#i wish i could word this all better.. i should really examine Dead End’s lyrics even closer

[ranuunculus]

the last notes in I Can Hear the Rain… <- (full of emotion)

[yumgrapejuice]

An analysis on Ranboo’s lore playlist

okay y’all first of all, ranboo has a killer taste, i love him, and second, i couldn’t resist. i’m an analyst by nature. am i looking too deep into some things? did ranboo maybe choose some songs purely for the vibe? perhaps. do i care? no. let me have my fun.

I’m gonna drop my own analysis/interpretation based on these songs but feel free do use this yourself if you want!! And also feel free to disagree/correct me on anything!! I’m not a professional musical analyst lol and I did take some inspiration from already existing interpretations for the more lyrical songs.

here’s the playlist btw

“Introduction to the Snow”—introduction to the album. Fitting for the playlist’s beginning, seeing the tone. It’s mostly referencing (self-imposed) isolation.

“Dream Sweet in Sea Major”—this Miracle Music’s whole album is about dreams and reality, how they clash, loneliness and the wish to be close to someone, yet still remaining isolated. Very whimsical, metaphorical, melodic, and it has this vibe as if on the edge of consciousness. I’d say it fits quite well with c!Ranboo’s general vibe. This song in particular deals with sleepwalking(ha)/being in a dreamlike state, the line between what’s real and what’s not blurred.

“The Mind Electric”—oh this one fits Ranboo extremely well. First part is in reverse, the second in normal (mirroring), and it can get quite unsettling. Like you’re not sure what’s happening with the instrumentals, many different voices. Again, very metaphorical, but to put it shortly, the protagonist is being judged for a crime they’ve committed and, in their defence, they say: “Father, your honor, may I explain, my brain has claimed its glory over me; I’ve a good heart albeit insane”. They get “condemned to the infirmary” for that, where electric shock is used on them as a form of “therapy”. As a result, the protagonist loses grip on reality and themselves and truly does go insane. They beg for mercy and sympathy, but there’s no one to help them. “Someone help me; Understand what's going on inside my mind; Doctor I can't tell if I'm not me”—need I say more, really?

“Live and Let Die”—the phrase “live and let die” means to live your life how you wish and let others live how they wish without interfering. At first, you live by the phrase “live and let live”, meaning you have your ideals and you try to change the lives of others according to them, but as life progresses, you stop caring as much/try to distance yourself from others’ business.

“Turn the Lights Off”—dreams and nightmares. Mildly foreboding yet energetic. The actual meaning is about growing up (transition from childhood to adulthood), but we can take some other interpretations that’d fit with Ranboo’s character better. This Tally Hall’s album deals with differences, black and white, and how there shouldn’t be a divide between them. In this song, there are some noteworthy lines that I’d like to mention:

- “Bend the nightmare, you control it; Artful dodger, easy does it”—lucid dreaming, you have to be careful with it so as to not lose control.

- “Shut the closet, get under the covers”—you’re afraid of something and instead of facing it and seeing whether there even is something to be afraid of, you hide.

- “Turn the lights off”—confront your fears. It can also mean that in the dark, there’s no differences between people, going back to the album’s meaning.

- “And everybody wants to get evil tonight; But all good devils masquerade under the light”—this could mean that everyone has a darker part of themselves but those who actually indulge in their dark tendencies do so in plain sight by pretending to be someone else.

“Ruler of Everything”—the main theme here is time and how it’s the “ruler of everything”; time doesn’t matter about where it goes, and it will never stop. The second verse is most interesting to me—there are two singers, man and time, but for the sake of interpretation let’s just see it as two voices. One is obsessed about being liked, fitting in, constantly asking for reaffirmation (“Do you like how I walk? Do you like how I talk?”), while the second criticizes the first (“You practice your mannerisms into the wall”). They argue—”I’ve been you, I know you, your facade is scam; You know you’re making me cry, this is the way that I am”. The second is calling out the first for not being honest to himself. Tone is lighthearted but with an edge of unease.

“Merry-Go-Round of Life”—from Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack. The title’s self-explanatory, I’d say.

“Killer Queen”—this one’s a harder one to interpret in regards to Ranboo lol. The song is about, based on an interview with Mercury, a high class woman that likes to indulge in her various desires (mostly sexual). I would doubt that’s what Ranboo was going for, so! Perhaps about a person that has no regards for their reputation and instead does whatever they feel like it? They have a certain image but still act however they like. Yeah, not too sure about this one :’) But that’s what I’ll go with for my later analysis.

“Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked”—quite straightforward. A person that performs bad deeds has reasons for them. Not excuses, but explanations, and you can sympathize with it. We all do “bad” things for one reason or the other, and, in the end, we’re all just trying to get by. Once again, plays into the theme of there not being a clear distinction between good and bad.

“The Bidding”—another harder one to interpret. On the surface, it’s about an auction where men are trying to sell themselves to women. They all present themselves in different images, and it’s remarked that the women care less about the date and more about the prospect of it, the pretty words. The date, actually, ends up being disappointing. Could be about expectations. Some men outright admit they’re assholes so whoever chooses them should know that. People can tell you what their intentions are from the start so if you end up hurt, you have no one else to blame but yourself.

“A Mask of My Own Face”—another interesting one! Unusual instruments, strong beat. They’re singing about how they have a desire to pretend to be someone else while secretly still being themselves. “I’d rob my own apartment and I wouldn’t give a damn; I’d blame it on the person that nobody knows I am”—implying they have no regard for their own livelihood and are just out to have some fun. Plus, that no one would be aware it’s all an act. “I'd wear it on Thanksgiving and I'd laugh in the parade; At all the people hissing, knowing I'm the one they hate”—they take delight in the idea of upsetting others and them not knowing it’s actually the singer that they should be hissing. “And at the big finale I would tear my face away; And smile as they grip their own and try to do the same”—everyone wears masks, and this person implies that their mask and their true self is not different from each other while others’ are.

“Stardust Crusaders”—soundtrack from Jojo. Action-packed? idk never seen it sorry lol

“I Can’t Decide”—oh, this one’s a doozy! One of the ones that do not fit c!Ranboo at all, but that’s what makes it interesting. A classic, the singer is out to have fun, very lighthearted and yet they’re singing about murder. The protagonist here is clearly mentally unwell and they’re indecisive whether they should let their enemy/toy/(up to interpretation) live or not. Some curious lines:

- “It’s not easy having yourself a good time”—in the context of the song, that “good time” implies something wicked.

- “I’m not a gangster tonight, don’t wanna be the bad guy, I’m just a loner, baby, and now you’ve got in my way”—they don’t view themselves as “bad”, however, the next two lines are paradoxal—the singer says they’re alone and yet decide to “mess around” with whoever comes up in their life.

- “No wonder why my heart feels dead inside, it’s hard and cold and petrified”—signifying lack of empathy.

- “It’s a bitch convincing people to like you”—they don’t actually want to do that and see it as a bother.

“Stranded Lullaby”—back to Miracle Musical, back to the theme of isolation. Super lyrical, super musical. They talk about how their memories float around aimlessly in their head, a sea, and may sometimes get lost. The protagonist, a sailor, is losing touch with reality and can’t tell apart what’s a dream anymore and what’s not. They question what they’re going through and why.

“Hidden In The Sand”—a song about longing, in my eyes. The protagonist sings about how “you” love things and how he wishes to love the same things, in the end admitting that “all I’ve wanted was you”. They don’t wish to be separated, they wish to have someone in their life that they could love.

“Now I’m Here”—euphoric. They sing about how they’re alive again, thanks to one specific person. I’m not gonna go too much into this one (partly because it’s a more difficult one for me again, partly because it’s Queen and I don’t wanna uhh talk nonsense on accident lol), but what I got from it is that when one one else saw them, someone did, and they made them “live again”, and now as a result the protagonist is devoted to them.

“&”—really highlights Tally Hall’s album’s theme of black and white and that there shouldn’t be a divide. The repetition of comparing opposites is present throughout the entire song (Weak & Strong & Wet & Dry…) and it’s heavily implied we should “say goodnight” to this mindset. But people love to choose sides, put things into good or bad categories. By the line “They took a lesson from their fathers” it’s implied that people don’t develop this mindset by themselves and are rather influenced by others around them. The whole album is titled “Good & Evil” and Tally Hall examines and criticizes this idea. If we keep dividing people into good and bad, eventually, we’ll all destroy ourselves.

“I’m Gonna Win”—a song about someone who’s struggling to get by. “Sometimes it can seem like a merciless dream”—life can get really hard and the protagonist wonders “what’s really worthwhile”. In the chorus, whoever, they declare that they’re “gonna win” no matter what. They might get “bloody and bruised” but they won’t give up until they “won’t be abused” and until they’re “laughing alone”. No matter how hard life/others kick them down, they’ll keep going. By the lines “It’s hard to be charming and smart and disarming; It’s hard to pretend you’re the best; It’s hard to fulfill everyone’s expectations; It’s hard to keep up with the rest” it’s implied that they find it tiresome to keep up appearances and be liked. It’s challenging to always fit everyone’s expectations, but they’ll continue doing whatever they have to to “win”.

if ranboo ever adds more songs to his playlist, i may add them here too :) 

[mini-moongi]

My Lover, Love Letter || kth.

Genre: angst, fluff, pining?? unrequited love for a hot sec? EXTRA cheesy 

Summary: Being in love isn’t supposed to hurt so much, but you’d sooner roll over dead than confess to him. Your best friend. After a particularly rough break up, you decide to send Taehyung some additional love via love letters. What you weren’t expecting, however, was a letter back.

A/N: Not entirely proof read, so please excuse any inconsistencies lol

─────── ☽. ✧₊∘ ───────

“I just don’t know,” Taehyung sighs as he grabs his shoes from the company’s designated drawers. His name that’s scribbled onto a label is faded and worn, but he pays no mind as he slips his sneakers on. Frustration eats away at him, silently beckoning him closer. “How did I not see it coming? I’m so stupid like how could I not have seen--”

“--I don’t think anyone would’ve seen it coming.” Your voice lays low, uncertainty and concern bubbling up. “And I know what you’re thinking: No, this isn’t your fault. She cheated on you, and you’re doing the right thing, okay?” 

Taehyung doesn’t look at you like you so desperately wished he would, but what else could you do? What else could you say? “...You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”

“Yeah, your best friend who knows that you deserve better. Besides,” you smile,” there’s plenty of other fish in the sea.” and oh how you wish you were a fish.

That night, your mind wandered to Taehyung’s predicament. He’s been your best friend for years and years on end, but along the lines somewhere, you’ve started to feel a little bit more than “just a friend.” It’s an ongoing pain, and you’ve known that for a while now. A breathy sigh escapes your lips as you glance down at your notebook. Minutes go by of you staring at nonsensical scribbles of lyrics and poems, ones you’ve written throughout the day. That’s it. 

The next day you get to the recording studio a bit early, early enough that there’s no one else in sight and no one to see you with a crisp white envelope. Your footsteps echo throughout the empty hallway, and with each passing second, you become uneasier and uneasier. Is this a bad idea? Is it too much? What if he finds out? Will he find out?

You’ve been standing in front of his drawer for the past five minutes contemplating. It stares back at you the same way it did last night, piercing through your soul and convincing you to step closer. If anything, you’re doing this to be a good friend, right? Before you can mull over it any longer, you hear chatter at the end of the hall. You can’t even convince yourself that it’s a horrible idea anymore when you slip the note in and hurry off inside the studio. Minutes later, Namjoon walks in with Jungkook.

“Oh!” Namjoon breaks out into a small smile,” You startled me, y/n. What are you doing here so early?”

The question catches you off guard and has you scrambling for an excuse. “I uh… I couldn’t sleep? I have a lot on my mind, I guess.” You shrug and spin around in an office chair. You didn’t like the fact that you just lied to Namjoon, but it wasn’t necessarily a lie. It just… wasn’t the whole truth. “I got us coffee?”

Jungkook and Namjoon don’t catch on to your jittery attitude, too excited by the fact that you bought them drinks. They mumble out their thank-yous and go off on their way. They’ve been working on Jungkook’s new single, so it’s not that big of a surprise that they’re also here early. It’s the fact that usually you’re never here early, and it irks you every time they look your way.

A heavy pair of footsteps trudge through the hallway, and your breath catches in your throat. This is it, the moment of truth. You hurriedly get up to greet taehyung outside. For a moment you catch yourself; you’re like an overly excited puppy greeting their owner, it isn’t too obvious, right? Nevertheless, Taehyung didn’t seem to mind too much when you said hello. He slips his shoes off and opens the drawer.

He sees the letter.

You watch as his eyebrow quirks up a little and how he gingerly picks it up out of his box. “I didn’t know we get mail in our cubbies now.” He jokes halfheartedly. When he looks at you, you shrug and look as shocked as he is.

“Does it say who it’s from?” You ask aloud. Your heart pounds so loud in your ribcage you wonder if he can hear it too.

Taehyung turns the envelope over to examine the front and back. It’s a simple white envelope with a red heart sticker sealing it shut. “...It doesn’t. Huh,” he ponders,” that’s weird.”

You wander back to your desk, but you can see him holding the letter in his hands out of the corner of your eyes. He follows you, and to be quite honest, you feel like you're going to shit your pants. You’ve never done this before, and rightfully so, but you really wish he wouldn’t try to read it in front of you. He opens it carefully, his fingers slipping between the lid of the envelope and pulling out the letter you wrote. You swallow thickly,”....what does it say?”

He’s silent for a while, eyebrows furrowed and focused on the tiny piece of paper in front of him. His deep voice reads,

“Dear Taehyung,

   I hope this letter finds you well. I’m scared, terrified even, as I write this. I heard that you were going through a rough time, and I thought to myself: it’s now or never, you know? I want you to know that I’m cheering for you! 

  You may not realize it now, but I promise you, good things are waiting for you. It’s not going to be easy, I know from personal experience that love hurts, but it’ll be okay :) I really like you, Kim Taehyung, so please cheer up! Your smile is really cute!! (´,,•ω•,,)♡

Love,

        :) “

As per the singular acting class you took, you widen your eyes and pretend to be shocked. You gasp,” Taehyung, I think that’s a love letter?”

“...yeah?” He nods. Suddenly his throat is very dry, despite being very hydrated seconds ago. A smile crept up onto his lips as he gazes at the handwritten note. “Yeah, I think it is.”

The next couple of times were just small sticky notes all signed with a smiley face; encouraging words to give him some extra love. And it works. He’s happier when he reads them, and you’re happy when you write them. 

The next time you give him a major note is on a whim. Written at 3 in the morning, where loneliness is felt and feelings are emptied out onto a page. You don’t even remember sealing it or sneaking out to slip it into his drawer for him to find. Eventually, the morning sun shines in your eyes, and your alarm is too loud for your liking. Grogginess envelopes you and pushes you out of bed, yelling at you to start your day, but five more minutes couldn’t hurt...

Taehyung’s contact buzzes on your phone, making your device shine brighter than it needs to be at this hour. You squint at the harsh light and unlock it.

Tae: ajsdjsjfdsljds

Tae: there’s another one

You: another what

Tae: Letter!!!!

You immediately sit upright in your bed. Wait, you actually went out last night? You look around frantically, trying to somehow prove to yourself that you didn’t. The jacket laying in the corner of your room taunts you: you did it again.

Hastily, you scramble out of bed. You’re wide awake now, eyes wide and crusty. You rack your brain for an appropriate response because leaving your best friend on read might be a little suspicious.

You: omggg

You: what does it say this time :0

You’re a little nauseous waiting for his response, but you throw on clothes and hope that you didn’t reveal too much about yourself.

Tae: “i miss you. i wish you’d look at me the same way i see you. Like my favorite color, or my favorite sweater, it’s always been you. You’re my favorite, but am i yours?”

Tae: they say other stuff too but that one hit deep yknow

It’s hitting you like an 18-wheeler, and everything you wrote comes back to you in waves. ugh, emo hours are meant to stay in 3 am, not shared with your crush via secret love letter.

You: woah that does hit different

You walk into the studio that day a little bit more paranoid than usual. Taehyung greets you, already starting his day with a smile stuck to his face. It’s softer today, one that comes with a huge sigh and big brain thoughts. You already know he’s going to ask you a question; which kind however is what you dreaded.

“Hey,” he starts off slow and unsure. A beat goes by, and he continues,” is it stupid to fall for my secret admirer?” The question comes out, loud and clear. You feel the wind is knocked out of your stomach, or is it your gut? You stare at Taehyung in shock; he’s in love with you? Well, obviously, he doesn’t know it’s you, but still--

You choke on the water you’re sipping and turn to face him. “You’re in love with.... the writer?” You’re trying really hard not to tremble in surprise, and he buys it.

“Yeah, I just wish I knew who they were..”

“--Woah, hold on,” you’ve officially thrown yourself into the deep end. “What if it’s someone you know? You could be crossing some sort of line here buddy.” You didn’t anticipate Taehyung falling for your love letters, so for him to now start reciprocating was a bit much. You had gotten comfy in the unrequited love section, and to ruin your friendship like this was going to be one hell of a rollercoaster. 

“Ugh,” he grumbles. He drapes himself on an adjacent office chair and twirls around dramatically. “You’re right, but maybe things will change? All I know is that this person is writing me enough love letters to actually be my lover.

“and not to mention the fact that I love handwritten notes? Like come on, y/n,” He gives you a lopsided grin that makes you fall for him a little too much. “You know I’m a sucker for this crap. Whoever this is should just marry me right now. I’m ready to be an old fashioned, romantic poet writing, sonnet sweetheart for you darling!” He calls out to the open air.

You chuckle at this, a prime example of why you love Taehyung. His hair falls a little on the sides of his face as his shoulders shake in laughter. Your face is starting to feel warm, but you pay no attention to it. “Oh yeah, that’s totally gonna get them to reveal themselves.”

The next time you go to deliver him a letter, you find that there is already a sealed envelope in his drawer. Carefully, you pick up the letter with a wax seal holding it closed. To my Lover, it reads on the top left corner in Taehyung’s handwriting. A short barely-there laugh breathes out of your nose, and a smile finds its way to you. Of course he’d do something like this; something so out of the blue and unnecessary, yet so thoughtful and sweet.

You slip in your letter in exchange for his, and gingerly put it in your backpack to read later in the confines of your home. 

[ ---I can’t sleep because I lie awake and think about you, did you know that? You could be anyone: my boss, the intern, the librarian, or even my best friend, and I’d still have no clue. Is our relationship really so fragile that we can’t meet in person? Or maybe, we always do? 

Have you listened to my friend’s new single? It’s called “Still with You.” Please think of me when you hear it. “When will it be when I get to see you face to face? I’ll look you in the eye and say I missed you.”--- ] 

It’s a small excerpt compared to the rest of the letter he’s written for you, but you can feel your heart beat faster in your chest. You find that your hands have already started writing a response. 

A month goes by since you’ve started exchanging letters with Taehyung in secret, but today shit hits the fan. “y/n?”

You’re in your kitchen fixing up some snacks for movie night when Taehyung calls out to you. “yeah?” you respond.

“Why do you have this?” He comes around the corner, holding up a letter that was once sealed with a wax stamp. You freeze. 

“--Why the fuck do you have all of my letters?” At this point he’s face to face with you, a pain etched into the soft features that silently cry out. You’re silent, the pop tarts in the toaster long forgotten.

Your eyes paint him like a movie; a film that you’d never get to see again. Everything is blurry except for the old letter and tears that fall to the ground. Love hurts, but never this much before. You clutch your chest— lungs aching for the sweet relief of fresh air. “Taehyung, I didn’t... It’s not—“

“Is this some kind of sick, twisted joke to you?” His voice reverberates in the kitchen. Dark, deep, bitter, like the coffee you used to drink. “I don’t need you to play pretend anymore; you can drop the act. I don’t want empty love letters filled with shit if it’s all fake anyways.”

Those words cling to you and rip through old scars. He’s leaving you with open wounds, bleeding out painfully slow. It’s not shit, it’s your feelings. You poured your heart into that! If any song could play right now, it’d be,” All I Ask by Adele.”

“...what?” He stops in the doorway, having heard a faint whisper fall from your lips. Had it been a nasty remark, he was ready to spit one back at you. But it wasn’t. He didn’t catch what you said, but he knows it wasn’t an insult.

You couldn’t have with the way you’re clutching the empty pop tart wrapper for dear life, looking so empty and lost and alone on the tile floor. An empty shell: nothing more than a vessel staring at him, soaking in his every detail as if it’s the last time you two will meet. Hurt and betrayal replays in his head, so no matter how much he wants to stay, Taehyung steps out the door.

You couldn’t bring yourself to write letters for a while. You wished so desperately to tell him that the letters were genuine: you loved him. You still do. There are so many things you want to say, but none of the poems or essays you’ve written were strung together correctly. They just didn’t convey your feelings the way you want them to: the pain, the regret, the love, it wasn’t good enough.

After many sleepless nights and a few phone call confessions with Namjoon, your last letter was written. The cute stationary you’d use reminded you of every other letter, but this will be the last one. Promise.

[—“if this is my last night with you, hold me like I’m more than just a friend... because what if I never love again?”—]

[—All I Ask by Adele played in my head when you left, like a soundtrack in a movie. Everything I’ve written to you is true; please forgive me for falling in love with my best friend.—]

That night it rained. How fitting, you think to yourself. The weight from the grocery bags pile softly to the floor, the annoying crinkle rustling from the plastic. You peel the wet jacket off of your shoulders, hanging them up to dry while you put away the food. Thunder rolls in from the distance, pellets of rain tapping on your window. You don’t bother with music or tv, the silence thick and heavy as you busy yourself in the kitchen.

A knock sweeps you out of the dull lullaby of chores and rain. You move to open your door, and the next thing you know, a pair of arms embrace your still figure. All at once the sweet scent of cologne and honey clouds your senses, a familiar sedation too powerful alone. He holds you closer to his body. The physical touch makes you crave more, leaning in to relish in as much of it as you can.

He releases his hold a little, much to your dismay, and your eyes catch his restless ones. They flutter shut, and Taehyung’s forehead touches yours. His hot breath tickles your lips, shaky but inviting all the while. “...I missed you, so much.”

Is this what it feels like to be held like a lover? Embraced so tenderly and gently, fingertips tracing along your jawline. He pours his love onto you like the rain outside, and the kiss he gives sparks like a strike of lightning.

You wonder how you could’ve been content with unrequited love when this was on the other end? Seeking mutual forgiveness, making up for guilt with praises and promises? You know from personal experience that love hurts, but now, you’re ready to learn how love heals.

─────── ☽. ✧₊∘ ───────

A/N: This originally was supposed to have a sad ending but I couldn’t bring myself to...... I had to be cliché, it’s my drug 😔mayhaps I’ll make an angst fic someday,,

[haberdashing]

The Blind Meeting The Blind

TMA fic, sequel to A Rude Awakening. A few hours after waking up blind twenty-three years in the future, Elias gets the opportunity to meet another member of the Jonah Magnus Hate Club, though it doesn’t go as smoothly as he might have hoped.

on AO3

If Elias had thought things had moved quickly when he woke up, when the news was suddenly and unceremoniously dumped on him that he had been possessed by his old boss for the last twenty-three years and that the only reason he was himself again was because he’d been forcibly blinded, well, things just kept moving at that speed from there.

First there was the confrontation in the Panopticon, taking down Jonah Magnus for good, killing the body that had kept him going for over two hundred years now. The whole thing was strange and a bit overwhelming, naturally enough, but it was... it was good, knowing nobody else would have to go through what Elias had, at least not at Magnus’ hands. Also, if he’d had any doubt about the reality of the situation, about how the man Elias had known as generally decent boss James Wright had in fact been the founder of the Magnus Institute and had royally fucked up Elias’ life to keep running it, well, that was settled there. Which wasn’t great to know, exactly, but when so much had been up in the air, Elias didn’t entirely mind having a bit more certainty about his current situation.

Then there was the others--Jon, Basira, Daisy, and Martin--all rushing to explain a great number of things to Elias, some of which made his head spin, some of which didn’t seem possible, and yet all of which he was at this point willing to accept as his new reality, because it made more sense than any alternative he could come up with.

First, after Jonah Magnus was finally dead, the others explained how their lives, too, had been changed for the worse by Magnus’ actions in one way or another. Elias couldn’t help but think that he’d gotten the worst lot of the bunch, even after he knew what the others had gone through, but he kept his mouth shut about that. All that voicing that opinion would do was lead to arguments and risk alienating the few people Elias knew now, the few people he could tentatively see as his allies in this strange new world.

Then there was the explanation of the fear entities, how the Magnus Institute had always been dedicated to the service of the one Jon had called the Eye or the Beholding before, how there were thirteen other entities much like it dedicated to other commonplace fears, how people’s lives could be upended by encounters arranged in some way by these fear entities, how some actually chose to willingly serve one of them and were forever changed by that decision.

Oh, and apparently the world had ended, which really seemed like it should have come up a lot sooner in the conversation than it did. Apparently it was just common knowledge at this point, though, and everyone who hadn’t been unconscious for the last few months was beginning to take it for granted. Magnus had arranged for it to happen, apparently, had voluntarily assisted in letting all fourteen fears loose on the world. Had done it using Elias’ body, of course, but the others were very clear on the point that this didn’t make any of it Elias’ fault, though he hadn’t honestly thought about it that way before they all went out of their way to reassure him otherwise.

(Even with all this information being dumped on him en masse, Elias got the feeling that a few things were being left out or glossed over. Things that were more personal, perhaps, or things that might be sore spots for other members of this motley crew he had found himself part of.

For instance, all of them had seemed eager to touch briefly on the point that people could serve fears and then quickly move on without much in the way of further discussion, and Martin in particular seemed determined to reassure Elias that just because Jonah Magnus had used his body to end the world didn’t mean that the world ending was in some way his fault, while Jon was the lone man out in not uttering any of those same reassurances.

There were stories there, clearly, things purposely left unsaid, but Elias didn’t push to find out what exactly it was they were avoiding telling him. Those stories would come out in their own time, he figured. Better not to rock the boat.)

And after all of that, there was more, because aside from everything else Elias was in the future now, twenty-three years into the future--alright, maybe it was everybody else’s present day, and sure it wasn’t technically time travel, but that didn’t stop 2019 from still sounding more like the setting of a mediocre sci-fi movie than the actual current calendar year--and with that came a lot of mundane information to catch up on.

(Though sometimes it seemed like the others didn’t even remember 1996, or know how far back that really was compared to the present day, thought he needed introductions to things he already knew about--yes, Martin, he knows what the Internet is, thank you!)

So much had changed in politics, in entertainment, in technology... as their little group made their way to a restaurant (or maybe it was a bar? Elias wasn’t sure, and the name of the place sounded like it could go either way) for a celebration and a rendezvous with some like-minded souls, the others explained to Elias how cell phones had become both so common that it was unusual for somebody to not have one and so powerful that, despite by and large being smaller than the cell phones he was used to, the vast majority of them could wirelessly connect to the Internet in one way or another.

(Martin had even lent Elias his own cell phone to examine for a moment until all involved parties realized that without enabling some settings that none of them knew off-hand how to enable, all Elias could tell was that he was holding a smooth chunk of metal and plastic and glass and that it made various electronic sounds when he touched it or pressed any of its several buttons. Martin had meant well, at least. A for effort there.)

As Basira helped guide Elias into a seat, Martin asked, “Want me to put some music on? No use in having a smartphone if it doesn’t get to do anything smart, right?”

“Elias should probably get dibs, he’s never even used a smartphone before.” Daisy paused for a moment before adding, “My money’s on the Spice Girls.”

“What?”

“It’s era-appropriate, isn’t it?”

“Basira, don’t tell me you’re taking her side on this one.”

“Bet we could find an album from 1997 you’ve never even heard before, blow your little Spice Girls-loving mind.”

“But- no, I-” Elias turned towards Martin and, more importantly, away from Basira and Daisy, not really in order to hear Martin better but just to make a point. “Something from the Beatles, maybe? The Beatles are nice.”

“Beatles it is!” Martin started tap-tap-tapping away on his phone to get the music to play.

Here comes the sun, doo-do doo-doo...

“Oh, you’re no fun.”

Here comes the sun, and I say...

“Shut up.”

It’s all right.

Despite his banter with Daisy, only some of which was entirely facetious, Elias started to smile. Some of what caused his heightened mood was the choice of music to play in the background--he’d grown up listening to Beatles albums, wishing he could’ve seen them in concert, and hearing their music always reminded him of a simpler time, before Mum had died and everything had gone to hell. Some of it was the lyrics of this particular song--the world may have ended, and a lot may have changed very quickly, but he’d found a group of people who understood, who’d helped him through the worst of it, and...

Well, “all right” might be a bit of a stretch, but at least things probably weren’t going to get any worse.

That would take some real creativity on the universe’s part, for starters...

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter...

Not long after Martin stopped tapping at his phone, Elias heard a different tap-tap-tapping in the background loud enough to be audible over the music, the sound of something hitting the wood floor again and again, moving slightly closer each time.

Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here...

“Melanie! Good to see you!”

Martin mumbled a quick “I’ll just put this away” and turned off the music he’d been playing, which was definitely the polite thing to do given the situation, but it still irked Elias some to have the music he was enjoying turned off so abruptly.

Elias turned to face Melanie, or at least to face in her general direction, shooting her an awkward grin and a silent wave, neither of which prompted any reaction he could discern.

A new voice--Melanie’s, presumably--spoke up, but didn’t quite return the group’s greeting as she pulled up a seat and flopped into it. “So you did it, then?” In a slightly lower tone of voice, a bit like a stage whisper, she added, “He’s dead?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we did it.”

“Thank God. I’ll drink to that--and I’m buying this time, too.”

“Oh, you’re buying? In that case...” Daisy raised her voice, making it ring throughout the... Elias still wasn’t sure if it was a restaurant or a bar, though his money would be on it being a combination of the two, as she said, “Hey, what’s the most expensive thing you’ve got to drink in here?”

“Yeah, yeah... pull a stunt like that and I’ll do it right back when it’s your turn to pick up the tab.”

“You would, wouldn’t you.”

“Round of Old Canoe for the table?” Basira suggested.

The group murmured a few words of assent, and Basira got up, presumably to hunt down their server.

“I thought Georgie was coming.” Jon said. He sounded surprised, but also... sad? Wistful? More emotional than Jon seemed to be most of the time, at any rate.

“She came down with a nasty cold yesterday.” Melanie replied. “Said she’d have to take a rain check on celebrating. Thought I should stay home too, but I told her I’d make it here just fine on my own. Which I did, obviously.” There was an edge to that last phrase, but though Elias could guess it had something to do with her not wanting to be underestimated, any further details were lost on him. (Another story left unspoken there, he presumed.)

“Ah. Well, when you see her, tell her... tell her I hope she feels better soon.”

“Right.”

A moment later, and six glasses of beer were set on the table, one for each member of their little group.

“Cheers?”

“Cheers!”

Everyone clinked their glasses together--somebody bumped their glass into Elias’ fingers at one point, but the minor ache that followed barely even registered against the background noise of agony that remained in the holes where his eyes should be--and then drank as one. The beer tasted awful, but Elias just kept gulping it down just the same, caring less about the taste than about the sheer alcohol content involved; if there’d ever been a night that called for some drinking, this had to be it.

Elias was a little ashamed to realize that he was the last one to set his beer glass down, having emptied it entirely before he did so.

“That tasted absolutely disgusting,” Elias pronounced, “and I want another glass of it immediately.”

Elias had expected this to prompt another round of banter, perhaps offense either real or feigned from Basira for not caring for her choice of beer.

Elias had not expected Melanie to burst out saying, “Why is Elias here?”

Elias had to think for a moment before responding. “Oh, we’ve, uh, we’ve met then?”

“Don’t even start with that, I’ve had more than enough of your fucking mind games already, I know my asshole ex-boss’ voice when I hear it!”

Somewhere in Elias’ mind, he quietly filed away Melanie’s outburst as proof that Daisy hadn’t been lying when she’d said some people had known him--or rather, known Jonah Magnus in his body, really--as “that asshole.” Great reputation to start out with right there. Thanks again, Jonah Magnus.

“Maybe he had my voice, but unless we met back before 1996 and I don’t remember, that- that wasn’t actually me you-”

Melanie spoke over Elias, apparently not caring enough about his words to even let him finish saying them all. Rude. “I thought you killed him! I thought that was the whole point! Didn’t you say you killed him?”

A few “shhh”s rang out through the table, presumably because talking loudly in a public place about having killed people was generally not a good life decision, but after that, it seemed like Elias wasn’t the only one scrambling to come up with a suitable response.

“We did kill him!”

“Sort of.”

“Yeah, sort of, it’s all a bit complicated...”

Melanie scoffed. “If you guys are letting Elias of all people pull some- some power of friendship bullshit, well, count me out.”

“It’s not like that!”

“What is it like, then?” The disbelief was practically dripping off Melanie’s words.

“It’s like some old bastard from the 1800s just finished hijacking my body for the last two decades and counting, that’s what it’s like!”

Elias got the feeling, in the uncomfortable silence that followed, that the others hadn’t actually expected him to butt in like that, that they had thought he would just sit back and listen quietly while they debated, well, him.

Melanie’s voice sounded a little less hostile when she spoke up again, which wasn’t saying much, but the disbelief from before was still there in full force. “Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And do you have proof?” Elias opened his mouth to respond, but before he could settle on a word with which to begin his rebuttal, Melanie had already continued on. “And sob stories don’t count as proof. I already know you’re good at twisting words, I don’t need more of that. I want evidence.”

“I...”

Elias let the words trail off as he realized that evidence was something he was sorely lacking in at the moment.

How could he prove who he wasn’t? How could he prove that he wasn’t the asshole who’d taken over his life for decades without warning? How could he prove what he didn’t remember, what he didn’t know...

Wait. Knowing. That was it.

Elias turned towards Jon.

“Jon. That- that thing you did when we met, where you asked me about who I was and I had to tell you... somehow... can you do that again?”

Jon let out a long, low sigh before replying. “Compelling people isn’t some sort of parlor trick, Elias.”

“But it makes people have to tell you stuff, have to tell the truth, right? That’d- that’d have to work, wouldn’t it?” Elias turned back towards Melanie, though he naturally couldn’t see the expression on her face as he added, with a wry smile, “That’s got to be evidence.”

“Hang on.” Melanie said. “Didn’t you already try that on Elias once, and it didn’t work right, because... because Elias?”

“That was then. Things have changed... a lot of things have changed. It-” Jon sighed again, softly. “It would work now. Already did, in fact.”

“Then do it.” Elias insisted.

“You... you want me to compel an answer out of you?”

“Yes!” Elias responded, so quickly and emphatically that he wondered if that answer itself had been compelled, either purposely or accidentally.

“...fine then. Who are you, and why should we trust you?”

Elias could feel the compulsion for sure this time, the pressure, the tingle, as the words started spilling out of his mouth before he thought them through. Getting magically compelled to tell the truth was an odd feeling, and an odder one to start to be getting used to, and yet, here he was.

“I’m Elias Bouchard. Only child of Julian and Nancy Bouchard. Mum’s dead, though, has been since I was twelve. Dad might be too now, I suppose, ‘s not like I’ve had the time to check. As of a couple hours ago--or, or what feels like a couple hours ago, in May 1996--I was James Wright’s secretary back in the Magnus Institute, possible promotion under discussion. So we’ve got the Institute background in common, I think, but based on what I’ve heard, that might make you trust me less if anything. If there’s something I can be sure we have in common, though, it’s that we all hate Jonah Magnus. Bastard took twenty-three years of my life away--would’ve taken it all if you lot hadn’t stepped in, I suppose. Sounds like you’ve all taken a dislike to him as well for one reason or another. So that’s- that’s what I have to offer for myself. Just another member of the Jonah Magnus... what’s the opposite of a fan club? Anti-fan club? Hate club? The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all that, right? Though he’s dead now, so...”

Elias had to take a few deep breaths when he was done, and his hands were shaking a little. That was... that was more than he’d expected to get into with that speech. Came with the whole compelling thing, he supposed, but still, it was strange to be involuntarily spilling his life story to a group of near-strangers.

As Elias focused on his breathing, he heard somebody laughing loudly, and realized with a start that it was Melanie.

“The Jonah Magnus Hate Club... God, I like the sound of that.”

“You- you believe me, then? Because I’m not sure what else I can do to prove it, but I swear, just because I’ve got the same face and voice as he had when- when using my body- it doesn’t mean that was me-”

“Well, I can’t exactly see your face, anyway.”

It took Elias a moment to put the pieces together, and when he did, his stomach lurched a little. He was starting to regret that beer. “They gouged your eyes out too, then?”

“What? No!” Before Elias could ask for clarification, Melanie continued, with a strange pride in her voice, “Took them out all by myself.”

“Wait, but you weren’t possessed by Magnus-”

“Close enough. I was stuck in the Institute, doing his dirty work, helping literally bring about the end of the world-”

Martin butted in at this point. “We didn’t know that part!”

“The specifics, no, but the general shape of it all...” Melanie let out a sigh before continuing. “Blinding myself... wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was sure as hell better than the alternative.”

“Well, that much I get. If the others didn’t take my eyes out, I guess I’d be either--either still possessed or just plain dead, I suppose. So yeah, I’ll take this over the alternative any day.”

Melanie drummed her fingers on the table for a long moment. “...can we start over? I never really... introduced myself properly, did I?”

“Sure.” Elias let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“My name’s Melanie King. Was a professional ghost hunter-” God, Elias could hear his father’s voice in his head saying that that didn’t count as a real profession, but like hell was he going to give a voice to his father’s uppity opinions. “-then got roped into being an archival assistant for the Magnus Institute. Worked there for a few months, realized it was literally evil, got out the only way I could a few weeks before the world ended. Been living with Georgie ever since.”

Elias still didn’t know who Georgie was besides “the person that Melanie was living with” (and a suspicion, based on Jon’s reaction to her absence, that there was some history between the two of them), but, well, the puzzle pieces were starting to come together a bit more, even if more and more of them kept getting chucked at his head erratically as the hours went by.

“Got it. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Melanie King.”

“Same to you, Elias... Bouchard... sorry, that just sounds really weird, since you- well, not you--but ‘Elias Bouchard’ was my jerk boss-”

“It’s fine, I get it.” He didn’t get it, really, didn’t fully get a lot of this still, and calling it all fine was arguable as well, but a few white lies were worth it to preserve the fragile peace still being formed, Elias figured.

“You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“I tried to kill you a couple times. Well, not you-you of course, but...”

Elias felt the tips of his mouth curling ever so slightly upwards. “Honestly? Can’t say that I blame you.”

[doubledeaky]

The Other Woman

Roger Taylor x Female!Reader Smut

A/N: Hi, everyone! In honor of it being my birthday, have this quick Roger fic inspired by the song “The Other Woman,” by Lana Del Rey. Hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback is very much appreciated!

Summary: Roger is yours most nights, but you want him always. You know you can’t, but it doesn’t stop you from wishing things were different.

Word Count: 1,643 words (including lyrics) 

Warnings: light smut, angst, and infidelity 

The other woman has time to manicure her nails

You smile at the bright red color coating your nails; Roger loves this color on you. He says it suits your complexion better than any other hue.

The other woman is perfect where her rival fails

He calls you beautiful often, over the phone and in person. He says your features rival that of Aphrodite and the compliment has your cheeks heating intensely.

And she’s never seen with pin curls in her hair, anywhere

You love to look your best for him. You love the way he eyes you hungrily, the way his gaze softens when you enter a room.

The other woman enchants her clothes with French perfume

You always wear that scent for him, spraying it over your sternum. It has him nuzzling into your neck without fail, his teeth nipping softly at the skin of your clavicle.

The other woman keeps fresh cut flowers in each room

He says they brighten up the formally dreary feel of your home. He says the house should match the resident. He calls you his flower and you wear the badge proudly.

There are never toys that’s scattered everywhere.

Roger enjoys not having to step over toys when he comes over. He enjoys the quiet and he enjoys you. You do so much to satisfy him, but it’s never enough to make him stay. He always retreats before dawn breaks and your eyes have fluttered opened under the morning sun. He always goes back to the “normal” life he lives, the life he lives without you.

And when her old man comes to call

“Fuck, I need you.” He grunts into the south end of his phone, quiet as to not alert his wife sat oblivious in the next room. You grin, cheek pressed into your palm as your other hand grips the phone lazily.

“Come and get me.” You whisper in an obscenely sultry tone, equally as quiet. As if some unseen force in the room would pick up on the impending infidelity dancing along the telephone connection. You hear shuffling then a faint click as the line goes dead. Your lips stretch over your teeth as you lay back, arms stretching above your head and stomach swimming with desire. Despite your growing want for Roger, there is always that sharp twinge of guilt laced throughout your nerves. When Roger whispers sinful thoughts into the phone, his loving wife is reading peacefully in their shared bed. When Roger lies defiantly in your embrace, his children go to bed without a goodnight from their father. It’s always an afterthought, you only remember the force that tethers Roger to the ground after you’ve already severed the connection.

He finds her waiting like a lonesome queen

When a faint knocking sounds from the front door you know it’s him purely by instinct, it’s a certain rhythm, a certain urgency that reminds you he has to be quick. Nevertheless, you still call out to him. You still invite him into the realm in which he’s violated the sanctity of his marriage so many times previous. His gaze is dark and filled with only want. You’re perched atop your white silken sheets, legs already spread for him. His features are rigid and he’s biting his lip with enough force to pierce the flesh. He climbs onto the mattress, sighing as his face settles into the crook of your neck, his breathy heavy and hot. The sensation sends a shiver climbing up your spine and the delicate moan that escapes your parted lips is divine music to Roger’s well-versed ears. He groans softly, his cock already straining painfully against the material of his trousers.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

“You don’t have to anymore.” You whisper, taking his face into your manicured hands and kissing him with a rushed fervor. He needs no further coercion, already working dark, purple marks into the smooth skin of your neck. You gasp, the heat in your belly growing unbearable as his groin brushes against you, stoking a dying flame deep within you. You grasp at the material of his shirt, desperate for him to shed it. He does, grasping at the material of your bra, silently begging you to mirror his actions and you do. His eyes widen, still not accustomed to the sight of you bare before him. His lips mouth at the swell of your breast while his left hand cups the other, thumb swiping against your nipple softly. You inhale sharply, the sounds leaving you stuttered and broken.

“Please, Rog.” You beg, lacing both hands into his golden blonde hair. He moans lowly, the sensation running through his scalp sends blood straight to his lower half. He looks up, eyes level with yours, both of your gazes holding a similar want.

“What do you need, dove?” He breaths, his finger skimming dangerously low on your abdomen before settling atop your pelvic bone. You whimper, absolutely thrumming with the desire to feel him in every capacity.

“You.” You moan softly, body involuntarily arching into his delicate but purposeful touch. He digests your words carefully. He knows what you mean but understands he can’t give you what you want, at least not in the way you crave it. Nevertheless, he dips his fingers below the waistband of your silken underwear. The pads of his middle and pointer finger pressing against your aching clit. He lifts his head gently to study your face which is contorted in pleasure, small pants leaving your swollen lips. He tenses his jaw, the position forceful enough to fracture.

“You’ve got me.” He lies.

‘Cause to be by her side, it’s such a change from old routine.

When it’s over and the lust has retreated, Roger feels shame but he knows it’s exactly what he needed. You’re the release he so craves, the gift he looks forward to unwrapping every evening. Despite everything he’s got to lose, you bring something new to the table. Everything missing in his life, however little that may be, is filled by your presence. You're fresh, new and remind him of the person he was before domestic life, but he often wonders if he really misses that period. He stays awake in your forbidden grasp and thinks of the family he leaves behind when he arrives at your doorstep. He thinks of his wife and he thinks of his children. That’s what drives him away from your embrace, that’s what makes him leave. However much he wants you in the moment, he doesn’t need you. Not like you need him.

But

He sits up and you register what part of the night it is, the part where he leaves. You watch him dress and you examine the sour expression that his face adopts, the disdain he harbors. Your eyes always prick with tears as you watch him prepare to leave your company as quickly as he enters it. You sit up quickly, a sheet still wrapped around your torso protectively.

“Why don’t you stay the night?” You whisper, hand smoothing down the area of sheets covering his side of the bed. He frowns, eyes still focused on the buttons of his shirt and not you. It stings.

“You know I can’t.” He huffs, pulling on his shoes. It burns.

“Why?” You whisper pathetically, tears now threatening to seep from your closed eyes. He scoffs silently, looping his belt around his narrow waist.

“You know why.” He spits, grabbing his keys and wallet. His feet move towards the direction of the door but the sounds of shuffling halt his movements.

“Rog, please. I-I love you.” You cry desperately, both hands gripping the sheets, your knuckles white under the strain. He freezes in the doorway, his eyes shut tightly as he draws in a breath. He replies without turning to face you, afraid your tears will stifle what he so desperately wants to express.

“I know, but you can’t.” He whispers, before turning the corner and exiting through the front door. You’re stunned, completely stagnate, the blood in your veins sizzling with a burning intensity. It hurts.

The other woman will always cry herself to sleep

You collapse limply into the cold sheets, weeping bitterly into your pillow. You’ve lost him; in the blink of an eye, you’ve lost him. You fall asleep, wishing the barren space next to was filled with his warmth.

The other woman will never have his love to keep

You envy her, you crave her position. You wish his love for you was permanent but it’s fleeting, passing by so quickly that if you blinked, you’d miss it. You stare blankly into the ceiling the next morning, hoping he’d call. Hoping he’d apologize and flatter you with sweet pet names, but he doesn’t, and he never does again.

And as the years go by the other woman

You see them often, in town together, dwelling within the bliss of married life. You feel nauseous, the hand that grips hers was once laced through your hair. The lips that press to her cheek were once leaving purple bruises upon your collar. It’s sickening how easily he slips back into his role of husband and father, but you yearn for the space beside him. You crave to be his but, you can’t, and it eats away at the walls of your heart.

Will spend her life alone

You weep into your hands most nights, you stop going to the nail salon, and you stop buying flowers to perfume the rooms of your home. Everything beautiful reminds you of him. Everything good reminds you of him.

Alone

It’s takes months for the sharp sting to dissipate. It takes even longer for you to stop waiting for his calls, his pleas for your touch. You still think of him everyday and that is the cruelest part. You think of what was and what could have been. You think of him.

Alone

[viiixxviimmxvi]

When We Met Again. . .

Part 6 :

Summary: You couldn’t believe Namjoon dragged you to the last place you wanna be . . your old High School. It was your high school reunion but you especially didn’t wanna go because you didn’t wanna run into the boy that teased and bullied you all the cruel 4 years of High School, but you have changed since then. . when he saw you again everything changed. .

A/n: Sorry guys I have been busy and trying to update a soon as possible. This writer's block has been killing, but anyways I just hope you enjoy I have been working very hard on this, so enjoy loves. :) xoxo, Anais

Pairing: BTS’s Yoongi x Reader 

Word Count: 2,206 

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

MasterList

Previously. . . 

The moment you said that, everything stopped. Your heart, your senses, your entire life.

*SCREEEEEEEEEEECH! BANG!*

Everyone in the store ran outside including you.

The faster you ran, the slower it felt. You didn’t care about your hair or clothes, or anything. The only thing you wanted was to be in the warm arms of your mother.

Your jaw dropped, your eyes wide open. You fell to cold, wet ground and cried.

“MOM!! NO, PLEASE, NOT YOU! AAAGHHHH! No… please… anyone but you. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I-I’m…so…sorry.” You laid there crying your heart out, as strangers passed by staring at you like you were crazy.

Your clothes were now stained with your own mother’s blood. Your hands and knees were covered in broken glass. You looked up. Your mom, lifeless and cold, was hanging out of the car with blood streaming down her colorless face. Not only was her life over, so was yours. You’d rather be dead than live the next four years of your life.

~ . ~ 

*BRRRR.* Your phone buzzed. Who would be texting me at this hour?

“Hey it’s me, Yoongi. I just wanted to apologise for. . You know, being a dick. . . I’m sorry.”

You were in total shock. How could he possibly get my number if I didn’t talk to him the entire night? You laid in your bed for a second to process everything that happened that night, including his text.

You were choosing between replying to him or just ignoring it and pretending he got the wrong number. You decided that you were going to ignore it, but as you were about to put your phone down.

*BZZZZ* Your phone buzzed again.

“Y/n, I know that you’re ignoring me. I can see that you read my message. .  I know this is your number because Namjoon gave it to me.”

You felt betrayed that your own best friend sold you out and gave Yoongi your number. You wondered why he’d give your number to Yoongi rather than giving it to his other cute friends. You were gonna kill Namjoon tomorrow.

“I don’t need your apology nor will I forgive you, so stop texting me. Don’t even try contacting me again. Bye!” you texted angrily.

You couldn’t believe that Yoongi tried to contact you and say sorry after all these years, but you couldn’t forgive him. It would’ve just been a mistake like back then in high school. You could never trust him again. . . even if you wanted to.

You couldn’t let yourself. .

~ . ~

A few days passed since the reunion and the Yoongi incident. He stopped with that last text, but it didn’t mean you weren’t thinking about it. You just shook it off,  knowing you would never see him again. You made it four years without seeing him. How could this be any different.

You were woken up by the buzz of your phone. *BZZZ.* You grabbed your glasses from your nightstand and put the frames on your face. Reaching out, you grabbed your phone and looked at who could’ve possibly texted you this early. As your vision cleared up, messages from Namjoon filled your screen.

Namjoon: “Y/N, I just made a new track, come by the studio and listen to it.”

                  “ I need your opinion please.”

The rest of the messages consisted of his excitement and anxiousness, constantly being repeated.

Y/N: “Ugh, fine. . I’ll be there later today.”

After replying to Namjoon, you put your phone down and almost fell  back asleep, but your phone buzzed again. *BZZZ*

You sighed and grabbed your phone again and rolled your eyes. It was another text from Namjoon.

Namjoon: “Y/N! I mean now!”

                 “Not ‘later’ like in an hour. Now!”

                 “Get your lazy butt out of bed.”

You glared at your phone, wishing that Namjoon could telepathically know how tired you were.

Namjoon: “Y/N, don’t you dare look at my messages that way.” 

                “Even though I’m not there with you, I know that you’d glare at me.”

Y/N: “Ughhh. Fine.”

         “You better pay for breakfast.”

Namjoon: “Fine, but you have to be here in under an hour. Got it?!”

You agreed and sluggishly got out of bed, heading towards the bathroom to do your morning routine and to take a quick shower. You got out of the shower and went back into your room to pick out an outfit. (This is your outfit) Right before you left the house, you ran some mascara though your lashes, lined your eyes, and put on a lip tint.

When you were done with everything, you began walking to the Bighit building. You walked inside the building casually, knowing everyone knew you in the building since Namjoon always brings you around.

While walking through the building, you greeted everyone passing by until you finally made it to the studio and opened the door. You saw three heads facing the control panels as you cleared your throat.

Namjoon first turned his head and his cute little dimples popped up. He got up out of his seat and hugged you, “Wow, you made it on time,” he teased. You then punch him on the shoulder.

“Ha-ha-ha, you’re really funny, says the one that’s always breaking things.” You teased back as you let go of Namjoon. *cough* “God of destruction.”

“Hi little sister.” a familiar voice said.

As you examined the room to find whose voice it belong to, you saw him standing up from the couch. . It was your big brother Jin.

You had the largest smile on your face while you ran towards Jin and wrapped your arms around his neck while he pulled you into headlock.

“Oppa! I didn’t know you were back!” you said while wrestling your way out of his loving, yet deadly headlock.

You were so happy to see your big brother since you haven’t seen him in a while because he was traveling for work recently.

“I just came back last night.” he said with a grin. “I was gonna call you to make plans, but Namjoon called me to work on a collaboration with them.”

“Them?” your eyebrows knitted out of confusion.

“Yeah, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, Jungkook, Yoongi and me.” Jin said.

You were in shock when you heard Yoongi’s name. Why him?. . You thought.

“H-hi Y/N.” a deep voice said that pulled you out of your thoughts. It belonged to the other person that was in the room. You didn’t get a glimpse of his face until you turned around and faced the devil himself. . Damm fucken Min Yoongi. . .

You stood there in complete silence.

As the tension built up, it became more awkward, but Namjoon broke the silence.

“Um so anyways we should get back to work then.” he said with his signature smile.

“Yeah, we should.” Jin said with his princess smile.

Jin then turned to you, “Come on Y/N sit with me so we can catch up.”

You smiled at him, then he lead you towards the couch in the middle of the room. Once we sat down you saw a good view of all the control panels and the backs of Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s heads.

Then the music started playing and it wasn’t something you were expecting to hear. Your eyes went wide and once you got the feel of the music you started nodding your head to the beat.

Once it ended you hopped off the couch and ran towards Namjoon wrapping your arms around his neck from behind. You then sat on Namjoon’s lap while hugging him.

“Oh my god! That was not what I was expecting at all!” You yelled with a huge smile on your face  

~

Yoongi’s POV

I sat there in silence when Y/n came in, but when she made that remark about Namjoon I couldn’t help but smile knowing it was so true that he was always breaking things.

~

“H-hi Y/N.” I said nervously.

She turned around then stared at me with shock.

Why isn’t she talking. . It was starting to get really uncomfortable. . I wish I didn’t come. . I was scrolling myself. .  Until Namjoon decided to the break the silence.  

“Um so anyways we should get back to work then.” he said then sat next to me.

Namjoon then began playing the track we were working on.

As I shut my eyes and nodded my head to the rhythm of the music, I then began reciting the lyrics in the song.

The song ended and we haven’t heard from Jin and Y/N, until I felt a huge breeze past by my body. As I looked up it was Y/N sitting on Namjoon lap and wrapped her arms around his neck with an amazed looked.

I felt my blood boiling. . What the efff is wrong with me? .

I began to grin knowing how excited Y/N is.

“Oh my god! That was not what I was expecting at all!” Y/N yelled out.

It startled me, but it made me happy that she liked the song we’ve been working on.

“Who came up with the sick beat?”

Namjoon has a smirk on his face, “Oh, Yoongi did.”

Y/N then turned to me, “What?! Really?” She said surprisingly

“Yeah, he's been working really hard with our collaboration,” Jin said as he walked toward me and patted my shoulder.  

She was in complete shock that I worked hard for the collaboration. I couldn’t blame her for being surprised, but I’m not the same guy I was back in high school.

“Well, I'm starving!” Jin said as he rubbed his tummy.

“Same!” Namjoon yelled.

“Okay, let’s go get something to eat,” Jin said. “But we should invite everyone else.”

“Okay I will hit them up and tell them to meet us at the cafe.” Namjoon said.

*BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ*

Namjoon’s phone was ringing off the hook because of the boys.

“Jimin, Hoseok, and Taehyung need me to pick them up from Jimin’s  house.” Namjoon said.

“Oh let me go with you I need to pick up some things from Jimin’s.” Jin said.

“Okay let’s go.” Namjoon said, “Yoongi do you mind taking Y/N and meet us there?”

What !?

~

Y/N’s POV

WHAT!?! I’m gonna be in a car with Min effen Yoongi !?

“Wait! What!?” you yelled, but before you could protest to them, your brother Jin and your best friend Namjoon already ran out of the door.

You began to stare at the door hoping they were playing a cruel joke on you, but they never came back.  

Yoongi coughed, “Um we should get going.” he said as he stood up from his chair.

You just stared at him, then followed him from behind leaving the studio. You kept a far distance from him like he had a nasty virus. The walk was completely silent and awkward.

As you followed Yoongi towards a black sports car, you then stopped in your tracks. He began to make his way towards the driver sit until he notices you were making your way in the passenger seat.

“Are you gonna stand there all day or are you gonna hop in?” he said.

You then rolled your eyes then made your way towards the back seat.

Yoongi then chuckled, “You know I don’t bite.”

“Oh I know, I just don’t wanna give people the wrong impression that I like you. Plus, this way if anyone does see us, then it will look like you are my driver.” you spit out.  

Yoongi became silent and probably gave you a death stare. He then started the engine and began driving. The drive was silent even though he was playing music.  

You were looking through the window as you were listening to the music. It was a good track so you bobbed your head to the music.

As the car comes to a complete stop, you noticed a familiar car. You unbuckled your seatbelt then left the car. You were about to head inside the cafe until you felt a pair hands covering your eyes. You place your hands on the stranger’s hand, “Hey there beautiful. Haven’t I met you before?” the familiar voice whispered in your ear.

A huge smile was plastered on your face. He then let his hands loose from your face. You turned around to face the handsome face.

“Kookie. You didn’t tell me you were back.” You said with a little pout.

“Well, I wanted to surprise you, babe.” Jungkook said with a grin.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, got on your tippy toes, then placed a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m so happy your back.” You said.

“I’m glad I'm back too.” Jungkook said.

He then placed his arm around your shoulder and was about to walk in the restaurant until someone yelled out, “Jungkookie!”

You both turned around to see Yoongi and the rest of the boys, “Hey Hyungs.”

“I see the two of you are having a good reunion.” Jin said.

Jungkook and you chuckled.

“Alright let’s go inside and grub.” Namjoon said as he places his arms around Jungkook and your neck.

We all began to walk inside.

~

Yoongi’s POV

As Y/N and I were in the car, it was dead silent so, I decided to play my mixtapes. I was looking through the rearview mirror when I saw Y/N enjoying my music. A huge smile spread across my face.  

As we finally arrived at the restaurant. I was slowly getting out of the car till I felt a huge slam.  As I turned around to the back seat Y/N was gone. I looked outside in a panic to see a man covering Y/N’s eyes. I was gonna beat that random ass guy till Y/N turned around and kissed him on the cheek then saw it was Jungkook.

Are they together?

Why do I suddenly feeling all this rage. .

What’s wrong with me. .

As we all began walking inside the restaurant, Jungkook held the door while everyone walked inside one by one, but when it came to my turn Jungkook has a smirk on his face and a mischievous look in his eyes .

What the hell is his problem?

To Be Continued... :)