#so i throw in in the air n start breakdancing

[seattlesellie]

I have a very filthy thing to say...

Imagine hitting ellie from the back and she looks at you like THIS😩

this one’s for all of u sub bottom ellie truthers i fear . 😳💗

[dailyaoyagi]

Kaisei 3dmv screenshots

Love the song and the L/N cover so I’m really glad it’s on global. The 3Dmv is very boring yes but there’s not much you can do when Leo/Need is a band, I don’t think anyone wants them to throw their instruments in the air and start breakdancing.

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 3

More Visitors

Summary: The Beaumonts find out about Riley’s condition

A/N: I know the last chapter was Liam and Drake, but their first encounter with Riley is actually here, in the preview. Check it out if you haven’t yet!

Word Count: ~3.4k

Warning: Mention of character death

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here!

Tags: @captain-kingliamsqueen @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @gkittylove99 @lovablegranny @loudbluebirdlover @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @queenrileyrose @shanzay44 @cordonianroyalty​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @hopelessromanticmonie @cinnamonspongecake

- Maxwell - 

“If it be true that thee shall not cease insulting mine own family nameth, then I dare thee to a battleth!”

“A hurlyburly thee sayeth? Well, then I'll seeth thee on the dueling ground!”

“Ah, but this isn't a normal battleth, because I dare thee to a breakdance hurlyburly!” 

“But I knoweth not how to doth the breaketh danceth!”

“Thou art a blinking idiot, and were bound to loseth!” 

“Uncle Max, why do I always have to play the character that loses?” Bartie tosses his copy of the script on the coffee table. 

“Because I’m the one with the killer dance moves!” Maxwell strikes a pose. “You only get to where I am after a lifetime of practice, muffin, and you’ve still got a long way to go.”

“But can’t you lose to me at least once?” Bartie picks up the booklet and starts flipping through the pages. “Like how you pretended to lose to Count Appleton in a rap battle, but then won against him in another rap battle in the next scene!”

“That was to catch him off-guard! I gained his trust and then his respect,” Maxwell argues

“Don’t you want my character’s trust and respect?”

“Your character keeps insulting my character’s family name!” Maxwell cries.

“Whatever.” He throws the booklet back down. “I’m going go to my room for a little while.” 

“Wanna run through your fork placement again?” 

“No, I’m okay. I’ve got it down. Thank you, though.” Bartie heads up the stairs towards his room.

“I’ll see you at dinner, muffin,” Maxwell calls. He plops onto the couch and begins to reread his script as Savannah walks into the room. 

“So how was rehearsal?” she questions. “Did you get a chance to teach Bartie that move you were talking about?”

He shakes his head. “No, we didn’t get to it. Don’t think the little muffin is interested in breakdancing, so I won’t bother him anymore.” 

Savannah doesn’t say anything. Maxwell had started working on his breakdance opera years ago after he tried to finish his novel but then gave up on it, claiming the topic was too depressing. He tried his best to get Bartie interested in his opera, even though Bertrand said it wasn’t appropriate for a boy of his status to be learning how to breakdance instead of perfecting the Cordonian Waltz. In the beginning, Bartie was thrilled that he got to spend more time with his Uncle Maxwell, but as time went on the boy became bored and started to look more towards Uncle Drake for some fun — which Bertrand thought was even more inappropriate (”My boy should be learning how to properly host the royal family, not learning how cut wood or put up a tent!”), though he allowed it after Savannah insisted — and so Maxwell felt increasingly alone at Ramsford.

He could spend some time with Liam and Drake in the capital, but both men were so closed off lately that the air around them would become stifling. He wanted to plan a trip to Shanghai so the Beaumonts could visit Hana, but Bertrand was always so caught up with maintaining the estate — and he never let Maxwell help him — that a moment to relax as a family was uncommon. 

At dinner, Bartie half-heartedly explained to his father how his lessons had gone. Bertrand asked Bartie if he wanted to do some work with him tonight, just to get a feel of what it was like to run the estate, but Bartie simply shrugged and walked off without finishing his dinner. 

Bertrand was about to go after him and demand Bartie to return to his seat, but Savannah put a hand on his shoulder and told her husband to let the boy go. 

“He’s not feeling too well lately,” she reasoned. “Let him go. If he wants to talk to us he will.” 

“There is no reason for him to be behaving in such a manner. I will remind him tomorrow morning, and I will make sure he sits with me... he needs to learn how to run the house sooner or later, and the former would be most preferable.” Bertrand took a sip of his wine. 

Even though House Beaumont’s finances had improved tremendously over time, Bertrand was still obsessed with keeping everything in order, almost desperate to make sure there was no chance of any sort of decline happening again. He wouldn’t hear anyone who tried to tell him that he should take a break or loosen up a little.

“Go easy on him,” Maxwell suggests. “He’s been working really hard on his lessons and barely gets any time to go outside.”

“He needs to spend his time learning all he can so he can be a reputable duke when the time comes!”

“Bertrand, please,” Savannah says. “He’s just having a couple bad days. It’s normal.” 

Bertrand sighs. “I don’t understand why he feels this way. Just last week he was fine. What happened now?”

“He went to Drake’s this weekend, so maybe he misses him,” Savannah speculates. 

“I’ll call him up later,” Maxwell declares. “It’s been a while since I’ve talked to my old pal. I kinda miss him, too.”

The three finish their meal in quiet, but Maxwell sits impatiently for the moment he could jump up and go call Drake. 

After their plates were taken away, Maxwell said his good nights to Savannah and Bertrand and raced up the stairs towards Bartie’s room.

He knocks on the door and waits for Bartie to unlock it. “Yes?” Bartie says. 

“I thought we could give Uncle Drake a call! It’s been a couple days since you’ve seen him and it’s been a while since I’ve talked to him.”

“It’s barely been two days,” Bartie scoffs. “But alright, I guess.”

Bartie goes to sit next to Maxwell on the edge of the bed and leans in while they wait for Drake to answer the FaceTime call. 

He declines the call. Maxwell calls again, Drake declines again.

“Maybe he’s busy?” Bartie wonders aloud.

“It’s more likely that he just doesn’t want me bothering him.” Maxwell’s phone vibrates. “He texted me!”

On flight. Will call in morning.

“He’s traveling? Where? Do you think His Majesty sent him away again?” Bartie asks.

“I don’t really know. Hopefully he’ll keep his promise and call back in the morning. Until then there’s not much we can do.” Maxwell sighs and stands up, ruffling Bartie’s hair. “Good night, muffin. Sleep well.”

In his room, Maxwell lays in bed thinking of all the places Drake could be going. Olivia was the one who led independent investigations and never told anything to anyone else until she was sure of what she had, so it was unlikely Drake had gone to find something upon her suggestion. Maxwell had tried to reach out to Riley through social media, but soon after he contacted her, she’d deleted all of her accounts, blocked his number, and blocked his email — then when they tried to trace her number through Olivia’s phone, they reached a dead end. 

Drake on the other hand, did work together with Maxwell and Olivia, but also with the division of the King’s Guard that Liam had made to search for Riley. Their king was constantly sending out people to thoroughly examine every place that yielded even the smallest hint of a lead. Rarely was anything found, and when it was, it was either useless or highly questionable.

Recently, they were having difficulty finding new leads — they had already checked so many places around the world that it was hard to think of any place they may have disregarded. That was when Liam and Drake started distancing themselves even further. Maxwell knew they usually spent time together near the end of the week, but when Drake suggested Bartie visit over the weekend, Maxwell knew that both men had started losing hope.

The next morning during another quiet meal, Maxwell noticed Savannah stealing glances at her son.

“Did Uncle Drake call you back yet?” Bartie directed his question towards Maxwell.

“No,” Maxwell said, his mouth stuffed with blueberries and waffles. “I’ll check in on him in a few.” 

Bertrand continued the conversation by telling everyone what he planned to do for the rest of the day. Maxwell could tell that he was trying to get Bartie to want to work with him. He was glad Bertrand wasn’t pushing Bartie too much, and was sure that Savannah had probably talked to him about it last night.

After breakfast, Maxwell gave Drake a call, but it went straight to voicemail. Maxwell left a message asking Drake to get back to him. 

In an attempt to get Bartie out of the house before his tutor showed up, Maxwell went to his door and tried to persuade his nephew to go on a jog with him.

“Maybe later,” Bartie called out from inside his room. “I’m a little tired right now.”

Some time after noon, Drake still hadn’t called back. Finishing his lunch, Maxwell decides to give Drake a call to make sure everything was alright.

The phone rings for so long Maxwell thinks Drake isn’t going to answer, but then hears his voice from the other side: “Hey, Maxwell.”

“Drake!” Maxwell shouts. “What’s happening? You said you’d call this morning but then you didn’t.”

“Sorry about that,” Drake’s voice doesn’t seem directed at Maxwell, who can tell that he’s distracted. “Got caught up.” There’s people talking in the background, but Maxwell can’t tell who it is or what they’re saying.

“So where did you fly off to?” he asks. 

Drake doesn’t answer. The people in the background keep talking. After a few seconds, Drake’s voice is more purposeful when he says to Maxwell, “Listen. Liam and I are in New York. We’re with Riley.”

The rest of Drake’s monologue cuts out as her name echoes through Maxwell’s mind. 

Riley? Our Riley? They found little blossom? How long has it been? Ten years? Almost eleven? Feels like a hundred.

Are they there to bring her back? Does she even want to come back? Would she want to see me, the person who set in motion the series of events that led to her name being dragged through the mud, to her disappearance, to heartbreak?

“New York?” Maxwell finally brings himself to speak through the lump in his throat. “Little blossom’s in New York? When did you find out?”

“Like I said, we found out just last night.” Maxwell didn’t want to mention that he wasn't listening when Drake had said that. 

“Is... is she alright? Have you talked to her? What did she say?”

“Pay attention, Maxwell,” Drake scolds through his teeth.

“I was paying attention! But if you would be so kind as to repeat what you said....”

“She was visiting a museum and there was a bomb. She’s in New York Presbyterian, and we’re here, too. She got a serious head injury and had surgery on Sunday. Her legs are pretty beat up, but the doctor says some rest will help her get back on her feet within a few weeks.”

“Where is she?” Maxwell yells. “Are you with her?”

Drake sighs. “No, not at the moment. The doctor and a nurse checked her and said they wanted to take her for another CT scan to see if there was anything they might have overlooked.”

“So you... you didn’t speak to her at all?”

“I didn’t, no, but Liam did before they took her away. He won’t tell me what she said.”

“So she is talking, right? She’s alright, technically? Nothing permanent?”

“I don’t know, Maxwell. I’ll let you know what happens when they bring her back.”

“Let me talk to her. I want to see my little blossom,” Maxwell requests. Drake says something, but his voice is far away. He’s talking to someone else, and doesn’t bring the phone back to his ear. “Drake? Hello?”

The line disconnects. Maxwell stands there, shocked. His feet were rooted in place as he stares down at his phone. 

Did they really find Riley? If they did, could they convince her to return?

I was the one who convinced her to come to Cordonia in the first place. I should be there helping bring her back.

“BERTRAND!” Maxwell shrieks, running out the room towards the study.

“What happened?” Savannah screams as Maxwell flies past her. 

“BERTRAND!” he calls again, announcing his arrival.

When he opens the door to the study, Bertrand is on the phone, staring at Maxwell with a grim face. “My apologies, sir, but I will have to call you back,” he says to the person on the other end, hanging up. He stands. “What on Earth was that Maxwell? I’m on an important phone call and you come dashing in, screeching my name like a banshee! Do you understand how incompetent that looks?”

Maxwell knows he’s about to be at the receiving end of another one of Bertrand’s never-ending lectures, but he doesn’t care. He’s jittery and out of breath, but in between pants manages to say, “Liam and Drake found Riley. They’re with her right now. We have to go.”

Stunned, Bertrand takes a step back. “Riley?! Uh, er... Lady Riley?” He clears his throat, composing himself, but can’t get the words out. “They’ve... they’ve.... Where is she? His Majesty is with her?”

“In New York. Yes, he's there with Drake.” 

Bertrand blinks. He finally manages a solemn voice and asks, “She is well, I hope?”

Maxwell shakes his head. Moments pass, with Bertrand deep in thought. Maxwell worries about what his brother will say next.

“Everything alright in here?” Savannah walks in. “Saw Maxwell run past and wanted to make sure that nothing was wrong.” 

“His Majesty and Drake have found Lady Riley.” Bertrand’s voice is more prominent now.

“What?” Savannah brings a hand over her mouth.

Confidently, he declares, “Maxwell and I will be joining them in New York as soon as possible. I am sorry to leave you and Bartie, my dear,” he sighs, “but we must go. She is still House Beaumont, after all.”

After a moment, Savannah says, “We’ll come with you. I want to see her, too, and I know Bartie would enjoy the trip.” 

Bertrand’s mind is already racing, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell his wife that he wants her to stay here. She seemed certain of herself, and so he would not dissuade her. “Alright then,” he replies.

“Aw yeah!” Maxwell cries. “Family vacation!” 

“Yes, yes, now go pack,” Bertrand commands. “I’ll prepare a flight for us. We must go quickly. Time is of the essence.”

... 

On the flight, Maxwell and Bertrand anxiously look out of their windows. Savannah talks to Bartie about the appeals of New York — after him and his mother had come back from Paris, the family had never taken Bartie out of Cordonia, and since Bertrand was persistent in having Bartie receive his education at the hands of tutors, the boy was never given the time to travel with his family, nor did he have any friends who could either relate to him or tell him tales of their travels.

Eventually, Bartie gets tired and takes a nap. Maxwell feels tired as well, but the excitement to see Riley again doesn’t stop sending jolts through his body. They were so close to her. So close to having her with them, and having everything be the way it should have been from the beginning.

Hours later, he wakes up Bartie and tells him that they’ve landed.

Once they’re out of the airport, Bertrand manages to tag down a driver. They drop off Savannah and Bartie at the hotel where they got a last minute reservation. When Maxwell and Bertrand are outside the hospital, Maxwell jumps out of the car and races inside. 

“Maxwell!” Bertrand calls in a stiff whisper. Maxwell slows down and matches Bertrand’s pace. They walk up to the receptionist, who’s having a discussion with a doctor. They wait for her to notice them, and after a few moments Maxwell debates running off to try and find Riley’s room himself, but Bertrand clears his throat and asks, “Excuse me, could either one of you direct me towards Miss Riley Brooks? She’s a patient here, I believe.”

The doctor looks up. “Are one of you her designated support person?”

“No, not exactly—.”

“We’re family.” Maxwell chimes in. “We just heard what happened and flew in from Europe.”

“Visiting hours are over,” the doctor says. “You fellas can come back at nine in the morning. ‘Til then I can’t help you.” 

“You will tell me where she is or you will face the wrath of House Beaumont’s lawyers!” Bertrand shouts.

“Beaumont? That your last name?” the doctor interrogates.

“Yes and—.”

“The lady’s last name is Brooks. Clearly, you guys aren’t family. I��m gonna need you two to leave. Unless you want me to get security?”

Bertrand looks at the doctor, fuming, ready to give him the worst tongue lashing the man has ever experienced, but someone grips his and Maxwell’s shoulders. 

“They’re with me, Doc,” Drake says. “I’ll take them to Miss Brooks and there’ll be no more trouble. Sorry for the inconvenience.” 

Drake leads the two of them away from reception and towards the ICU. 

“Drake!” Maxwell exclaims, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Thanks for that. We really needed it.” 

“Yes,” Bertrand adds. “It was much appreciated. Now, where is Lady Riley?”

“Did they find everything alright after the CT scan?” Maxwell asks. 

Drake sighs. “Riley’s asleep right now. Today must have been stressful for her, I imagine. You guys can talk to her in the morning.” 

Maxwell is about to repeat his question when he notices Liam sitting in the ICU waiting room, looking at the floor. “Liam!” he calls. 

When Liam looks up, Maxwell looks in shock at his red, swollen eyes. 

“What happened?” Maxwell breathes. The air in his lungs is suddenly painful.

“She—,” he looks back down and speaks slowly, as if every word sent a stab to his chest. “She didn’t remember me. She looked me right in the eye and asked me who I was.” His voice cracks, and he puts his head in his hands.

Maxwell takes a seat next to Liam, but says nothing. Bertrand stands in shock, staring at his king breaking down. Brows furrowed in confusion, he looks at Drake. “What does that mean?”

“She lost her memory.” Drake answered in a quiet voice. Every word seemed to break him. “The doctors didn’t tell us everything, but they told us that they doubted she even knew who she was. After they brought her from the CT scan and explained everything to her, she started crying. Her mother was there, too. She’s actually a nurse here. They’ve decided to question her tomorrow, to try and figure out what she remembers and doesn’t remember. Some detectives are also coming in to question a couple victims. They’re hoping to find some information, or at least something that’ll help them connect some dots.”

“Little blossom doesn’t know who we are?” Maxwell asks, as his shoulders begin to shake. 

Bertrand manages to maintain his composure, though his voice cracks a couple times when he says, “Well. There’s nothing... there’s um... nothing we can do at the moment.” He clears his throat. “Have you two been able to acquire any accommodations?”

Liam sits up, his face wet. “Yes.” He sniffles. “Though we haven’t actually been to the hotel yet. We’ve been here for... oh, a little less than ten hours.”

“Your Majesty I believe it would be wise to spend the night at the hotel and rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day. Perhaps the doctors will let us ask questions as well.”

"Thank you, Duke Bertrand, but I would rather stay. Drake, if you want, you can go and get some sleep. I'm sure you need it. I'll be fine right here."

Drake, Maxwell, and Bertrand share a silent look, then take a seat near their friend. Bertrand sends Savannah a text, telling her that him and Maxwell will not be returning to the hotel tonight.

[randomvarious]

The Sugarhill Gang - “Rapper’s Delight” The Best Rap Album of All Time Song released in 1979. Compilation released in 1999. Hip Hop

“Rapper’s Delight” by The Sugarhill Gang is the most important song in the history of hip hop music. Period. It was the genre’s first commercial record and it sold millions of copies around the world. It suddenly introduced white people and everyone outside of the tri-state area, as well as countless people in other countries, to a Bronx-born, organic subculture whose popularity had previously grown through mostly word-of-mouth. It’s not the first hip hop song ever recorded (that honor belongs to “King Tim III (Personality Jock)” by The Fatback Band), but historians unanimously agree that it is indeed the genre’s runner-up record. And without its commercial success, hip hop might have only become a late 70s-early 80s New York fad, only to be cherished by its small set of original participants and Pitchfork-reading hipster types who wax nostalgic about those halcyon CBGB’s and Max’s Kansas City days where the city’s various strains of new wave, glam rock, punk, art punk, no wave, and the like all converged.

But I’m here to tell you that this iconic song, the one that made hip hop a viable commercial enterprise and enabled it to eventually become the biggest music genre on the planet, is actually a total fraud. And that’s for a couple reasons. Now, before you go all Rocko lavender hippo lady on me, let me just say that “Rapper’s Delight” is by no means a bad song. In fact, it’s one of the greatest songs ever made. But it was a total fucking cash grab, too; an absolute sellout record. And that’s ironic because, for a genre that’s had so many insufferable purists who bristle at the idea of inauthenticity (full disclosure: I was one of those people), they have no problem with calling this song an indispensable piece of “real” and “true” hip hop music.

Let me explain some hip hop history, first though.

Hip hop culture began in the south Bronx in the summer of 1973, about a full six years before “Rapper’s Delight” came out. It was started by a DJ from Jamaica named Kool Herc. Herc is the genius who figured out how to isolate the instrumental break on a record and extend it by having two copies of the record and lining up the second one to start after the break from the first one finished. This allowed people to dance to the same beat for extended periods of time, which gave birth to breakdancing and dance battles. Another thing the extension of the break enabled was rapping. Rapping came out of toasting, a Jamaican DJ tradition in which the DJ would bust out a nifty and rhythmic, spoken-word rhyme, often shouting out someone of note who was in attendance. But then that eventually morphed into an extended series of rhymes, which gave way to the MC.

Rapping at that point was largely a poetic, improvised stream-of-consciousness. MCs would rap for minutes on end, displaying their mental dexterity as they would do their best to keep on beat and try to make sense while rhyming the last word of each line with the next.

That’s where Sylvia Robinson comes into this story. Robinson was an R&B / soul / funk / disco artist and producer who had appeared plenty of times on the R&B charts and landed a top-three national hit with “Pillow Talk” in 1973. In 1979, she started her own label, Sugar Hill Records, which would become the most important hip hop label in the early part of the next decade. Robinson’s first interaction with rapping didn’t come inside a Bronx club or at a Bronx block party though. It was instead at her niece’s birthday party in Harlem, where DJ Lovebug Starski was doing a bit of call-and-response with his audience. 

From The Independent:

"The DJ [was talking] over the music, and the kids were going crazy. He would say something like, 'Throw your hands [up in] the air' and they'd do it," she recalled. "All of a sudden, something said [to me]: 'Put something like that on a record, and it will be the biggest thing you ever had'. I didn't even know you called it rap."

At first, Robinson had no takers. No rapper or DJ she approached thought making a hip hop record was a good idea. It was just a fun thing people did at parties. It wasn’t something that would ever end up being profitable. According to cultural critic Harry Allen, when Chuck D of Public Enemy first heard that rap was going to be put on records, he asked, “'How are you going to put three hours on a record?' Because that's the way MCs used to rhyme. They'd just rhyme and rhyme and rhyme for hours."

But Robinson would eventually find some people to rap on a record. It’s unclear whether or not it was her son or her herself who initially found the first member of her rap group, but it happened at a pizza shop in Englewood, New Jersey, where Big Bank Hank was spotted rapping while working his shift. Robinson then brought Hank out in front of the parlor to audition. The next member, Master Gee, would then audition in her car, followed by Wonder Mike. Robinson couldn’t decide which rapper she liked most, so she decided to sign all of them. And thus, the Sugarhill Gang was born.

However, it should be noted that Big Bank Hank, Master Gee, and Wonder Mike were absolute nobodies at the time. They weren’t serious MCs or DJs. The guys who had been putting it down since hip hop’s inception like Kool Herc, Afrika Bambaataa, Grandmaster Flash, and Kool DJ AJ had never had these guys rap on their stages before. They were total amateurs.

But Robinson didn’t care and not long after she signed them, “Rapper’s Delight” came to fruition. The #1 song in the country at the time happened to be Chic’s “Good Times,” and coincidentally, it was also a superb beat for rapping over. Robinson probably thought that using an uber popular instrumental for her rap record would move units, too, and ultimately, she would be proven right. She enlisted a funk band called Positive Force to recreate the “Good Times” instrumental, and,  incredibly, they and the Sugarhill Gang pumped out “Rapper’s Delight” in a single nineteen-minute take. There were no lyrical flubs and no mistakes by any of the players. It was an amazingly efficient use of studio time.

That nineteen minutes was then pared down to 14:30 and the recording was pressed to wax and then went to sale. However, “Rapper’s Delight” failed to catch on at first. Radio DJs were reticent to play such a ridiculously long song and hip hop party DJs had no idea who the Sugarhill Gang was. But once a radio version was cut, which is the version I’ve posted today, the record got radio play, which then translated to immense record sales. It made the Billboard Hot 100, peaking at #36, while hitting #4 on the R&B chart. And it became an even bigger hit outside of the U.S., reaching the top-five all across Europe, Canada, and South Africa. It also sold literally millions of records. The second hip hop song to ever be recorded for commercial purposes was a suddenly and completely unexpected global phenomenon. Hip hop had hit the big time.

But outside of the fact that this monstrous song was clearly a mere ploy to make money and was actually not an organic piece of Bronx-bred hip hop culture, there was even more fraudulence to it. Big Bank Hank, the second MC to grace the track, actually stole all of his verses from another rapper, the legend Grandmaster Caz. Caz was a member of a foundational hip hop group called The Cold Crush Brothers, who were known to rap at parties in the Bronx. Hank offered to become Caz’s manager and took out a loan to upgrade Cold Crush’s soundsystem. Then, to pay off that loan, he got a job at the pizza shop that he was eventually discovered in. But when he was seen rapping while working and was quickly auditioned afterwards, he used Caz’s lyrics. So, when Hank introduces himself on “Rapper’s Delight” with, “I’m the C-A-S-A, the N-O-V-A, and the rest is F-L-Y,” know he is spelling out one of Grandmaster Caz’s nicknames, and without his permission. And to this day, Caz hasn’t seen a single dime from “Rapper’s Delight”’s sales. Criminal shit.

But in the grand scheme of things, despite that bad sleight on Caz and the ultimate motive to record the song, “Rapper’s Delight” is still, by absolute happenstance, a masterpiece. It’s not just one of the first hip hop records, but it’s just so infectiously fun. But because of how fun it is, another thing that apparently pissed off other rappers at the time was that the song wasn’t about anything important. A lot of rappers were angry at the conditions in which they lived and they thought it was lame that a bunch of outsiders had cashed in on their artform while not even channeling any of the south Bronx’s inner rage. But a few years later, Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five would release hip hop’s second unmitigated classic, “The Message,” a socially conscious-painted picture of the South Bronx. And it was released on, funnily enough, Sugar Hill Records.

There’s a moral or something to this story somewhere. Without the selling out and without Big Bank Hank’s lyrical theft, who knows where hip hop culture would be today? “Rapper’s Delight” sure wasn’t made for the purest of reasons, but it exposed hip hop music, and then eventually the actual authentic Bronx culture, to the entire world. Had Sylvia Robinson not seen dollar signs in this fun and unique party gimmick, would Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five or Afrika Bambaataa or Kurtis Blow become household names? Would hip hop ever be sold commercially? Would the following, more lyrical Def Jam wave with acts like Run-D.M.C. and LL Cool J ever happen? And then would N.W.A happen or the Native Tongues posse with A Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, Busta Rhymes, Queen Latifah, and Black Sheep? I could go on, but you get the picture.

[joonbird]

Heartbeat | 7

➭ “You’ve always stayed far away from the Kingsnakes, the coldblooded gang that runs the dark heart of your city. That is until your life collides with the intriguing and dangerous Jung Hoseok.”

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: gang!au, smut, angst

wordcount: 12k

part one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

** warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries and violence, dark themes, gang activity, explicit drug references, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of death. and bathtub sex **

Sleep feels impossible tonight. 

Every muscle in Hoseok’s body is locked in place, his eyes stare listlessly into the darkness of his room. No matter what he does, no matter how many times he swears under his breath and rolls over onto one side, he can’t fall asleep. 

His mind is swirling with thoughts, thoughts that are unwanted and painful, thoughts infused with the question mark of what could’ve been, thoughts that start and end with your name on the tip of his tongue.

Hoseok has never been the type of person to reminisce on the past, largely due to his belief that reflection is unnecessary. You can’t turn back time and change the past, so why bother dwelling on it? But now, when the evening is fading into dawn, and the sky is awash with the milky blue of breaking daylight, Hoseok silently confesses that he chooses to ignore the past because it’s easier than confronting it.

The past is painful. Hoseok knows this better than anybody. He’s trained his mind to not think back on particular turning points of his life, he’s sharpened the skill of actively not remembering darker times. But ever since you came into his world, he can’t ignore his past anymore. Everything that he tried so hard to bury deep is rising to the surface.

Hoseok clutches the sheets in his hands and lets out another soft, “Fuck”. It does little to ease his racing thoughts. He thinks about you, how your eyes flash with hurt when he says things to you that are particularly cold and cruel. He thinks about how your voice sound when it whispers his name, the nape of your neck and the curve of your waist, the look of shock that painted over your features when he pressed his lips to yours for the first time.

“Stop it,” Hoseok mutters into the darkness, his voice harsh. Stop thinking about her.

Hoseok curses himself for his total lack of foresight, for his inability to see when something is good before it’s too late. He thinks he’s so cunning, so clever, when in reality he can’t see anything at all. He didn’t see you coming into his life, he didn’t see you changing his life, and he didn’t see you walking out of his life- until of course, it was too late.

Am I a bad person? The thought creeps in, and Hoseok sighs. He doesn’t know anymore. For a long time, he had just accepted that he was a bad person. Hoseok can’t recall all the times he’s done fucked up things, hurt people, received a sick sense of numbing satisfaction from affirming that yes, He had never considered the possibility that he was redeemable, that he may not be an intrinsically bad person. Until you.

Hoseok leans back on his bedframe, slumping forward until his head is in his hands. This hurts. This really, really hurts. It hurts, the way you eased into his heart with killer precision. He doesn’t know how to get you out. He doesn’t want to get you out. 

Hoseok lifts his head and absently fumbles on his nightstand table for the pack of cigarettes he keeps there, his fingers catching on the box. He hesitates, before he finally throws the box, hard, across the room. A dramatic gesture perhaps, but Hoseok couldn’t give less of a fuck right now. Cigarettes spill out onto his bedroom floor and he swears again. 

He looks at the clock, it reads 5:03AM. It’s 5AM, and he’s here, head in his hands, thinking about a woman who makes him feel a heady kind of hopefulness, a woman who taught him that there may be more to life than living fast and dying young. 

Hoseok squeezes his eyes shut and weakly tells himself to stop being such a weak motherfucking bitch, that you have left his life and it’s for the better, that you’re just another memory to lock away and forget about.

He lies awake in bed until daylight breaks over the horizon.

Twenty years ago, on a Friday evening in the middle of December, Jung Hoseok fell in love with dancing.

It was a Friday, because Friday was always the day that his Mum liked to go grocery shopping. Every Friday was like clockwork – Hoseok trailing his mother around the store while she slowly, carefully picked out boxes and cans. It was always Friday, because Hoseok’s father stayed out on Friday nights, stumbling in the house late into the evening with the sharp smell of alcohol plumed around him like smoke. 

It was during October, because the air was brisk when Hoseok slipped away from his mother and walked out of the store. It had felt like a thin film of ice was going to settle over his skin if he stayed outside for too long. 

Hoseok was certain he’d always be able to remember it. The cold that brushed over his skin, the quiet hum of the store doors closing behind him, and there – on the concrete in front of the store, a group of guys. 

They had a battered portable radio that was perched on the hood of an equally battered car, the crackly weak bass of a hip hop song filtered into the air. The group of guys were joking around, pushing each other and filling the beats of the song with their light, cloying jabs and insults – and they were dancing.

Hoseok had stared at them with wide eyes. Each movement they made was strong and bold, and they were entirely in control of their bodies. One guy, the one in the middle with a cap jammed over his hair and trackpants about two sizes too big for him, had a smile that he was struggling to contain. He was a man who was in control of each of his movements, a firm grip on the rhythm that coursed through body, controlled over everything except the smile that teased at his features. 

Hoseok’s breath was coming out in puffs of cold into the night air and he wondered, right then and there, if he could be like that one day.

It was one of those, right time, right place sort of situations. The kind of scenario where everything pieces together so exactly, that it can only be due to a stroke of luck, a twist of destiny. A red thread of fate.

Hoseok was a few days from turning sixteen when he met Z. 

His father had passed away the month prior. Hoseok had stood at his father’s funeral just last weekend, dressed in a rented suit that smelled like sweat and felt starchy on his skin, watching as people he had never met before shuffled through with tears dotted on their cheeks. Hoseok had looked up at the framed photo of his father that people were crying over, and he wondered what exactly they were crying for.

You’re nothing. His father’s voice floated into his thoughts. Hoseok squeezed his eyes shut, thinking about all the times his father had called him a loser, a coward, a ‘fucking pussy’, until finally just landing on the words that Hoseok had grown accustomed to hearing – ‘You’re nothing, Hoseok.’ 

Hoseok thought back to all the times he had seen his mother crying in the kitchen early in the morning when she thought the house was asleep, her hands bent in front of her, praying. Hoseok had always felt so tiny and powerless every time he heard his mother cry, every time his father’s fist went crunching into his cheek, every time the words You’re nothing echoed through his thoughts. 

Hoseok’s eyes had fluttered open and a few funeral-goers stared at him, eyes sympathetic and pitying. His mother, standing beside him, was crying – his baby sister in her arms. Hoseok’s father was gone, but the pressure he put on the family remained. He was gone, but all these people were still crying. Hoseok looked at the tears tracking down everyone’s faces, at the photo of his father perched high in the funeral hall.

He didn’t cry.

It was that memory that lingered in Hoseok’s mind when Sungmin approached him after school and asked him if he was free to talk. He was the same age as Hoseok, they were in the same Geometry class, yet Hoseok had never exchanged more than two words with him. 

Sungmin was something of a mystery, no one knew much about him. What Hoseok did know, however, was that Sungmin was always wearing a leather jacket that was two sizes too big for him, Sungmin was part of some newly established gang, and that Sungmin, for some reason, was standing on front of him now wanting to ‘talk’.

Sungmin was the same age as Hoseok but he felt older. He had an air of confidence about him, and he dug into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it. He offered it to Hoseok, and even though Hoseok had never so much as touched a cigarette in his life- he took it. 

He held it gingerly in his fingers and took a drag, coughing at the feeling of smoke in his lungs. Sungmin just watched on, an amused smile on his face.

“Will you teach me how to breakdance?”

Hoseok had been momentarily surprised. Of all the questions he had been anticipating, it hadn’t been that one. What surprised him the most though, was how quickly he answered back, his response.

“Okay.”

Sungmin was a slow learner. He was a clumsy dancer. He also, surprisingly enough, evolved from classmate to friend. 

Hoseok learned a lot about Sungmin when they met up after school. He learned that Sungmin wanted to learn how to dance because his girlfriend, Lorna, had mentioned she liked breakdancers. He learned that Sungmin had a short fuse and a tendency to spew filthy swear words when he couldn’t get a move right.

He learned that Sungmin’s chest puffed out in pride whenever he talked about his friends, the gang that he was currently being initiated into. ‘The Kingsnakes,’ Sungmin would say, struggling to keep a cool expression on his face, ‘That’s our name, by the way.’ 

Hoseok had learned that Sungmin, when he found something unbearably funny, slapped his hand over his mouth and laughed silently, shoulders shaking up and down. 

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but it did – somewhere along the way he had become friends with the other boy. It was a realization he had when he was leaning against the wall of the warehouse one school night with Sungmin, smoking cigarettes and discussing whether it was worth staying in school, or dropping out. 

“You never smoke them properly.” Sungmin had complained, pointing his cigarette butt at Hoseok accusingly. “You’ve gotta inhale. Yoongi taught me that.”

Hoseok wrinkled his nose, watching as the other boy took a deep drag, exhaling a mouthful of smoke with exaggerated confidence.

“Yoongi?”

Sungmin hummed in response. “Yep. He’s the leader of the Kingsnakes.”

Hoseok’s mouth opened into a small ‘o’. He stared at the cigarette in his hands, the glowing embers falling to the ground.

“Sungmin, will you introduce me to him? Yoongi, I mean.”

“Z,” Sungmin corrected. Hoseok looked up questioningly and Sungmin shrugged.

“Call me Z. It’s a new nickname I’m trying.”

“Loser.” Hoseok rolled his eyes and Sungmin grinned, staring at his friend thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I’ll introduce you. You’ll owe me, though.”

Hoseok nodded, feeling a thrill start in his spine. He didn’t know why he was asking to meet Yoongi, he didn’t know why he was here with Sungmin, all he did know was that he felt good. He felt like he belonged, like he wasn’t a kid anymore, like he was taking charge of his life.

He picked up the cigarette and inhaled properly. It burned in his lungs and it made his head spin, he fought the urge to cough as he exhaled all the smoke. It cloaked his vision and somewhere through the haze, he heard the almost silent strains of Sungmin’s laughter.

Min Yoongi was not what Hoseok had expected. He had hair that was dyed an unnatural shade of ice blue, and eyes that gazed him up and down suspiciously upon first glance. 

“Who’s this?” 

Yoongi didn’t direct the question to him, glancing over instead at Z who was standing by Hoseok’s side.

“My friend. Wanted to meet you.” 

And just like that, Yoongi’s eyes were back on him. Hoseok squirmed uncomfortably.

“Why did you want to meet me?”

Hoseok’s voice was pitchy, it gave away his nerves as he spoke.

“I was wondering if I could hang around with you guys.”

Yoongi just raised an eyebrow.

“…You guys?”

Hoseok’s face flushed and he nodded. “The… the Kingsnakes.”

For a long moment, Yoongi just stared at Hoseok, a perplexed expression on his face before he sighed.

“Yeah, whatever. You can hang round with us if you want.” Yoongi’s voice was bored, and Hoseok nodded eagerly. 

“But if you’re going to do that, you need to understand that there’s nothing more important to me than loyalty. Whether you’re going to hang round for a little bit or longer, at the end of the day, all I ask for, and all I expect, is loyalty. Whatever you see, whatever goes down – it’s between us and us only. Understood?” He spoke slowly, still with that bored tone- but Hoseok didn’t miss the steeliness in his words. 

“Yeah, I… I understand.” 

He must have passed whatever test Yoongi was giving because the older boy relaxed, but kept eyeing him curiously. 

“So, why do you want in with the Kingsnakes, kid? You want money, drugs, friends? What is it?” 

Hoseok sensed Sungmin’s eyes on him too, and he shrugged.

“I just don’t want to feel like I’m nothing.” He said honestly, to which Yoongi just let out a soft hum in response.

After that, Hoseok’s life became something like a whirlwind of firsts. 

The first kiss, exchanged at a Kingsnake party with some girl from another school who had crawled into his lap and kissed him. 

The first time he had done drugs, a tiny bump of cocaine that he snorted while wedged between Yoongi and a few of the other members at a party.  

The first time he skipped class, spending the day hanging around with some of the guys and getting high, enjoying it so much that he eventually stopped going to class altogether. 

The first time he fucked a girl, thrusting into her, his body using hers, feeling invincible. 

The first time Yoongi asked him to help out, to keep watch for a drug deal. That had also been the first time Yoongi had slapped his shoulder and grinned at him, telling him he was alright. 

The first time Hoseok was handed an envelope stuffed with bills, feeling a rush of excitement because that money was his, he had earned it. It was the first time Hoseok felt secure, powerful, like maybe he had someplace where he belonged. 

The first time a needle touched his skin, inking a snake onto his wrist. The first time his mother saw the tattoo and teared up, asking Hoseok if he was safe.

The first time he and a few of the guys beat up another guy for ratting on them. The first time he punched someone’s jaw. The first time he saw Z’s eyes flash with simmering lust, punching until Yoongi told him in a sharp tone, Enough.

The first time Hoseok felt uncertainty about his decision to join the Kingsnakes. The first time he questioned whether he had made the right choices, whether his past was doomed to repeat itself. 

“Yoongi likes you.” Z muttered to him on the night of his eighteenth birthday. “He’s always picking you to be his backup him in deals and shit.”

The two had slipped outside for a cigarette, standing shoulder by shoulder in the brisk air. Lorna, Z’s girlfriend, had joined them at first before she too slipped back inside, complaining about the cold weather. 

“Yoongi?” Hoseok echoed. Z just grunted. Hoseok cocked his head to the side, considered those words.

“You’re probably next in line to run the group, at this point.” Z added.

Hoseok had turned to his friend, whose face was lit only by the red embers. Ash fell to the ground and Hoseok shrugged in response. He felt good, his body was buzzed, he felt like something, like he was something. He thought back on the tiny, frightened kid he used to be and a wry smile tugged on his lips.

“Nah. That’s all you, Sungmin.” 

Z let out a loud scoff, reaching over and giving Hoseok a feeble punch. “You loser.” He laughed. “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s fucking freezing.”

A few weeks later, Hoseok stood outside Yoongi’s house, shivering and muttering complaints under his breath.

“Stupid motherfucking Min Yoongi asks me to drop something off and then doesn’t even answer the door,” Hoseok mumbled, walking down the driveway. “Fuck, it’s cold.” He paused once he got to his bike, sighing in annoyance as he turned around, walking directly past the front door and weaving his way through the gate. 

He had been to Yoongi’s house several times, and when he got to the back door, it was, as expected, unlocked. He stepped into the house, holding the package under his arms. The house was quiet, his footsteps heavy on the floor. 

“Hoseok?” 

Yoongi padded out, dressed just in a pair of black jocks. “What are you- just, get out of here, I’m busy today.”

His voice was harsh and Hoseok cringed, throwing the package down on the kitchen table. “Yeah sorry, it’s all there, the delivery, the guy-”

“Yoongi?” A female voice cut faintly through Hoseok’s words. Hoseok froze.

He recognized that voice.

He glanced over at Yoongi questioningly and the stricken look on the other man’s face said it all.

“Yoongi…. Is that…” Hoseok breathed.

“Fuck,” Yoongi swore.

Hoseok closed and opened his mouth.

“Don’t say anything,” Yoongi asked in a low voice, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You won’t say anything, Hoseok?” He looked up and for the first time Hoseok saw Yoongi not as the strong, invincible leader of the group but as he was – vulnerable and broken. 

“Okay.” Hoseok muttered dumbly. Yoongi nodded and the two men stared at each other tensely before Hoseok turned and walked out of the back door. 

He half expected Yoongi to come barreling behind him, but he was met with nothing but silence. He got to his motorcycle, still perched by the driveway.

Hoseok recognized that voice, husky and distinctive. Hoseok saw it in the panic that crossed over Yoongi’s face, the pleading tone of his voice.

It was Lorna. Z’s girlfriend.

“Fuck,” Hoseok muttered. “Fuck!”

Anger, fear, hot and uncomfortable emotion swelled in his chest as Hoseok kicked his bike. 

The resounding pain that went through his leg just intensified the frustration, but there was nothing he could do about the pain. It was too late, and what had been done, was done. 

Months later, it was summer. The days were long and hot, and the air felt still. It was the calm before the storm.

Hoseok spent the majority of his days in a sticky, clouded haze. He was stretched out on the couch, his mind comfortably blurry when he heard his front door slam open. 

He didn’t bother locking it half the time, today was one of those days, and he glanced up blearily. It was Z, and Hoseok sat up, yawning.

“What’s up dude? Haven’t seen you round last few days.”

Z was agitated, Hoseok could sense it from the moment that he walked in the room. Z didn’t respond immediately, pacing back and forth before he finally flopped down on the chair opposite Hoseok.

“Found out that Min fucking Yoongi was screwing my girlfriend behind my back.”

Hoseok’s blood turned to ice. 

Z let out an emphatic, “Fuck” before he sighed, leaning back on the chair.

“I… how?” Hoseok asked, his voice sounding faint to his own ears.

Z didn’t answer, his eyes closed. “Does it matter?” 

“Where…. Where is Yoongi now? Have you talked to him?”

Z opened one eye. A smile spread across his face, and he shrugged.

“That’s just the thing. I was going to talk to him about it, but you’ll never believe it. Turns out there was an oxygen bubble in his bloodstream. He’s dead.”

Dead? 

Hoseok could hear the blood in his ears. Z closed his eyes again and shrugged.

“Freak accident. Crazy, right?” 

Hoseok’s throat was dry. He sunk back down onto the couch, his head spinning.

And there it was. The sound of Z’s silent, dry laughter. Hoseok could recognize it anywhere. Hoseok felt dread start to pool in the pit of his stomach as Z spoke, his words low and dangerous like the rattle of a snake.

“There’s nothing more important than loyalty, right?”

Hoseok didn’t answer, pushing off of the couch.

“Need a cigarette.” He mumbled. He knew it was a stupid excuse, for God’s sake he smoked in his house, but he needed fresh air. He needed to clear his stupid, clouded, jumbled thoughts, because Yoongi was dead. Yoongi was dead. Hoseok’s mind was racing with thoughts as he pushed open his front door and walked down the driveway.

An oxygen bubble? In his bloodstream?

Hoseok’s hands were trembling as he walked down his street, he furtively glanced behind his shoulder to ensure no one was tailing him. He pulled out his phone, holding it to his ear. The moment it clicked, he spoke.

“Lorna, Yoongi’s dead.” 

There was a shocked silence on the end of the line. Hoseok didn’t let it linger, speaking rapidly.

“Get out of here, okay?”

He heard a choked sound on the other line, an almost animal like cry. He didn’t dwell on it, he squeezed the phone tighter, feeling his heart thump in his chest.

“Lorna, do you understand me? Get the fuck out of here, alright?”

She was crying, and Hoseok hung up, his hands trembling. 

He had no idea why he had done that, he didn’t owe Lorna anything. He didn’t owe anyone anything. Except Z.

Z. Hoseok stood, frozen, as he looked behind his shoulder again. The street was empty, but he felt a hum of paranoia and fear race through his veins as he turned off his phone, trying to settle his shaking hands as he turned and walked back into the house.

He walked back inside his living room, feeling his muscles tense up. Z was still sitting in that same chair, he didn’t look up as Hoseok returned to the couch.

“So, we’ve got the Deckard deal next week. You’ll help?” Z began, and Hoseok glanced up. Their eyes met and Hoseok swallowed. 

You can still run, Hoseok.

He nodded. 

I can’t run.

“Good.” Z glanced back at the TV and Hoseok stared at him. He and Z were friends. He owed Z, it was Z who had pulled him into the web of the Kingsnakes, it was that web that had given him power, money, helped him pull himself and his family out of debt.

Hoseok negotiated in his head that really, nothing had changed. The Kingsnakes would remain the same, even with Z at the helm. That Yoongi’s death really was a freak accident. Things wouldn’t worsen, they couldn’t.

I won’t run.

“Hoseok, you didn’t know about Yoongi and Lorna, did you?”

Hoseok felt his heart stutter. His stomach twisted, as he looked up, meeting Z’s gaze.

“No, I didn’t.”

I can’t run.

Z smiled, satisfied, and nodded. “Good.”

I can’t fucking run.

Hoseok sat still, feeling utterly paralyzed. For the first time in years, he felt that insidious, horrible feeling inside of his chest, that voice, telling him that he was nothing. And the red thread of fate that tied him as a ten year old kid to dancing had been cut. 

It was replaced by the black threads of the Kingsnakes, woven tightly around him until he could no longer breathe.

The moment you enter Taehyung’s hospital room, you gasp. 

A sharp, involuntary intake of breath that draws everyone’s attention on you. Your eyes scan over the room – at Ara, who gazes at you with an expression that is saturated with disappointment and hurt, at the police officers who eye you with suspicion, at a nurse who hones in on you as soon as you enter.

“I’m sorry, but you’re outside of visiting hours.” Her clipboard is tucked under her arm, her hair slicked back into a low bun. “Only direct family are permitted here, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“She is family.”

The voice interrupts before you can respond. It’s Taehyung. Your eyes meet his and he smiles tiredly at you. 

Your heart gives out in your chest when you see him, at the faded bruised rings that mar his face, at the way his chest heaves delicately with each breath. 

“She’s not-” Ara begins, but Taehyung just continues to speak.

“She’s family. Nurse,” Taehyung glances away to smile politely at the nurse. “Could I have five minutes with her?”

The nurse grumbles, you hear the soft strains of her voice and Ara’s but eventually, she nods. The police officers stand up and leave first, their eyes beady and intent on you as they shuffle out of the room, before the others follow. You try to meet Ara’s gaze but she stares away from you pointedly, and you feel a twist in your chest.

Finally, the room is empty. You glance at Taehyung, he smiles at you and nods to the chair that is perched beside his bed. “Sit down.” 

Your legs feel wooden as you walk over, lowering yourself into the plastic chair.

The room elapses into silence, a silence that is broken only by the quiet electronic beat of Taehyung’s heart monitor.

“Tae-”

“Are you-”

You both start speaking at once, faltering when your voices overlap. Taehyung chuckles, shifts in bed. “You go first.”

You glance up, meeting Taehyung’s eyes. He looks so frail like this, mottled splashes of purple fading beneath his skin, pale lips, a smile on his face. Your eyes linger on the IV drip that threads into his skin and you swallow.

“I’m sorry.”

You whisper the words like they’re a secret.

Taehyung clicks his tongue softly. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I… what happened to you, I-”

“What happened is just a case of wrong time, wrong place. Nothing more than that. Just some thugs who were high on drugs and wanted some quick cash.”

Taehyung speaks quickly, his voice low and calm and you shake your head, tears beginning to strain at the back of your throat. Taehyung’s voice rises a little, speeds up a touch, “Really, it was just bad luck. Thank God for insurance, right? The doctors said I’ll heal up in no time too so-“

”Tae.” You say his name and Taehyung falls silent. “It was the Kingsnakes. They-”

“I know it was them.”

A silence settles between the two of you and Taehyung’s fingers, trembling, run over the IV drip in the centre of his hand. For the first time since it was just the two of you in this room, Taehyung looks away. You keep your eyes on him, seeing the rapid blink of his eyes, the way his lips move as if he’s talking silently. He’s trying not to cry, trying to hold himself together even now when his body is on the brink of falling apart. Your chest aches and the raw ache at the back of your throat intensifies.

“I’m not going to tell the police anything about them. I haven’t. And I won’t.”

“Taehyung, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung’s voice is hoarse. “I did. I’m not saying a word. I’m not putting you in danger. There’s no evidence. It’s better to not say anything.”

“Taehyung this is serious.” The words come out harsher than intended and Taehyung finally looks up again, his eyes uncharacteristically steely. 

“I know it’s not a game. It’s your life, and…” His eyes are wet with tears and he looks so young that your heart twists and tears finally start threatening to spill in your eyes, because this is Taehyung, the Taehyung you have known since you were a kid, the Taehyung who was always older and cooler and never afraid of anything, “…the thought of your life being at risk... I can’t, I just can’t.” 

He swallows hard and stares determinedly at the grey hospital blanket draped over his lap. You feel a twist right in your gut, a pain like a knife slicing through butter. 

Taehyung, staring down at the ground, his eyes wavering with tears that he is fighting to hold back, the steady beep of his heart-rate monitor, the sterile smell of the hospital filling your nostrils and locking around you hard and fast. 

It feels like your mind is going a million miles a minute, different emotions tugging you into different places. You think about Taehyung, who is protecting you even now, who is doing the wrong thing for you. Guilt in the sharpest sense needles at you. 

You think about the fists that crunched with a ferocity you’ll never know right into the small of Taehyung’s face, of the half burned down gallery that now sits in your city, of X’s flat eyes staring into you. It’s a world you don’t understand, that you don’t belong in, a world that has grasped onto you and no matter how hard you want to, you can’t seem to shake off yourself. You feel fear, a rendering of fear so awful and deep-settled that you can’t shake it away. 

The sound of Taehyung shifting in place has you breaking out of your reverie.

Taehyung sighs. He reaches up and then stops, he is unable to run his fingers through his shaggy fringe. He stares at the thick, alabaster plaster wrapped around his hand.

“I just...” His voice is raspy, he swallows hard. “Do you love him?”

You gaze at Taehyung and you can see it etched right there in the slightest quiver of his lips. All of the ways a soul can hurt, scatterd there like kisses or bruises. 

Taehyung is composed of light and clarity. Hoseok is the utter opposite - he is the tiniest of moans that escapes your lips when he presses his mouth to the shell of your ear, he is a heady and wickedly uncontrollable tempo, he is a dark place where you can unravel new threads, pieces of you that you had alwys been too afraid to confront in the past. 

While everyone else is safety, Hoseok is freedom.

Taehyung smiles at you. Barely - the slightest twinge of his lips, a crease of his eyes. You are sure it hurts, that reassuring smile painted on a face as sore and bruised as his. But he smiles anyway, because he is Taehyung. And for a moment your heart aches, because it occurs to you how easy it would be to love somebody as safe and sweet as Kim Taehyung.

“Yes.” You keep your eyes steady on Taehyung. You feel your heart constrict, because is it a cop out, to rattle out the words ‘you can’t choose who you love?’ if you could choose to love Hoseok, would you? You think about him, Hoseok and his dark, desperate eyes when you had turned away from him just hours ago. If you could choose who you love, would you still choose him?

Your chest is tight, and you think to yourself that if someone could crack open your body, they would likely find a kingsnake coiled in between your ribs, its body wrapped firmly around your heart.

"Yes,” You murmur. “I love him.”

You glance up to see Taehyung’s reaction. He looks up, stares at you. His face is carefully passive, his eyes searching yours for a split second before he speaks.

“Does he love you?”

It’s a question that catches you offguard. You stay still for a moment, your mouth closes and opens. 

“I… I don’t know,” You answer honestly. A corner of your heart peels backwards, sings out silently that he does, I hope he does. 

“Do you trust him?”

Taehyung keeps his eyes on yours and you nod. 

“I do.” Your voice breaks off into a small, sad laugh. “I don’t know if I can trust myself, though.”

Taehyung doesn’t speak immediately, the beep of his monitor feels the space.

“Trust your instincts,” He says finally. You think to yourself that you can’t, that you can’t trust yourself, your heart, even your mind. 

“I’m scared to.” The words come out as the barest of whispers as tears prick your eyes. Taehyung leans forward and his bandaged hand brushes against your wrist. 

“Don’t be scared of trusting yourself.” He says softly. “I know a lot of people in my position wouldn’t tell you this. Usually, when a guy loves a girl, the last thing they want is to see her with somebody else.” His eyes flicker, he glances at you and you understand what he’s trying to tell you. His eyes search yours for a split second, looking for something, before his face breaks into a small, sad smile.

“Look… if there’s something there, a spark, a feeling, a flame… don’t throw it away because of fear. The only person who truly knows your heart is you. The only person who truly owns your heart is you. So… trust yourself, okay?” 

Tears drip down your cheeks. You nod, your bottom lip wobbles, you tell yourself not to cry but the tears only drip faster and fatter down your cheeks.

“Okay.”

Your voice is strained and thick with tears, and you glance up at Taehyung. His eyes are wet too, and you stand up, leaning forward to wrap your arms around your friend.

Taehyung’s hair brushes your cheek and you can tell he’s crying from the wet tears that drip onto your shoulder. You can feel it when you are standing this close to him, how much pain he’s holding inside, how much fear and loss. 

You are full of blame, guilt and confusion, but you stay close to Tae, holding him in a hug. Telling him, in a way that only you can with somebody you’ve known as long as you’ve known Kim Taehyung, that you’re sorry. 

You pull away and Taehyung’s tears have subsided, as have your own.

“I just... This s a whole other league, and I… just be careful. Of them. Of all of it. Be careful. You know that, right?“ 

You don’t miss the worry that infuses Taehyung’s tone. You reach out and hold his hand. The plaster is rough under your palm and you nod, tears spilling down your cheeks. 

“I know.”

Once you are outside of the hospital, you cradle your phone in your hands.

Logically, you know that the smart thing to do is to put your phone back in your pocket and to go home. The right thing to do on paper is to write off Hoseok as just a fleeting mistake, to turn away from him for good.

But you can’t. You don’t want to. 

You think about Taehyung’s words, about the spark, and the flame, and you think about Jung Hoseok. You don’t know what is it about him, but you don’t want to let go of it. You don’t want to let go of him. And it is that thought that you have in mind as you press dial and lift the phone to your ear.  

The phone rings out and you feel your mouth go slack with nerves.

“Hey.” Hoseok’s voice is cautious as he answers, you swallow.

“Can I see you?”

There’s a silence across the line and then Hoseok clears his throat.

“Uh… okay. I’m at my place, do you want to come over? Or I can meet you-” 

“Your place is fine. Can you text me the address?”

You hear Hoseok swallow, mumble out a soft “Sure”. You tell him you’ll see him soon, as you hang up and hail a taxi, wondering if the decision you’re making is the right one. 

The drive isn’t long, you are wrapped up in your thoughts about Hoseok and the gravity of the situation. You pull up to Hoseok’s house, and see him sitting on his front step. He’s dressed casually, a black tee and black jeans, and he stands up when you approach.

“Why are you here?” 

His question is careful and you stop in front of him. 

“You said you don’t lose me.” You say quietly, and Hoseok nods. “I don’t want to lose you either. I just… feel scared when I think about what exactly I’m losing. Is it the real you, or the you I want you to be?”

Hoseok stares at you and then glances away, his eyes downcast.

“The real me isn’t great.” He says in a short voice. “But with you I was… I was always the real me. If that’s what you’re asking.”

The two of you just stare at one another and Hoseok sighs. 

“Is your friend okay?”

“He’s not going to say anything to the police if that’s what-”

“Hey. I wasn’t going to ask that. I was asking because I actually want to know.”

Hoseok has one eyebrow raised and you falter.

“You actually care about him?”

You can’t help but sound bitter.

“I care about you, so, yeah. I guess I do care about him.” 

Hoseok’s words has your resolve crumpling, and the composed expression slips from Hoseok’s face as he steps forward.

“Hey, I…” Hoseok bites his lip. “Fuck, I’m the worst with this kind of thing. I…” His voice raises with each word and then he pulls you into his arms in an uncertain hug. You inhale him, feel his arms encircle you, crying into the crook of his shoulder. Hoseok just runs a hand along the centre of your back in circles, until finally, the tears subside.

You pull away from him and Hoseok peers down at you. “You look exhausted.” Hoseok says brusquely, “Have you slept? Showered?” 

You shake your head, and Hoseok nods. “Look. Come in, do all of that stuff, and then we can talk about whatever… okay?” 

“Okay.”

Hoseok whirls around and walks up the stairs to his house, and you follow.

“Bathroom’s down that way, kitchen’s through the hall if you want something to eat. Alright?” Hoseok looks uncertain for a moment and you nod, heading to the bathroom.

You close the door behind you and stare at your reflection, feeling your frayed nerves start to settle. You turn the tap on for the bathtub, letting the small bathroom fill up with steam, your thoughts slowing and your breathing evening out as you pull off your clothes and turn off the tap, lowering yourself into the tub. The water is hot, soothing, and it pulls away at the tension gathered inside of your chest. 

“You alright?” Hoseok’s voice calls out from the hallway, and you glance at the closed door. 

“Can you come in for a second?” You call out, and the door opens. You hug your legs to your chest, covering yourself as Hoseok walks in. 

“What did you think when I walked up to you the first time we met?”

“Honest answer?”

You nod. Hoseok tilts his head to one side, staring at you before he lets out a sigh.

“I thought you were trying really hard to prove something to yourself.” He murmurs. “I thought you were hot too.” He adds, smiling faintly for a second. 

“But you didn’t care about me then, right? At the start?”

Hoseok bites his lip. You rush to fill in the spaces.

“Honest answer again, please.”

Hoseok gazes at you and nods slowly. “At the start, yeah. I didn’t.” 

“So what changed from then to now? What makes how you felt about me then, different to how you felt about me now?”

Hoseok leans against the bathroom wall, swallows. “I don’t really know what it is.” He says eventually. “But the more I got to know you, the more things changed. I like how being with you makes me feel. I care about you and I want you to be safe and happy. I miss you when you’re not with me. I don’t want to just fuck you, I… dunno, wanna spend time with you.” 

You don’t answer, staring at Hoseok. 

“I’m scared.” You whisper. You don’t explain what you are scared of. You don’t put into words that you’re scared of loving him, that you’re scared of trusting him, of being vulnerable. That even though you’re scared, you still want him.

“I’m scared too.” Hoseok responds. “Of a lot of things, actually. But I feel less scared when I’m with you.”

His voice breaks and he shakes his head. “Sorry, that was cheesy as fuck.” He mutters, but a smile slips across his face.

The honesty in his words takes you by surprise and you hug your knees to your chest. He tilts his head back, and you stare at him and try to remember how to breathe. Because like this, when he’s standing in front of you, eyes creased in the corners, a smile soaked in an effortless, easy kind of happiness, arms folded and those clavicles peeking out from the neck of his black tee… you haven’t taken a breath, you can’t take a breath.

“I…” Your voice speaks of its own accord, his eyes hone in on yours and you let out a shaky mouthful of air, the words tumble out before you can quite stop them, “Join me.”

Hoseok pauses and his eyes flicker over to the tub that you are perched in. You have slept with him what feels like countless of times, you have the imprint of Hoseok’s bare body stamped in your mind, but there is something about this moment right now that has the breath seeping out of you and a tremble deep in your bones. 

Hoseok doesn’t speak, he just clears his voice. 

“Really?”

You nod, draw your knees in to your chest. Hoseok gazes at you for a prolonged moment, and then reaches behind his body, his fingers grasping at the back of his tee to pull it off of his head in one clean motion. 

You see it- the flex of his torso, his taut, lean stomach, the dip of his collarbones and his fingers as they tug off his black jeans. You’ve seen it, you know it, but still your heart hammers hard and fast in your chest.

Hoseok pulls off his pants, revealing his thighs, strong and muscled. His hips, they twist as he throws his clothes carelessly in the corner of the bathroom, he steps towards the bathtub and steps in until he is seated opposite you.

You immediately close the space, inch closer to him until your knees are touching, and he lets out a soft sigh. You watch as he reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, the water keeps his hair slicked back and off his forehead.

He cocks his head down at you. 

“You’re an idiot.” He murmurs, but there is no malice in his words. Instead, he sounds oddly breathless, his voice so husky and soft that you can only just make out the words. 

“I’m an idiot?” You repeat, your features wrinkling into a delicately affronted expression. 

Hoseok nods, his face is a mixture of emotions that you place for split seconds, like rolling waves, one replacing the other – intensity, vulnerability, tenderness, affection. 

He cards his fingers through his hair, shakes his fringe out of his eyes, the snake on his wrist disappears under the water’s surface. 

You feel your breath catch in your throat, a tremble working its way up your thighs and locking tight around your stomach like a band. He hovers in front of you, oozing a dark and dangerous charisma. Your eyes linger over his shoulders, the curve of his collarbones, his taut stomach.

Neither of you speak. You just stare at one another. Here, seated opposite one other in an old, cracked bathtub, it feels as if time is still. 

He reaches out and presses his palms gently, carefully, around your face. His fingers skim over your jaw, until he is holding you in his hands and his eyes are searching yours. He is looking for protest that you don’t give, before he finally leans in.

Hoseok kisses you slowly. It’s something you aren’t used to with him – you are accustomed to hurried, hungered kisses. This is slow, languid almost- his lips careful and a bit clumsy against yours, his palms still cupping your face. Right there into the curve of your lips he lets out a sigh and his body relaxes. 

At the sound of it- the throaty sigh of release deep from within his belly, you lean in closer, chasing into the feel of his lips. Hoseok responds, his hands sliding from your cheeks to rake into your hair. 

It occurs to you in a fleeting thought just how well he can read you now, how your body responds almost instinctively to his. 

The water splashes quietly against the side of the tub as his hands comb through your hair down to the centre of your back. He tugs you closer to him so that your body folds on top of his, he stretches his legs out along the expanse of the tub.

His skin glides against yours underneath the water, you begin to feel a slow knock between your legs as his hands massage intently against the small of your back. You let out a tiny groan and pull away for a moment to glance at him – Hoseok, his hair wet and slicked off of his face, droplets of water on his skin. 

His hands are still tight against the slip of your waist, he kneads his fingers harder into the curve right above your ass and you let out a tiny, stuttered moan. Your face is only inches away from Hoseok’s and he keeps his eyes locked on yours, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Do you want me?”

It’s a simple question, his voice low and tilting, but for once there is no teasing note at the end of his words, the smirk gone from his lips. Your breath shudders out, you can feel your lust knocking between your legs as you stare into his dark eyes. His face is utterly serious, his eyes dark with desire and intensity.

“Yes,” You breathe out, and Hoseok’s eyes flicker, his tongue licks over his lips.

“Yes,” You repeat, watching as a muscle in his jaw twitches. He lets out a tiny groan and captures your lips in another kiss. 

You kiss him back hungrily, letting out moans in between kisses as Hoseok pulls your body even closer to his, growls against your lips as his hands curve around to cup your ass.

Hoseok breaks away from your mouth, he doesn’t stop, his mouth trailing down and stamping hot kisses along the curve of your jaw, down the slope of your neck. You are trembling, the thud between your legs dangerous and familiar as you adjust your hips. 

Letting out a soft whine, you rock your hips, feeling the smooth friction of his thigh against your cunt. 

A loud moan spills out of your mouth at the feeling of contact against your sensitive core, at the barest thread of pleasure and relief it offers. You grind against him harder, it only makes the ache worsen, and Hoseok lets out a growl right into the base of your ear.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” He says in a low voice. “Hmm? Rubbing that pretty cunt all over me?” 

You breathe in sharp and quick at the sound of his voice, raspy in your ear, the grip of his fingers on your ass. He smirks when he hears the ragged whine that escapes your lips as you swallow hard.

He reaches between your bodies and his hand slides over your inner thigh. You let out a begging sound, the ache growing more intense between your legs.

“I want you, Hoseok,” You choke out and Hoseok lets out a low hum, pressing his body closer to yours. 

The water laps at the sides of the tub as he nears closer to you, his mouth inches from yours, his palm still flat on the inside of your thigh. 

The sides of his knuckles graze at your sensitive core and your breath pitches in, lust pooling in your body. You tilt your hips upwards, desperate to feel more of his touch against you. 

Hoseok’s dark eyes stare into yours, his hair wet, drops of water slowly sliding down his face. Your heart is hammering your chest, your thighs tensed, your core aching and throbbing for him. Hoseok leans in and presses his lips to yours carefully, as his fingers inch closer. 

The tip of his pinky carefully caresses over your slit and you fall apart into his kiss.

“Sit up.” 

He murmurs it into your lips and you hesitate, pausing before he says it again, more forcefully.

“Sit up would you?”

“W-why?” 

“Just… just sit on the edge of the tub. That end, princess.” His voice is impatient, but softens as he uses the nickname. You push yourself off of him reluctantly and stand, sitting down on the edge of the tub with your back against the wall.

As your back touches the cold tile, Hoseok heads towards you. 

His hands brush over your ankles in the water, his palms smoothing over your calves. Your breath rushes in as he slowly moves up your legs, until his palms are canvassing your inner thighs, his fingertips grazing carefully over your pussy.

Your back is stiff, desperately arched, as Hoseok glides his hands back down your legs. It feels as if your entire body is on edge, wanting him to touch you, the gnawing ache between your legs wicked and intense. 

His fingers journey up over your inner calves, your thighs, resting by your knees before he pushes. 

You glance down, taking in the visual of your legs spread, Hoseok between your thighs.

You swallow hard, a new punch of lust searing through your body.

“H-Hoseok,” You stammer out his name and Hoseok gazes right at you, his lips quirked into that same slow smirk, his eyes intent on yours. 

“Yes?” He murmurs, leaning down and pressing his lips teasingly to your knee. 

“I…” Your voice thins as he inches forward, presses his lips against the soft skin of your hip. You tremble as Hoseok places his hands on the inside of both of your thighs, spreading your legs apart wider.

You can’t think of words,  your thoughts fading out into an incorrigible mess of emotions as Hoseok leans in, his words come out softly against your spread cunt.

“Is there something you’re trying to say?” He gazes up at you from between your legs. 

Your breath comes out in ragged gasps, the knock between your legs intense and all consuming. Hoseok gazes right at you, dark eyes tracked on your face, his mouth only centimetres away from your pussy. Fuck. 

You press your head against the back of the wall, clench your thighs, let out a shaky breath. The word breezes out between your lips.

“Please…”

Hoseok lets out a moan and glances down, staring at your core. 

“God,” He mutters softly, “I love hearing you beg.” He swallows before he leans in even closer.

His tongue wetly traces up your slit. The sensation of his tongue against you has you twitching your hips, your hands grip the edge of the porcelain tub. Hoseok’s tongue, tasting all up of your wetness, ends by your clit, you cry out as he hums, pulling himself away.

“Feel good?”

His voice barely registers as his tongue finds your pussy yet again. He presses the flat of his tongue against your clit, tracing down your inner thigh. His tongue is coaxing, flicking slow patterns around your clit. You throb from how good it feels, his mouth on you, Hoseok between your legs letting out soft moans, his shoulders flexing as he reaches up and slides his finger into your walls.

You feel your belly start to coil tightly as Hoseok pushes the entirety of his finger slick into you. His tongue continues to work needy circles around your pussy as he pushes his finger in and out of you. 

The rhythm is slow at first, teasing, the rock of his finger fucking you out and the lapping of his tongue against your folds. The sensation of him pushing his finger inside of you has you gasping, your legs stiffening, while the softness of his tongue has your deep-seated urgency unravelling at the seams.

You tip your head back hard against the wall as Hoseok slips another finger inside of you. His thumb darts in to massage teasingly around your clit, his touch is hard and punishing, almost making you cry at the sensitivity before his tongue is there to gloss over the ache. 

“I’m going to cum,” You pant out, turning your head to the side so that your cheek is pressed flat against the cool ceramic tile of the bathroom wall.

Hoseok doesn’t stop, he rubs his thumb against your clit harder, works his tongue deeper into you.

The back and forth has your back stiffening desperately, the throb causing your mouth to fall open as the high rides over your body, breaking in euphoric waves as you moan out his name.

“Fuck!” Your voice shakes as Hoseok tilts his head back, his eyes on yours as he sits up, still between your legs. 

You let out a strangled, wanton moan, your orgasm washing over your skin as Hoseok chases into you, his lips close to yours when he whispers, “You look so hot when you cum…” He lets out a possessive moan as he kisses you, deep and long before he groans out, “I want to fuck you.”

His words make you moan. Your eyes flutter open as you gaze at him. The glow of your orgasm, and him, hair wet, mouth glossy with your wetness, the lust hungry in his eyes, has something snapping inside of you.

“Fuck me,” You breathe out, “I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Hoseok’s hands grip around your thighs at your words as he tugs you down until you are back in the tub, the water splashing as he kisses you deep and rough, his tongue domineering as his hands squeeze your hips so hard that you can’t help but gasp breathlessly into the kiss. 

He breaks away and kisses down your jaw hard, peppering his mouth against your neck and against your pulsepoint. You whine as his lips clamp down at your neck, sucking at the skin there before he jerks his head up, his lips by your ear.

“Turn around.” His demand is spoken lowly and you feel a shaky spin of lust and excitement grip you as you turn around, no longer facing him. 

Hoseok immediately crooks his body behind yours, his hands roaming your front, grabbing at your breasts and squeezing hard. His fingers find your nipple and he skims over your hard nipple with his fingertips, teasing out a choked moan for you as he pinches down, his lips at your ear again. 

“You missed me fucking you like this?”

He reaches up between your breasts, one hand on your neck, the other shifting to your left breast, stroking your nipple as you nod desperately, breathing out a shaky, fevered yes.

He pulls away, his palm is on your back and you move, shifting until you are bent forward. The tile is hard against your knees and Hoseok lets out a growl, moving so that he is directly behind you. 

You feel as if you are unraveling, your body tensed and desperate for him to fuck you. The tip of his cock is right at your slit, and you shake.

“Please,” You moan out, your lean forward, propping your ass up higher in the air, wanting, needing him to fuck you. 

“Fuck, I love hearing you beg for it,” Hoseok murmurs in a throaty voice and the words spill out desperate and heavy as you arch your back even more.

“Please fuck me, God, I’ll do anything, please-”

He pushes himself inside of you mid-sentence and you break off into a loud moan, feeling his cock stretch you out, his hips snapping into you hard and fast.

You can hear him groaning in your ear at the feeling of your walls around him, and the fullness of him inside of you as you mewling out in pleasure.

Hoseok doesn’t give you time to fully settle into the feeling of his cock as he slams his hips against yours, snapping his hips upward so that you feel all of him inside of you, you whine at the pain of it, the satisfying hum of pleasure as he groans, right into the shell of your ear. 

“You feel so fucking good, God.” He thrusts harder, deeper, and you feel your breath hitch in.

“And you tasted so fucking good.” His voice is rough, hoarse as he keeps fucking into you. He thrusts hard, making your body sway, and the sensation of it has your walls clenching. The waves of pleasure are still faintly ebbing through your body from your earlier orgasm, but the pleasure builds in a new, duller, deeper anticipation at each punishing snap of his hips.

“Hoseok, harder,” You moan out his name, each heavy breath seems louder in the bathroom, the water splashes as he stutters out a moan, thrusting inside of you even deeper.

It feels so good, him crooked around your body, fucking you so hard and so deep that it feels like all you can think about is him. You pant out his name, your voice husky and breathless from the intensity of his cock slamming into you so deep and filling you whole.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make-”

“Cum inside of me, please.” Your breath rushes over his, the feeling tightening in your stomach as Hoseok lets out a groan at your words. He leans forward, tilts his hips and fucks into you harder, ruthlessly, before his body staggers forward as he cums inside of you.

You feel a wave of satisfaction wash over you as Hoseok’s body shakes from the force of his orgasm, his thrusts slowing. 

It feels as if the space between the two of you is electric, everything is magnified – the water against your skin, the sounds of Hoseok’s ragged pants, the soft, pleased hum that is fighting it’s way from the back of your throat. 

You feel light, like you’re floating, as Hoseok’s body starts forward, his muscles relaxing as he moans into your hair.

“Fuck,” He mutters, he presses his lips against the back of your head. “Wow. I thought I was gonna black out for a second there.”

He pushes himself backwards and you turn until you’re sitting and facing him. Hoseok has a blissed out, relaxed smile on his face as he leans forward.

“Your knees,” He tuts, the porcelain of the tub has left your kneecaps pink and his fingers brush over them in a surprisingly tender gesture. 

You both sit like that for a moment, facing one another, your ragged breathing slowing and evening out. You feel thoroughly fucked out and so satisfied that it crackles over your skin. 

Hoseok is the first to move, he stirs, pushing off of the tub until he is standing. He reaches above his head and stretches, before he steps out of the tub.

“C’mere,” He glances over at you and outstretches a hand. 

You gaze at him, the softness that has settled properly into his face. You feel it bubbling up in your throat, thumping through your veins. You gaze at Hoseok’s outstretched hand, at the snake’s tail that curls around his wrist, and you think about everything that you have tried so hard to fight, to run away from.

You grasp Hoseok’s hand and stand up.

“Remember the time you tried to run away from my place by escaping through the bathroom?” You ask suddenly as you step out of the tub. Hoseok just lets out a wry laugh in response, as you step over until you are facing him. 

“Shh,” He mumbles, reaching up and pulling you in until you are in his arms. A tiny gasp escapes your lips and Hoseok leans in closer, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Do I really have that effect on you?” He asks, a hint of a laugh in his voice as he mimics your gasp. He dips his head closer, and you feel the jackhammer drum beat of your heart from being so close to him, from the intensity of his gaze.

“No,” You lie, and Hoseok’s face opens into a proper smile, as bright and golden and warm as the sun.

“Uh huh,” He responds in a dry tone, as he opens the cabinet behind your head. He pulls out a fluffy white towel and wraps it tightly around your shoulders. 

He runs a hand through his wet hair as he stands in front of you, his eyes crinkling in the corner as his smile fades. 

He stares at you, his face serious, his eyes locked on yours like he is memorizing every single inch of your face, travelling it like a map. 

He reaches forward, his hands loop around the small of your back as he pulls you into his arms.

His lips find yours with that same rushed assurance that you’ve come to recognize as Hoseok’s signature. He rushes into it, his mouth chasing into yours hungrily, and you let out an involuntary sigh into his lips. His palms press flat against the curve of your waist, you can feel the heat of his body, the towel still wrapped tightly around your body.

You reach up and cup his face with one palm. You slow the kiss down, right down, until you are kissing him at a pace that is languid and slow. You feel your heart beat louder and faster in your chest, relinquishing in it – the feel of his strong body holding onto you, his lips, the way he matches your rhythm.

His hands flutter up to gently, carefully cup your face in his hands. The kiss deepens, enough to have you sighing and feeling as if your entire world is spinning. 

You aren’t thinking anything, you aren’t feeling anything, all you are aware of his him, the boy kissing you sweetly and tenderly, drops of water form his hand sliding down your shoulders, the soft towel wrapped around your skin.

Finally, Hoseok steps away, but he keeps his hands on your cheeks. He gazes down at you, and you feel it - a flutter in your chest that is more akin to a knock than a flutter, a swoon so deep and intense that you can feel it not only weakening your knees, but your shoulders, every muscle in your body. 

You expect Hoseok to break away, to run, because that’s what he always has done in the past. Your lips part but Hoseok doesn’t move away this time, instead, he stays close. You can hear it, his breathing, heavy, before he speaks.

“I think I’m…” He swallows, fingers relaxing. “…I....” His voice trails off uncertainly and you lean into him closer, press your lips against his in the softest, lightest of kisses. 

Hoseok makes a small sound right at the back of his throat and when you pull away, he keeps you close, his face inches from yours.

“I’ll leave the Kingsnakes.” 

For a moment, you don’t speak. Your eyes widen and you open your mouth but Hoseok hurries to speak.

“I… I’ve been thinking about it for a while and it’s time to move on. I don’t want that to be my life anymore.”

You breathe in, lean back on your heels. Hoseok’s face is serious, more serious than you’ve seen it before. You fight to keep your face calm, composed. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok responds softly. “I’m sure. I want to be with you.”

Something leaps vibrant and bold in your chest, a glimmer of hope. Hoseok is still staring at you intently, a flash of worry crosses over his face.

“That’s um, that’s not the only reason by the way, there’s a lot of reasons why I want to leave. Just so you know.”

It feels like there is an egg being cracked in your chest, the golden yolk sliding down your belly and seeping into your bones.

“There’s a lot of reasons?”

“Not a lot but a few reasons, yeah.”

“And I’m one of the reasons?”

You are pushing it now, just because you want to hear it one more time, make sure you weren’t imagining it, imagining this-

“Yeah, maybe.”

You smile. Purse your lips teasingly. Step closer, tilting your head up to his.

“Maybe?”

Hoseok’s eyes soften, he softens, his shoulders sink and he reaches up so his fingers grasp the towel draped around your shoulders.

“Uh-huh.”

A burst of butterflies right there in your ribcage where your heart is.  

“You’re one of my reasons too.” You whisper. Your lips curve into a smile and Hoseok lets out a tiny sigh, like he’d been holding his breath.

“Cool,” He mumbles, and feel your heart rate start to pick up. You are so close to him that you could lean forward and your lips would brush against his. Words and sentences race through your mind, things that you want to say to him, things you have been holding in. 

“Hoseok, I-”

A loud, sharp ring slices through your words. Involuntarily you start a little, jolted out of your stream of thought. 

Hoseok glances over at the corner of his bathroom, at his jeans which are crumpled in a small pile.

“One sec.” He murmurs, he steps away from you and picks up his phone. The ring seems even louder in the echo of the bathroom, and you watch as Hoseok glances at the screen. His face crumples a touch, the barest amount before he covers over it neatly. 

“I’ve gotta take this.” He murmurs, before he opens the door and is out.

You wrap the towel tighter around your shoulders as you stand in the bathroom and wait. Just when you are about to walk outside, see if he’s okay, the door opens again and Hoseok is standing there. He has a pair of jeans on and a black sweater, his hair damp. You swallow, standing up.

“Is everything okay?”

“I…” His voice trails off and he shakes his head, a disoriented look on his face before his features frost over. The softness from before has dissipated.

“I’ve…” He clears his throat. “I’ve gotta go. Z wants to see me.”

“Z?” You repeat, Hoseok just nods tersely.

“What does he want?”

“I owe him a favour from a long time ago.” Hoseok stares at his hands. “He’s calling in the favour now, apparently.”

“Will-will you be okay?”

Hoseok nods briskly, he seems distracted as he steps towards you.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, no one knows Z better than me. I’ll just go help him and then when that’s done, I’ll tell him that I’m out of the Kingsnakes.” 

The worry doesn’t ease and he steps towards you, his voice lowering. “I promise it’ll be okay. Stay here, alright? I’ll be back soon.”

He sweeps you up and presses his lips to the corner of your mouth in an absentminded kiss. 

“See you soon.” He murmurs into your hair before he turns and strides away, leaving you alone in his bathroom. 

You shiver and draw the towel around you closer, trying to ignore the growing sense of dread unfurling in the pit of your stomach.

Hoseok’s house is silent after he leaves. What felt so cosy before, now feels empty.

You stay up for three hours, perched on his old tattered couch, trying to distract yourself. When the clock strikes two AM, you pull yourself upwards and go to Hoseok’s bedroom. It smells like him – a bed with messy, unmade sheets, sneakers with the laces tangled on the ground. There, in the bin, are several unlit cigarettes. You feel a funny ache in your chest as you crawl into his bed, under the sheets, and will yourself to fall asleep.

You tell yourself to sleep and that when you wake up, Hoseok will be there beside you. But as time passes, you can’t fall asleep, and Hoseok doesn’t return.

Sleep feels impossible tonight.

amynote: ahhh it’s nearly the end...! thank you for reading ♡

[awkwardcarrotatyourservice-blog]

HWFM [ Minghao/The8 X Reader]

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How We First Met

Genre: Fluff

°Wanna Bet?°

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"Do I really need to learn this" you complained as you entered the studio for mixed martial arts .

Upon entering you saw that most of the genders inside are men. Making you anxious. You tried looking for a female companion but failed because they're already done with their session.

"Well this a good way to start my day" you thought.

You decided to sit first on the bench. You started looking around. There is one open room where in you can see a guy b-boying.

"Bboy in a martial arts studio?"

You then watched him from a distance. You were amazed how b-boying with a nunchucks is compatible. You didn't even realize that you're already inside the room. Making him stopped.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry" you bowed down.

You were about to leave

"Wanna try?"

You turned your back and he suddenly throw the nunchucks at you. Good thing you'll able to catch it.

"I'm sorry. I don't know how to used this. But I can do breakdancing." You said as you throw the nunchucks back at him.

"Well, I can teach you how" he throw it back to you "Martial arts is like dancing"

You raised your brow up. Thinking how can martial arts be related to dancing.

"Hey, are you just gonna stand there?" He said

"Tsk, bossy" you mumbled as you approach him

"Name?" He asked

"Y/N and you?"

"Doesn't suit you" he teased "Minghao"

"Are you really that mean?" You furiously asked

"Only to you" he said with a smile

You then lowered your head down. "How can this cute lil being act so gangster" you thought

"You won't learn anything if you're busy making eye contact with the floor" Minghao said as he lift your chin up. You then blinked twice."Let's start. Shall we" he added

You cleared your throat before saying yes.

"But before we start.." a pause "I wanted to see how good you are when it comes to bboy"

"Wait, are you challenging me in a showdown?" You asked

"Are you afraid?" He teased

"Uh-nooo, I'll show you what I got, you gangster g" you cried.

"They ain't calling me thughao for nothing" he chuckled as he grabbed his phone "need some music"

"Of course" you said while stretching.

"Starto" he started playing the song

You then give him the-are-you-serious-look.

"Why? You never told me what genre should I play" he said

NP:Don't wanna cry

"Tsk" you took a deep breath and started on b-boying.

After the song ended he gave you an applause.

"It's yo---ur t--urn" you said still gasping for air.

Minghao then gave you a bottle of water

"Not that bad" he said "I'm just gonna show you an easy move then let's ditch this place"

"WHAT?!" You exclaimed

He ignored you and started b-boying as well. When he ended it he immdiately grab your wrist and went outside the building.

"Yaa! Minghao-ah!" you cried

Minghao stopped and glance at you. "Let's do a race"

"Race?" You tilted your head. You have no idea what's going on.

Minghao grabbed his skateboard "Using this. I saw you the other day riding with this. I don't know why. But I wanted to challenge you in a race off" a pause " I didn't expect that you will be here"

You blinked twice. You didn't know what to respond.

You let out a sighed "Fine, one race only after that. You have to teach me how to use nunchucks"

"Deal" he said with a smile.

Goodthing you brought your own skateboard. You then placed it in the ground and stand on it. You glance at Minghao which is all ready. You pushed the board gently.

"I'll count one to three" you said

He nodded. You began counting slowly. When you reached to three.

He began to go straight ahead. Immediately passing you.

"Hey! That's unfair!" You shouted while you're still behind him

He chuckled and glance you at the back " You can't beat me"

"Wait and see" You thought. You then speed up. Making him startled when he saw you catching up with him. You stick your tongue out.

You were about to go straight ahead when Minghao grabbed your hand. You gave him the-what-are-you-doing-look. But he just replied with his cute smile.

When the two of you decided to stop.

"It's a tie!" Minghao shouted while lifting his arms up. You then hit his arm.

"Aish, I should be the one who won" you frowned

Minghao ruffled your hair "Aigoo, it okay." a pause "Let's go back. I need to teach you how to use the nunchucks right?"

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Meanwhile at Svt's Dorm

"Guys, I think wherein a big trouble" Mingyu said with a worry tone

"Why Hyung?" Vernon asked

"Minghao is not being savage nor a gangster"

"Is that bad?" Dino tilted his head

"HEEEEEEWWWWWWWWP MEEEEEEE!" someone shouted

"Is that Jun hyung?"

The boys began following the sound. When they arrived. They all saw there hyungs laying on the floor clutching their chest. When they looked for the culprit they saw Minghao.

"Step aside boys. Boo Seungkwan will take care of this" Seungkwan said

"Go Babe..I mean Seungkwan!" Vernon cheered

"AHHH FLYIIING KICK-EUUUU!" Seungkwan ran towards Minghao who is still doing the killer aegyo

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

95liner:Joshua and his exorcism skills

96liner:Jihoon and his guitar

97liner:Minghao's nunchuck

98liner:Seungkwan's signature anti-aegyo kick

[jadelovingjems-blog]

Surprising Revelations

Ship- Jade/BTS, Jade/Jin, Jade/Taehyung

Word Count- 1559

Warning- Pretty long description of dance and moves she pulls. Will post links on what the heck I just typed.

Overview- Jasmine tells that she could breakdance and now everyone wants to see. Doesn’t know why it’s such a big deal when Jimin and Hoseok can do the same thing.

Line- “Really?”

It was one sentence.

Two words.

Three Syllables.

Eleven letters.

She didn’t understand why it was such a big deal.

---

“I breakdance.”

Jungkook choked on the water in his mouth, Taehyung patting his back. Hoseok looked surprise, the same as Namjoon, who had noodles sticking out of his mouth. Jimin looked as if he finally found the answers to life’s questions, same as Yoongi for some reason. Seokjin just smiled and nodded.

“You what?”

Jasmine picked at the noodles in her ramen bowl.“I breakdance. As in I could do flips on the ground and stuff like that.”

“Really?”

Jasmine shrugged her shoulders as if it was nothing, which it really was in her eyes. Sadly, the same couldn’t be said for the boys, who stared at her with amazement. She chuckled lightly.

“Yeah.”

Jimin closed his eyes and then opened them,mumbling under his breath.“Well, that explains a lot.”

“Oh come on, you two,”Jasmine gestured to Hoseok and Jimin,“do the same thing as me.”

“It’s something we didn't expect.”

Namjoon spoke up, noodles no longer from out of his mouth.

“Weren’t you told about what I can do?”

Namjoon scratched his head. “Well,that wasn’t one of the things we were notified about.”

“They must have wanted to surprise us.”

Seokjin still had a smile on his face as he spoke, finding general amusement in the situation.

“They did a good job then.” Yoongi chuckled.

“So,what were you told I could do?”

“That you do ballet, hip-hop, house.”

Jasmine looked confused. “Is that all they told you?”

Namjoon hummed. Jasmine’s confusion changed to a soft smile. They’ll learn more about what she can do later, right now, she thought, it’s only time for one fact to be learned.

“You can add breakdancing onto the list now.”

Taehyung spoke up this time, smile on his face. Jasmine felt her cheeks warm up slightly as his little joke, turning her attention on to her ramen bowl. She began to poke at the noodles with her chopsticks as she tried to distract herself from him. She thought the topic would change to something else, but she was wrong.

“Can you show us?”

“Hmm?”

Jungkook looked at her expectantly. The two were on better terms, talking more too each other, but not as much as she would with Hoseok or Jimin. Still, it was better than nothing.

“Your breakdancing.”

“Oh!” Jasmine threaded a strand of hair behind her ear.“If you want.”

A chorus of different versions of yes came from the boys and Jasmine couldn’t help but hide her face slightly in shyness. It was just breakdancing, what makes it so special?

----

The rest of the groups time at the ramen shop was spent in excitement for Jasmine’s little show, hurriedly eating and paying for the food. As they exited the shop, they were all hit with chilly March air, all pulling up their jacket collars and tugging down their hats. Jasmine trailed behind the group, trying to formulate what the heck she was going to do. Would she explode with all of her power moves or give them a little tease?

Jasmine let out a little sigh as she shoved her hands into her pocket, lifting her eyes off of the pavement below to look at the trees on the sidewalk. Some where gaining their leaves back, but most stayed bare. She lifted one hand out of her pocket to graze the leaves as she walked past, picking a leaf off of tree and staring at it.

“You okay?”

She looked to her left to see Seokjin. She smiled lightly.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

Silence came between the two for minute or so, both just enjoying the gray sky.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to. I just don’t think it’s that big of a deal that I know how to breakdance.”

Seokjin chuckled.“It is a harder dance to learn.”

Jasmine couldn’t deny that. It took her a year to finally be able to do a flare, not an air one sadly.“Well, you’re not wrong.”

“Plus, you don’t see a lot of females practicing the dance either.”

Jasmine let out a little huff.“I just don’t want them to be too excited.”

“Well, you might need to break it to them when we get there.”

Jasmine laughed at his joke, giggling behind her scarf.

-----

It didn’t take long for the eight to reach the dance practice room in the building. It also didn’t take long for everyone to get situated in the room, jackets and hats strewn on the wall closet to door. Jasmine walked over ti the speaker and hooked it up, opening the youtube app and clicking a skrillex song. Right In. One of her favorites. As she waited for the ad to pass, she walked over to Jungkook.

“Is it okay if I could borrow your hat?”

“My hat? Oh sure.”

He handed her the snapback, which she slid on her head, adjusting it slightly as she moved to the center of the room. When the ad was over and the song began, she started to dance. Her body grew a mind of it's on when it came to music Skrillex is no exception, legs slowly inching backwards as the song was beginning to reach the drop. And when the drop finally hit, Jasmine smirked.

She ran and slid on the floor,shifting into flares,seven in total, before turning into the 2000s spin. When she heard “Come on!” from the song, she shifted in the 1990s,one hand out and bent and the other holding all of her weight. A couple seconds later, she starting moved into the air chair for a couple of spins before kipping up, landing on her feet. She started to dance to the melodic part of the song,backing up again. The smirk on her face never left when she heard the song’s beginning to repeat,head sliding on the floor and freezing, legs posed in the shape of an L. She lowered her legs and began to flare again, shifting into windmills after three rotations. When she felt herself get a little bit too dizzy,she slowed down and flipped up. She knew the next move would be the death of her but she did it anyways, toprocking until the beat dropped, where she did too.

Airflares. The most difficult move she could do besides the taisuke criticals she learned from her brother. She considered it her best move and she decided today would be the day to bite the bullet and do it. She flared up and began to hop around, remembering what her brother told her about the move. It didn’t take long for the familiar “Come on!” to be heard, which she thanked silently as shifted into the taisuke criticals. She did a good amount of those before turning into the 1990s again, which she used to begin to spin on her head. When the melodic part came back on, she brought one hand back and bent it, spinning on her elbow. As the song’s ending reached her ears, she flipped back up dancing until the end, where she did an aerial flip to finish it off.

The cheers were deafening, claps and whoops erupting in her ear. She wiped the sweat off of her brow as she was surrounded by her gleeful members.

“How are you not dizzy?”

“That was amazing!”

“You just wombo comboed the floor, Jazz!”

“You did great!”

“How are you seriously not throwing up right now?”

Jasmine giggled as she was bombarded with questions, trying her best to answer all of them.

“I get used to it. Thank you! I wanted to do it earlier but you wanted us to go home. Thank you. At this I’m surprised I haven’t.”

Hoseok hugged her tight. “We are keeping her.”

“We know.” Namjoon chuckled.

“Who taught you how to do that?”

Jasmine turned to look at Taehyung,who had a big smile, with a racing heart and smile as big as his.

“My brothers. We all went to the same dance school.”

“You should teach us.”

She giggled lightly. “I wouldn’t be the best teacher. I’d flop like a fish.”

“Well, you never know until you try.”

At this point, the group was beginning to pack up their stuff. Jasmine handed Jungkook his hat back with a thank you as she shook her head,smile still on her face.“Okay okay, but right now, i need to lay down. My head is spinning.”

Taehyung rubbed her head lightly,hand threading lightly through her hair to rub her scalp. Jasmine was stunned, breath hitching and eyes going wide slightly. She felt her body succumb to his touch and heart racing much faster. She let out small whine when his hand left, patting her head lightly before removing his hand entirely.

“I hope that helped a little bit.:

“I-it did. T-thanks.”

He gave a smile before walking out the room, leaving Jasmine alone. Or so she thought.

“You like him don’t you?”

Jasmine jumped back when she heard Seokjin’s voice from her left. She brought a hand to her heart.

“You scared me!”

He chuckled lightly.“Is it true?”

“N-no.”

He began to walk out the door.“Yeah,okay.”

Jasmine fumbled after him.“I’m being honest!”

Links: Breakdancing Moves

First Dance Break

Second Dance Break

[tastyjin]

Happy Accidents

In a world where soulmates can feel what the other feels, Hoseok meets Yoongi on Club Penguin, not knowing that 1. they possibly know each other IRL and 2. are soulmates. After an incident in class, Yoongi finds out who jdope23 really is.

Title: Happy Accidents

Word count: 3.7k+

Pairing: Yoongi x Hoseok

Type: soulmate au, club penguin au, college au

Genre: not really fluff but no smut so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Warnings: minor swearing. Mentions of poop. You might overdose because of how much crack this fic is on.

Author’s note: this is my first ever fic so pls don’t come for me if it’s bad, I’m not the best writer lmao. This fic is in no way making fun of writers or anything; I genuinely had a fun time writing this and hope you enjoy it. Sorry if there’s spelling errors, I’m only human.

Requests are open!

Club penguin was a “free” multiplayer online game where people, 6 years old and up, could enter a virtual world. There you could play as a cartoon penguin, taking part in missions and games to earn coins and buy super cool merchandise, ranging from clothes to furniture, in order to complete your feng shui goals in your very own igloo!

However to be considered the hippest penguin on the slopes, you had to have a paid membership. With this membership came unlimited perks such as: being able to take part in every penguin activity on the server and even buying up to 75 Puffles— small furry pets that had no limbs and only ate Puffle-Os (whatever that is).

When you were not joining in on events and missions you could waddle around and make friends! Club penguin offered many places where penguins could chat and chill (haha get it). Were you tired from sliding down the ski slopes and in need of something scrumptious to eat? Say no more! You could head to the pizza parlor where you could relax, eat pizza, and connect with your penguin pals! Besides the parlor, there were many other places you could use the ultimate safe chat or the regular safe chat to talk to other players (let’s be honest though the ultimate safe chat was only created for 5 year olds who didn’t know how to type in the first place).

That’s how Min Yoongi (aka sugasweet66) met Jung Hoseok (aka jdope23) on one cool Monday afternoon at the pizza parlor.

Min Yoongi was a music major with a bad case of sleeping for 12+ hours a day. He had started playing club penguin at the ripe age of 17, during his senior year of high school. At first it was just a joke between his friends but it soon become much more than that.

“Hyung have you heard of this new online game that was just released a few years ago?” Namjoon asked as him, Yoongi, and Jin sat at the computer section of the library. Yoongi didn’t care enough to answer him so instead he just turned his gaze from the music video he was watching (promiscuous by nelly furtado ft timbaland) to Namjoon’s computer screen.

On it was the intro screen to a game he vaguely made out to be called club penfin or something to that extent. Yoongi’s English was not perfect.

“What is that?” Jin sat back in his chair in slight disgust, was he really spending his only study period watching Namjoon play some game where his avatar was a fat ugly penguin? I mean who chooses yellow for a skin color?

“It’s called club penguin, it’s an online multiplayer game where you’re a penguin and do missions and shit. Look I just put a table in my igloo!” Namjoon pointed excitedly at his screen, where there in his white barren igloo sat a brown wooden coffee table.

Jin scoffed as he continued to watch Namjoon mess around with his igloo. After a couple seconds of seeing Namjoon have a mini heart attack because he thought he had accidentally bought the membership, Yoongi looked back at his screen curious. The game, although probably a complete joke, looked mildly entertaining.

Therefore that same day Yoongi went home and loaded up his computer, typing www.clubpenguin.com into the url tab.

Ever since then Yoongi would come home from school and religiously play club penguin. He became very invested in the game, even going so far as to buying the membership. Over the years, Yoongi cultivated an image of being one of the coolest penguins on the server. Or should I say, sugasweet66 became known as the it penguin.

Everyone admired and wanted to be sugasweet66. Of course most people playing were 10 year olds but that didn’t stop Yoongi, a 24 year old college student, from adoring the praise and compliments given to his penguin on a daily basis.

On the other hand, Jung Hoseok was far from popular in the virtual world of club penguin. Similar to Yoongi, Hoseok was a dance major who had stumbled upon the online game one day while sitting in a gaming café with his three best friends: Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung.

JustinSeagull97 has created a group chat

JustinSeagull97: hey hyungs clck the lnk I’m abt 2 snd

Mochiboy: are you having a seizure? What’s wrong with your typing?

Taetae95: ^^^^

JustinSeagull97: it’s quickr ths way

JustinSeagull97 shared a link with the group chat

Jdope23: what’s the link?

Mochiboy: is that the link to that game you’re playing right now?

Taetae95: oh is that club penguin?!

Jdope23: club what?

JustinSeagull97: it’s an adventre gme where u ply as a pnguin n it’s rlly fun pls ply w me

Jdope23: can someone kick Jungkook off the gc if he continues typing like that??

Mochiboy: yeah I got it hyung dw

JustinSeagull97: no pls dnt kck me out ffs

Taetae95: kookie did you just swear???

Jdope23: jimin you know what to do

JustinSeagull97: lol he wnt do it

Mochiboy has kicked JustinSeagull97 from the chat

Taetae95: now can we play some CP?

Jdope23: sure ig

Mochiboy: ^^^^

From that day on Hoseok and his friends met at the gaming café almost everyday to play club penguin together. Although only Jungkook bought the membership, the four still had immense fun playing the online game. That’s why Hoseok continued to play even after he entered college.

Of course Hoseok would still meet occasionally with his bffs to play, he was usually only ever able to play the game in the dorms because being a dance major meant dedicating many hours to practicing.

It was right before Hoseok left for college when he met Yoongi on Club Penguin.

Hoseok had just finished packing for college when he decided to play a bit of his favorite game. He sat down at his computer desk with a content sigh; his back was beginning to kill him and he felt sympathy for whoever his soulmate was.

Living in a world where your soulmate feels whatever you feel was particularly hard for Hoseok. Of course being a dancer meant that one was prone to getting injuries and aches, but Hoseok felt immense guilt every time he twisted an ankle or missed a step while dancing and bruised his knees. Hoseok didn’t want to inflict pain onto his soulmate, whether it be purposely or not. That’s why he dedicated himself to perfecting every dance move in order to ensure that his soulmate would not be receiving pain from his doing.

Smiling to himself at the thought, Hoseok entered his username and password and was soon logged on to the club penguin server. He debated calling his best friends and telling them to get on as well; on one hand he’d have people to play with but on the other, Taehyung would most likely make Hoseok spend all his coins on stupid shit.

Deciding against it, Hoseok clicked on the map icon on his screen and soon his green colored penguin was standing in the pizza parlor. There were only a handful of penguins there but Hoseok didn’t mind at all.

A small smile spread across his lips as he began to type on his light up keyboard he had spent all summer saving up for.

Jdope23: hello everyone!

Hoseok clicked on a button and watched as his penguin did a circular motion with its hips and arms. He laughed as a few penguins around him copied his ministrations and greeted him. 

He then made his penguin sit down at one of the table in the pizzeria, striking up a conversation with a pink penguin with a super cool fedora on. 

UssySleigher: hello fellow penguin have you heard the news? It’s karaoke night tonight! 

Jdope23: seriously?? How does that work...

UssySleigher: you just stand on the stage and sing... have you never done karaoke before?

Jdope23: I know that it’s just.. never mind. When’s it starting?

UssySleigher: right now.

Hoseok raised a brow as he leaned in to watch as a black penguin with brown spiked hair, wearing a teal shirt with dark stripes, waddled up to the stage. He nearly choked when he read the penguin’s username: sugasweet66.

“What does that even mean?” Hoseok thought as the mysterious penguin took the stage.

Sugasweet66: hello everyone it’s d boy here to use my tongue technology to spit some sick beats 

Hoseok watched as no penguin except the one with the fedora replied to sugasweet66’s words. 

UssySleigher: let’s get it! 

Hoseok shook his head and watched as the black penguin on stage began to breakdance. He couldn’t help but laugh as the penguin began his “performance”.

Sugasweet66: I love it when you call me big poppa

Sugasweet66: Throw your hands in the air, if you'se a true player

Sugasweet66: To the honies gettin' money playin' dudes like dummies

Sugasweet66’s performance went on for another 3 minutes as he rapped the entire big poppa song. At the end of it, Hoseok was in tears and didn’t hesitate to make his penguin clap. He even laughed so hard that he fell off his chair a bit and bumped his knee on the desk. 

“Ow god damn.” Hoseok hissed, rubbing his knee. He glanced back at the screen to see other penguins clapping and even dancing in response to sugasweet66’s performance. 

Sugasweet66: DAEGUUUUUUUU

And with that last line the black penguin waved and made its way off the stage. Hoseok immediately grabbed his mouse and clicked next to sugasweet66, watching as his penguin waddled towards them. For some odd reason, Hoseok wanted to be friends with this intriguing penguin. Not only was their rap game strong but he was genuinely curious about them. He typed furiously on his keyboard as sugasweet66 made their way over to the counter of the pizza parlor.

Jdope23: That was an awesome performance! 

At first the penguin he was now next to didn’t answer but after a couple seconds of waiting, Hoseok got a reply.

Sugasweet66: you want an autograph or smth?

Hoseok snorted. He couldn’t believe that was what sugasweet66 took a full minute to come up with.

Jdope23: sure 

Sugasweet66: i don’t have a pen... or fingers 

Jdope23: maybe next time then

Hoseok found himself smiling at his screen for the second time today, his hand went to his mouse and in a few seconds Hoseok had added the strange penguin. Now all he had to do was wait for sugasweet66 to accept his request.

Sugasweet66: why did you send me a friend request 

Jdope23: I want to break into your igloo 

Sugasweet66: ok

Hoseok’s computer made a ding sound notifying him that someone had accepted his friend request and he knew exactly who that was. 

Sugasweet66. 

And that’s how their friendship started. After that fateful night, sugasweet66 and Jdope23 began meeting up almost everyday on the server. They’d usually hang out at Yoongi’s igloo because he was a member, meaning his igloo was a lot more decorous than Hoseok’s. 

The two would go on missions and do almost everything together. Basically they were conjoined at the pixelated penguin hip. They learned a lot about each other over the course of the two years they had played together, for example: what their favorite colors were and how many nipples they had. Although somehow they had never thought to share their real names with each other, possibly because that sort of topic was not usually discussed during their super cool hangouts at, as Yoongi called it, the genius lab. 

Even after Yoongi’s penguin started gaining traction did they still hang out as if they were both just two lame dudes playing club penguin (because I mean, they were). Yoongi would still meet up with Hoseok everyday in the game and Hoseok would continuously beg Yoongi to buy him stuff with his membership perks. It was a pleasant cycle that occurred daily until one fateful afternoon, it halted.

It was a particularly warm spring morning when Yoongi was sitting in the back rows of the lecture hall, listening to his music theory teacher drone on about god knows what. It was his last day of classes before spring break and to say he was relieved was an understatement.  

Yoongi was feeling exhausted with his workload lately. Balancing a job at the café, his schoolwork, and his fame on club penguin was strenuous and took a toll on him. He was more than ready to just sleep off the stress he had been feeling for the entirety of the break. 

Propping his elbow on his desk and placing his head in his hand, Yoongi kept his gaze trained on the board where his teacher was currently writing notes. He was absentmindedly jotting them down when he became uncomfortably warm. He moved to take off his leather jacket quietly and after a few seconds he had succeeded, placing the article of clothing on the empty seat next to him. 

However he still couldn’t seem to cool down. If anything, taking off his jacket only made him hotter (and not in the way that he would’ve liked).

Yoongi began to shift in his seat, sitting up straight for a second to find that his black shirt was now stuck to his back due to his body’s perspiration.  

“What the hell is happening?” Yoongi began to panic, “Is this what menopause feels like?” 

He began to look around the room, making sure none of his classmates were witnessing his potential loss of his menstrual cycle. 

“Wait... don’t only women menstruate?” Yoongi soon became confused but luckily, the lecture hall was mostly empty today and those who were here were not paying any attention to his breakdown. 

“Okay okay so if I’m not entering menopause then what is going on?” Yoongi, no longer paying attention to today’s lesson, was now using his kumumon folder to fan himself. The heat didn’t seem to subside as a strong wave of pain hit his abdomen. Holding back a groan, he grabbed his stomach in agony and began to rub it, hoping the notion would somehow soothe the now aching organ. 

“This must be what giving birth feels like.” Yoongi thought, pulling out his iPhone 4s to webMD his symptoms and see if he was about to meet the face of the grim reaper. However before he could even put his folder down and reach into the pocket of his black skinny jeans, another wave of pain washed over him, stronger than the last. 

Unlike last time, Yoongi was unable to hold back his groans. It was like someone had just stabbed his abdomen with a knife and proceeded to shove a dildo in the wound to stop the bleeding. He closed his eyes momentarily and began to try and control his uneven breathing.

A few students began to send confused looks Yoongi’s way however the teacher didn’t seem to notice or if he did, he really didn’t seem to care enough to say anything. 

Yoongi continued to keep his eyes closed, his breathing returning to a somewhat normal pace. His stomach was still in pain though and his sweating didn’t seem to ease up. Yoongi glanced at the clock to see how much time was left until class would end and he could sprint to the bathroom, not sure what was going on with his body but knowing the bathroom seemed like the right place to be right about now. The pain began to crescendo and he squeezed his eyes shut when it became unbearable; he abruptly stood up when he felt an all too familiar feeling hit him. He couldn’t wait to run to the bathroom, he had to go now. 

Ignoring the stares he was getting from both his teacher and his classmates, he began to climb down the stairs, cursing at himself that he picked today of all days to sit all the way in the back. He was simultaneously rubbing his stomach with one hand as the other held his belongings. The teacher was saying something to him but at this point all sound became muffled to him. All Yoongi was worried about was making it to the restroom in time before-

Oh no.

It was too late.

Just as he had reached the last step his butt cheeks unclenched and a whoosh of unrestrained air, that crackled and snapped like unbounded thunder, echoed throughout the hall. At first, Yoongi was relieved because he began to feel better immensely. Maybe all he needed was to break a little wind. However, it seemed that that was only the calm before the storm, or should Yoongi say, the hurricane.

The room remained silent as it seemed everyone was frozen in time. Some students mouths were agape and others were in utter disgust. 

Yoongi had made the grave mistake of trusting that one single fart because all of a sudden, as if Noah had just parted the Red Sea that was Yoongi’s ass cheeks, shit had began to leak out of his booty. It was like the dam had broke and shit was flooding Yoongi’s boxer briefs. Shrieks and profanities originating from the students rang out into the room. Yoongi felt his face heat up, knowing at this point he must be as red as Ronald McDonald’s wig. He couldn’t move nor could he make himself say something, anything to mend the situation. Because in all honestly, there was no coming back from this.

The smell coming from his bottom was deadly and many of the students, suddenly coming in contact with the horrid scent, began to evacuate the room. Even his teacher, who just shot Yoongi a less than amused look, pinched his nose and ran out of the room. Everyone was gagging, even Yoongi because this was one shit that he didn’t enjoy the smell of.

Yoongi was the only one left in the room when he finally stopped shitting himself (literally and figuratively). It wasn’t like he could move anyways, his pants were so full of crap he couldn’t move one inch without it sliding down his legs and making more of a mess than he already was. He couldn’t believe this had happened to him today; he should’ve known not to eat the gas station gimbap his roommate had brought home last night. 

Yoongi could stew on that topic later however, right now he needed to come up with a solution on how the hell he was going to get back to his dorm without trailing diarrhea behind him. ——— After the whole “shit and get” fiasco, Yoongi had managed to make it home. Currently he was sitting at his laptop, staring at the club penguin log in screen. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to waddle around the server after what had happened. Although he soon came to the conclusion that if there was anything that could make him feel better, it was club penguin. So Yoongi logged onto the server and was met with his decked out igloo. A small smile appeared on his face when he saw that his bestie, jdope23, was also online. He didn’t hesitate to send a quick message to them, telling them to come to his igloo ASAP. Already Yoongi was starting to be in better spirits, almost forgetting the events that occurred today. Almost. 

Within the span of a few minutes jdope23 had appeared in the genius lab, waddling around and messing with yoongi’s things. Yoongi just rolled his eyes, a silly grin plastered on his face as he watched the green penguin start to break dance on the mini dance floor Yoongi had in his igloo.

Sugasweet66: hey wassup nerd

Jdope23: nothing much 

Yoongi began to type back a response when another chat bubble appeared on his screen. 

Jdope23: Lmao sumthin funny happen today tho 

Yoongi furrowed his brows as he typed back. 

Sugasweet66: wut

Jdope23: literally best day eva

He sighed at this, it definitely wasn’t the best day ever for him. 

Sugasweet66: u gonna tell me or 

Jdope23: someone shattered their pants in class HA

Yoongi choked. He literally choked on the saliva forming in his mouth. He couldn’t be? No there was no way on God’s green earth that jdope23 was talking about what had happened to him today in class. 

Sugasweet66: LOL I dnt believe u 

Jdope23: no 4 rEAL! It happen in my music theory class 

Jdope23: this dood let it all go right before the bell rang and it smelled like someone opened a 50 year old tub of mayo

Yoongi thought he would drop dead right then and there. His palms were sweaty and his stomach began to ache at the memories of today. Not only was jdope23 a person in his class but he had witnessed Yoongi’s shitdown!

Sugasweet66: That me

Sugasweet66: I the one who crapped his pants 

Jdope23: Lmao wut

Sugasweet66: I pooped my pants today in class!! You witnessed me let the floodgates of my a$$ break free

Jdope23: oh

Jdope23: OH

At this moment in time Hoseok was sitting in his dorm room, staring at his computer screen in complete and utter shock. The person he had been playing club penguin with for over 2 years now, sugasweet66, was actually someone he knew in real life. Someone who, not only was in his music theory class, but was his potential soulmate.

To Hoseok it sounded crazy but it all oddly made sense. The reason why Hoseok felt like he was going to shit himself today was because the boy who actually did shit himself in his class was actually his soulmate! He had always had an infatuation with said boy but never was able to get the courage to introduce himself.

Now he had multiple reasons to strike up a conversation.

The fact that sugasweet66 turned out to be the shitty boy in his class, who was also his soulmate, was merely coincidence but Hoseok felt like it was fate. It was fate that the owner of sugasweet66 shat himself in their music theory class, it was fate that the two had become penguin besties on the most amazing online game (and dating website) to ever exist.

Hoseok was overjoyed to say the least. 

Jdope23: I think we’re soulmates 

Sugasweet66 was temporarily banned from club penguin for using the phrase “what the actual flying fuck you talking about egghead”.

The end?

[dumbbelle]

robber!Minghao

In the end, Chan’s the one who says it best: “So… What you’re telling me is that you broke into Y/N’s house to steal a painting, and walked out having stolen their heart instead?”

Seokmin raises his hand for a high five. “Smooth man, smooth.”

Minghao Robin Hoods the frick outta his life, and quite literally bumps into you in the process. 

✄ Word Count: 3402 ✄ T/W: Swearing, attempted robbery, cute shit ✄ A/N: Heyo it’s Belle, I’m back with something that nobody asked for but I thought was necessary.

Masterlist

Contrary to what his best friend and roommate says, Xu Minghao insists that he’s a decent person.

(“And Mingyu can go fuck himself with his morals, the asshole’s the most notorious bootlegger you’ll find on campus”)

But honest, Minghao is a simple college boy.

He came to Pledis University when he was 18 as an international student, double majoring in Visual Arts, and Korean Language and Culture.

He’s there mostly on scholarship but he also has financial support from his parents, so he’s never really had to worry about his economic status.

He’s not the most social of kids but he’s also not the most introverted, so he always has just enough friends and just enough parties to attend as to not get bored.

But he gets bored anyway, because he’s always been an active child itching to do more.

So really, this whole mess started when he decides that he should pick up his old hobby:

Breakdancing

It’s mostly just a passing thought that comes to him when he comes back home for holiday and rewatches a VHR tape of an old b-boying competition.

But it lingers and every once in awhile he considers the possibility of him just quitting school and becoming a b-boy star like he once dreamed of.

After all, he was pretty damn good.

(He accidentally thinks this out loud during dinner and his mother throws her chopsticks at him)

Anyway, he returns to college for the new year and he’s almost completely forgotten about his old dreams.

Luckily enough (or maybe unluckily enough, depending on the perspective), there is a campus b-boy squad that he happens to stumble upon during his second-year clubs fair (as in, they barrelled into him with a flier and bombarded him with questions).

To be truthful, it seems pretty lame and Minghao’s sure that if he went underground, he could probably find a cooler scene,,,

But also, they said that there would be snacks at the interest meeting,,,

And so he makes the considerate decision to attend.

The interest meeting is where he meets Seokmin of all people.

The acting major makes a scene when he announces that he’s not there as Lee Seokmin but as Kang Hajoon, a lower-class high school drop out who finds his way through the power of breakdance.

(“Nobody knew who you were in the first place, dipshit–“

“–I said to call me Hajoon–“

“–Just sit down.”)

And people are snickering at Seokmin because they find his method acting lame.

But Minghao finds that lame so he proceeds to sit down right beside the boy and stare daggers at any jerk who directs a snide comment their way.

He hangs around just long enough so that he can decimate the rest in a b-boy demonstration, pretty much showing them all what they’re going to miss out on.

And then he gets up and leaves the meeting, Seokmin following behind him.

They grab some chips on their way out and properly introduce themselves.

“Hey sorry about all of that in there, Seo- uh, Hajoon. B-boyers usually aren’t assholes… Just them. Don’t let that bleed into your portrayal, you feel? I’m Minghao, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m over it. Thanks for what you did back there... It’s nice to meet you too. And you can call me Seokmin now, I’m done with Hajoon for the day.”

Which starts an odd, but well-oiled friendship.

Seokmin introduces Minghao to all of his friends, and that’s how Minghao ends up with an incredibly,, diverse,, friend group.

And by diverse, he means that he’s positive his friendship with them will likely result with him going to jail.

He should’ve realized it when the de facto leader Seungcheol introduced himself as “S.Coups” and made him sign a waiver of liability before joining the group.

It was scribbled on to the back of a receipt but yeah, it should’ve been a little concerning

But Minghao just kinda rolls with it.

And this is how he finds himself inducted into their so-called “League of Good Doers Doing Not So Good Doer Things”.

It’s a working title; LoGDDNSGDT for short.

(“What do you do, Seokmin?”

“I’m a recruiter!”

“… That’s fair.”)

It takes him a few months to solidify his role in the group (he’s the last to join), but in that time he manages to become especially good friends with Mingyu, so much so that he becomes his roommate.

Mingyu’s known for using his technical abilities to bootleg high quality concert footage, videos, textbooks, and whatever else you need.

(“We’re all just a bunch of broke college students with a bunch of broke college student needs. We’re just making those needs realities.”)

Also alcohol, he sells a lot of alcohol.

And though Minghao initially scoffs at this, it also makes him check his privilege a little

He’s always been fortunate enough to grow up with money and be smart, free to do whatever he wants when he wants.

Growing up, he’s had a lot of interests and a lot of phases, all of which he more than excelled in.

Gosh, there was even that one ninja phase…

THE NINJA PHASE

He’s eating a brownie that’s probably been laced with weed one Friday night as he watches tv with Mingyu and Seokmin when he remembers the ninja phase.

He remembers how stealthy he is and just how good he is at picking locks.

And so he decides to Robin Hood the frick outta his life, robbing the expensive belongings from the richer students and pawning their items off so he can donate to the poor.

He excels at this too, much to Mingyu’s chagrin (“the kid’s just fuckin’ good at everything!”)

It definitely alleviates him of his boredom, and he’s so subtle and precise with it that most of the time, people don’t even notice when things are missing.

He’s become some kind of town legend, and so many people idolize this mysterious robber that the authorities aren’t even too concerned.

He’s also somehow acquired this odd nickname?? The8?? They say it’s because you never know how his crimes begin or how they’ll end.

Like the only thing anybody knows about his victims is that they’ll be wealthy (but gosh, Pledis U has too many of those roaming the place),,,, but then next thing you know the underfunded art department will suddenly get a donation of a few thousand, or the Culture Club food drive will find a gazillion non-perishable cans when they come back the next morning.

Minghao likes to think he's spontaneous.

Now this is where you come in (“finally,” I can hear you sigh from behind your screens)

Unlike everyone else around you, you do not have the biggest crush on this mysterious figure.

(“Just for the record, ‘The8’ is literally the dumbest robber alias I have ever heard.”

“How many have you heard before?”

“Not. The. Point.”)

All he does is go around and undermine people’s hard work, invading their personal space and infringing on their privacy.

All so that he can make a quick buck.

And sure, maybe he’s not spending all that money on himself, but to make students feel unsafe and unprotected in their own freaking homes and dorms?

And to have nobody do anything about it?

Absurd.

It becomes such a constant source of ire for you that you rant about this almost daily.

But it’s like you’re the only one who understands the gravity of the situation.

Your closest friends are all about this guy, singing his praises and commending his selflessness.

Your junior, Chan, is particularly adamant about the quality of his character (you have no idea about his involvement with the LoGDDNSGDT, of course; after all, he also had to sign the receipt contract).

So you’re a party of 1 in the Anti-The-8 Movement.

He’s three months into it when he makes a rather stupid mistake:

He decides to rob you.

Minghao will later complain that anybody could’ve gotten the wrong idea.

He sees you for the first time in his Korean History class.

He doesn’t exactly know how he missed you before.

First of all, you’re fucking gorgeous

First of all, there is a certain air that you carry yourself with–

It’s poised and self-assured and kind of breathtaking.

You raise your hand to read a passage and even the way you speak is levelled and controlled.

You remind him of royalty some of the other wealthy kids on campus.

Probably trained to uphold a certain degree of eloquence so that you can one day take over your parents’ company and maintain good business relationships. 

And socialize at those hoity-toity parties with the little hors d'oeuvres.

His thoughts are confirmed after class when he overhears you talk with your friends.

You’re asking your friend to take notes in place for you when you go off to vacation with your family next week.

“Heading off to the island?” Your one friend chirps.

“Yeah, dad just finished a successful case and we’re celebrating.”

And wait, an island? These guys must be fucking loaded.

Your friend lets your name slip and it’s all starting to make a lot more sense.

Now he’s heard of your name around campus.

Your parents are lawyers who built an empire, opening up law firms around the country.

They’re known for being ruthless and never sharing their wealth.

In short, they’re prime targets!!

Minghao feels like it’s Christmas– this will be his biggest catch since that one kid who was the heir to the electric toothbrush company.

He trails you and your friends for a few minutes just to confirm the details and then he’s off to plan.

Fast forward a week later to when you should be going off to vacation.

But instead you come down with the stomach flu, and not a pretty one either.

You experience the full range of systems:

Vomit, fever, dizziness, fatigue,,, There’s no way your parents are letting you tag along on the trip.

And you’re too busy vomiting to argue.

So they ditch your ass and head off to vacation by themselves, once you assure them that you’ll be fine on your own.

After all, you are a certified GDI who can take care of yourself.

… Who just so happens to be dressed up in a onesie, cuddling a large teddy bear as you watch Netflix from your nest of pillows on the couch.

You’ve scrolling through your recommended feed when you hear it:

The door opening

And you have to wonder if the vacation ended early because who else… Would…

You gasp when you realize what’s going on, rushing to turn off the television as to eliminate all sources of sound.

All your nightmares are coming true, and you haven’t even fully developed a game plan to approach this awful situation.

Now you’re not dumb, you’re not gonna run headfirst into a situation where you don’t have the upper hand.

Instead, you’ll hide and discreetly notify the authorities when you activate the alarm system.

And so no, you’re not dumb,, 

But you are clumsy.

You’re trying to navigate your way to your bedroom, remote in hand as a backup weapon, checking over your shoulder at every possible moment.

Perhaps you’re checking over your shoulder a little too much, because next thing you know you’ve crashed into a wall.

Except the wall moves and you know that it’s definitely not a wall.

The wall makes a sound, a little grunt and you snap your head back around so quickly, you think you hear the whip of the wind.

The man in front of you is tall and skinny, and seems oddly familiar even with his ski mask on.

You don’t have too much time to contemplate this however , as you’re too busy trying to whack the heck outta him with your remote.

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU ASSBUCKET.”

It's all just too much, and you're surprised you haven't shat your pants because of how scared you are.

But,,,, The8 is kinda just taking it??? He's trying to block you of course (and mostly succeeding to, the jerk) but he's not trying to fight back. What kind of shitty robber…?

You're c o n f u s e d, which is why you stop to look up at him expectantly.

“You done?” His voice incites a whole new wave of panic to wash over you, and you raise your remote to start hitting him again but The8 quickly raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, hey now, I'm not here to hurt you.”

You're skeptical, of course you are. But you think back to all the gossip you’ve heard about The8, and realize that you can’t recall any accounts of violence.

This doesn't change the fact that this asshole is robbing you, so you use the remote to gesture towards his ski mask.

“Take it off.”

And he sighs, as if it's inevitable, but holds up a finger and starts to negotiate,,,, as if he has any right to in this current situation,,, and gosh, how is he so damn calm right now??

“Okay, but if I do, promise you won’t call the cops immediately.”

You don't know why you agree to his terms– you're sure it won't make a difference.

He’ll get the cops called on him sooner or later.

But if it gets him to cooperate… You agree with a swift dip of your head.

The tension in the room is palpable, and you have to remind yourself to breathe as he starts to take off his mask.

And oh fuck you know who it is you know who it is you know who it is.

You recognize him immediately as the cute guy in your Korean History class, the one you've had a crush on since forever and a half ago.

The one that's always hanging out with that group of loud kids…Chan's Precious Seniors

And somewhere in your subconscious, you're freaking out about the possibility of Chan being involved in a crime syndicate.

And further freaking out about how you’ve confided in Chan about your crush in Xu Minghao, who just so happens to be The8 and holy fuck you can’t believe it’s him.

You really don’t have much time to dwell, because the shock and overexertion of the situation starts gets to you, and you’re starting to feel dizzy. It’s like the fever finally catches up to you–

And then you’re falling, fainting–

The last thing you hear before you pass out is the startled cry of your name.

…

You wake up to the smell of broth, and the feeling of a damp cloth pressed to the top of your forehead.

Your headache is devastating, but you’re otherwise positioned comfortably

It takes you a minute to process that you’re back on your living room couch, low hum of the television sounding from somewhere to your right

You try to locate the smell of broth, which is when you meet eye-to-eye with a very timid looking Minghao

He’s more tense than earlier, as if he’s scared you’ll jump up right then and there to attack him

And you would, honest, but the broth,,, smells,,, so,,, good,,,

You motion for him to give it to you and he relaxes before quickly complying, letting you sit up before gently placing the bowl in your hands.

He settles into a stool beside you– one that definitely wasn’t there before, but it’s whatever.

You sit there in silence for a good couple of minutes, Minghao watching the drama playing on TV as you drink your broth.

It’s kinda nice

Minghao’s the first one to speak.

“Please don’t exert yourself like that if you’re sick. You could’ve had a heart attack or something.”

He sounds so small that you just manage to resist throwing the rest of the hot soup at him in the sudden bubble of anger that erupts from you in the form of a hiss.

“Um, my memory might be wrong here but wasn’t it you who broke into my house in the first place, assbucket?”

He chuckles at that, and you’re slowly losing that sliver of self-restraint.

“Assbucket, that’s a new one.” You notice that his accent is more prominent when he’s amused.

“You deserve worse, you assbucket.”

At that he really laughs, and you have to look away to distract yourself from how attractive the sound is.

“You’re cute, you know that?”

You’re not sure what to say to that, and Minghao can tell. He quickly changes tact.

“Listen, I get why you’re mad.” Oh, now wouldn’t that be the understatement of the year.

“But I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I-I won’t even steal anything from here anymore. But please, please don’t make yourself more sick because of me.”

And man, fuck Minghao for making it damn near impossible to call the police on his ass. You don’t say anything more until you finish up your broth.

“Why… Why do you do it?”

Minghao shrugs. “Just because.”

“Just because? You’re violating my home, Minghao. This is my private space, and you’re infringing upon it without my consent.”

Minghao furrows his eyebrows, as if he’s never considered it before. And God, why did it have to be him?

Minghao finally hums. “Would you miss it?”

W-wha… “Huh?”

Minghao nods towards an abstract modernist piece that hangs high up on your wall. “Would you miss it?”

Your silence is more than enough to answer his question.

“But I’m sorry, you know. I truly wouldn’t have come around if I was aware you’d be home. Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

“. . . Minghao, that’s creepy. Don’t do that. Besides, how do you know my name?”

“How do you know mine?”

The fucker. You blush, shrugging and dropping the subject completely. You’re avoiding his eyes so much that you miss the fond smile on his lips. He’s about to say something when a phone sounds. You realize it’s coming from Minghao’s pocket and watch as he takes it out, curious.

Minghao checks his phone and immediately scowls, closing his eyes in what seems like exasperation.

“I… I have to go, so sorry. My roommate just did something unbelievably stupid because he’s unbelievably stupid.”

You refrain from asking; you really don’t wanna know.

“Will you be alright by yourself? I’m worried… I’ll try to stay longer if you don’t think you will… I mean, if you want. Or I can call someone to come or–”

Where was this bashful kid an hour ago? For the first time that evening, you let out a small smile. He sees it and is stunned, momentarily blinded by your beauty.

“I’ll be fine Minghao, go help your roommate.”

He nods, getting up to leave, but not before taking your phone from the coffee table. He holds it out so that you can unlock it, and you do, though the question hangs in your eyes.

“I-I’m not taking it, just wanted to give you my phone number. In case you start to feel worse. Call me or don’t... It’s whatever.”

And so you do.

...

Bonus:

Three months later, you’re recounting the tale to the rest of the boys during one of their weekly movie nights. (You don’t dare touch the brownies, Minghao tells you they’re fucked.)

In the end, Chan’s the one who says it best: “So… What you’re telling me is that you broke into Y/N’s house to steal a painting, and walked out having stolen their heart instead?”

Seokmin raises his hand for a high five. “Smooth man, smooth.”

Your boyfriend ignores it, though Seokmin stubbornly keeps his hand up and waits for anyone to complete the exchange. You tap your palm against his in pity.

“Actually,” Minghao starts, nuzzling his nose into your hair, “I would say Y/N is the one who stole my heart instead. Just had to fall straight into my arms like that… A true master of seduction.”

You giggle, turning your head to peck his lips. The boys groan, losing interest in your story and turning back towards the movie.

From somewhere in the corner, you hear Mingyu fake a gag.

(Perhaps it’s the brownies, you can’t really tell.)

Masterlist 

[got7-texts]

Comfort - Mark (85/100)

You can find my post explaining the 100 Day Drabble Challenge here

To view the masterlist of drabbles for the challenge, click here

Prompt: Comfort Member: Mark x Reader AU: N/A

Word Count: 1,121

You let out a small sniffle and frowned as you looked at the letter in your hands. You sighed before throwing it on the countertop and heading to the fridge to get some ice cream.

Rejected. Again.

At this rate you began to wonder if you would ever get accepted into a company. It had always been your dream and passion to perform for others and although you worked your hardest, putting in the long hours and practices, you had yet to get an acceptance letter to any company you applied to. Feeling tears beginning to burn your eyes you quickly pulled out your phone and texted the only person you knew that would make you feel better: Mark.

You: I need you - 4:37PM

You sent the message quickly, not bothering to read it over. You admitted it sounded a bit forceful and in hindsight you probably should’ve been a little gentler, but this was the third time this week you had gotten a rejection letter and you didn’t know how much more you could take. You were sure he knew what had happened, you’d called him the first two times as well. Within two minutes you felt your phone vibrate.

Mark: Coming over now - 4:39PM

Although the tears were still threatening to fall, you managed a tiny smile at your boyfriend’s swift response. Then your eyes wandered over to your letter and your smile disappeared. What was it that they didn’t like? Was it your voice? Your dancing? Your face? Your hair? ‘Oh god, what if it’s everything?’, you wondered, taking another big bite of the ice cream that was in front of you.

You turned on the TV and began to watch it, trying to forget about your letter but never finding yourself immersed in the show. You heard a knock on the door and hastily turned the television off, jumping off the couch and running to greet Mark. As soon as he stepped in, you threw your arms around him and hugged him tightly.

“Hey bab-woah…” he said as he felt you latch onto him. “Is this about what I think it’s about?” he asked gently, patting the top of your head. Through his shirt you nodded and although you couldn’t see it, he gave you a small smile.

“Alright, come on,” he stated before putting one arm on your back and the other on your legs. He easily picked you up and brought you to your room, setting you down on the bed. Tears were streaming down your face, but you weren’t crying very hard. You were more upset than sad. He took his fingers and wiped your tears away, kissing your cheek.

“Shhh, please don’t cry Y/N,” Mark pleaded quietly, rubbing your lower back in small circles in an attempt to calm you. You sniffled again and tried to bring your heartbeat back down, but you felt completely useless in the situation.

“What is it about me that they don’t like?” you whispered, feeling the pit in your stomach grow. He pulled you into his lap and leaned against the headboard of your bed, holding you closely as he sighed. You fell back onto his chest and stared up at the ceiling.

“It’s not you. I promise, it’s not. These companies are crazy, baby. They can be picky and sometimes they’re only looking for a certain type of person,” Mark tried to explain, lacing his fingers into yours. You understood what he was saying but it didn’t make you feel any better about being rejected.

“But I can be whatever they want me to be, I just need them to give me a chance!” you exclaimed, louder than you meant to. You felt Mark kiss the top of your head as he lifted your hand in his.

“You’re amazing Y/N, you don’t need to change for anybody. Sometimes they only want a girl that can sing high or a guy who can sing super low,” he said, playing with your fingers. “Or sometimes it’s different and they don’t care what the rookie sounds like as long as they can breakdance or if they have a certain personality trait that the company is lacking at the time.” You looked up at him and he glanced down at you, giving you a small smile.

“But I want to be able to perform, Mark,” you whispered again, sadly as you looked down. He picked your chin up with his fingers and pulled your face up so you met his eyes. You just now noticed that he had those blue contacts in and it dawned on you that he may have been in the middle of a shoot or interview when you’d texted him. ‘Did he…still come for me anyways?’ you thought as he gave you a small smile.

“Listen to me, babe. You’re perfect. Period. And one day some company is going to see that and they’ll take you in. It may take a while and it might not be the company of your dreams, but they’re going to look at you and they’ll see exactly what I do right now. Someone who’s following their dreams and passions to do what they love.” He bent down and you closed your eyes as he brought his lips to yours. When you parted you managed to give him a small smile.

“What if I want to perform…with you?” you asked, lightly smiling up at him. He chuckled and put his head on your shoulder.

“Then why don’t you apply to JYP, silly,” he replied rather simply. You flushed a bit realizing that you hadn’t actually sent an application to JYP yet. You nodded slowly, and leaned back into your boyfriend. “I think I will…”you trailed off. Mark chuckled and brought his fist up.

“That’s the spirit!” he said, laughing a little. “Don’t give up on your dreams, babe. You have so many people that are rooting for you. Of course, I’m rooting the loudest because I obviously love you the most,” he said with a bit of sass in his voice. “And when you do get into a company…” he started, kissing your lips again. “…you better remember me when you get all big and famous, ok?” He gave you a smile and you returned it.

How could he do that? One smile from him and it was like all your worries just faded into thin air. He really knew how to cheer you up. And you knew that he was right. You hadn’t lost anything. In fact, the rejections had only made you stronger. They made you want to keep trying to achieve your dream and keep trying to do what you loved to do.

“Thank you, Mark~”

[dollofdeath]

I was tagged by @namaikiii and @lookslikerainydays! Thanks so much for tagging me~ (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

*poses* lets do this

rules: bold what applies to you

I am 5′7″ or taller I wear glasses (only in class tho bc i need the Aesthetic™) I have at least one tattoo I have at least one piercing (do ear piercings count lol) I have blonde hair I have brown eyes I have short hair My abs are at least somewhat defined I have or have had braces There is something I would change about the way I look

personality:

My Hogwarts house is: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Slytherin (according to the Pottermore test idk) I am an introvert I like meeting new people People tell me that I’m funny Helping others with their problems is a big priority for me I enjoy physical challenges I enjoy mental challenges I’m playfully rude with people I know well I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it (thIS IS SLIKE,,, MY ENTIRE VOCAVULARY) There is something I would change about my personality 

ability:

I can sing well I can play an instrument (The piano and I have an on and off relationship tho haha) I can do over 30 pushups without stopping I’m a fast runner I can draw well  I have a good memory I’m good at doing math in my head   I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute (i meNA LAST I DID... it’s been so long since I’ve been underwater so idk if this still holds true) I have beaten at least 2 people in arm wrestling I know how to cook at least 3 meals from scratch I know how to throw a proper punch

hobbies:

I enjoy playing sports I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else I’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else I have learned a new song in the past week I work out at least once a week I’ve gone for runs at least once a week in the warmer months (gmdkm it’s something i tried getting in the habit of, at least last time it was warm... I really need to get in shape bc my resting heart rate is isane lmao,,,,) I have drawn something in the past month I enjoy writing Fandoms are my #1 passion (This isn’t how I would word this, but I guess) I do or have done martial arts

experiences:

I have had my first kiss (do y’all consider a 5th grade truth or dare as a first kiss) I have had alcohol (it was like a gulp tho,,, like 0/10 wouldn’t recommend, why y’all so obsessed with alcohol,,,) I have scored the winning goal in a sports game I have watched an entire season of a TV show in one sitting I have been at an overnight event I have been in a taxi I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year (I haven’t been admitted personally, but I’ve been visiting more than I’d like during the past few years...) I have beaten a video game in one day I have visited another country  I have been to one of my favorite band’s concerts (it’s my dream to attend a sanhora concert pls i will sell my soul)

relationship:

I’m in a relationship I have a celebrity crush I have a crush on someone I know I have been in at least 3 relationships I have never been in a relationship (the only relationship i need is w/ our lord n savior jesus christ #amen) I have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them I get crushes easily I have had a crush on someone for over a year I have been in a relationship for at least a year I have had feelings for a friend

my life:

I have at least one person I consider a “best friend” I live close to my school (lmao do y’all consider 1 and a half hour commute close,,,) My parents are still together I have at least one sibling I live in the United States There is snow right now where I live (this blizzard,,, happened last week and all the snow isn’t gone yet wtf) I have hung out with a friend outside of school in the past month I have a smartphone I have at least 15 CDs I share my room with someone                                              

random shit:

I have breakdanced I know a person named Jamie I have had a teacher with a last name that’s hard to pronounce I have dyed my hair I’m listening to one song on repeat right now (my talents include making a 3 mintue song last 3 hours. lmao i don’t even play the whole song on repeat, it’s like i just keep replaying the sections i love the most) I have punched someone in the past week I know someone who has gone to jail I have broken a bone I have eaten a waffle today I know what I want to do with my life  I speak at least 2 languages fluently I have made a new friend in the past year

fsdjknsk i’m honestly really so exhausted right now so i’m just gonna go down my followers list and tag some mutuals who i don’t think haven’t been tagged yet + some amigos okay here we go ☆

@rukamizumi @tivanny2292 @xmiyoshi @almightymii @unnagi @burankos @into-warm-air @yliaster @nebulox @cheetahgabriella4444 @aph-suecia

you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to! and if anyone else wants to do this, feel free to do so~