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mintyoongiskookie · 6 years

Text

combat boots and milkshakes | pt. 2

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, slight smut (dw the real stuff will come later), Biker!Jungkook, Single Mom!Reader, 80′s thing

Word Count: 1,632

A/N: Should I make things a series with many parts or just a few?

Three hours into your shift, and you were already tired. Your lunch break would be in another hour, and you worked even harder knowing that the sweet relief of letting your feet rest was near. You were rushing around in the kitchen, stacking plates and drinks on a single serving tray, attempting to balance everything as well as you could. Watching your footing, you paid no attention to the objects in front o you, and you only looked up after it was too late. You prepared yourself for the sound of shattering glasses and the clattering of the plastic tray banging on the ground, but before you heard any of that, you felt a grip around your waist as the chest in front of you shifted. Opening your eyes, you were met with a black cotton shirt stretched out over the expanse of someone’s built chest, the smell of leather, cigarettes, whiskey and a hint of lavender hit you. you looked up to see a cut jawline, as the arm on your waist slowly unraveled. Who knew a guy could be this hot.

“Shit, I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going and- Oh, Jungkook, I’m sorry-””

“It’s fine girly. Here, better run off to the other’s before they get impatient.” The feeling of weight on the tray dragged your arm down as you held it in front of your face, lost in the touch of him. He pressed his lips against your forehead and walked out the back door, sliding a back of cigarettes out of his pocket in the process. Customers. Right.

You walked back out to serve the people their food, glancing around in the process. From you position, you could see a few more motorcycles pull into the parking lot. A quiet sigh left your lips as you smiled at the three men at the table in front of you, walking back into the kitchen.

“Chrissy? Can you get the next three guys coming in?”

“Are they hot?” You rolled your eyes with a smile, peeking you head out of the doorway to get a glance of them. Your jaw almost dropped.

“Holy shit yes they are, go!” You could see her scramble to get her notepad and fix her hair as she rushed out to get their drinks. You sighed as you went out back, surprised to see Jungkook standing at the payphone, a cigarette between his lips as he mumbled something into the mic. Whatever it was, he was either pissed off or confused about it, because there was a deep set frown on his lips, his brows creasing as he flicked off a bit of the ashes.

“... I understand that, I’m not a dumbass. He should get what he deserves... No, I don’t care about that...” You couldn’t make out anything more as you turned the corner to sit on a bench at the side of the building, pulling out a lighter. After hearing the clang of the phone and a heavy sigh coming from Jungkook, you took a slow drag and stared out at the grey sky, pretending you didn’t hear any part of his heated conversation. “Girly, how did you end up in this town? Shouldn’t you be somewhere in the city, working for a big shot with your husband?” His voice startled you, your head whipping around to face him.

“Oh, um, no, I knew that wasn’t gonna happen from the start.” You took a long drag and rested your hand on your leg, staring at the red staring your lips had left on the filter. “I... Never got married. I’ve raised Malachi myself, and I never had enough money to move into a city. I never will.” He was silent for a bit, and you turned your head to look up at him, only seeing his eyes staring right back at you. No, not at you, through you. It was like he had known your story all along, and he had just asked those questions to make it seem like he didn’t. His features had softened, his brown eyes looked warmer, but his jaw was still set and his brows still furrowed.

“So you’re saying that kid in there has never had a father...” His words were more of a statement than a question, like he was flipping them over in his mind, getting used to the idea, and the feeling of them on his tongue.

You weren’t sure why, but his words seemed to hit a chord deep inside you. You had heard the other mothers gossiping about you, how you were too young to take care of a child properly, and that you wouldn’t be able to give him the love and support that a father could. None of those things had ever upset you. You had let them in one ear, and out the other. But when he said it, it just felt... Different. He wasn’t judging or anything like everyone else was. He seemed like he took you into consideration as well.

“... Yeah. I still wish he did. Things would turn out so much better for him.”

“No.” You could hear his boots hitting the ground, and the strain of his shoulders against his jacket as he rested his wrists against his knees as he squatted down to be face-to-face with you.

You looked up from the ashes that had fallen over your fingers, watching them dance off of the tips in the wind. Your eyes met his as you tilted your head in confusion.

“That’s bullshit. You raised that kid with more love than any father could. He holds your heart and soul with his, and no one else could make him any better. Take it from me.” You weren’t sure why you believed him. You had just met the man earlier that day. But you did, and you were certain that his words were the nicest thing anyone has ever said to you.

The nicest thing anyone ever could.

His hands reached up to pluck the cigarette out of your hands and took a drag, before pressing it against the seat of the bench and dropping it to the ground. One of his hands lightly held both of yours, the other one coming up to wipe the tear that had been sitting on your cheekbone, unnoticed by you.

His hand on your cheek ran over the back of your neck and pulled you lips to his, lightly pressing them together. His other hand moved from yours to your waist, gently pulling you up as he stood. You were left in shock for a few moments, trying to remember the last time you had ever felt a touch as caring as his. A touch at all, really. As soon as you realized what happened, your hands moved to the collar of his coat, gripping the fabric as you kissed back. His teeth nibbled on your lips, earning a gasp from you, and he took that moment to slid his tongue into your mouth. He was gentle with you. He held you like you were the most expensive painting in the world, scared of if he pressed to hard, you would rip apart under his fingertips. He backed you up against the side of the building, his grip gaining strength as the kiss grew more heated. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair, twirling strands around your knuckles as he pinned you tighter against the wall with his knee between your legs, and his hands exploring the dips and curves of your body. He treated you like no man ever had, his touch rough, but gentle at the same time, careful but daring. His right hind rose up and down your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his calloused hands. You shuddered as his fingers slowly creeped higher and higher with each stroke, until he roughly grabbed you thigh, pushing your leg and dress higher. His sudden action elicited a moan from your throat, the sound being swallowed by his lips.

A low grunt came from him as he broke his lips away from yours and peppered kisses along your neck and collarbone, muttering against your smooth skin as he did so. “Shh, girly, we don’t want anyone hearing, do we?” He ran his tongue up your neck, nipping at your earlobe as lips brushed against the top of your ear. His voice dropped an octave as his hold on your wrists above your head tightened. “Do we?”

His voice was dripping with lust, and you could feel how wet you were getting. The cool breeze that lifted your dress didn’t help your situation either, as a soft moan left your lips. “Jungkook, not here... Later tonight. I need to get back to my shift.” You could feel as his jaw tightened against your cheek, but you were surprised to see a smirk on his face as he pulled away.

“Good. I’ll be able to here those pretty little moans come from your lips as I fuck you numb tonight. He leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, letting his whisper transfer from his mouth to yours. “Don’t plan on walking tomorrow.”

He stepped away from you, his hands lingering on your hips as he walked back around the corner.

“I’ll meet you back here at 8:00 girly.” He stopped for a moment and turned his head.

“Don’t get too excited.”

He walked back into the diner with a smirk on his face, knowing just how you felt.

That little fucker.

“And do you think I could get another chocolate milkshake when I come back tonight?”

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mintyoongiskookie · 6 years

Text

combat boots and milkshakes | pt. 1

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff? Eventual smut, Biker!Jungkook, Single Mom!Reader, kinda getting 80′s vibes from this

Word Count: 1,742, there’ll probably be a shit ton of mistakes in this.

A/N: Sorry for not posting. It’ll be a while until I do again.

“Hey kid, how about a milkshake?”

An excited squeal came from your son Malachi’s mouth. This was a tradition of your’s when celebrating a good Friday. You had just picked him up from his school, still in your waitress uniform, and were walking him back to your car. He had told you beforehand that he got an A+ on his test, which you didn’t know was possible since he was in second grade, but he deserved a treat nonetheless. You opened the passenger door of your beat up pick-up for him, sighing at the fact that you still couldn’t splurge any money on a car seat. Looking up at the grey skies and listening to the creaky sound of the rusty door closing, you closed your eyes momentarily, thinking of what a life your son could’ve had. A 3-story house, like his friend Sean? A car seat, better food, better clothes? A father?

You shook the last thought away and walked around the car, remembering Malachi’s voice in your head.

“It’s okay Ma, I don’t think a dad could make me love you any more than I already do.”

The truck roared to life, the puttering of the exhaust pipe begging to be checked up on. The wheel felt loose and distant under your hands, but you kept your eyes on the road as you drove back through the small town to return to the small 50′s style diner. As trees painted dark green across the road, your attention was brought to a banner you must’ve missed going into work that morning.

“BIKERS EAT FREE THIS WEEKEND”

That’s right, you thought, they’re coming through town on Saturday. Guess I’ll be working overtime. This was a tradition for your town, and all of the bikers that passed through it. They would come, they would eat, possible stay over a night at the motel, and leave. And every year, Malachi would beg you to come along to meet the Bikers, saying that he’ll be doing that someday. You had mixed emotions on that. You told yourself that it’d be good for him, getting out to see the world, having a good time. But one part of you didn’t want to let go. He was too good for this dirty world, too innocent. You know you’d have to let him go someday, but you were dreading it. Watching him grow up broke your heart, and he’s only seven. Granted, a mature one, but it still hurt you to think about him leaving the nest.

As soon as the truck came to a stop, Malachi eagerly unbuckled his seat belt and ran into the diner. A smile spread across your lips as you shut your door, pocketing your keys in your apron. The crowd of high schoolers had already arrived, seeing them wave to your son as he sat down on one of the stools nearest to the counter. You ruffled your hair as you passed him, tossing a sucker to occupy him in the meanwhile. As you washed your hands in the kitchen, one of your coworkers Jin sat next to Malachi to play doodle wars on some napkins with him.

“Honestly Jin, keep this up and you’ll replace me in his life.”

“Ma, don’t say that!” You chuckled as your son pouted at your words, coming back out of the kitchen to him with a milkshake in hand.

“Here you are sir. Extra cherries, just as you like it. And thank you for keeping him busy Jin.” You slid back into the kitchen after smiling at the two boys, going back to work on all the new orders.

Fridays were killers.

You entered your home with a sleeping boy in your arms, looking at your watch to check the time. 11:03.

With a sigh, you tucked Malachi into his bed, pulling the dinosaur covers up to his chin and tucking his Teddy Bear into his arms. With the switch of a nightlight and a kiss on his forehead, you were quietly closing the door to his room. Untying your apron and walking over to the couch, you kicked off your shoes and grabbed a bottle of vodka. The sound of your lighter echoed in the small and silent house, smoke from the cigarette perched between your lips curing and dancing around in the air. Who’s to say that you don’t deserve a reward for today?

You woke up to the sound of your alarm clock going off in the other room, noticing that you must’ve dozed off on the couch. With a strangled huff, you pushed yourself off of the couch that seemed unusually inviting at the moment. Looking in the mirror, you touched up some of your mascara and lipstick before quietly knowing on Malachi’s room.

“Hey kiddo, it’s time to get up if you wanna see the Bikers this morning.” In a matter of seconds the door was swung open, and the bot bolted into the bathroom to clean up with a grin. Today might not be so bad.

After you both had cleaned up, you followed an ecstatic Malachi to the truck, your steps heavy and eyelids droopy.

“What’s got you so riled up this morning?”

“I wanna see if there’s anyone I remember from last year Ma! Maybe we’ll both meet someone!” Maybe. Both. Not likely, kid.

“Ah, of course. Maybe someone will even drive you around on the back of they bike, huh?”

You smiled sleepily as you turned over the ignition and backed out of the driveway, looking up at the grey sky again. You can’t seem to remember the last time it was blue.

Parking the truck, you walked back into the familiar restaurant, the smell of coffee and bacon hitting your nose as soon as the door opened. Of course, Malachi headed straight to Jin, and you went into the back kitchen to grab your notepan.

“Long night?” You could hear Jin’s voice ask through the window from the counter.

“You know it.” Your heart felt heavy for some reason today, and your stomach felt like a maze. You blamed it on the slight hangover, but even that part of you knew that somethings else was the cause of your state today.

No long after you finished your first cup of coffee, the roaring of engines could be heard in the distance. Checking your watch, you chuckled as you clicked your pen. Right on time.

Malachi looked up from his small plate of pancakes and whipped his chair around to the entrance, where the rows and rows of motorcycles could be seen pulling into the parking lot. Even from behind, you could tell that his face brightened up as he saw one of the men he met last year. What was his name again? Jim? Josh? Jake? Whatever, he’ll remember.

“Jimin!” That’s it. The name fell from your son’s mouth as soon as the man with orange hair came through the doors. he was clad in a black leather jacket and jeans that hugged his legs in all the right ways, especially when he squatted down to capture your son in a hug.

There was going to be a lot of chatting going on between you and the other waitresses today.

“Hey Malachi!” You smiled from your spot of wiping down the counter as the man carried your son to one of the stools. “A pleasure to meet with you again as well, Ms. (L/N).” His lips turned up into a smirk, his eyes meeting yours as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand.

“Oh please Jimin, just call me (Y/N), there’s no need for formalities.” You ignored the blush on your cheeks as you pulled out your notepad to scribble down his order. “Breakfast this morning?”

His laugh floated in the air as his hand moved down to ruffle Malachi’s hair. “I’ll have an order of eggs and hashbrowns, a side of bacon, and a strawberry milkshake.”

“I never thought I’d live to see the day that a biker would drink a strawberry milkshake.” You chuckled as you slid the note into the kitchen to Jin, as you moved to get the many other people’s orders.

You looked up from your writing as you heard the sound of the bell over the door ring. You almost didn’t notice him.

Under the pink and purple florescent lights, he looked ethereal. He was clad in all black, leather gloves covering his rough hands, a leather jacket spread over his wide shoulders, black denim jeans gripping his thighs and heavy combat boots thudding with every step. His raven hair was parted just off centered, the tips of his bangs dancing with his long eyelashes. And his eyes.

Oh, those eyes.

The eyes that would make any girl drop what they’re doing and run to him.

You almost forgot about your customers.

“Thank you both, I’ll be back with your coffee in a bit.” You adverted your eyes to avoid getting caught under his gaze, eyes focused on the coffeemaker behind the counter and your head telling yourself to not trip.

“Ah, Jungkook. I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.” Jimin’s voice bounced around in your head. Jungkook, you thought. “Allow me to introduce these two. This is Malachi, a soon-to-be member, and his beautiful mother, (Y/N) (L/N).” You laughed as you heard a quiet ew come from Malachi, and turned to face the three men.

“Nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“As to you, Miss.” His voice was as smooth as honey, flowing from his mouth in soothing waves. You didn’t plan for this much to happen. You were just here for the tips.

“Nice to meet ya sir!” Malachi held his hand out to the man, grinning even wider when he shook it.

“Nice to meet you as well, Malachi.” You walked off to deliver the two waiting men their coffee, and took a few more orders to turn in to the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, you made your way back to Jungkook.

“I’m sorry for the wait, but what can I get you?”

“It’s fine baby, and for starters can I get -”

Holy fuck he called me baby what is happening-

“-a chocolate milkshake?”

“Of course, just one minute.”

Today will definitely be a good day.

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

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sad boys | two

Member: Jeon Jungkook x Reader x Park Jimin

Genre: Heavy angst, maybe a bit of fluff? Rebel Jungkook, Fuck Buddy Jimin, Soulmate AU

Word Count: 2,500

A/N: SORRY FOR MY INACTIVITY! My school just started up and let’s just say my mental health hasn’t been the best recently. But thank you all for the likes!

*Italics in this is a flashback

They were everywhere. Roses, glass, roses, glass, roses, glass. Him. Bushes of white roses were trapping you, the windows on his quaint little house taunting you, the reflections laughing at you. You stumbled up, grabbing for your throbbing head, making your way down the porch steps. Everything was spinning, screaming, laughing, and you couldn’t grip what was reality. A figure rushed to you, garbled words not registering into your brain. You had guessed it was Jimin, but you waved him off, shaking your head as you stumbled your way to the sidewalk. Your head turned, ears popping, and the boy was staring at you. Clear as day. No blurred lines, no screaming voices. His sad eyes stared at you, widening the slightest. He snapped his head away, staring at the ground. The voices slithered into your head again, and away you walked.

You made your way home, crouching on the front lawn, trying the make the voices seize. You sat there, cradling yourself, images shooting through your head. You couldn’t take it. It felt like wind was stripping your skin away, yet there was nothing but a calm breeze. It felt like the sun was burning your bones, scorching you from the inside out, but the sun was calmly setting. Everything was spinning, screeching, but in reality it was a mask of suburbia.

A hand shoved its was through your flying surroundings, then everything stopped. Your hands were inching away from your head, and your eyes focused on the inked hand of the boy. A cigarette was hanging between his lips, a flush on his cheeks, and two bottles of fifteen dollar whiskey in his hands. He really was trying. Before you knew it, he was helping you onto the roof of his house, half a bottle already down your throats. His cigarette was between your lips, the lipstick staining the shitty filter. His back was against the shingles, shirt raised up a bit, scars and scabs on his stomach showing. He was completely shattered.

He was a fucked up piece of shit. He knew it, you knew it, everyone probably knew it. There were burns of little circles running up and down his arms, scars on every inch of his body. His hands were giant, tough and callused, yet still so beautiful. His veins were twisting over his arms, dancing under the skin, making murals. His face was so worn, so knowledgeable, and his eyes look like he’s seen everything you’d never want to. But his skin was so soft, so clear, like a baby. He was only a child in a man’s body, his thoughts contradicting to his actions. He wasn’t okay. You knew if anyone asked, his fake smile would fall onto his lips, not reaching his dead eyes, and new scars making their way onto his hips. He would smile and nod, because people like him were always the best liars. People like both of you.

The liquor was burning your throat, but the relief of booze was washing over you. Heat ran over your body, and the warm buzz made you feel safe. You almost didn’t hear him speak.

“Daddy’s gone, mommy issues, copes with smokes and whiskey. Y’know kid, you’re kinda like me.” His voice shocks you, the silky sound falling freely from his lips. he sounded like he knew what he was going to say at all times, no hesitation present in his voice at all. You didn’t expect him to sound so much like sweet honey, you expected something like sandpaper, the constant smoke of cigarettes wearing and tearing on his throat. Even your voice had rough edges and cracks every once in a while. He sounded like someone who could lull you to sleep in an instant, no matter the situation. What also shocked you was that he saw right through you.

“How did you…?”

A small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes placed itself on his face. “Your eyes tell a story.” When was he looking at my eyes? “You aren’t okay. People are terrible for thinking you are.” Okay, so he was more observant than you thought. You didn’t know what you were doing. Sitting on your soulmate’s roof, chugging whiskey, not having any intent of touching on the fragile subject.

“You’re dead.” You could see his slightly puzzled look from the corner of your eyes, and you had to admit, it wasn’t the best choice of words. “I mean you were. In your past life. You stabbed your throat with a mirror and made me watch.” As the words left your mouth, more and more images crashed into your mind, drowning out anything else. Your head fell to your hands, your fingers curling around your hair, tugging at the roots. You didn’t know how to cope. How could he? He was the one who put you through this. He killed himself. And you hated how terrible it made you feel. You didn’t know him.

No one did.

In an instant you were pulled into his arms, scarred and inked. You didn’t realize that you were shaking, and that silent sobs were racking through your body. how did you have this level of attachment to a boy you just met? You hadn’t cried this hard ever. Not even when you walked in on your mom tying a noose.

His burnt hands caressed your tear doused cheeks, rough finger pads wiping your tears away. He was enough to make you feel safe, enough to get you to quiet down with the small shushes he gave you. his lips were pressed against your temple, softer than flower petals. Your eyes were screwed shuts, your hands holding his collar with a vice grip. you had no idea where this tidal wave of emotion came from, but it felt so good to have someone to hold onto. Arms that would hold you tight, a shoulder to cry on, and lips that would kiss the pain away. You felt like every part of you just ran to him, letting yourself get encased by his being. He held you on his lap for god knows how long, to the point where the only light source was the sliver of a moon and the billions of stars. His heart beat was soothing, the pace never changing, and the rise and fall of his chest was carrying you away from the world, letting you sleep. He laid down, keeping you on his chest, singing with the voice of an angel. it was quiet, almost silent, some words cracking from the strain on his voice, but it was absolutely perfect.

If I told you that I loved you

Tell me, what would you say?

If I told you that I hated you

Would you go away?

Now I need your help with everything that I do

I don’t wanna lie, I’ve been relying on you.

Fallin’ again, I need a pick-me-up

I’ve been callin’ you friend, I might need to give it up

I’m sick, and I’m tired too

I can admit, I am not fire-proof…

That’s all you heard from there on, sleep taking over your body. That was the best sleep of your life.

You woke up in a unfamiliar bed, in unfamiliar clothes, but a hangover that you’ve gotten used to. The floorboards were glossed over, the walls were light blue, the sheets matched, and nothing looked like complete shit. You were curled up in something that felt so luxurious, when only then did you notice it was a comforter and the arms of the boy. I don’t even know his name and he knows everything about me. Jimin doesn’t know this shit. You had dreamt of the boy, but only more pure. A real boy. No scars, no black lungs, no fucked up liver, no sadness. The morning light shone on him, and he looked so innocent. You two were walking down a gravel road, you with a scraped knee, and sticks in both of your hands as you swatted at rocks. You two looked so young.

“Hey look! A toad!”

It was a bright, sunny morning in the small town you both lived in. You had discovered this little boy, with raven black hair and wide eyes while you were chasing after a butterfly a few months ago. He had the purest of faces, his eyes hidden from the rest of the world for his entire life. He had a yellow shirt on today, now covered in mud from your explorations, and overalls covering his legs. His new blue suede shoes got scuffed and dirty, but nothing a little rub from your shirt couldn’t fix. You Had a pale pink tee-shirt on, blue jeans, and old white tennis shoes on your feet. he hadn’t met a girl like you before - daring, fun, boyish. he was used to seeing girls with pigtails and pink bows, Mary Janes and white socks with little bows on them, and a pink dress. They would scream if he brought a worm near them, and would rather play house in the loft than blocks with him and his friends. You through, you were quite the sight to him. You weren’t afraid to get muddy, you would put bugs on your nose, and you would jump into the puddles with your hand in his. He liked to think about your long hair that covered your eyes, and the loud laugh that left your lips when you tripped.

He had walked all the way down the road to see you today, the two of you venturing off to swim in your pond. His lab was trailing behind you two, too caught up in trying to eat flies to keep up. You both made it there, hopping through the tall grass and throwing off your shoes and socks, jumping right into the muddy water. Little fish nipped at your toes while frogs hopped over to see what all the commotion was, and turtles poked their heads out of the water to watch the young lovers play. Neither of you knew what soulmates were, neither of you knew that it was even possible, and neither of you thought it was possible to love the other. You both thought that love was “icky” and “gross”, and if any of the girls teased you two at school, you’d both pout ad say that, “Ewwww! That’s gross!” You two were just best friends, and you thought everyone felt like you did towards each other. You would say that every boy had cooties, except him. If he kissed you on your mud-covered cheek, you would break out into a gigantic grin and giggle. When you hugged him every time you saw him, his heart would beat faster and louder, and his smile would shine brighter than the sun.

You both walked back to his house, his mother laughing when he saw how muddy the two of you were. She cleaned you both up, and sent him to walk you back home. You got to your front porch, smiling when you turned to face him with his head down, toeing the walkway with his shoes. Before you could say anything, his head shot up and pressed his lips against yours. You both stood there, hand in hand, cheeks as red as the poppies in the pots on the edge of your porch. He broke away and placed a white rose in your hair, the thorns all gone from his nervous fidgeting.

“I saw mommy and daddy do that yesterday. They said people who love each other do that.”

Your arms pulled him to you, your face hiding in his hair. Your muffled voice made you both grin wider than every before:

“I love you Kookie.”

“I love you too (Y/N).”

You were brought back to reality with tears in your eyes, streams already down the sides of your face, falling onto the shirt that belonged to him. You wondered why he had a life like this now, what he did to deserve any of this.

“Kookie.”

You voice was broken and careful, the sound barely making it’s way out of your throat. That was the first life you had ever lived. And obviously the best.

His eyes shot wide open, the orbs almost looking the same as your past life. Almost. Sadness never fades.

His words seemed to be caught in his throat, and instead of saying anything else, he crashed his lips on yours, holding you tighter against him. you felt a drop of wetness against your cheek, and your hands flew up to his face.

You broke away from him, cradling his beautiful face in your shaking hands. “Please don’t cry.” His words came out as a shattered whisper, the sound only making you cry more.

You both stayed like that into the afternoon, his hands running up and down your glass figure. He made you feel all these things, and you didn’t know if it was real or not. You were a flower, fragile and soft, beautiful if cared for. But in a single touch, you could break and wilt, and everyone loses interest in you. You were long gone by now, you had nothing that made you, you. You were a shell of a person, empty, with nothing left. You had skin and bones, but nothing that made you special. Then he came, filling you up to the brim with all these things that you didn’t know were even possible. Happiness? You didn’t know that. A will to live? Passion? Love? He made you his, he made you your own person. You were no longer an empty object with two legs and an occasionally working brain, you were you. (Y/N) (L/N). You hadn’t loved your name as much as you did now. You didn’t know how you felt about all these things, you didn’t know how you felt about him. One look at him and your voice is long gone, tears already welling up in your porcelain eyes.

Your hands traced his scarred arms and legs, feeling the gauze taped onto his thighs, the scabbed cuts on his waist. Tears stormed down your face, waves and waves, silent cries leaving your lips that felt so nice, memories of his covering yours like a blanket, keeping you safe from the outside world. His hands were moving to your sides, your thighs, feeling the band-aids placed everywhere. He could already feel them on you ankle, and his face softened. You weren’t aware of the fact that he was indeed awake until his finger pressed roughly against a too fresh wound. A dry cry left you, your fingers gripping onto his skin, the feeling of blood making its way from the bandage.

“Don’t ever let me catch you with more of these.”

He kissed you like you were his world, his everything and nothing, his rise and his fall.

And you were.

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

Text

I have no fucking words. At this point I’ve given up theY’RE JUST THROWING CURVE BALLS IDK WHAT’S HAPPENING

I’m still thinking that the girls are either their conscious of their opposite, their memories of them, or they just remind them of the other so much they have to help them.

I know something’s up with Tae since he’s chillin with the girl and doing graffiti with her, like Namjoon did. He gave himself up for her so that he could be protecting Namjoon’s memory in a way? And Namjoon… I think he’s just giving the girl a real hairtie. That’s something he would do.

I’m still thinking the same with Hobi and Jimin, the girl is just a memory of Jimin/represents the same amount of importance in his life.

There’s obviously some deep shit happening with Yoongi and Jungkook. Jungkook is at the hospital, presumably from the car incident. Yoongi’s girl is with him at their apartment, and she stops him from smoking by giving him the sucker. He takes it. The girl then moves on to preform at the hospital where Jungkook is staying, and he recognizes the lighter tied to her guitar. Memories of him playing the piano with Yoongi flooded into his head. I’m guessing the girl told Yoongi about Jungkook or something, because he moves on to push the girl away from him. Just like he did with Jungkook.

Now Jin is the center of this all, BUT I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT’S GOING OM WITH HIM. DEATHNOTE THEORIES ARE BETTER THAN MINE. He sees the girl at the railroad crossing, and she jogs over to pass. She drops her notebook, but he doesn’t return it to her. Her side of the railroad gates lifted, but his never did. Later on in the year (or quite possibly the year before), he’s driving his car on the busy streets. He looks fine until his face contorts, and he quickly flinches. I’m guessing it was the year before, and he hit Jungkook. Fast forward one year and he’s waiting for his girl on the other side, who gets hit by crossing the road. His reaction is almost the same as the scene in run, where his head tilted as he saw something. He may have thought back to the moment he hit Jungkook.

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

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it doesnt take much for a heart to break

but i guess youd know all about that

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

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IM SO DONE I’VE WATCHED THIS ALL DAY TRYING TO COLLECT THINGS AND I FOUND ANOTHER

SO Hobi’s girl fell the same time Jimin did right? Makes you think “oh maybe they’re somehow connected”

And when Hobi was in the rain with his girl, his hair was dry.

Jimin’s and the girl’s was wet even though Jimin had an umbrella because the girl is Hobi’s memory of Jimin/she represents him in Hobi’s life. He’s doing everything in his power to keep the girl safe because he’d feel like he’s doing Jimin wrong if he didn’t.

This probably doesn’t make sense don’t listen to me

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

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Y'all. Jin is driving a black car instead of his usual truck in this. In this scene his face kept contorting, and he flinched in an instant. He hit Jungkook.

#Jin #bts Jin #bts seokjin #kim seokjin #Jungkook #bts Jungkook #bts Jeon Jungkook #Jeon Jungkook #bts kim seokjin #Jungkook au #Jin au #bts au #bts scenarios #bts jin scenario #bts jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jin scenarios #seokjin scenarios

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

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Y'know I was so happy and this hurts like leT THEM BE TOGETHER BIGHIT ISTFG IM THROWING HANDS THEY BETTER FUCKIN FIGHT ME

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

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just remember babydoll,

this world is fucked up

and nothing ever goes as planned.

#yoongi #yoongi angst #bts yoongi #yoongi au #bts yoongi au #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #bts suga #bts min yoongi #min yoongi #bts yoongi scenario #bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan boys yoongi #bangtan boys suga

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

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Yoongi with cigarettes was my fantasy and holy fuck my life is complete I want nothing more don't touch me I'm happy for once Jesus shit-

#yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #bts #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #suga #bts suga #bts min suga #bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan boys yoongi

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

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sad boys | one

Member: Jeon Jungkook x Reader x Park Jimin

Genre: Heavy angst, smut, Rebel Jungkook, Fuck Buddy Jimin, Soulmate AU

Word Count: 3,691

A/N: AHHHH THANK YOU ALL FOR 200 FOLLOWERSSS (idk how i got here without smut LMAO) AS A THANK YOU I decided to attempt to write what is probs really bad: SMUT. If this turns out well, you guys can request for more it’s up to you BUT ANYWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCHHHH

*Italics is foresight.

You were nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing but a parasite in a greater hold.

You were worthless.

You weren’t welcome here, slipping your boots on to wander. Wander off to hiding spot number 134. The railroad. You met your father only once. Your mother raised you poorly. You felt shipwrecked, stranded, folded out over the waves of water. Your feet took you away from the mother, passed out drunk with a stale cigarette in her fingers. They took you away from the fucked up house with the creaky floorboards on the porch, the nails stabbing out from beneath you. The night was unholy around you, the black swallowing everything on the streets. The dim lights were emitting a warm hue, shielding you from the monsters of the dark. Your eyes flickered around you, fingers twitching around the knife in your fingers. The boy. He came. And you swore you saw him blur around the edges, his mind tangled with yours.

Neither of you knew the others’ name. He was the boy, you were the girl. No words were exchanged, splashes of beer replacing the unknown voice of the boy. The static silence, the one everyone wishes for, was found instantaneously. You found yourself running after him, his black clothes hiding him from your eyes. Your teary eyes. Again. Blurred on the edges.

You shot up in your bed, eyes wide with cold sweat running down your face. You were met with the same room, dirty white walls with peeling paint, splintering floor covered in towels to prevent having to pull wood out from your feet in the bathroom. A single dresser with mismatching drawers, and a makeshift desk you threw together with plywood. You slid out from the old patchwork quilt you had over you and picked up your phone from the ground, looking at the digital time glowing on the screen. 3:32 AM. You knew you shouldn’t have tried to sleep. The dreams had been coming in since you were fourteen, the man in them seemingly haunting you ever since. You had heard of the stories of soulmates, the single item showing up in all your dreams, pulling you two together.

There were two stages in the whole “Soulmate” idea. The first was the dreams. They started when the both of you started to mature, learning in on the ideas, storing away the facts, pondering the possibilities. Thinking of how your past life was, if you ever met them before, how you died. You would start to get anxious, question if anything was true, if it was all a fairytail people told, a bedtime story for imaginative little kids. No one could ever remember their full dreams, the events staying in their world were everything was better. You started pulling out key details, things that would show up every time you closed your eyes, and you sketched them on your wall. But you quit sleeping at night. The dreams started haunting you, following you around, appearing in every minuscule thing you did every day. Last night had been the first time you had tried to sleep at night for months.

Entering the bathroom, you looked at yourself in the cracked mirror. Still as fucked up as ever, you thought. You shed your clothes, letting them fall to your feet, stepping out from them and slowly getting into the shower. The curtains were grimy and covered in god knows what, but you couldn’t bother to clean it. You started the water, the slow stream of cold hitting you like a bullet. There was no warm water - as per usual. You guessed you mother stayed up at some point to waste it on herself, thoughts of her head floating under, darkness enclosing her, stealing her warmth away ran through her head.

From fucked up parents come fucked up kids.

You ran your hands through your hair, feeling the water run down your arms like blood from wounds. The second stage of the soulmate thing was death. Cheerful, right? The story goes, you have to die before getting your memories of a past life. Pretty obvious. But, it made sense. Things would pop up, kind of like special items. For example, your friend Hoseok had been getting visions of Mr. Goodbars for quite some time. He found his soulmate at a gas station with her arms full of bars. His memories flooded back to him that night, and he spent an entire week looking for that girl. She got her memories back a few days later, and she went looking for him too. He found her eating one of the bars on a park bench, and a happy reunion went on between them. But you hadn’t had jack shit so far. You had seen few repetitive things here and there, but they all ended up staying away from your mind after a while. Either you were bad at this, or your soulmate just couldn’t pick something and stay with it.

You jumped out from the small space of the shower after being hit with deathly cold shivers. You wrapped a ripped towel around you after drying off and got ready for the day. It was any normal day of the week; way up way too early, shower, do makeup, attempt to find something to do to kill time before school, and get out of the house without your mother seeing you. You finished getting ready and climbed down the side of your house, the sole of your boots making a quiet thump in the dewy grass. The sun was still hiding away from the town’s eyes, gracing some other country with it’s annoyingly bright rays. You slid your phone out and checked the time again. 4:46. Better. You slid your key into your old pickup, named Fucker, for never working. After about twenty times, the ignition finally started and the rusty thing purred to life. You slid out of the driveway and down the streets, your eyes grazing over every little thing. You noticed one thing - the For Sale sign wasn’t hanging in Mr and Mrs Johnson’s rickety old place anymore. Keep that in mind, you told yourself. You drove down the road, parking outside of Jimin’s house. He was your childhood friend… And occasional fuck buddy. You were fine with it, you didn’t have anything else to do. But you had to admit, it was really confusing. Everyone was right - friends with benefits never work out.

You laid down over the passenger seats and kicked your feet out the window, letting the radio spill songs that swam through the air and graced your ears. You pulled out your phone again and called up Jimin, telling him you were waiting for him by the corner. He made his way out from his house slipping on a shirt, his bangs sticking to his forehead sweat. You swept your legs back down to the floor of the truck, scooting over so he could drive. He stepped in and leaned his head against the back of the seat, heaving a sigh.

“Bad dream?” You said with a hint of playfulness in your voice, glancing at his disheveled state; crumpled, ripped shirt and tight jeans that he hadn’t bothered to button, sex hair and sweat dripping down the side of his face. He let out a breathy laugh, his Adam’s Apple bobbing.

His head lolled over to look at his, his pupils blown wide. From the darkness, from you, you didn’t know and didn’t care. He looked sexy as all hell. He laughed again at the sight of your legs crossing from his intense gaze. “If you call fucking you senseless on your kitchen counter a bad dream, than it was a fucking nightmare.” He sat up, his hand curling around the stick shift and shoving the truck into gear. His foot floored the gas pedal, speeding off to your favorite clearing in the woods. The clearing where you first met him, swinging at the air with a stick while on an old swing. A swing that you grew up on, had fun on, had sex on. You felt bad for that poor old thing.

His right hand was gripping your thigh, smoothing over the folding denim of your jeans. You melted under his touch, he had complete control over you. You should’ve hated it, you knew it, you wanted to show that you still had control over one of your brains, but you knew you didn’t. And you fucking loved it. With two taps of his finger, your legs spread apart, the muscles of your thighs tightening, your core enclosing around nothing. The radio was still blasting, and Jimin took his foot off of the gas. By the time the truck was at a stop, his hands gripped your waist and pulled you to his lap, lips crashing against each other. His hands were running up and down your back, his cold fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your tongues were clashing, fighting for their territory, a battle of which he immediately won. Your fingers were curling around his shirt, tugging it over his head. He chuckled at your impatient actions, the sound sending a wave of heat that rippled down your body, eliciting a soft whimper from your lips. You were desperate, ad he tugged you closer - but it seemed like he couldn’t get you close enough. You both needed more.

You both split, and the air was rushed into your lungs, but he pulled you down again, moaning into your mouth. His hand gripped the back of your neck, the other clutching onto your breasts. His hand slipped under your shirt, his nimble fingers playing with the sensitive bud, pinching and rolling it between his index finger and thumb. You could feel him against your leg, sending shivers down your spine. His hand flew from your neck to your legs, growling at your choice of clothing for the night. “Fishnets and shorts, but no panties? You should’ve thought about that babygirl, now you’ll be walking around with my cum dripping down your legs.” his voice was deep and gravely, the sound sending chills throughout your body, making you even more wet. His fingers danced over the damp patch of your denim shorts, before roughly pressing the material onto your clit.

He chuckled and shushed you as you cried out from the feeling, pressing a finger to your lips. “Shhh, be any louder and the entire town will wake up baby.” He helped you shimmy out of your shorts, ripping an even bigger hold in your tights. His thumb went back to your clit, sliding two fingers into you. He smiled at the sounds that came from you, as he slipped your shirt off and expertly unclasped your bra. He stilled his motions and sat back, looking at you sitting on his lap. Just for him.

You were his.

He bit down onto his swollen bottom lip, moaning at the sight of you. “God, you’re such a good girl for me.” His lips attached to your neck as he pulled his pants to the middle of his thighs, bringing you closer to him. His fingers started their doings again, shoving knuckle deep into you. He was sucking on your neck, your collarbones, leaving a trail of his marks everywhere his mouth touched. The coil in your stomach was winding tighter and tighter, his movements slowing as he felt you tightening around him.

“J-Jimin, fuck, I-I’m gonna-” Your sentence was cut short by his lips on yours, but the absence of his fingers left you feeling empty. But before you could do anything more, you were met with the feeling of him deep inside you, wasting no time. Your hands were pressed against his chest, balling into fists, trying to find something to cope with from the immense and unimaginable pleasure he was giving you. He grit his teeth, his jaw tightening as a moan fell from his plump lips. He gripped your waist, helping you move up and down. There were bound to be bruises of his hands on your waist later that day.

Not matter what the occasion, the issue, anything - Jimin always seemed to be able to mark you as his. His mark was left on your soul, and there was no way to change that. A ghost of his touch would have you shaking, trying to clutch onto something of him, to get him back to you. he had such a big effect on you, but you knew. You knew he wasn’t the boy. And it hurt.

He was raising his hips to meet with you, snapping them up, reaching all the perfect spots in you. He re-positioned his hand, pressing his thumb against you, moving it in circles. You were already on the edge, but that shoved you over it and you landed in a pit of pure euphoria. Your mouth fell open, jaw slack, but nothing except the quiet pleas of his name escaped your throat. His hips sputtered as he watched you, a loud moan leaving his lips, as your name rolled off his tongue countless times. Sliding out of you, he watched as his cum ran down your thighs, a groan coming from him. He pulled your head down, holding it against his chest. His hand instinctively wrapped around your waist, protecting you from anything else. His other hand went to your hair, stroking it soothingly as he pressed a kiss to your head. “You’re perfect (Y/N)… Absolutely perfect.” He laid his shirt over you, covering you away from the world.

You smiled up at him, pressing one last kiss to his jawline before slipping away into the best sleep you’ve ever had.

You awoke in the middle of the day, wrapped up in Jimin’s arms. The radio was quieter now, soothing music flowing out from it. It looked to be about mid-day, the sun shining through the leaves on the trees. You quickly sat up, reaching for your clothes and pulling them on. Your hurried movements stirred Jimin in his sleep, his grip loosening around you.

“Baby? What’s wrong? Why are you in such a hurry?” His voice was deep and husky, teasing you even more. Before he could pull you back down to him, you sat on his lap, kicking the car into drive.

“If my mom’s awake my ass is toast,” you said, speeding out to the town roads. “Last time she burned her cigarette out on my eyelid. I don’t know why she give a fuck anymore.” You slowed down when you neared his house, leaning over and kissing his neck one last time. His eyebrows furrowed, his hand grasping yours.

“Babygirl… I’m worried for you. You don’t deserve the shit your mom puts you through. God, I’ll fucking kill her if she lays a hand on you today…” There was a look in his eyes, one that told you - he wasn’t lying. His gaze hardened, glaring at nothing in particular. Your hand rested on his thigh, looking at him.

“Jimin, it’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.” You weakly smiled at him, unlocking the doors for him. “Now get out before she really does hurt me.” You smiled and kissed his cheek, watching as he slipped away into his house. Your eyes glanced back to Mrs. Johnson’s old house, a moving truck sitting outside. Boxes were sitting on the curb and on the sidewalk, the stairs being taken over by a couch and a boy, clad in black jeans and white shirt, sitting on his phone with earbuds in. He had some tattoos scattered around his body, piercings gleaming in the sun. He must’ve been a senior, looking a few years younger than Jimin. You wondered why anyone would transfer to this shithole of a town when they only had a year of high school left. His sleeves were rolled up, his forehead doused in sweat, his shirt collar damp from hauling boxes under the summer rays. He hoisted himself up and slipped his phone into his pocket, muscles flexing against the weight of a box. His eyes trailing towards your figure sitting in the truck. Your hand flew to the stick shift, gunning it into gear. You sped around the corner, circling the block to get home. You pulled into the driveway, putting it into park and switching off the key. It was eleven by now, and you knew you were gonna have to get your own lunch rather than having your mother cook. Her car wasn’t in the driveway, so you figured she was either one, day drinking, or two, going out to fuck another piece of trash. With your head resting against the back seat, you looked around you. You had grown up in this small, boring town, your being doing nothing to make it more interesting. You wanted to get out of here so much, but you always told yourself: Two more years.

You backed out of the driveway again, passing the new boy’s house on the way to the grocery store. To your surprise, the familiar stance of Jimin was standing next to the boy on the steps. Pulling up behind the moving truck, you rolled down the passenger’s window and peeled your head out. “Jimin? You know the new guy?” Both of their heads turned to you and your jaw almost visibly dropped. He’s fucking gorgeous. They both are. A smile graced Jimin’s lips as he briefly turned and said something to the boy, and jogged over to you. He was sweaty again, and images of this morning’s antics flooded into your mind. You cursed your legs for crossing.

“Yeah, I do now. But what are you doing here baby?” He leaned in through the window and rested on his elbows, one of his hands running through his hair.

“I was just running to Jeff’s to get some chicken. Want me to bring you two some?” He smiled, his cheeks raising into his eyes and turning them into those adorable little crescents. The boy came back up, his gaze magnetized by yours. His eyes were deep, dark. Sad. People say that eyes tell all the secrets - his showed none. Nothing but a deep dark abyss, pulling you in farther than you would like. He was the sad boy; the one with daddy issues, who’s momma left after he was born, and copes by chain smoking and drinking. Scars on his back from his father’s belt. He looked like that type of mess. He wasn’t a person. He was a bomb, ready to self-destruct at the push of his button, hidden behind his left ribs. His hands were resting at his sides, fists clenched, knuckles scarred. Burns were scattered all over him, the butts of cigarettes leaving their imprints on his body, skin stretching over him like the most expensive canvas. He was a Mona Lisa in himself. A mystery.

Jimin didn’t catch your entrancement in this boy’s deep orbs, so he turned nodding, saying to get a sixteen piece box. A hard smile spread over your lips, eyes ripping themselves away to look at the road.

He was his own secret.

You found yourself sitting on the boy’s front porch, a bucket of chicken on the steps in front of you, and two boys playing football in the lawn. For once in your life, you felt like you belonged somewhere. Somewhere where no one was dragging you down, where they’re drowning and pulling you down with them. Now, you were floating, because someone was stable enough to throw out a life preserver.

He didn’t have a name. Or, to you he didn’t. He looked like someone so pained, that they couldn’t bother letting another person into their life. You didn’t think Jimin knew it either, because he said nothing of it at the truck. You mind was getting fuzzy, like in your dreams, everything disappearing around the edges. The boy looked clean cut though, like he was really the person with the rope, pulling you out from the raging waters of self-destruction. The ink in his skin etched out his story, a book written on his worn pages. Pictures of black lungs, skeletons and whiskey, knives and guns. You had two favorites so far - one, a man in a box, holding his knees to his chest, pulling the trigger against his head. A bouquet of flowers came from his opposite temple. The other, much more simple. A dotted line with a small pair of scissors running across his carotid artery. A sad boy, indeed. You wondered how much more art his body held.

It hit you without any warnings.

Pictures flashed through your mind, clawing at you. Withered white roses laying on the ground, a shattered mirror, and the boy’s bloody face, laying in your lap, with a piece of glass protruding through his throat. His figure was fading, blurred, a smile spread over his lips as his smile was directed up to you. A smile you didn’t know was capable from such a broken person. Your hand in his, swallowing it and the only blooming rose in the room, stained by the blood laying around you. That was it. Your past life came to you.

And the boy in front of you was your soulmate.

Hiding problems was no big feat for you, so your face stayed straight throughout the episode, hands shaking. It was all too much, too fast. You felt like you were supposed to crawl way and hide in bed, cradling yourself until the sobs racking through your body stopped, and you could breathe without a tear running down your cheek. But you sat, with that stupid chicken, on a stupid porch, watching stupid boys, in a stupid town, on a stupid planet that wasn’t ever supposed to happen. And you stayed silent, because you were too scared to do anything. You were shivering in this summer sun, the picture on him laying on your lap haunting you.

No one noticed.

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

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SORRY GUYS T~T

Okay I have two works in the making but I'm going on a five day vacation and Lord knows that hotel wifi is a shit show in itself. Sorry again...😫

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

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Just Work Stuff

Member: Jeon Jungkook

Genre: Fluff (OMG NOT ANGST FOR ONCE), humor, Fashion Worker!Jungkook

AU: “You’re older than me and a lot more professional and mature but you can’t help but laugh at my terribly childish jokes.”

Word Count: 2,529 sorry for any mistakes this is unedited

A/N: BRUHHHH NO ANGST IT’S A MIRACLE!!! I was gonna do a secretary/business man one, but nope, I did this instead. Hope y’all like it!

Another day, another five coffees, another smug co-worker, and more stupid immature jokes. Besides the fact that someday you’ll probably die from too much caffeine intake, you kinda looked forward to work. Well... More of a certain someone at the office.

Your shoulders were hunched as you walked into the enormous building, clutching onto your black coffee for warmth. Your heeled boots clicked on the marble as you made your way to the gates, swiping your company card to get through. With your face buried in your knit scarf, you entered the elevator and pressed your floor. You cherished these quiet rides, having to do nothing for a single minute. The rest of the day you were rushing around, fishing out outfits for the models, going to bougie shops to pick up orders, reading and re-reading and re-re-reading through important emails for the boss. But the second those double doors dinged and opened, you were met with pure chaos. There was an important fashion show happening at the end of the week, which meant everything had to be absolutely perfect or else quite a few people would be getting fired. People were already scurrying in front of you, trying desperately to hold onto the mounds of files, dressed, shoes, and coffee cups in their hands without dropping anything. Walking to your desk, you were accompanied by one of your best friends in the office - Jung Hoseok. He was probably the heartthrob of the company, and everyone loved him. To be honest, what wasn’t to like about him? He was perfect. He even substituted for models more times tan you could count, but he insisted to stay cooped up in his desk so he wouldn’t have to miss the office rush.

“How many do you think will be gone this week? Five? Ten?” He took a sip of his coffee and ran a hand through his perfectly styled messy hair, his usual smile on his face.

“Hopefully, none. We’ll be okay if we do everything right.” Hoseok was much older than you, him being in his late twenties while you were only twenty-three. You were an intelligent intellectual, getting into prestigious colleges early on, and graduating as the youngest in the class. people were shocked when you walked in one day, seeing your age on your resume, and your name being the topic in any whispers. The boss loved you, hired you, and had you working the next day. It was strange at first, having to get used to the age gap. But you were considered a comedian, your college humor cracking everyone up.

He chuckled, helping you out of your long black coat. “If. That’s the catch.” He hung it up on the coat rack next to your desk, sitting himself on the top. “So what’s today’s plans?” Hoseok was your equal, both of you being the dynamic duo of the office. You two would work on everything together, from helping the models at shows to just getting paperwork done. Both of your desks were sat on either side of the entrance to the boss’s office, so you two were - thankfully - together for the whole day.

Wrapping your yellow scarf around your chair, you checked your notepad. “Outfit help now, confirmation with the boss after, getting a new shipment from Versace, Gucci and Yves Saint Laurent at the meeting place. After that we have a giant dinner meeting with some other companies. Can you go to that, though? I thought you said something about going out with your family?” Hoseok had two kids and a beautiful wife, and they were quite possibly the most adorable family you had ever seen.

His eyes widened. “Holy fuck, I do. God, shit, ugh, do I have to cancel on them?” You knew how much he loved his family, and the thought of having to cancel on them hurt both of your hearts.

You smiled and laughed, hitting his shoulder. “I’ll take notes, go be a dad. Now c’mon, we all know how sad Tae gets if we aren’t there to help him pick out his Gucci.” We both laughed as we sped through the building, making our was to the exquisite storage room paced with the newest lines.

“(Y/N)!!!!!! HOBI!!!” The deep baritone voice of Kim Taehyung caught your attention, his tall figure slithering his way over to you. “I thought you two were gonna leave me.” He playfully pouted as he crushed both of you into a hug. Taehyung was a world renown model, envied by all. You knew how privileged you were to even be in his presence at this moment, but to you, he was just another close friend. “Now, hurry hurry hurry I need your opinions!” He grabbed both of your hands and pulled you over to his... Expansive... Collection of clothing. You noticed some of the representatives from other companies here with their respective models, but you couldn’t help but stare at one in particular. He should’ve been a model too. But before you could get too deeply into fantasizing about him, Taehyung pulled you from your thoughts. “(Y/N)’s got a crushhhhh~”

You learned a lot in college, and one thing was being able to hide your emotions. “I have a crush on a painting? I thought that was you, Mr. ‘I’m going to drag (Y/N) to a museum just to look at Van Gogh’s paintings’. Because I’m staring at that.” You jabbed your thumb in the direction of the painting next to the man you were staring at.

He chuckled and turned back to Hobi, teasing you in a sing song voice. “Say what you want, but I saw you were staring at him~. His name is Jungkook. You’ll be seeing him at your meeting tonight.” How does he know all this? I never told him anything? You rolled your eyes, scanning over the huge rack of clothes to take the man off your mind, uttering a quiet ‘whatever’. You could feel eyes on you. You could just sense it. And your whole being was just praying that Jungkook didn’t catch you. You sat down on a chair, dragging it over to your two friends. Your coffee was finished, and Taehyung had left to change into his rehearsal outfit.

By the time the run through was over, you could still feel someone’s eyes on you. Your boss, Mr. Kim Seokjin had sat with you during the pre show, so you and Hobi now had time to talk with the other models and reps. As if on cue, Taehyung came over with Jungkook and his model. You acted as if you didn’t notice, continuing to read through the notes Mr. Kim had you write down. At the sound of Taehyung’s forced cough, your eyes shot up, forcing a smile onto your lips.

“(Y/N), This is Jeon Jungkook, and his model Park Jimin.” Both of the men were insanely handsome, and you graciously accepted their hands.

“(Y/N) (L/N).” You shook their hands, noticing how long Jungkook’s dark eyes lingered on you.

Tae must’ve noticed as well, so he cut through the silence and took matters into his own hands. “Jungkook here is the heir to his family’s throne. He’s known Jimin his whole life, and their company is very successful.” A buzzer rang over the speakers ahead, indicating that it was time to pack up everyone’s shit as fast as possible so they could continue preparing. Tae was called over somewhere else, as well as Jimin.

In all of the rushing bodies, Jungkook’s gaze was still locked on yours. “I’ll be seeing you tonight at the dinner then?”

Your words faltered the slightest, but you quickly regained yourself. “U-um, yes sir.”

He chuckled, sliding a card into your palm as you both shook hands again. “You make me sound old, please, just call me Jungkook.”

You smiled, knowing he was still much older than you, but you complied nonetheless. “Of course, Jungkook. I’ll see you tonight.”

You parted ways, trying to ignore how your pulse was throbbing in your ears.

You and Hobi had returned from picking up the shipment, and the boss had let you both off early. He bid you farewell with a wave of his hand as he stepped into a taxi. “Have fun with your family!” You could hear his laugh from inside the taxi as he waved again. You made your way down the streets smiling, walking to your apartment. Your mind was drifting back to the Jungkook guy, your thoughts tangling with the state of reality. You could see him on everyone’s faces, reflecting in every shop window, and you couldn’t seem to understand why. Sure, he was attractive, almost everyone in your industry is. But there was something about him that caught your attention, and you had no idea why it was him in particular. You shook the feelings off, unlocking your front door. You smiled and greeted your dogs, pouring them some food, and heading straight to your bedroom to get dressed.

After quiet some time, you were ready, and you made your way back down to the streets. You were cursing your lack of decision making skills for making you late, as you skipped on the whole taxi option. You composed yourself as you walked through the restaurant doors, nodding to the waitress at the front. You found the designated table at the large table near the westward window, finding only a few people gathered. Huh. So I’m not late. You were waved over by Seokjin, sitting next to him with your notebook in your lap. You greeted the others at the table, shaking hands with everyone. You felt those same eyes stabbing needles into you, the buzzing voices from all around you seemingly louder all of a sudden. Your eyes locked, his pupils blowing wider, a glint of mischief swimming around in them, a smirk growing over his lips. He was sitting next to you, feeling like you were enclosed in his grasp. And he was only shaking your hand. CALM. DOWN. YOU SOMEHOW GOT YOUR LIFE TOGETHER, DON’T LET SOMEONE WALK IN AND DESTROY IT BY SHAKING HANDS WITH YOU.

You retracted your hand hand away, sliding it down to pick up your pen. The point moved freely over the back page of your notebook, drawing comics of how you presumed the meeting would go. Little did you know, the man next to you was biting his cheek to keep from laughing. Guess he wasn’t just a flirt after all.

By the time the other reps had arrived, you and Jungkook were having a full blown comic conversation. You had personalized your characters, doodling the company food fight, pulling down screens and pointing at graphs with a breadstick. You had both been unnoticed throughout the entire thing, everyone else’s eyes and ears being trained on their food and paperwork being moved around. You had no idea why you wee here, Jin was fully capable of doing this himself - and he was doing just that. Maybe he brought you for fun? Or food? Or accompaniment?

Jungkook had been grinning ear to ear, trying to keep himself from bursting out laughing at your doodle of the fat man across the table eating your breadstick pointing stick. He was so much older; so much more mature, so professional, and he was laughing at your college humor doodles. It made you feel tremendously better.

You two were invisible to the rest of the table, but at the thought of someone looking at you two, your heads shot up and toyed with your plate of food. By the time the “meeting” was over, you both had eight pages full of doodles and notes of the runways show in the margins. Hopefully neither of you would get fired.

Hopefully.

You shot up from your seats and walked out with each other, stopping at the door once you saw the pouring rain.

“Shit.” Your voices rang in unison, laughs bubbling from your throats. You sighed and turned on your heel, walking out into the rain.

“(Y/N)! Where are you going?”

“Where do you think? My house.” You laughed and walked further out into the rain, stopping when his hand gripped your shoulder.

“Bullshit. Not without me you aren’t.” He slips off his suit jacket - his crazy expensive suit jacket - and hands it to you as a replacement for an umbrella for the meantime. He was quickly getting soaked as he slung an arm around your shoulder and dragged you to the nearest Seven Eleven for an umbrella. You both stumbled into the small convenience store, leaning against the wall as you tried to catch your breaths from the sprints you did. You both looked at each other and laughed, your eyes trying not to wander down to the white dress shirt that was now almost transparent, showing his insanely toned torso. He pushed himself off the wall and grabbed two umbrellas and some packs of hot cocoa. He came back to you and handed an umbrella to you as he grabbed your hand in preparation for running back through the streets.

You felt the tingles running up your arm, throughout your body - the sight of him dripping wet in a see through shirt not helping any. You stopped for a bit, looking up at him. “Why are you doing all of this? You could make it to your fancy penthouse with the snap of your fingers, but you’re walking me back to my apartment in a downpour?” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand that wasn’t encasing yours.

“You’re different from everyone I’ve met. You’re funny. I mean, hell, you’re younger than everyone, but it’s nice to see a change. And I don’t want to fuck up our doodling bond.” You laughed, ignoring the flutter of your heart as he spoke. No, stop. You two just met today, there’s nothing going on between you two. Just comics during boring meetings. That’s. All. He’s too rational to be with someone like me, he’s older and smarter and so... Fucking... Hot... NO STOP (Y/N) JUST FOCUS-

“Good enough for me. Now let’s go!”

He laughed, and oh, what a beautiful sound. He tugged you out the doors and ran down the streets with you, following your directions that were interrupted with both of your laughs.

You made it to your apartment, inviting him inside. You both drew out dozens of comics with each other over hot cocoa and soup. It happened more and more often, both of you staying over at the others’ house multiple times a week, whether for drawings, or dinner, or... Getting tangled in each others’ sheets, the rooms being lit by the moon, your names rolling off of tongues, cries of pleasure bounding off the walls. He made everything better, and neither of you cared about anything other than each other. But, as time passed, you both cared about two other things - your two children.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook au #jungkook scenarios #bts jungkook #bts jungkook au #bts jungkook scenarios #bangtan #bangtan boys #jungkook bts #bts jungkook smut #bts jungkook fluff #bts jungkook angst

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

Text

Masterlist

Jeon Jungkook

Broken Feet

Fuckboy!Jungkook x Reader

Leave - | 1 | 2 |

Ex!Jungkook x Reader

Ludis Tibi Potentias Impiorum

Witch!Jungkook x Witch!Reader

cuts and smoke - | one | two |

Jungkook x Reader, High School au

Just Work Stuff

Jungkook x Reader, Fashion Worker au (kinda, more of just a quick oneshot)

sad boys - | one | two |

Rebel!Jungkook x Reader x Fuck Buddy!Jimin, Soulmate au

combat boots and milkshakes - | 1 |

Biker!Jungkook x Single Mom!Reader, some 80′s vibes

Kim Taehyung

Did You Say… He? - | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

Fuckboy!Taehyung x Reader

Park Jimin

A Waltz with the Constellations

Ballroom Dance Teacher!Jimin x Reader

sad boys

Fuck Buddy!Jimin x Reader x Rebel!Jungkook, Soulmate au

Kim Namjoon

Wip

Jung Hoseok

Wip

Min Yoongi

Blue Hole

Yoongi x Reader

(Based off of the book All The Bright Places by Jennifer Niven)

Edit

not what you needed

BadBoy!Yoongi x Reader, Soulmate au

Kim Seokjin

Chicken Noodle

Seokjin x Reader

AU List

50 Sentence Prompts

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

Text

not what you needed.

Member: Min Yoongi

Genre: Angst(of course), fluff?? Kinda??? Badboy!Yoongi, soulmate!au

Word Count: 2,666

A/N: Tbh there will be a lot of Yoongi and Kook fics, bc their by bias and bias wrecker, and I feel a bit more confident writing with them. (And my writings kinda fit their “personalities”, since y’all know my stories ain’t all sunshine and fluffy unicorns and rainbows.) The thing with this au is that instead of your soulmate’s first words spoken to you, it’s their last so you’ll never know if they were the one until you loose them. SO THIS MEANS MORE ANGST YAYYYY THERE WILL BE A FUCK TON OF THIS TOO!!!!! And this also means I’m still not doing the ones I said I would. Great. AND I’M STILL DOWN FOR YOUR GUYS’ REQUESTS!!!!

Song I based this off of here. (EDEN - drugs)

Those three words. Those three words that tortured you. Those three words that were etched into your skin, the ink drowned out by the other paintings all across your body. Those three words that follow you everywhere, reminding you that any love you have, might not be the one.

Just let go.

They were lost in the other tattoos on your body, but it was still there. On the right side of your neck, next to the image of a band-aid. Everyone else’s were, “I love you”, or, “Never forget me, okay?”. But not yours. It looked like everyone watched you, pitiful eyes staring at those three little words. So you stayed away from people, living a carefree life, trying to forget how cursed you were to society. You knew your own words were placed on someone’s body, dragging them down with you. You followed you own path, ignoring everyone’s comments on how sorry they were. Don’t be fucking sorry, live your own picture perfect life, with your two kids and white picket fence. I’m not letting three words control what I do.

If only you knew that made it worse.

It was the first day of winter break for college, and for the people staying here, there was a party being thrown. You lived on the other side of the country and, quite frankly, hated your family. They always set these low standards for you, all because of those damn words. How do they know you won’t live happily ever after? So, you moved as soon as you could. Got into a nice college, met some nice people, and got a nice job. All is going well, and you honestly don’t listen to the commentary you get.

You headed over to the frat with your friends, Hoseok and Namjoon, walking down the middle of the streets with them. Coming up to the building, the bass was beating through the walls, drunks already fucking around on the front lawn. There were colored lights flooding through the windows, silhouettes of jumping bodies visible from your placement on the street. Sharing a look with the both of your friends, you lead the way inside of the cramped building. Weaving past people, you made your way up the stairs to the balcony. There was your friend, Seokjin, having an uncomfortable conversation with a drunk girl. His head shot up to look at you three, his lips moving to form the words, “please, get this bitch off me.”

“Seokjin! There you are. We’ve been looking for you.” Namjoon said, leading your group up and shoving past the girl pressing against your friend. Stumbling back, the girl clumsily disappeared down the stairs.

“I honestly don’t see how you always get yourself caught up with girls.” You say, sipping from a cup you picked up along the way.

He scoffs, leaning against the wall. “Neither do I…” Seokjin was your old friend, who’s already out of school. He’s working for a model industry, and always gets dragged back to the college parties by a majority of the classes. He’s a pop, but a sweet one. You’ve always admired him for who he really is.

Two hours and three beers pass, and the bodies around you are finally calming down. Or passing out. You didn’t really care to notice. Because you eyes had been locked with that of a stranger’s. A stranger with a head of blonde hair, and piercings everywhere that glimmered in the flashing lights. A stranger with an ice cold stare, but a smirk placed on his pale pink lips. A stranger with tattoos crawling up his neck, spreading over his knuckles, which are scarred red. Fights, you presume.

“Bad choice, (Y/N).” Looking up to see Seokjin’s eyes casting to the man you were looking at, you glanced back to where he previously was. He was already gone. “You know when the party got suddenly silent? That’s ‘cuz he got here. Min Yoongi. He’s dangerous (Y/N), watch out for him. He won’t stop if he’s got his eyes on you.”

Staring at the empty space, you tilted your head. “What’s his mark?”

“No one knows.” With a sigh, he pats you on the shoulder and gives you a worried look. “Just… Don’t do anything crazy, okay?” As you nodded, he smiled and slithered off through the crowd to get another bottle.

By three A.M, you decided you should head home. Walking down the sidewalks, you tightened your grip around your leather jacket. You didn’t live in a bad part of town, you could say, but all parts were bad at this time. The roaring of engines passed you, cars speeding down the empty streets, racing as fast as their modified engines could go. You had watched some street races, but it wasn’t any fun unless you were in the driver’s seat. All known from personal experience.

“I guess I expected you to be in one of the cars. Well, I must say, you’re full of surprises.” Whipping your head around, you were met with those same dark eyes. It was him.

“And I thought you would be shoving your tongue down a girl’s throat.” Turning on your heel, you heard a deep, gravely laugh come from him. His footsteps followed you as you walked, the heavy sound irritating you. Sucking in a breath, you turned and grabbed him by the front of his jacket. “Look darling, I suggest you stop following me before I stick a knife in your gut.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, closing his eyes and holding his hands up in defense. “I’m helping you, darling. I’m making sure no one rapes you.” He pulled himself from your grasp, motioning for you to go forward. “But if you insist, I’ll head home now. Goodbye (Y/N).” His smirk made a presence again, and he turned and walked the other direction.

You never told him your name.

By the time spring rolled around, you had ran into Yoongi many more times than planned. Upon further inspection, you found out that he was a well known senior, a music major. His parents were killed when he was young, and he lived on the streets for a while. Someone rich found him, heard his music, and got hooked. Hence his ability to get into a nice college. He was a player, breaking girls’ and boys’ hearts for years. And yet he’s still got one of the biggest reputations on campus.

It was a dark, rainy day when you encountered him. The day where everything had changed. You two had somehow got this whole, “I hate you but I don’t, so come over for pizza but you’re paying” relationship going. He had told you to meet at a cafe with him, for your daily arguments to wake the both of you up. Today’s topic was… Unusual.

“What if we’re soulmates?” His proclamation caused you to spit out your black coffee, the liquid dripping down your chin.

“There’s no way in hell that I would ever get with you.” He laughs, that rare and beautiful smile spreading over his features.

“So you’re saying that the times where we made out in the corner of kitchens at parties, and those times where I fucked you, were all accidents?”

Fuck. He got you there. Nothing had really changed, no dates or anything, you two were basically friends with benefits. There was always the occasional flings with each other, and the drunk kisses at parties, because hey there’s a creep over there staring at me we’re gonna kiss now. Well, at least that’s your excuse. It’s usually because you just wanna kiss him. “Fuck yourself and die in a hole.”

He laughs again, his smirk clear on his face even from behind his cup. “What ever you say darling. What I’m saying, is that normal people still wouldn’t be talking to each other. You threatened to fucking stab me when we first met. If that doesn’t scare someone off, I don’t know what would.”

“It’s probably just because we’re both ignorant assholes who hate everyone here. Except for a few people.”

“Just let me prove my point!” You laughed, and leaned back, nodding for him to continue. “I’m just saying, that if I was any normal person that night, I would’ve said the words on your neck. But I didn’t. Make sense?”

You knew that was definitely a possibility, you just didn’t want to believe it. Him? You told yourself that there was no way, even if he was hot and really sweet to you. Well, sweet in his own way. “Sure babe. Totally.”

Totally was right.

Once you both finished at the cafe, he walked with you around town. You were someone who loved the rain, so you ran out and danced in the downpour while Yoongi was dragging his feet behind you. Which ended with him hugging you when you refused to stay under the umbrella

“Yoongi, what the hell are you doing…”

He laughed, the sound vibrating against you, the feeling sending shivers down your spine. “I’m making sure you don’t get sick. Or too wet. Because that’s my job.” You roll your eyes and he laughed, a quiet, pervert slipping your lips. He took you to hang out at his apartment for some movies, and for you to possibly kidnap Holly again. In your defense, you didn’t know that the little pup was sleeping in your bag as you left last time. Let’s just say Yoongi didn’t talk to you for a week after that incident.

Throwing open the door to his apartment, you kicked off your soaked shoes and fell onto his couch. “Get your soggy ass off of my couch and go change into one of my shirts, I’m not washing those damn cushions again.” He kicks you off of the couch, your frame landing face first on the carpet. Sighing, you heaved yourself up and walked down the hall to his room to find something. Opening the door, you were met with an eager Holly jumping all over you.

“AHHH HI BABYYYY I MISSED YOU!!!!!” Leaving kisses all over her face, you ruffled her fur and went to find your favorite shirt of his in his closet. You changed into an old ripped up and bleached black shirt, and walked back out to where he was seated. He looked up at you from the TV and rolled his eyes, sitting up so there’s room on his lap for you.

“I give you the chance to change into my clothes, and you pick something like that?” Sitting on his lap, you made sure to drop onto him hard enough to hurt him, dick or not.

Laughing at his strangled yelp, you squirmed and made yourself comfortable, curling up under the blanket spread over top of you both. “You have no right to critique me on my fashion sense. Almost everything you own is ripped.” Looking back at the screen, you both watched The Corpse bride on Netflix before dozing off in his arms. You couldn’t help but notice the way your heart tugged when he would subtly compliment you, or the heat that rose throughout your body from that night on. You had fallen in love with Min Yoongi.

Four years later, you two had been dating and took the world by surprise. Scratch that, universe. You found yourself thinking more and more about his mark, that was probably effecting you more than him. I can’t love myself if I can’t love you.

You found out that those words weren’t really the tattoo he told everyone about, but in fact, his mark. You really hoped that he wasn’t your soulmate now, just so that you wouldn’t have to think of hurting him in that way. You played out every scenario in your mind, thinking of how or why either of you would use those phrases in an argument that could lead to no words ever being spoken between you two again.

You didn’t plan out that it would happen today. Today was one of those days, where you pushed anything bad out of your mind and just focused on the tasks at hand. It was one of those days where the memory of both of your marks was completely stripped clean.

You had made some dinner for him, the delicious smell filling up the entirety of your shared apartment. You knew how hard he had been working at his studio, the process draining all energy from his body. As soon as you finished, you plated everything and went to go sit on the steps outside. You had tamed a few strays, so you sat there, playing with the slim and scrawny cats, feeding them some old scraps. Next time you check, it’s midnight. Where is he…? You thought, your eyes looking around the streets in front of you. There, you saw the figure of a tired man, trudging his way home. The figure of the man you called yours.

Standing, you jogged over to him, a worried smile on your lips. “Hey baby… Come in, we’ll get you relaxed.” Walking straight past you, he didn’t bother to even spare you a glance. You knew something was up; he never did that. Following him, you lightly placed your hand on his shoulder, only to have it shoved off.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” His voice was dangerously low, the sound striking your body with panic. And, of course, you just had to argue. Because that’s what the two of you did.

“What the actual fuck, Yoongi? What’s wrong?”

“You, (Y/N), you’re what’s wrong. Your always being super distant one second, and then clinging onto me for your damn life. You don’t know how to let go, you think that this needs to work. And, in all honestly, I’m just saying what I need to say. Because I don’t have anything for you.” His voice falls at the end, cracks spreading over his words like wildfire. His eyes show his torn heart, they show how it cracks, the pieces just slipping through your fingers. You weren’t fast enough.

“Yoongi-”

“Stop, (Y/N), don’t try.”

“Yoongi, without you I’m fucking nothing. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you were gone, I just need you happy. I know it sounds selfish, but I need you to love. I can’t love myself if I can’t love you.” Tears were streaming down your cheeks, your chest ablaze from holding back your sobs.

“This isn’t you, and you know it. I won’t say shit, because I know I’m a mess. And I’m whatever you want, but never what you need. Especially when you need me. So, please (Y/N)… Just let go.” He didn’t even look at you as he turned, heading to cross the street. You realized the last words you two had shared, desperate to change them. But no one can rewrite fate.

Your voice ripped through the air, the call of his name loud enough to shatter glass. But you were too late.

Again.

The sound of his body being thrown against a windshield cracked through the sounds of squealing rubber. Your eyes were locked with a stranger’s, a stranger of whom you loved, laying lifelessly on the road, blood coloring over his pale skin. A stranger who’s head of bleached blonde hair was slowly reddening. A stranger with piercing covered with a crimson red liquid. A stranger who’s pale pink lips were slowly loosing color, as scarlet fell from them and pooled onto the ground. Your eyes were locked with that of a stranger’s, who’s glassy eyes were staring out at you as a singular tear dripped into a puddle of blood forming just underneath his head.

The stranger you once knew was dead.

#yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi au #yoongi scenarios #bts yoongi #bts au #bts scenarios #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #beyond the scene

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

Text

Chicken Noodle

Member: Kim Seokjin

Genre: Fluff, humor, College!au (there’ll be a lot of these)

Word Count: 1,035

A/N: OMG THANK YOU ALL SOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOOOOO MUCH FOR 100 FOLLOWERSSSS AHHHH *hugs all of you lovelies* I wanna do a series, but I don’t know which member I should do it for or what kind of au I should do so I’ll leave it up to you guys. I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO MUCH THANKS FOR READING!!!! (*cough* this is #12 on my au list- We’re both sick and we both grabbed the last can of chicken noodle soup at the same time. *cough*)

You were so done with this shit.

Yeah, you loved the winter. Hell, you would love to live somewhere up north. Except you hated the colds that came with it. You lived in a place where all seasons were torture, whether extremely hot or extremely cold. There was no ideal season, because in the fall and spring, allergies were the fucking devil. You had been sick for a week now, your symptoms just getting worse. You had taken your cough medicine, drank two cups of herbal tea a day, as well as a teaspoon of honey at breakfast. Still, your vicious cough raged on, and your runny nose using up three boxes of tissues thus far. Trudging through the freshly fallen snow on the sidewalks, you made your way over to your local grocery store. You didn’t own a car, and most of the roads in town were too slick to drive. So, you were stuck here, sneezing your way to the tiny little market store on the corner near campus. Walking through the doors, a blast of warm air rushed through you, instantly warming up your frigid body. A sigh of content left your lungs, like the feeling of being wrapped up in a warm blanket. Shuffling over to the soup isle, you glued your eyes to the cans, looking for just one chicken noodle soup. Colds were spreading like the plague, and you knew you would’ve been too late to restock on soup. But, your eyes met a dented can on the back of the shelf, and you knew, that’s as good as it’s gonna get. Your pace quickened, speeding up and stopping as soon as you stood in front of the can. Reaching out, your hand was met with another. Your head whipped over to your left, your eyes locking with those of a beautiful man’s. Your eyes widen, but neither of you moved your hands. You could’ve sworn you could hear the person in the security camera room laughing their ass off.

There, two complete strangers were holding hands on a dented can of soup.

A cough came from the man, and in an instant, you recoiled as fast as you possibly could. “U-um, I-I’m so sorry! You can have it, I’ll live, I’m so-”

“No no no! You can have it, I’ll just make some!” Now, these two strangers were insisting that the other should have it, their hoarse and grainy voices straining to talk to each other. You knew you should’ve just taken the damn can, because you two had been standing there for seven minutes already. There was a clock on the wall behind him. “Look, neither of us are taking it, and it’s much too small to just split. So... I’ll make you some at my apartment?” You wanted to take the offer up, since one, he was gorgeous, and two, who could turn down free soup?

“And how do I know you aren’t some serial killer who might rape me?”

A look of shock crossed the man’s face, but upon seeing your mischievous smile, a laugh left him. “I promise you I’m not. I swear. Now, come, let’s get some stuff.” Swinging around, he made his way back down the isle. Laughing, you trotted your way after him. Peeking over his shoulder, you found that he had gotten everything he had needed.

“Do you... Even know how to cook...?”

A laugh came from him, his eyes shining as he walked up to the registers with you. “Do I know how to cook? Why, of course! You’ll be surprised. And, what a plus, I won’t poison you. I save that for my other friends.” The both of you laughed, your insides warming up to the core. Pulling out your wallet, you were stopped by his hand as another smile graced his lips. “There’s no need darling, I got it.” A quiet chuckle bubbled from your throat as you shook your head, following him out. “Wait, holy shit!” His sudden exclamation had you craning your neck up to look at him. After his short coughing fit, he gave you a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I guess I never told you my name. I’m Kim Seokjin, but you can just call me Jin.”

Oh my god he is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Smiling, you looked down at you feet in attempts to hide the red rising onto your cheeks. Though, he might not have been able to tell because of the temperature anyways. “I-I’m (Y/N) (L/N).”

It seemed like he got an immediate hop in his step, and you could hear the grin as he spoke. “A pleasure to meet you, (Y/N).”

You two had talked the whole way to his apartment, from the weather, to food, to friends, to classes. You had found out he graduated a couple years ago, and now owns one of the most popular cafes in the entire city. I’ll have to stop by there sometime, you thought.

The smell of chicken noodle soup wafted throughout the house, right over to your spot on his sofa. You were currently petting one of his cats and watching whatever was on Netflix. The scent lingered in the air, almost filling up your stomach then and there. Holding the white cat in your arms, you shuffled into the kitchen. Silently sitting at the table, you watched happily as he swiftly put the soup into bowls. Turning, he gently sat one down in front of you and placed a spoon next to it. “Eat up, I’ll make some tea.” He graced you with a sweet smile, and turned to fill up the kettle.

To any untrained eye, someone would immediately think you two were a caring couple, having homemade dinner and talking about how their day was. But no, you two were just strangers who started holding hands over more than cans of soup. Who started making more and more soup together, and found themselves later in life talking about their day with not only each other, but their two children as well. And all because of an old, dented can of chicken noodle soup.

#bts jin #kim seokjin #jinnie #jin #seokjin #bts #bts au #bts scenarios #bantan #bangtan boys #beyond the scene #bulletproof boy scouts

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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years

Text

A Waltz with the Constellations

Member: Park Jimin (Ft. Jungkook as a friend)

Genre: Fluff, angst, Ballroom Dance Teacher!Jimin

Word Count: 4,470

A/N: why tf am I not doing the ones I said I would and this is long overdue you have every right to hate me I thought of this one day and holy shit I thought it would be so damn beautiful and he would be so graceful and I can’t T~T. I also feel like this one isn’t any good soooo... Hopefully everyone likes it!

“(Y/N), get your lazy ass up! We have the dance class today!”

“Okay, one, it isn’t until five in the evening, and two, we can all dance decently. And, you act like I’ll actually dance with anyone? Sure, I know it’s your wedding and all, but I hate dancing.” Shoving the covers back over your head, you deeply exhaled and closed your eyes. “What time is it anyways? We don’t have to do anything until then.”

Your friend Cora sighed, knowing her attempts to get your curled up figure out of bed would be for nothing. “Hey, I’ll get you food. Just, for fuck’s sake, get ready!”

You shot straight out of bed at this, throwing the blankets over her head. “Well shit you should’ve just said that first.” Stumbling over to your drawers, you rummaged through everything in attempts to find something that you could easily dance in. Alas, your best friend will soon be lost to a man, but a good one at that. He was so sweet, and they went together like peanut butter and jelly. He was a beautiful man, for a beautiful woman. All of your friends are in relationships - except you. You had never like the feeling of putting all of your trust and love into a bond that could so easily be broken. You were the antisocial pessimist of your group, and you really didn’t care. You didn’t know how you made all of your friends, because you never went out in attempts to talk to anyone in the first place. It’s more like they all found you, liked you, and adopted you. They more or less barged their way into your life, but in the end, you gave up on thinking they were annoying and ended up keeping them close. But, romantic relationships were never something you were good at. Actually, you can’t say that. You’ve never been in one, mostly because you also have never found interest in anyone. You’ve never had sex, never had a boyfriend, hell, you haven’t even kissed anyone! You absolutely despised all of these ideas, so rather, you just sleep with your cats all day. Many times you have been in a situation were you would get set up with someone, but upon seeing it was as a date, you walked out of their life and refused to go back. For some strange reason, all of the boys liked you back in grade school. Which ended up with their hearts broken and a red imprint of your hand on their cheek. You were an asshole - of course you knew it. Everyone thinks that they effect you when they say that, but facts don’t hurt you. Everyone used to say you were lying when you never had a crush, and you were so tired of people’s shit towards you for saying that, that you just blocked yourself out of everyone’s lives. You weren’t a bullshitter, you always told the truth. The strange, sad truth that is you.

“You know (Y/N), one of these days you’re gonna have to get into a relationship. You can’t take care of yourself forever, things’ll change and you’ll realized how fucked you are when you’re fifty and a virgin.”

“Cora, I’m not a horny teenager. Never have been, never will be. If no one tries to talk to me, then I will live the life I’ve always wanted. Lonely and quiet.” Cora groans, running a hand through her thick, curly hair.

“I’m worried for you kid. Where are your good emotions at? I’ve seen them a couple of times, and shit, I’ve heard stories about you and Jungkook. You actually smile with him. Speaking of which, he’s gonna be your partner for dancing.” Jeon Jungkook was your childhood friend, both of you complaining about how much you hated everyone being the thing that brought you together. You two were practically twins, with the occasional thought of you being in a relationship with him. You would both cringe at that.

Heaving a sigh, you shooed her out and before she could question you, you slammed the door and went to work on your makeup. You were not what society would call beautiful, but you didn’t give one shit about it. You wore all black all the time, tattoos covering your ghastly white skin, and piercings leaving a bright gleam of light on your face covered in bold makeup. You looked very intimidating, and looks couldn’t deceive with you. You had never met but one person who wouldn’t move out of your way - that one person, of course, being Jungkook. You had an icy cold stare, and a chronic case of resting bitch face. Many respected you for your dominate and silent ways of control, just like how many hated it. You had power and you knew it. Growing up and having a hard childhood left you cold and unforgiving, where any sign of appreciation towards someone would be considered a miracle. You didn’t have a good relationship with any member of your family since you were considered the alien of it. You had figured out by age ten that you were a mistake, and no confirmation was needed. The rest of your family was typical for where you grew up in the dull state of Iowa - a mother working for a university, a handy father helping out as a mechanic, a creative older sister, and a surprisingly smart older brother. You, however, had always wanted change. You had started out by dying your hair black, which immediately got comments on how ugly you looked by your parents. They had set up a rule where you couldn't get any piercings until you could drive, so the second they were asleep the day you got your permit was when you went out and got all of your dream piercings. You got seven on each ear, a septum ring, a tongue stud, and a lip ring. Now, sadly, you didn't get these all at once, but you spread out your collection over time. Your parents were furious, and almost disowned you. But surprisingly they didn't. Then, your eighteenth birthday rolled around and you snuck off to get some ink with Jungkook. He was always there with you throughout all of your body modifications, and he was your number one supporter. You both had a couple of matching piercings and tats, picking some of the dumbest ideas to inscribe onto your skin. The second you came home with a trace of ink on your skin, your parents had kicked you out, and you stayed with Jungkook's family. They were the family you never had, always wishing you your best and helping you through anything. You were deeply saddened when you both had to depart for college in New York. Everyone but your family was disappointed when you two announced your departure. Wishes were given, and off you two went. Your grandparent’s will was given to you, and your eldest sister had managed to steal some of your parents’ money for you. You both bought a tiny apartment near the campus of the university, sharing everything with each other. Now, you’re here - nice home, nice job, nice pets, nice friends. And, a nice relationship.

With yourself that is.

Jogging down the steps, you poured your three Great Danes and two cats some food before running out to Cora’s car. After clicking your seatbelt on, you turned to look at Cora, who was staring right back at you with a mischievous smile. “Oh no. What now...?”

Her laugh swam around the inside of her car, hands flying to turn the key. After getting to the first stoplight, she rummaged through her purse to grab a hold of her phone. Without saying a word, she shoved the screen into your face, your hands flying up to look at it. “Holy shit, who’s that?”

“That, is our dance instructor. And I think you should get with him.” She said, speeding through the streets. A scoff came from you, shaking your head and setting the phone back on her lap.

“He looks to nice. And innocent. Not my type, I don’t wanna scar him.” Looking back out the window, you glanced up at a grand and extravagant building. The outside was pristine gold and white - the marbling on the pillars having black veins crawling to the top. If this was the outside, you couldn’t even begin to fathom what the interior would look like. Sighing, you got out and slung your duffel bag over your shoulder and shuffled in through the enormous double doors behind Cora. If you thought the outside was nice, the inside was breath taking. You had never been in such a place so fancy, you were staring in awe at everything around. Everything was plated in gold, quartz, marble, the works. All topped off with the most beautiful man you had ever seen sitting on a white velvet sofa and talking to the other girls. His hair was a silky grey, brushed perfectly to the side. His shirt was tucked into his black jeans, the silky material matching his hair. With being too caught up in gawking at the man, you didn’t notice the sparkling bright smile directed towards you from him. With a nudge from Cora, you cleared your throat and made your way over to the others.

“Well, since it seems everyone is here, I’m Park Jimin. Your dance teacher.” A bright smile spread over his features, and as all of the other girls were swooning, you mumbled a few things to Jungkook.

“Oh god, we gotta work with a Ken doll? Put me in a blender and call me Jungsmoothie.” Hearing the words come from your best friend’s mouth, your eyes teared up from the attempts to not laugh. Gripping at the strap of your bag, your eyes went straight to the floor as a silent laugh escaped your lips. The second you were all dismissed to change, you walked off laughing with Jungkook to find the respective changing rooms.

“Isn’t he hot?”

“That shouldn’t be a question, that’s a fact. Like, holy shit, did you see his ass?” All this talk about Mr. Ken doll was annoying the shit out of you, and you had to hear it throughout the entire class.

“Can you guys please stop talking about him for five seconds so I can leave? And, Cora, you don’t have any room to say that! You’re getting fucking married!” With a frustrated sigh, you snatched up your bag and walked out of the room to find Jungkook. There were a few calls from the girls, saying that ‘you know he’s hot!’ and that, ‘you’re just saying that because you like him!’. Rolling your eyes, you pulled Jungkook away from his group by his ear and headed towards the door. “We are leaving.”

A hiss came from the man’s mouth as he swatted your hands away, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. “What? Are they all talking about-”

A call of both of your names from behind you cut him short, both of you turning your heads to find who it came from. Jimin was leaning against the back of the plush creme couch, waving you both over. With a sigh, you heaved yourself around and walked back over to him.

“Yes?” Jungkook said, an irritable tone in his voice.

A light chuckle came from the man’s mouth, his warm eyes looking at you both. “I know you two aren’t particularly enthralled with the idea of this class, and I can see why. You are both very talented, and this is just like stepping in a box for you. If it’s any of my concern, we might just have to make separate classes since you’re so ahead of the others. Is that okay?” He looked over to you expectantly, while you pinch Jungkook as he groans.

“I think that would be okay, yeah. But are we working with each other? Because he keeps stepping on my toes.” A laugh fell from the man’s lips, and he waved it off.

“I think it would be more reasonable to work with someone who has a greater skill level, but if you’d like to work together you ca-”

“NO.” Your voices rang in unison, ending in Jungkook laughing.

Jimin chuckled, and smiled that brilliant smile again. “Well, how does this weekend sound? You can both come on Saturday, and we’ll work out the times. You won’t have to come to these classes anymore, either,”

As the three of you worked out how you’d like to practice, you caught yourself staring at Jimin’s eyes more than you would find appropriate, and staring at his plump lips too.

What the fuck are you doing (Y/N)? Keep it together, don’t loose it now.

“You like him.” The accusation coming from Jungkook earned him a punch to the gut as you stole his keys from him and walked to the driver’s side of his car.

“Say anything like that again and I’ll slit your throat with high heels.” Turning the ignition over, you sighed and leaned back in the seat. “Ugh, how are we the best of the class? Do you think he’s just saying that? Fuck, I hate dancing...” You drove off to your place, deciding that you and Jungkook would hang out for the night.

You found yourselves both on your couch, watching whatever was on the TV with a box of pizza on the coffee table. Sprawling out over top of his lap, you curled up and pulled a blanket over the two of you. “I’m sleeping here. Goodnight.” And, without any other words exchanged between the two of you, you fell asleep engulfed with dreams of the mysterious ballroom teacher.

A knock on your door disrupted you from your much needed sleep, as many nights were spent looking up how to dance. Jungkook’s voice rang from behind the door, a ball of panic hitting you straight in the face.

It was already Saturday.

Throwing off the covers, you did your makeup as fast as humanly possible for you. Running out the door and pulling you with him, you were both already an hour late for the time you had set up.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU COME EARLIER YOU DICKHEAD?!”

“IT’S NOT MY FAULT I FORGOT TOO!” With a groan, you ran straight pass his car, knowing that the traffic would slow you down even more. Ignoring his calls, you ran away from your friend and down the sidewalks to the ballroom. Thoughts were running through your head, pounding on the walls of your mind. Finally, you bursted your way through those giant double doors and leaned against the wall in attempts to catch your breath. You already looked like a mess - sweat from the heat of the summer day dripping down your face, your hair a wind styled mess. But, all is well as long as your makeup was good.

Silently making your way to the changing rooms, you threw on your dance attire and sneaked back out. You could have a simple excuse; you were wandering around the building and lost your way. A laugh from behind you caught your attention, your head whipping around to see Jimin.

“You’re late.”

A sigh fell from your lips as you made your way over to him. “Yeah, well at least I came.” There goes the excuse idea. “Where is my partner anyways? Since I’m not working with Jungkook.”

A smirk grew on his face as he went to play some music over the speakers. “You’re looking at him darling. Now, come, we’ll go over what we learned on Wednesday.” His exterior seemed to change around you, his bubbly self turning into a confident and mysterious one. He held his arms out for you, the smirk still present on his face.

With a sigh, your fingers intertwined with his as you rested your right hand on his shoulder. His hand made it’s way to your waist, your body being pulled against his. You both made your ways around the entirety of the ballroom floor, your stiff and protective movements soon flowing with the music like satin. Your frown had disappeared, your features softening with the beautiful sound swallowing the room.

“Keep your chin high. You don’t want your eyes trained on your feet instead of your partner.” Your eyes slowly made their way up his frame, taking in each detail and storing it in the file cabinets of your brain. Your eyes met his, and suddenly you could see the layers of sadness that had been buried beneath his many facades. His eyes had that single spark of warmth, like a blanket trying to cover how cold he really was. There was loneliness, sadness, you knew those eyes. You knew them like the back of your hand.

You looked at them every day in the mirror.

Your furrowed brows softened, a look of recognition flooding through your orbs. Your movements became unfocused, as you stumbled over your own feet and prepared for the feeling of cool marble hitting your bones. But, it never came, as you were instead encased in the warmth of a grasp on your waist. Your eyes opened, only to be met with Jimin hovering over you, holding you in the position of a dip for the end of the song.

A quiet chuckle left his lips, your ears now identifying how forced all of his cheerful movements really were. “Careful darling. Can’t have any broken bones before the dance, now can we?”

Instead of fighting, you subtly nodded, hands holding onto his as he swings you back upright. Your eyes lingered on each others’ for a bit too long, before he tears his gaze away to change the song. Coming back to you, he pulled you against him once again, the movements all flowing together perfectly.

You both danced the day away, only realizing it once you broke gazes and looked to one of the giant windows. The stars were littering the night sky, the sight rare for a polluted city night such as this one. Jimin looked back at you, the smallest of smiles finding its way on his lips. His hand found yours, and he tugged you towards the grand staircase. “Come with me. I have something to show you.” Silently, you followed the man out onto the rooftop. The sky was enthralling up here, the dull sound of car engines fading away as you cast your sight up to the stars. Everything was crisp and clear, the lights in the sky outshining the lamps along the streets and the bright neon billboards on the towering skyscrapers. His quiet voice brought you out of your trance, your head snapping back down to look at him. “So you know.”

“Know what?” You had a faint idea of what he was pointing at, but just to make sure, you wanted to confirm it.

He took in a shaking, almost silent breath, a sound so quiet many wouldn’t have noticed. But you were used to these signs. Signs from people that lied when you asked them, ‘Are you okay?’. “That it’s all fake. I saw how you looked at me. You know I’m not the person I play out to be.”

Looking down over the city, all words were hushed as any sound seemed to drift away with the breeze. Finally, you spoke up. “I’m used to seeing eyes like yours. I see them staring back at me in the mirror.” You had made your way to the edge of the building, casting your gaze over the city below. “What’s your story behind it all?”

You could see his stature stiffen next to you, his head hanging low. “Someone... Special in my life died because of me. It’s all a long story.”

“We have all the time in the world.” You knew you were prodding the safety line, wandering into treacherous waters, saying something like that.

He sighed, his head tilting back to look up at the lights stringing together. After a painfully suspenseful silence, he started his story. “Her name was Jordan. I loved her, god, I loved her so fucking much. We were young, and stupid, and restless. She had moved to my school in sixth grade, but she blended in with the whole crowd. It was like no one ever knew she had come here. No one ever noticed her. But one day, I went to her table at lunch, and sat across from her. It was like it was just the two of us, and the entire lunchroom was dead silent. We felt like we were in our own little place, like it was just us two. I brought out the good in her, the different. Time passed and she grew close with me. One night, she came to me, and she made me chop off all her hair with a pocket knife so she looked different. Then, she dyed it all a bright blue. We stopped wearing the school uniforms, and yeah. We started dating. I don’t think she loved me as much as I loved her, shit, I don’t even think that was possible. But one day, we were driving down the interstate together. We were having this stupid fucking argument, and we were yelling at each other and everything. I took my eyes off the road to look at her for a second, but a car in front of us lost control and hit us off the road. We rammed into a tree and I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t know she died on impact until a week later...” His voice was broken and torn, the end of his past breaking apart into a hoarse whisper. You knew none of that was his fault, but you also knew that you wouldn’t be able to convince him.

“I would say I’m sorry, but I know how useless sorries are.” You sighed, looking back up at the sky. “But just know that none of it was your fault.” You felt an unknown twist in your heart, the idea of him with someone had effected you in some way. It shouldn’t have though, right? You had lost a lot of people in your life, you should be used to things like this. Yes, you had lost people, but no one was ever close to you. Hell, you had sometimes wished they were dead from the start. And comforting people was never a trait of yours.

You checked the time, seeing it was already close to midnight. “You should go.” Glancing over at him, you nodded at his words before turning to go.

Stopping yourself, you looked over your shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Jimin.” That was the last thing you said to each other that night.

You found yourself never missing a single class with Jimin, your heart slightly looking forward to being with someone like you. The wedding had crept up on you, so there you were, sitting at a table in a much too flashy dress, in gaudy heels you would never wear, with your hair in a bun so tight, you through you just got a free facelift. Like you said, you stayed seated the whole time, just listening and watching with a glass of wine in your hands. You had to admit, You never were one who enjoyed weddings or the after parties. But, you had to say, Hoseok was absolutely perfect for Cora. You mind drifted back to Jimin’s story, back to his past. You couldn’t get any of the things he said off of your mind since that night, and nothing could take it’s place. A hand was place on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts as you looked back to see him.

“Jimin? W-what are you doing here?”

His broken smile was taped onto his face, the corners of his mouth moving up robotically. “Cora invited me.” His voice was so soft, almost being drown out in the loud music and voices of others. “You’re the main reason I’m here. I knew you wouldn’t have danced, so it’s my job to make you.” You smiled the smallest smile, but he knew that it was real. That it held so much more than what met his eyes.

“I would like that.” A slow song swam in the air, the sound suffocating, the chords too big and beautiful to be trapped in a singular room. Jimin’s eyes lit up, some of the sadness fading away. Some. Memories never do leave you.

You found yourself wrapped in his arms, your bodies hidden away on the corner of the dance floor. People couldn’t help but stare, their eyes being drawn to the mysterious couple dancing away. Neither of you noticed, your eyes solely being locked onto each other’s. The hall was silent, save for the music. Others had stopped dancing, leaving just you two out in the open. your head was resting on his shoulder, eyes closed now and breath slowing. You could feel all of the eyes staring at you, burning holes into your figure. Once the song stopped, claps were caging the two of you in the room, a wink from Cora was making a smile spread onto your face. You were pulled out from the room, the atmosphere changing immediately. You walked beside Jimin, eyes trained on the floor in front of you both. Carpet changed to concrete, and you found yourselves dancing on the rooftop. The sky was littered with the stars, looking identical to the night you shared your secrets. There was no music, but none was needed. You were both standing there, dancing in each other’s arms. Your mind was throwing a tantrum, screaming that this was wrong, that you’d only get hurt once again. You saw no love in his eyes, and you knew he wasn’t over Jordan. He had no feelings for you, only for a dead girl. A dead girl of which he loved so dearly, and he lost so quickly. There was sadness in his eyes, and there always would be. Who were you to think that you could ever make anyone feel better? That you had any say in his past?

And so you danced.

You danced away your feelings for him, you danced away your sadness, you danced away that little sliver of hope you had, that maybe, just maybe, someone would love you.

Only the stars knew.

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