesn’t have LSD or anything, right?” 

She laughs, the hearty sound enveloping the restaurant. “Nope. Just passionfruit and mango.” 

Hoseok easily takes her word for it, sipping happily as it washes down his dinner. 

“For me?” you pop in. 

“Ah, some advice.” 

You shrink in your seat, “I want a fruit smoothie too.” 

But you relent when she opens her palms to you, gesturing for you to give her yours. They feel calloused and worn, as if she’s spent lifetimes dedicating her life to her craft. She rubs her thumbs against your palm, sending soothing circles to your skin.

“Enjoy your time as it lasts,” she says, quiet enough for only you two to hear, “things will fall into place very soon.” 

She senses you tense, and continues to hold you. You can’t tell whether this advice is foreboding or comforting.  

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

“I know what you're thinking,” Hoseok says when you return to Seoul, walking in the direction of your apartment. 

“And what exactly am I thinking, o’ wise one?” you kick a stray pepple your way, getting in a groove as you walk lazily down the sidewalk. 

“Her words,” he mumbles, “I don’t think it’s an invitation for you to get too comfortable here. Eventually… you’re gonna have to go back.” 

“I know, Hoseok.” You don’t mean to sound so agitated. After all, the mission was mostly successful. You got your answers, albeit vague ones. The old lady in the cottage simultaneously sparked and eased your soul, unfortunately it didn’t give you any definitive direction as to go on with this life, other than to simply “enjoy it.” 

“I know we’ve been debating whether you’re hallucinating or whether you’re in a coma and you’re having a really long dream or some weird mix of the two—” Hoseok jogs up to stop in-front of you, stuffing his hands in his orange cargos. He’s standing directly behind a 7-Eleven, the gaudy green and red lights lighting behind him like a halo.“And trust me, I’ve spent hours in bed thinking whether I’m real or not and potentially reaching an existential midlife crisis,” he grabs your hand and presses it to your chest, his other hand flailing wildly to the sky, “but this is real. All of it, I’m convinced it’s real. I’ve lived a long, slow, twenty-something life so far.” 

He pulls you into his arms, and you suppress a shudder as his warm embrace envelopes you. Is this some sort of punishment? For the first time in a long time, you’ve felt content. Not to say that your life in your world wasn’t normal but you could honestly admit that the time you’ve spent here is nothing short of amazing. There’s an ease to this life, something so simple and easy to love that you want to keep it in your heart and cherish it forever. 

“But ‘m gonna miss you,” you sigh into his chest, “we aren’t very close back in my world, y’know. So I’m glad I got to spend the time that I could with you.” 

“S’okay,” he mumbles into your hair, and you can feel the smile in your skin, “if we’re really meant to be friends, it’ll happen again.” 

Hoseok leaves you with these words, allowing you to breathe easy as you make the steps back to your apartment. Your feet are heavy from the day’s trek, but your mind feels lighter as you near your floor. 

You spot a young man in a long jacket hanging a bag on your doorknob, taking great care that the contents inside wouldn’t spill. 

“Jungkook?” you ask, smile widening when his gaze perks up to meet yours. It’s almost comical how he reacts to your voice, perking up like a little rabbit at the sound. 

His smile grows the closer you get to him, “Hey, pretty girl,” he murmurs, closing the space between you to press a chaste kiss on your cheek, “great timing. I got you something.”

Your eyes dart to the cup of bubble tea hanging on your doorknob. The cup is adorable, pink-tinted and rounded at the bottom with little cat ears for the lid. 

“Oh, you went! How was it?” 

“It was great! We should go once you’re free. Taehyung ordered three cups! Nearly puked all over Jimin’s couch.” 

“So,” your fingers trail up the buttons of his shirt, and you look up through your lashes, “you’re implying that my roommate isn’t inside our apartment right now.” 

He leans in, nose nudging your neck as his voice rumbles against your sensitive skin, “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” 

You’ve never punched in your key faster, clutching the bubble tea bag to place it along the counter as the two of you clamber in. Instead of making it to your bedroom or living room, Jungkook traps your body between the doorway, cradling your face in both his hands to press a sweet kiss on your lips. 

There’s nowhere to put your hands because both of Jungkook’s are up, so you close your eyes and let yourself savor the slow taste of his lips moving against yours. Finally you decide to settle your hands on his belt buckle, absentmindedly thumbing the loops as you get lost in the feeling. 

“Mm, Kook? Koo—” he presses quick pecks to your lips, barely giving you a chance to forge complete sentences, “can we move this somewhere more comfortable? ‘M legs are turning to jelly.” 

“Glad to have that effect on you,” he replies airily, thumbs pressing into your soft skin, “but I actually have to go, so no time to get comfy.” You whine against his lips, and he chuckles. “I have a cohort meeting at 8AM. We’re gonna organize our portfolios together.”

“Nerd,” you pout, pressing a kiss to his chin.

“And me and Mingyu are meeting online for some Overwatch in like, two hours.” 

“Gamer nerd,”

“Your nerd,” he beams, his thumb reaching out to swipe the sheen from your swollen lips, “lemme plan date night to make it up to you. Minghao will be out of town for the weekend so it’ll just be me at the apartment.” 

Date night. It all sounds so domestic to you, planning out designated days to spend time together. It isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but the fact that Jungkook sounds so settled with you is nothing short of heartening. 

“I’ll make dinner,” his fingers twine between yours, “and we’re keeping the dress code super casual. I want to see you in nothing but sweatpants and oversized t-shirts.”

“But sweatpants aren’t sexy!” 

“They are on you,” he retorts with a wiggle of his brows, “and sweatpants are easy access.” 

“Alright, as long as you don’t upstage me.”

“Never,” he grins, pearly whites on display, “now, I really gotta go.” 

He unlatches your body from his, only to have you immediately jump on him like a koala. You feel his large hands caressing your hair, taking the time to run his fingers through the tangles. You could fall asleep standing in the middle of your doorway, melting under his touch. 

“Good night, baby.” he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“Sweet dreams, nerd.” you reply reluctantly, letting him open the door so he can go. 

“Dream of me!” is the last thing he says before he forces you to shut the door, leaving you thoroughly needy and wanting for him. 

Tonight, you dream long. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Seven months ago, W1

You’re crying. There’s big, fat, ugly tears falling in rivulets along your face. You don’t even bother to wipe away the tears, just let them flow freely and dampen your pants as you watch the group take their final bow. 

From your seat, you take in the energy of the concert like it’s your last breath. The purple confetti dusting your hair, the slow remix blasting through the speakers. The sea of stars swimming across the stadium, all for them. 

You wait until everybody’s long gone before you get up from your seat. Until the only people that surround you are staff and clean-up crew, forcing you to leave. Your face still feels achy and your cheeks puffy. Sehlyung is urgently texting you (quadruple texting!) to hurry your ass up and get to the green room so you can all leave together. 

A hand on your shoulder stops you from replying, and you wave them off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m leaving already, sorry.” 

“Rude, I just got here.” 

Jungkook is glowing. He hoists his whole body to plop himself in the seat next to you, so heavy you fear he may break the plastic in two. His arms splay across the other seats, urging you to lean in closer. 

“Jungkook,” you smile, resting your hand on his thigh. “The show was great, I really felt the energy from all the way back here.” 

“I can see that,” he tugs at his long sleeves, reaching to brush a stray tear, “you okay?” 

“What, yeah.” you scoff, crossing your arms. 

“So you weren’t moved by my impeccable talent?” 

“Obviously,”

“Because, there’s nothing to be ashamed of if you were crying,” he goes on playfully, using his hands to narrate his spiel as he talks out to the stage, “I mean I get it, knowing how much I slaved over that solo and finally getting to perform it, and how I got sick the night before is a pretty–oh shit.” 

You’re blubbering again, feverish now that everyone’s gone and it’s only you two in the stadium. The lights have already started to go out, the only light illuminating are the red exit signs and the last pair of doors leading to the main lobby. Your cries are echoing across the large room, and you feel nothing short of embarrassed but you can’t stop crying.

“Awh, my little crybaby,” he cooes, dripping with affection as he moves the armrest to pull you onto his lap. You dive your face in his neck, wracking with sobs. 

“I’m, I’m just so proud of you,” you seep out, nuzzling your nose between his freshly cleaned face, “and you—you make it so damn hard for me to not love you it’s just, it’s not fair!” 

“You don’t make it any easier on me either,” he whispers, soft enough to crumble under his grasp and melt under his skin. 

The confessions are so soft, so easy to say. Little did the both of you know how much it would strain for you to place this love on the backburner. 

[bangchanzz]

Lover’s Paradise

CHAPTER 2

JEON JUNGKOOK X READER

Summary: Idol!Jungkook and Celebrity!Y/N have been friends for years. For both of them, their friendship has always bordered on more than friends, but neither of them are brave enough to take the leap of faith and confess. But when Y/N hosts the boys of BTS at her suave LA mansion and somehow finds herself sharing a bed with Jungkook, who harbors a few dark secrets of his own, things spin out of control. Tensions rise as she shows them a glimpse of her suave superstar lifestyle, and secrets come out that could change people’s lives forever.

Warnings: Severe depression, and anxiety. Mentions of suicide. ANGST. Mentions of sex. Heavy alcohol and drug use

Word Count: 4.4K (for this chapter)

Author’s Note: Here’s chapter 2! Things are starting to get a little more spicy ;) This chapter also hurt me deeply to write because thinking about sad JK makes me sad but anyway... Let me know what you think!

Lover’s Paradise Masterlist

***************************************************************************************

CHAPTER 2

YOUR POV

Dinner was… Eventful.

Ok, it was a mess.

For some reason, Brandon had thought barbequed pork ribs was a good idea, which lead to a kitchen covered in rib juice and barbeque sauce and nine boys covered in the same.

Jungkook had eventually come down after you had made some excuse about him feeling a little sick from the plane.

Brandon had given you a little look that said he knew you were lying, but when you gave him a subtle look of urgency right back, he decided to leave it be. Tae had also given you a funny look, and you didn’t miss when five minutes later he quietly slipped upstairs and came back twenty minutes after with the youngest in tow.

Jungkook had come downstairs looking like someone had sucked the life out of him, but he was pretending he had it together.

It made your heart beat funny in your chest, but you ignored it and instead wordlessly handed him a beer and went back to chopping vegetables.

The growing atmosphere seemed to pull him from whatever depression he had sunk into, at least for now, and after a few beers he was laughing and messing around in the pool with the rest of him.

As Brandon held court on the patio, standing over his grill-throne, you found yourself alone in the kitchen with Taehyung.

You set down the plate you were washing to watch him grab another beer from the refrigerator.

“What’s up with Jungkook?” you asked casually.

He froze, his hand hovering over the beer bottle, and turned to face you.

“Nothing,” he rasped.

“Bullshit, Tae. I don’t believe it.”

Taking the beer out and shutting the fridge, your friend leaned against the counter and studied his hands. “I told him he should tell you,” he muttered under his breath.

“Tell me what?” When Taehyung said nothing, you pressed on. “What’s the scar on his shoulder from? Tell me, Tae. Please. I’m worried.”

“He fell.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “He said as much. But I’m asking how he fell.”

Taehyung took a long sip of his beer before resting his gaze on you. “I’m not supposed to say anything. He asked me not to.”

You sighed. You supposed it was good that he had such loyal friends around him. They’d make sure he didn’t do something… extreme. “Fine. But just-“

He cut you off. “However, he’s not listening to us. We just can’t seem to…”

It was then you saw the silver lining his eyes and the tense lines of his body as he held back sobs. You moved to stand next to him, taking his large hand in yours and squeezing it. “Tae, you don’t have to say anything…”

“No,” the older boy said, drying his eyes with his free hand. “No, I think you need to hear this because maybe you can help him. We can’t seem to get through to him, but given your history maybe you can…”

“You mean my depression,” you guessed. “He’s depressed,” you said, choking on the last word a bit.

Taehyung nodded slightly. “The scar on his shoulder… He tried to kill himself.”

Every cell in your body turned to ice. Suddenly you were looking at Taehyung, but you weren’t really seeing him. Instead, you were remembering every vile and intrusive thought that had ever crossed your mind and how much it had taken to overcome it. Hell, you were still overcoming it if the daily pills and the weekly visits to a therapist were any indication.

But you knew you could do it. You had come this far, and you had become stronger for it. But Jungkook… You thought back to the cheeky boy you had met for the first time two years ago, you thought of his smiles and his laughter and his carefree attitude. That boy… You weren’t sure that boy could go through what you had and come out still able to smile.

“The scar,” Tae continued, unaware of your internal strife, “was from Namjoon tackling him on the roof of the BigHit building where he tried to jump. He landed wrong and messed up his shoulder so bad it needed surgery… But I guess that’s better than being dead.”

You didn’t think Jungkook thought the same way.

“How long ago was this?” You asked, your throat tightening.

“Four months ago.”

You closed your eyes. In your head you were running through every conversation, every joke, every meme you had sent back and forth with him four months ago and asked yourself why, why didn’t I see it?

But you caught yourself, remembering that there’s no use in dwelling it the past. It solves nothing. Instead of worrying about how you could’ve stopped him then, you should be worrying about how to prevent the same thing from happening again in the future.

“Thank you for telling me,” you managed.

Tae nodded, still trying to master himself. “Just don’t… tell anyone, ok? And maybe don’t tell him I told you. I’m not supposed to say anything, but I think that maybe you could help him.”

You nodded. “I won’t say anything.”

“Y/N?”

You looked at your friend, meeting his brown eyes filled with concern and… fear.

“Please,” Taehyung breathed, “Help him.”

You only nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without breaking into tears.

You didn’t bother to tell Taehyung that only Jungkook could help himself, that depression wasn’t like having the flu and you couldn’t just prescribe some pills and have it disappear, or that it was nothing like the romanticized version society projected and no amount of overused Pinterest quotes or a few “I love you’s” could make a person feel like life is actually worth living.

The best you had to offer was your story, but honestly that was even more depressing. And then there was the fact that you were still healing yourself, and so no, you didn’t have all the answers, you just had the answers to your own experiences which wouldn’t necessarily align with his.

Because truth be told you were still walking out of the darkest part of your life, and you realized that you might do more harm than good to both yourself and him.

But he was your friend, and he was hurting. So maybe you would try talking to him, if it seemed like he wanted to talk.

He knew about your history, and he knew he could come to you, so you wouldn’t push him to say more than what he was comfortable with.

You were shaken from your absolutely delightful thoughts as Jimin stuck his blonde head into the kitchen to tell you dinner was ready.

You thanked him and took a moment to master yourself, burying this part of you under layers of the personality you’d carefully constructed over the years, and when you went out to the patio you pretended everything was fine.

***************************************************************************************

After dinner that night, everyone was in the pool, either lounging or messing around in the water as the sun set over the ocean and stars began to make their appearance on an inky black stage.

You sat on the steps with Jin, a strawberry daiquiri in hand, discussing different cooking recipes, while the others sat around on the sides or swam in the pool.

“I wanted to say,” Jin said, placing a gentle hand on your knee, “that I’m sorry to hear about you and Shawn.”

Your stomach dropped. This had been the very last topic of conversation you wanted to discuss, but you had known it probably would come up that your ex-boyfriend had very publicly cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about and embarrassed you in front of the entire world and broken your heart and your spirit.

“Don’t be,” you said, steeling away your heart and the way it still sometimes ached for that lying, cheating bastard. “It’s for the best. He clearly never gave a shit about me.”

“How have you been dealing with it?” he asked, his eyes full of pity.

You shrugged and looked away, unable to shoulder the pity in his gaze. “Various ways. I watched some stupid teen romance movies and smashed some glass up in the mountains. Then I did a shit ton of drugs and blacked out for about two weeks. Then I just… carried on.”

Jin looked like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or yell. “Well that’s, uh, one way to get over someone.”

You shrugged again, playing with the warm pool water and tried to ignore the sinkhole I your chest that always opened up whenever you thought about Shawn. “I wasted enough time on him. He played me, I was sad for a bit, and now he doesn’t get the luxury of my time or peace of mind.”

Thankfully, at that exact moment, Brandon clapped his hands in the middle of the pool to get everyone’s attention.

“Ok, kids,” he announced, “let’s play a game.”

“What are we, pre-teens at a slumber party?” you demanded.

“Says the youngest here,” Branded retorted.

“Carry on,” you conceded with a sip of your drink.

“That’s what I thought,” he said as you narrowed your eyes at him. “Let’s play truth or dare.”

You gave him a pained look, the words fighting their way up your throat to tell him exactly what you thought of this cliché.

“So, Y/N,” Brandon said. He chose you to go first. Shocker. “Truth or dare?”

You thought for a moment, considering Brandon’s reputation of giving the absolute most horrific and humiliating dares. “Truth.”

“Tell us about the time you lost your virginity.”

You ignored the uncomfortable looks from the guys around you and the way they suddenly found everything but you incredibly interesting.

“Wow, first question and you already brought up sex? Way to ease into it,” you chuckled.

“Subtlety isn’t my style,” Brandon said with a sly grin. “Besides, aren’t you the one always saying, ‘Go big or go home’?”

“Fair enough,” you told him before taking a long drink of your cocktail. “Freshman year of college. I was at a frat party, got drunk, and thought, ‘fuck it, life’s too short. Chad was hot—or was it Brad? I honestly can’t remember. Same difference. After literally thirty seconds of making out he told me he wanted to fuck me, so I said whatever and lost my virginity in some senior frat house in a room that spelled like vomit and weed and I’m pretty sure did not belong to Brad or Chad or whoever he was. He lasted about forty-five seconds and I never saw him again.”

You sipped your drink, ignoring the shocked look on everyone’s’ face—everyone that is, except Brandon, who grinned at you with wicked delight. “Our little slut,” he said in an endearing tone.

“Hey,” you scoffed, leveling him with a glare, “at least I didn’t get syphilis the first time I had sex.”

Brandon let out a mock gasp and splashed you. “Hey that wasn’t my fault! I was fifteen and the girl told me I couldn’t get an STD my first time!

“Why? Because you couldn’t last long enough?” you shot back.

“Do you want to fight?” he demanded, making his way over to where you sat on the steps.

“Bring it on,” you said with a wry grin, setting your drink down. “I can take you any time, any place. Oh, but hold on, let me grab some protection first, I don’t want to catch your syphilis.”

“It was chlamydia,” Brandon snarled playfully, his large hands grabbing your thighs and pulling you towards him until you were close enough to wrap your legs around his torso, “and its gone now,” he said, his face so close to yours that your noses were practically touching.

You tilted your head a little so your mouth would graze his if either of you so much as shifted and said, “whatever you say, Itchy.”

At that, Brandon flung himself backwards into the water, taking you with him.

***************************************************************************************

JUNGKOOK’S POV

It was actually much more difficult to watch you and Brandon interact than he remembered. Your relationship had always looked like this: lots of touching and grabbing, inappropriate comments, sly looks… So Jungkook wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much tonight.

Maybe it was your skimpy little bikini—the way it did absolutely nothing to hide, well, any of your ass. Or the way it displayed your more than generous breasts. Or those curves. Those curves were positively sinful. Jungkook often dreamed about those curves when he was alone, imagining the way they would feel under his hands, how it would feel to have you completely at the mercy of his touch. What it would feel like to trace every perfect line of your body, just the two of you, and to have you want it—want him—and beg for more.

Suddenly, he was very, very glad he was submerged in the pool up to his hips, because if anyone saw the growing problem in his swim trunks he just might keel over dead on the spot.

“Jungkook.” Shit. You were looking at him, still tucked under Brandon’s incredible, stupidly muscled biceps—not that he cared or anything. “Truth or dare.”

“Um… truth?”

“Shit,” you said under your breath, “I wasn’t prepared for that one. Okay, um, I’ll be basic because I’m a little tipsy right now and therefore unoriginal, so I’ll go with: tell us about your first kiss.”

Jungkook immediately felt his face flame up as he dipped his head, the water suddenly more interesting than the model staring at him from across the pool.

“I’ve, uh, never been, um, kissed before,” he said, unable to meet your eyes.

“Wait really?” you asked incredulously.

He could only nod through the humiliation.

“That’s ok,” Brandon said from beside you, “You’re like 23, there’s really no rush. You’re a busy dude. No one expects you to have the time to go out and kiss girls.”

The others murmured their agreement. Jungkook could feel Taehyung’s gaze burning a hole through the side of his head, and even though he couldn’t see the older boy, Jungkook could practically envision the look of pity all over his face so he chose not to look. Even Brandon, despite his empathetic words, still gave him a quick look laced with pity.

It was only you that didn’t act like there was something fundamentally wrong with him for never having kissed anyone. You simply readjusted yourself in Brandon’s arms until he was carrying you bridal style so you could dip your head back to look at the stars, and said, “Damn, now I gotta think of something else.”

“We don’t have all night you drunk bitch,” Brandon said, swinging you around in a circle and making you giggle. “Jk, just ask someone else.”

And so the game continued on, but Jungkook wasn’t paying attention. He only watched the girl he loved lounge in another man’s arms and wondered what it would be like to be him.

***************************************************************************************

Jungkook spent the rest of the night hyperaware of where you existed around him, always looking for a way to talk to you or just be near you.

It frustrated him that he was like this; cripplingly insecure and desperate.

The past year and half your friendship had blossomed so easily over text, where he had the time to carefully construct a witty and suave response to whatever you had to say, but here, in real time, in your goddamn house, he was powerless to conceal how pathetic he was for you.

Because he was. Jungkook had loved you before he even met you—he had idolized you when you were a professional dancer in your teens, and then loved you even more when you became an actress and celebrity and you let the entire world see exactly how incredible you are.

And when he heard you were coming to Korea on a press tour for your new movie and he might even get to meet you he had nearly vomited from excitement and screamed into a pillow for three minutes straight.

But meeting you in his head was wildly different than meeting you in person. He thought he would be cool, albeit a bit awkward, but you would find it cute and charming. He would ask you out on a simple coffee date, to which you would reply yes, and you would have such a good time you wouldn’t leave his side. You would go for drinks at one of his favorite hidden bars in Seoul and he could show you his city. Then the two of you would go back to your hotel room to watch a movie, but he would accidently fall asleep and wake up with you in his arms.

Needless to say, it did not go that way.

He would never forget the first time he saw you in person: It was three years ago in Seoul during IdolFest, a huge gathering of idols to do interviews, challenges, variety shows, and interact with one another for the fans, and since your press tour would have you in Korea at the same time, they invited you and your co-stars to come, and you had said yes.

On the first day of the event, BTS had been one of the first groups to arrive and had to wait inside the studio until a PA—who was running late—could come open the dressing rooms.

Your co-stars had arrived first without you, them and their crew being ushered off into a corner by anxious looking interns. Jungkook observed with more than a little glee that the group was close enough to him that maybe he could make casual eye contact with you and introduce himself in a really cool and natural way. Or something suave like that.

It was a big deal that you guys were here, and everyone knew it. Your movies had been global blockbusters, breaking records after records with each opening weekend. As they walked across the room Jungkook could hear the whispers following them as idols eyed the American celebrities with varying reactions.

But all he could focus on was the fact that you weren’t there. Were you not coming? Were you running late?

He sent up a silent prayer to whatever god was listening that you would show; he wanted to meet you so badly—not that he thought he actually had the courage to introduce himself.

Jungkook was standing with Yugyeom talking about video games, when they heard the fans outside screaming the loudest they had all day.

“Who do you think it is?” Yugyeom asked, eyeing the door.

Jungkook shrugged. “Probably Big Bang or SHINee or some other big boy group.”

Suddenly, the doors of the studio burst open, the screams of the fans near deafening now, and every cell in Jungkook’s body went on red alert as you hurdled through the open doors on a longboard. Security had literally pushed you though the door as the chaos outside amplified.

The first thing Jungkook noticed was that you’re even more beautiful in person. You had your hair down, curls falling in waves down to your waist, the ends tinged lighter by the sun. Big designer sunglasses hid your eyes, but not the angular jaunt of your cheekbones or full mouth. You looked comfortable in oversized grey sweatpants and a black crop top that revealed impressive abs. A backpack was slung across your shoulders and Jungkook marveled that you could balance so well on your board with it on.

Everyone in the studio fell silent as you zoomed in, and if you noticed—which, having known you for two years now, Jungkook had no doubt you did—you didn’t react. You simply skateboarded over to where your costars stood, steering in and out of people like a professional with your hands in your pockets, expression bored.

In that moment, Jungkook had never loved anyone more.

Brandon’s voice echoed throughout the concrete studio, “You’re such a fucking drama queen Y/N.”

You slowed yourself down to a stop in front of him, kicking the board up into your hands with ease, the carefree sound of your laugh floating through the room.

“Yes, and?” you replied, turning to the man who Jungkook assumed was your assistant by the way he ran up to you, handed you a coffee, and took your skateboard.

“How was your final?” Caleb asked, taking a sip of his own coffee.

You groaned. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That bad?” Brandon asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Look, it happened. That’s all I’m going to say about it,” you said, chugging your coffee.

By then, conversation had picked back up and Jungkook was unable to hear the rest of what you were saying, but that didn’t stop him from looking over at you a bit too frequently and trying to think up a way to introduce himself.

He said goodbye to Yugyeom as the PA’s began letting people into their dressing rooms, and for a split second Jungkook truly believed in god when he realized that BTS’s dressing room was right next to yours.

And when Taehyung asked Namjoon to help him say hello to you, Jungkook almost exploded on the spot and had nothing short of begged to join them.

In the end, all seven boys had wanted to go, and so together they shuffled down the hall to the next door and knocked.

An assistant answered the door, and with wide eyes, turned around and said “BTS is here.”

“Let them in,” Brandon said, becoming visible as he stepped forward.

Jungkook was instantly jealous the first time he met Brandon.

To be fair, the first time he met Brandon, the other boy had been shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants, showing off his more than impressive physique. Jungkook would kill to have the kind of muscle definition and proportions that Brandon did, not to mention the height, the pretty face, and the confidence of having all of that and knowing it.

And then you stood up from your makeup chair and Jungkook instantly forgot about Brandon.

You were in a sports bra and tiny spandex shorts, your hair up in a bun and your knuckles taped as if for boxing. Jungkook was aware that he was ogling you, but damn you were the hottest thing he had ever seen.

“Hi,” you said in perfect Korean. “I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to meet you.” You smiled, and his eyes had caught yours for a split second and his heart had stopped beating.

“I’m RM,” Namjoon said stepping forward and shaking your hand. Jungkook tried not to feel too jealous—and failed. “Your Korean is very good.”

“Thank you,” you replied, blushing slightly. “I spent a year studying Taekwondo in Seoul a few years ago and picked up a few things,” you laughed.

“More than a few it looks like,” Namjoon observed, earning another laugh from you.

The meeting was short, as both groups were busy getting ready, and Jungkook found himself having said a single word to you: his goddamn name.

He wanted to be better than this. He wanted to be funny and interesting, but still a little mysterious and deep; he wanted to wow you with his cool words and maybe even get your number, but as he turned to leave with the rest of his group he realized how foolish he had been.

Why would you ever take notice of someone like him? Someone who couldn’t even speak to you, much less sweep you off your feet?

All he could think about as he walked away, and every day for the next three years, was how beautiful you had looked that day when you smiled at him.

YOUR POV

*********************************************************************************

The rest of the night was rather tame, the ten of you catching up over some alcohol and s’mores under a blanket of stars and swaying palm trees.

The alcohol plus the warm California breeze was all it took to lull you into a partial coma, your body suddenly deciding that you were very tired, and that Caleb made a wonderful pillow. Caleb, none too happy with his newly appointed status as a body pillow, dutifully carried you upstairs and helped you into bed.

As you nestled into your blankets you let your thoughts wander to Jungkook and wondered whether or not he’d actually share a bed with you tonight or if he would wait until everyone fell asleep and then crash on the couch.

It was strange how you couldn’t decide which option you wanted more.

On one hand, you liked Jungkook a lot. You would love nothing more than to share a bed and stay up late talking about everything and nothing in the safety of his arms. But you knew that was impractical. Even so, you realized you just craved being near him; you always felt good around him, like things were a little better. Like the dark cloud that always seemed to hang around you was a little less dark when he was there. He was a reminder that there were still things in this world worth fighting for, and one of them was right in front of you.

On the other hand, you weren’t sure you could handle being that close to him and not getting the physical attention you craved. It would be so incredibly hard to share a goddamn bed with him and not go any further than sleeping. You would get to be near him, but it could never go any further than that, and you weren’t sure you were capable of that right now.

As you drifted off to sleep you realized there was never any doubt: you wanted him here. And maybe that was more of a nightmare than a dream.

Right in the middle of a particularly interesting dream about Jungkook, you awoke to the feeling of the mattress shifting on the other side of the bed. You didn’t say anything as you cracked an eye to watch Jungkook get comfortable as far away from you as he could get without falling off the edge of the mattress.

You couldn’t help the satisfaction that bloomed in your chest, and the feeling of security knowing he was safely next to you, asleep and alive. Fighting the urge to reach out and touch him, you turned over and went back to sleep, but this time no dreams came.

[krreader]

SEVENTEEN scenario → calling you clingy.

pairing: seventeen x reader fandom: seventeen warnings: / genre: fluff ; angst word count: 2.2k+

a/n: aaaaaah, I’m so happy I finally got to work on some more seventeen stuff so I hope you like it love!

ask box | masterlists | faq | twitter | ko-fi | REQUESTS ARE CLOSED.

choi seungcheol

As the leader, Seungcheol obviously had a lot of responsibilities. You knew that too. You had known that ever since you first started dating him and you respected that and were okay with it.

But you missed him a lot these days. Comeback was always hard on your relationship.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind when he was in the bathroom getting ready to leave again.

“Can you stay for a little longer? Just.. twenty minutes or something?”

Seungcheol sighed, “Please don't be clingy like this.”

You immediately stopped kissing his neck, instead you took a step back and cocked your head to the side, “Clingy? This was the first night we spent together in four weeks. One. Night. I've not complained once in the past four weeks and I'm clingy?”

“You know what I meant,” he turned around, “Don't turn this into an argument.”

“Oh, this isn't an argument, sweetheart. This is me telling you to maybe appreciate me a little more, instead of insulting me when I’ve done nothing but respect you and your job..”

“(Y/N), wait..-” he wanted to pull his own hair out when you left the bathroom, mostly because he knew you were right..

He should have thought about his words more carefully.

yoon jeonghan

He never meant to snap at you, he didn't quite know what was the reason for it, maybe the stress, maybe the exhaustion, but one second everything was fine and the next Jeonghan called you clingy and wanted you to leave him alone.

Which you obviously did, you weren't in the mood to argue.

And you knew he'd come running back to you in less than thirty minutes to apologize.

You were sitting on the couch when he entered the living room of your apartment.

“What are you doing?” he asked shyly.

“I'm on my phone,” you said nonchalantly.

“Are you.. playing that game? Pokémon Go?”

“No, the Harry Potter version,” it was clear that he wanted to make conversation, but you gave him the cold shoulder.

And it worked wonders. With a heavy sigh he dropped down on the couch next to you, “(Y/N), I am so sorry about what I said before.. I don't know what happened, but I never meant to snap at you like this, you have to believe me..-”

He continued on for about five more minutes while you just continued playing your game.

And when he was finally done you smiled at him, “It's fine, I'm not angry, I just wanted to see how worked up you'd get over this.”

His mouth was slightly ajar, then he murmured, “You're mean.”

“Only when I have to be,” you winked.

joshua hong

Joshua felt bad the second the words “Why are you so clingy today?” left his mouth and saw how hurt you were from it.

You had realized he was having a bad day and wanted to cheer him up by staying a bit longer than usual, but it clearly backfired.

“I'll just.. go then..-”

“No, no, no, wait..-” he grabbed your hand before you could do so and turned you around to pull you close, cradling your head against his chest, “I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to say that. I should have thought before speaking, I'm sorry.”

You forced yourself not to cry, focused on his heartbeat and nodded, slowly relaxing in his arms again.

You knew he didn't mean it.. or at least you hoped he didn't.

wen junhui

This wasn't a new argument you had. It was as if he always ended up saying the “You're clingy” line whenever he felt like shit and needed to let it out on somebody. And unfortunately, it was always you.

At this point, though, you've gotten so used to it that you simply rolled your eyes, “Whatever you say,” you continued to place the food in front of him, “Eat this.”

“No, I told you, I'm not..-”

“Stop arguing with me and just eat it. Am I your mother or your girlfriend? Jeez,” you plopped down on the couch and waited for him to eat it and of course he did. He did because he hadn't eaten a single thing today and you knew he hadn't, that's why you came here so late at night.

Not because you were clingy, but because you cared.

And once he was done, he turned around to look at you like a little child and said: “I'm sorry, (Y/N).”

“Whatever,” it was sad how used you’ve gotten to this..

kwon soonyoung

You visited him in the dance studio one night after he had been ignoring your calls for hours.

You were worried about him lately, you just wanted to make sure he was okay, but the moment he saw you, his face dropped.

“There's a reason I've not been answering my phone. Stop being so clingy, (Y/N)! I'm busy!”

You stared at him for a second, then you dropped the bag of food as well as the two bottles of water, “Well then.. sorry that I care.”

And with that you angrily left.

Soonyoung was still out of breath from dancing, then he slowly walked over to the food and smiled sadly when he saw you had bought all of his favorite things.

The smile faded though when he realized what he had just called you.. the one that cared so much about him that she'd go out of her way to bring him all of this.

“You idiot,” he muttered to himself.

jeon wonwoo

Wonwoo didn't have a lot of time as an idol, but he kept trying to squeeze seeing you into his schedule. Which, in itself, was horrible, given the fact that you were his girlfriend.

You kept texting him, asking if you could stop by tonight – like you had planned for a while – and if so, at what time.

And what you got as a reply was: “Can you stop being clingy for a while? I'm trying to figure it out.”

He did not get a reply. And after re-reading what he had sent, it was no wonder.

And you weren't surprised when he was the one that showed up with a bouquet of flowers and food that night, as well as an apologetic smile on his face.

“I have food, snacks, flowers and if you want, I can stay the night?”

“You're a bit clingy right now, you know?” you mocked him.

“I know,” he kissed your cheek, whispering an, “I'm sorry,” into your ear, then went into the kitchen.

lee jihoon

Jihoon was hardworking, but it came to a point where you rarely saw him anymore because of how much he worked and naturally, when he continuously canceled your date nights, you had to come to him at some point.

And it's not like you were staying for hours, you usually just stopped by at the studio with food, wanted to eat with him and then left again – after the occasional tumble, because yes, sex was also kind of hard to have when he was rarely at home anymore.

But today seemed to be a bad day, you noticed it the moment you walked in. He looked a lot more tense than usual.. might be because of the deadline he had coming up soon.

“Here, I wasn't sure what you wanted so I just bought a bunch of stuff. The lady at the store even gave me an extra portion because she said you needed to..-”

“(Y/N), can you just leave, please? You are way too clingy these last few weeks and right now I just don't need that, okay?” and with that sentence, he turned back around to his computer and put his headphones back on like he didn't just insult you.

Yes, it hurt, but you also knew him well enough. This wasn't the real him, this was stressed him who couldn't think straight.

So you just left the food there and went home without another word.

It was only when Jihoon was finally done and saw the food on his desk that he let out a heavy sigh and brushed his hands over his face.

He instantly texted you and apologized, asked if he could come over and talk to you about it all and also, properly apologized.

You said yes.

lee seokmin

You were at their dorm for dinner, were having a great time, your boyfriend telling a story, when he suddenly said: “Ah, (Y/N) can be so clingy sometimes.”

And boy, the awkward silence that followed after was horrible.

The rest of the boys that were eating with you all suddenly looked very interested in their dinner, Seokmin looked shocked about what he just said out loud and you stared at him with an open mouth and furrowed eyebrows.

“Excuse me?”

“I.. I didn't mean to say that, I don't know why I did..-”

You didn't want to cause a massive scene, not in front of the boys, so you just placed your napkin on the table and got up, “Then you better figure it out,” and with that you wanted to walk out of the apartment.

But Seokmin sprinted after you, chased you until he caught you at the elevator where you two started arguing.

And even though you didn't want the boys to hear, all of them stood at the door like they were watching a drama.

“Can someone get some popcorn?” Seungkwan asked, getting hit on the arm by one of his hyungs.

kim mingyu

“Do you realize that we never argue?” Mingyu asked one day out of the blue.

“Is.. that a bad thing?” you laughed, looking up from your book.

“No, it's just something that I realized today.”

“Well,” you turned to him, “Do you want to try arguing?”

“To be honest, I wouldn't even know what to argue about,” he narrowed his eyes at you, “How about.. You're clingy!” he tried to sound serious, but then instantly started laughing.. as did you.

“You're so bad at this, no wonder we don't ever argue, you have no talent for it.”

Which might not be the worst trait in the world.

xu minghao

God, did he feel bad. The second the words left his mouth, he was the one who was about to cry because he could see how much he hurt you.

“No, (Y/N). No, please don't cry,” but you already did and he instantly kissed your head and pulled you closer, “I'm sorry, I'm just so stressed lately, I shouldn't have let it out on you.”

But you already felt bad..

“I'm just.. going to leave,” you said in between sobs, but Minghao wouldn't let go of you.

“No, I don't want you to go, please stay for the night. For as long as you want. I'll miss you when you leave.”

But now he had already said the 'you're clingy' line and you just couldn't forget it.

boo seungkwan

You didn't know what started this argument, but here you two were, suddenly saying what annoyed you about the other person.

“You are so.. clingy! It's driving me nuts!”

“Oh, is that so, yeah?” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “Would you rather me not seeing you for a while then? How about we take a break, is that what you want?”

“Fine! Go then!”

“Fine, I'll go!”

Seungkwan pouted for approximately ten seconds, until he heard the front door close, then he sprinted after you, because no, he obviously didn't want you two to take a break.

And you didn't.

You never did..

hansol vernon choi

Vernon had told you about the upcoming world tour and, naturally, you expressed that you were both happy, but also sad about it. Happy, because you knew what awesome experiences these world tours were for the boys. Sad, because world tour meant not seeing him for a very long time.

“It's because you've been so clingy lately, usually you don't mind it,” he laughed. He hadn't meant it in a bad way, but that's the way you took it.

“I've been clingy because I knew you'd leave and I wanted to at least spend a little more time with my boyfriend,” your voice showed the hurt and Vernon instantly sat up straighter when you got up.

“Wait, I didn't mean it like that.”

“I know. But the fact that this all seems to be so easy for you while I'm sitting at home missing you so badly..-” your shoulders slumped, “Makes me think you don't care about this relationship as much as I do.”

Vernon stared after you, his mouth opening and closing again because he didn't know what to say.

Why?

Because.. maybe.. you were right?

lee chan

Your relationship was still new, this was the very first argument you ever had.

And in a way, you could see why he said what he said.

Because you were clingy. But only because you were in that lovey-dovey phase.

Ultimately, it was you who gave in with a sigh and nodded, “What do you want me to do then? Should I leave?”

“No.. no, don't go, just.. understand where I'm coming from,” Chan brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, “I will reply when I can, I will come over when I can.. trust me. But some days it's just hard to do anything other than work. I need you to understand that.”

You nodded with a slight pout.

But you did understand..

[bangtan-madi]

546 Days Without You — Four: Day 20

Pairing — Seokjin x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Seokjin, older brother!Yoongi, producer/songwriter!MC, military au (ish), idol au (ish)

Genre — fluff, angst

Word Count — 3.1k

Summary — Kim Seokjin is your entire world, and that world falls apart the moment he and your older brother Yoongi are conscripted into the South Korean military.

Part — 4 / 15

Warnings — seclusion and depression, a couple brief mentions of eating disorders (no detail), general sadness, unhealthy work behaviors and coping mechanisms, enlistment

(gif not mine. credit to original creator.)

Previous — Next

For weeks after Seokjin and Yoongi enlist, the news stations and other various media outlets are covering it 24/7. No one expected Yoongi to enlist this early, and the circumstances around Seokjin's enlistment haven't died down since they were released. In the midst of the chaos, there were rumors floating around about BTS, BigHit, and you. More specifically, you and the eldest member.

It hadn't gone unnoticed the way you acted right before he left for the military. While you both had tried very hard to be inconspicuous, gossip never really goes away. At this point, you're used to it, and you couldn't care less about what everyone else thinks.

Life hasn't been the easiest the past month. Each of the members has been dealing with their absences in different ways. 

Namjoon has been burying himself in work, focusing entirely on the next album. He's been writing and working with the producers nonstop. You've hardly seen him at all the past few days. Hoseok has been a light amid the darkness, trying his hardest to pick up the motherly slack where Seokjin left off, but even he is struggling to keep a smile on his face. He's even tried to crack terrible dad jokes, but they're not quite enough to fill the void.

Jimin has taken the news hard, and has shifted back into his self-destructive habits. Eating hasn't been a regular thing, and he's been practicing both dancing and singing nonstop. He's always been one to move to express himself, but the lack of proper self-care has been eating away at him. Taehyung has been no better. One of your oldest friends has shrunk in on himself, becoming a much quieter, more demure version of the ray of sunshine everyone adores. He keeps to himself most of the time.

Jungkook is the person most outward with his struggles, but with no one to share them with, he's resorted to exercising and sports. The youngest member has always been athletic, and it's always been a stress reliever for him. On an ordinary day, that's a good thing. However, like the others, he's using these activities as a crutch, a distraction, a way to cope with losing two oldest brothers.

And you're no better than any of them. You can feel yourself spiraling more every day. At the beginning, you tried your best to help each of the members with their emotions. But the more you took on, the further you fell away. No one realized how much of the band's weight Yoongi and Seokjin bore. They were foundational pillars. Without them, the dorms feel empty.

As does your apartment. Seokjin was always lively, especially in the privacy of your home, and not having him there makes it feel so damned dark. No matter how many lights you turn on, the shadows remain.

It's due to this fact that you've been spending most of your days and nights in Yoongi's Genius Lab and not at home. Being around Yoongi's work, his memorabilia, his passion projects, it makes you feel safe. Just being around your brother's things brings you immense comfort, but being around an empty apartment? 

That does the opposite.

Headphones on and notebook in front of you, you lounge casually on the sofa across from Yoongi's producing setup. The screens create a blue luminosity, and his unfinished music blares in your ears. You were hoping that being here, hearing his voice, would reignite your own creative spark, as you haven't written any of your own music since the departure. Seems all it's done is bring you lower into the darkness and let your demons rise higher around you.

Your phone buzzes on the cushion beside you. Hoseok's face illuminates briefly before disappearing, along with the other half-dozen notifications—most of which were from him, to begin with. He's called a few times over the weekend and texted nonstop. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what he's doing.

It's Christmas Eve, and no one is talking. You'd called your parents earlier that week and told them that you'd be spending the holidays in Seoul instead of traveling to Daegu. You blamed it on the weather, the distance, the urgent work on the new album, the wish to be with the boys—which was everything but the truth.

If you're honest with yourself, you don't want to see your mother's face when she looked at you. You know how much she sees Yoongi in you; the two of you are more alike than you'd care to admit. When she sees you, she sees him, and the whole room gets quiet and sad. The holidays are miserable enough without that constant reminder. 

Taking even a brief look at Hoseok's messages ends up being a mistake.

You shake your head and flip the phone over, not wanting to let them distract you. Just because you decided to stay in Seoul doesn't mean you want to celebrate.

In your mind, there's nothing to celebrate.

Sometime later, there's a loud knock on the studio door. Through the foggy glass, you see a tall silhouette. The figure knocks again, this time ringing the bell to accompany it.

"[Y/n], open up."

"I'm working!" you shout back.

Hoseok doesn't move. "You know, I could just open this if I wanted to. Yoongi gave me the code before he left."

You scoff, "Liar. He never gave that to anyone but me."

There's a pause, then a click, and the door swings open. Hoseok leans through the door, cocking an eyebrow in your direction. "Who's the liar now? You're not working, you're moping."

You ball up your most recent attempt at a melody and chuck the sphere at his head. It misses, but only barely. "Yeah, what about it?"

"God, you're such a brat sometimes." He moves over to where you sit and, slipping his arms under your frame, hauls you into his arms. 

"What the hell, Jung Hoseok—"

"—I'm intervening because this has got to stop, and someone's gotta do it," he interrupts, keeping a firm grasp on you as he shifts you onto his back and continues out of the studio. Closing the door with his foot, he keeps a gentle grip on your thighs, and you wrap your arms around his neck. "I've already forced Namjoon and Jungkook to come back home, and I tricked Jimin and Taehyung into showing up from their hiding places. We've got to talk, all of us."

There's a quiver in his voice as he continues down the hallway, one that makes you pause a little. "Hobi..."

The brunet sighs, "I'm sick of the silence, [Y/n]. Sick of it."

The hallway falls silent as he drags you from Genius Lab to the living room of the boys' dormitories. When you enter the large, open space, you see the rest of the boys seated in various places. Jimin stands to the side of the sofa, where Jungkook and Namjoon recline on opposite sides. Taehyung sits cross-legged on the floor across from them, elbows perched on the edge of the coffee table.

Hoseok slides you into the armchair next to Taehyung, ordering you to stay put. Pulling your knees up onto the cushion, you give the third-oldest member a scowl.

"Blackmail," Jimin mutters, flashing Hoseok his infamous side-eye.

Hoseok takes his stance off to the side, in an area where everyone can see him. He huffs a breath and places his hands on his hips. As he looks to each of you, his annoyance grows.

"We're not leaving this room until we get some things sorted out and start talking again. So...who wants to go first?"

A moment of silence passes before Jungkook murmurs, "What's there to talk about? We've all just been busy."

"That excuse isn't going to fly, not on Christmas Eve. We've been like this for weeks, and I—I can't take it anymore." Hoseok runs a hand through his dark hair, exasperated. "Ever since Jin and Yoongi left, we've barely interacted with each other. Namjoon, you've been working nonstop. Same with you, Jimin."

He turns to Jungkook and Taehyung. "I get that you love being at the gym, but all the time, Jungkook? And Tae, we hardly see you anymore. You're so quiet, and it's worrying me." He turns to you, chocolate brown eyes turning up at the corners. "You're the same, [Y/n], but you've held yourself up in Yoongi's studio. We can all tell you're suffering, but honestly, I've been too scared to knock until tonight."

"Some of us just need some space, Hyung," Taehyung states, voice deep and nonchalant. 

Hoseok crosses his arms over his chest. "The space is hurting all of us. It's not helping. I thought giving everyone some time would make things better, but we've all gotten worse! I hate seeing everyone I care about fall to pieces."

"What are our options?" you suggest, gesturing to the side with your hands, as if motioning to the outside. "The whole damn world is a rumor mill right now. They're freaking out about Seokjin and Yoongi, but on top of that, they're catching wind of Jin's love life! And I'm involved now. Our families are being harassed with question after question. Eomma had to close down the restaurant for a few hours last week because of the reporters! We have every damn right to be upset, to be angry, to want some space."

"Maybe we're not doing so well, and while a lot of that is due to outside circumstances, I'm willing to bet those things only make what's happening inside that much worse," Hoseok replies, attempting to keep his voice even. "The outside is only stirring up our internal struggles, but they were there before. I saw you start to go downhill even before they left, so you can't blame it on that, [Y/n]."

"Are you saying we shouldn't miss them?" Jimin retorts, his tone coming out short and abrasive. 

Hoseok laughs dryly and throws his hands up in frustration. "Of course not! I miss them too! You guys aren't the only ones that are sad about our hyungs. But I have to be the one that smiles. I have to be the oldest now. I have to keep the happiness alive—because that's what they'd want—but I'm exhausted. I—I can't keep doing this."

The current oldest finishes his mini-rant, plopping down on the sofa between Namjoon and Jungkook. He rests his elbows on his knees, burying his head into his hands. "I'm next, you know? My timer's counting down, just like everyone else's. But if this is how you're gonna react acter I enlist, then I'm dreading it even more."

"Don't say that," Jungkook says, turning to face Hoseok.

The brunet shakes his head, running his hands over his face as he scans the room. "We can't keep falling apart every time this comes up. We knew it was coming. We thought we were prepared...but I guess not. We have to talk to each other. We can't shut each other out. I'll pull a Yoongi and kick each of your asses until we get this fixed and out into the open." 

He turns to Namjoon, taking in the leader of the group with careful eyes. "You're quiet. Please, tell me I'm not making things worse by calling for an intervention, because I'm at the end of my rope and...god, I don't know what else to do."

Namjoon's eyes focus on his clasped hands, features soft despite his clenching jaw. "Maybe you've got a point." His gaze shifts upwards. "We've all been going back to our old crutches, the things we use to manage stress and sadness. In moderation, they're good—healthy even. But we're letting them consume us. It's the same as if one of us were to go to alcohol, or drugs, or women. These crutches are just as bad for us, but just less obvious. Hoseok is probably the only one that's noticed each of us spiraling."

He breathes out, then stands to pace the room. All eyes focus on him as his voice comes out soothing and authoritative. "We've gotta start thinking about this as a tour. We need to come together as a group, as a family, and talk about these things before they tear us apart. We've had fights before, and we've always discussed and made changes going forward. We have to do the same thing here."

"What do you suggest?"

Namjoon turns back to the only sensible person in the room. "We need to rely more on each other and less on our vices. That's different for each of us. For me...that means not working twenty-hour days and forgetting basic things like eating, sleeping, showering."

Jungkook makes a face, forever the member most sensitive to smell. "Yes, god, please take a shower, Hyung."

Namjoon chuckles, and the mood in the room is instantly lifted. "Right after we finish, I promise. But I think we all need to admit to our weaknesses and acknowledge that we need help with them. Nothing shameful in that. I went first, but what about you?"

Jungkook speaks up first, his voice soft and endearing as he hugs a throw pillow to his chest. "I distract myself with my hobbies. Maybe I've been spending a little too much time at the gym...or playing games. Maybe not enough time talking with the group."

Namjoon places a tender hand on the youngest's shoulders, flashing a proud smile.

"I've been hiding from everything, I think," Taehyung admits, getting a little courage from Jungkook's truth. "Without Yoongi or Jin, and with some of my closest friends hiding away, I let myself shrink and go back to that sad place I fought so hard to escape."

Seeing the way Taehyung curls his shoulders inwards causes you to get up from your chair and sit behind him on the floor. You wrap your arms around his middle and rest your cheek against his back, holding him tightly to you. 

Jimin speaks next, awkwardly shuffling where he stands. "I don't want any of you to worry about me. I'm just dancing, that's all."

"Way too much, for way too long, and without proper meals," Hoseok gently prods.

Jimin's gaze shifts to the floor. "Yeah...Yeah. I guess that's true. I just—I haven't had an appetite lately. The only thing that's made me feel better is dancing, so I do that instead..."

Hoseok walks over to Jimin and collects him in his arms, seeing the younger member struggling internally to admit his feelings. Jimin rests his head on Hoseok's shoulder as he tells Jimin to focus on his breathing.

"You're not alone in that, you know," Jungkook states.

Waves of realization wash over you as you hear each of the members being honest about what they've gone through the past few weeks. It breaks your heart to see them all struggling, suffering, all of it in silence. And along with the heartbreak is guilt. You should've noticed more. You should've said something. You should've done something.

Anything more than hiding away where no one could find you.

You turn your head and hide your face in Taehyung's hoodie, feeling like the worst friend in the whole world.

The other Daegu native places his hands over yours on his middle, glancing over his shoulder at your face. "Your turn, Noona."

You look over the curly-haired boy's shoulder, towards the rest of the members who are watching you. You shrug off your guilt and sigh, "It's like Hobi said. I hid away and made you all worry. I just—I felt angry, and sad, and lonely. And I made everything worse by secluding myself in Yoongi's studio. And I'm sorry for that."

Taehyung threads his fingers through yours, offering a tiny version of his boxy smile. "You don't need to be sorry, [Y/n]. We're all dealing with things in different ways."

His sweetness causes you to tear up. "Still, I owe you all an apology. I should've known that you all would be hurt by the conscription, too. I was selfish to focus only on what I'd lost. I—I love you all so much, and I promise I'll do better."

One by one, each of the members slips to the floor and contributes to the group hug around you and Taehyung. Wrapped in their warmth, you start to feel your emotions stabilizing. It seems that everyone else is feeling the same, for you all breathe a sigh of relief at the same time.

After a few minutes of pure, blissful silence, you turn your head to the side and murmur, "Is anyone up for a movie or something? I don't wanna go to bed just yet, and I miss you guys."

Jungkook is the first to nod eagerly, his head popping up out of the group with a wide smile plastered on his face. "Can I pick?"

Namjoon chuckles, "Sure, but no zombie movies. You know Hobi can't stand those."

"Yeah, they make him piss his pants," Jimin giggles.

Hobi gawks at the members as each of them departs towards the theater room, eventually giving playful chase after the youngest. 

"Are you going to be okay?" Taehyung whispers as you two are left alone.

You nod against his shoulder, press a chaste kiss to the back of his head, and help him off the ground, smiling the first smile you've had in weeks. 

"As long as I have you five with me, I guarantee it."