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still-with-koo · 8 months

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The Campaign | JJK

Series: Chapter One

summary: fortune has never been on the side of people like you. but when The City threatens your family, you set out to participate in The Campaign, a notoriously treacherous tournament with almost zero chance of survival.

pairing: jungkook x reader

wc: 4,898

genre/warnings/rating: 17+; dystopian au; supernatural au; angst; some fluff; enemies to still enemies, maybe frenemies; enemies to lovers; swearing; descriptions/ mentions of violence; reader is in life or death situation; mentions of physical deformities; references to physical and emotional abuse; imbalances in power; some (poor) attempts at humour; the characters in this story are my own and do not reflect on the members of bts or anyone else. this is all made up and just for fun, please don’t take it too seriously!

a/n: it’s here! it’s here! a little late for our bestie’s birthday, but better late than never, right? :)

taglist: @jeonqkooks @chaotichuman0090 @smwhrinthehaze

masterlist | ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3

The bell tower tolls midnight in the distance. Not that any of the townsfolk hear it, the sound faint in the wake of the ravages of poverty and famine.

Hunger makes the senses grow dull.

You blink your eyes open. The night is dark as coal and you can hardly make out where you end and the rest of the room begins.

Shifting in your place on the cool wooden floor, you tilt towards the soft snores coming from the cot beside you. Your mother is still asleep.

You let your hands wander across your quilt, feeling the stitching one last time, memories of your mother’s laughter as she sat by the windowsill threading together the patterned squares. Echoes of a simpler time.

You notice your palms are sweaty despite the coolness of the night and quickly wipe them off on your ragged clothes, pushing off the ground with the utmost stealth. You can’t risk waking anyone.

Your mother looks so calm under the flicker of moonlight seeping through the threadbare curtains. The lines of her face fade and you see the beauty she has always been and forever will be. You hope she can forgive you.

You glance a few steps behind her and see your younger brother, still as night itself, and you wonder if he is truly asleep. You don’t have time to check. He will keep this secret as he has kept all others. You whisper goodbye and hope his heart hears you.

Pressing a gentle kiss into your mother’s disheveled hair, you slip a note into her outstretched hand. She should know why the floor is empty when she awakens. You just hope she reads it before she wanders into the forest looking for you.

You’ll be long gone by then.

The forest looms ahead of you like a crouching dragon, dark and eery in the dead of night.

A chill snakes its way up your spine as you stare down at the vastness. The endless trees hiding terrors you have faced before, the pangs of hunger pushing you to find solace in its desolate depths. What lies beyond the outlines of the forest is beyond your imagination, however, having never set foot outside the grounds of Sector 17.

And if the folktales passed from one campfire to the next are true at all, those terrors are nothing compared to the terrors you will face at The Campaign.

You pull your cape tighter around your shoulders as you remember your mother’s muffled screams that night, her face buried into the topsoil after The City’s men discovered shortages in your harvest yield.

Let her go, you remember yelling with such intensity fire erupted in your lungs. Let her go, let her go, a chant you screamed until it was only noise. It was a frenzy in your mind. Nothing could stop you from tearing them apart, you thought. But you could only claw at their stone face armour before they pinned you down, too.

They threatened to take your younger brother to The Harvest as payment but your mother was crafty, hiding him away in a cellar you helped dig out two years ago.

But it is only a matter of time. They will be back for him soon.

You swore that night, and every night since then, that you will find a way out of this nightmare, even if it takes your last breath.

And The Campaign will do just that.

Like others in town, you have only heard rumours of what happens at The Campaign.

They say beautiful winged creatures roam the grounds and pick off combatants to devour whole. Giants hold you by your throat while the ground turns to lava beneath your feet. And one look into the eyes of a monster turns you to stone.

But these are obviously children’s tales, made up to deter others from joining The Campaign, a battle that promises the greatest riches to the survivor.

But you are not deterred. You need to be that survivor.

To pull your family out of poverty.

To protect your brother from The Harvest.

And to make sure you never have to bow down to The City ever again.

The air feels warmer within the confines of the forest.

A wistfulness falls over you as you look around. Even in the darkness you sense familiarity. These trees were good to you. Hiding you from the creatures. Teaching you how to defend yourself. And forcing you to grow up.

You spot a wild deer peeking from behind a tree. A low, dull whisper draws the deer closer.

Animals have always sensed your gentleness. If only they could sense your violence too.

The deer approaches you hesitantly.

You reach into your pocket, hand grazing the pocket knife gifted from your late grandfather. The sharpest blade, he said, is the most merciful.

When the deer nuzzles your side, you pull your hand from your pocket, revealing browse, consisting of a few stems and leaves you had picked from the ground.

A sound of a branch breaking sends the deer off and you replace the browse with the knife, glancing around the vicinity for any natural predators.

Or worse.

You are in the centre of a clearing and mentally kick yourself for being so exposed. Slinking to the side you survey the area. If anyone is around, they hide well.

Moments pass and when nothing happens you covertly snake your way through the forest. If you can leave the forest line, your journey to The Campaign grounds will begin.

You finally see the edge of the tree line. The very beginnings of light filter through the trees under the glow of twilight.

The last few hours passed quite quickly in complete silence. But you couldn’t help feeling an unmistakeable, lurking presence. Shaking off the feeling you pass through the tree line and look out into the lands beyond the forest.

Stretches of mountains line the horizon. This will be a longer journey than you thought.

You pass a quiet town on your way to The Campaign, taking extra care to avoid any and all eye contact. Only a few homes dot the mountain line and you were able to sneak by them mostly undetected.

You had pilfered a copy of the sectors map a few weeks ago and judging from its coordinates you only need to pass a couple more towns to get to The Campaign. The towns are arranged in a star shaped pattern and The Campaign falls at the northern vertex.

The folktales say The Campaign grounds start at the edge of the castle where the mountains kiss the Emerald Sea, a sea of demons littered with the souls of those stupid enough to traverse it. The map seems to confirm it.

You heard the stories. The sea with sparkling waters so clear you could see into its beautiful depths. But with one touch of the water your skin mottled on the spot, the poison finding its way into your veins and luring you in. Before long, you’re diving into the sea of your own volition, letting the creatures who live within swallow you whole.

Another shiver runs down your spine, but you shake it off. You need to stay alert. One step at a time.

You reach into your satchel for your flask and let your knees fall to the dirt, dipping the metallic container into the murky still waters at your feet, headwater ripe and free from the bright orange strings that plague the river near your house. These waters are safe, you reassure yourself.

Reaching into your satchel again, you dig around for some nourishment and groan when you feel the empty edges. Judging by the increasing drops of greenery along the mountain line, you are certain the sea is not too far now. But you need something to keep your energy up.

Slinking down into the limits of what you believe to be Sector 14, you notice patches of field far more arable than yours. A man stands in the distance, blue fabric hanging off his torso.

“Dania! Give me a—“

The man is interrupted by the cries of a woman. He runs towards the sound and you approach closer, ducking behind a barrel.

“Where are you taking him,” the man’s shouts come through and in the distance you see two heavily armed men in black combat gear dragging a boy barely older than your brother away in handcuffs. “Please! We are working overtime. You will get your grain!”

The City men pay no heed until the man throws himself on them. With a swift connection with the back of their gun, the man falls back.

Your mouth falls open. Your legs start to move towards the men without thinking and you make it a few metres before something tugs at your sleeve. Dazed, you look down to see a little girl, barely five or six.

Her eyes are round and frightened, and then a look much older than her age crosses her face. “They will hurt you,” she whispers.

You’re too bewildered to answer, your eyes darting from her face to the scene in the distance, your heart breaking when you see The City men shove the boy into a large black truck.

You want to run after them but the tug at your sleeve holds you back.

Then shouts come from a different direction.

“Briseis! Briseis!”

The girl gestures at a nearby house and you slowly back away to hide behind the barrel as she walks towards the sound of the voice.

An older woman leaves the nearby house and spots the little girl, running to her. The woman’s hands immediately cup the girl’s face and then pull her in for a hug. “You’re ok? You’re ok.” She holds her close to her chest but the little girl pulls away to look at you.

Slowly bringing your forefinger to your mouth, you pray she does not alert the woman to your presence.

Funny enough, you have made it this far mostly undetected. Now, your safety rests in the hands of a girl barely old enough to speak.

But you trust her. Why else would she stop you from running after The City’s men?

It takes you a moment to realize how reckless it would have been to intervene. Surreptitious travel is necessary. No one beyond Sector 10 has ever left their town limits without The City’s express orders. Those beyond Sector 10 are meant for The Harvest. And certainly not expected to join The Campaign.

How The City will allow you to join The Campaign is a matter for future you. Present you just needs to focus on getting there.

The girl’s eyes are still on you but the woman is oblivious, patting her head and speaking to her. The girl nods at her and lets the woman kiss her once more before turning to leave.

The girl is now walking towards you.

You freeze, staring as she approaches, her head twisting behind her momentarily to watch the woman enter the house.

She is more hesitant as she comes closer.

“Your name?”

Bending down, you smile at the child, hands falling to your knees as you nervously glance at the house again.

“My name is… Y/N,” you say, deciding that the truth is better than a lie. “Thank you for saving me.”

She smiles at this. She reaches into her pocket and takes something out of it.

Stunned, you grasp the piece of bread she holds out to you.

“Here,” she says, a seriousness settling into her dark eyes once again. “They said you will be hungry.”

Before you can say anything else, she interjects. “Go now.”

You watch her walk away, turning towards you for a split second to gesture you to leave. You swallow, sliding the bread into your satchel and running back up the side of the mountain.

You don’t have time to think about what the girl said or who they is. Time is running out; you need to make it to The Campaign grounds before the midday bell rings.

You’re very close to The Campaign judging from the map. Just one town left.

There are two options. You can either climb higher through the mountain or you can take a shortcut through Sector 10. You gaze into the sky and notice the sun inching nearer to the midway point.

Sector 10 it is.

You run down the side of the mountain and immediately see the very outlines of the town.

This town feels strange.

The path from the mountain twists into a road leading through trees, revealing large windowed buildings on the other side with signs aglow with the buzz of hope and electricity. Bright stone walkways open before them and people dressed in neon fabric traverse the streets with practised ease.

The colours are dizzying. The promises they hold, moreso. Places like this exist?

You hear honking and bells ringing. Small rickshaws weave through the bodies and you stare in amazement, having only heard about such motorized vehicles in folktales.

The stink of sweat mixed with a sickly sweetness wafts to your nose and you nearly gag. You pull up your cape around your shoulders and continue forward.

A cart nearly hits a man and a commotion breaks out. You approach the scene, hoping you can cut through the confusion unnoticed. A couple of uniformed men approach the scene at the same moment and you steal behind a large sign to avoid detection.

“What happened here?”

As the two involved argue over the occurrence, you take the opportunity to dash past.

“You there!”

The sound comes loud and clear and you know the uniformed men have spotted you. You slide under another boardwalk sign and bolt into an alleyway.

Sprinting through the dark, urine-stained concrete enclosure you trip over an empty bottle, a sharp sting in your shin nearly toppling you over. But it’s the dead end that stops you.

You scan the area. A ten foot high fence ahead. A dumpster to the left. And bricks to the right.

“Halt, Unauthorized,” they shout in the distance. You can see them pulling out their weapons. You don’t have much time.

You back up a few steps then sprint forward, hitting the edge of the dumpster with all your force. It springs you to the top edge of the barbed fence. Your hands ache under the sharp edges but with one leap you’re on top of the roof.

You glance down and notice the two armed men look from the dumpster to the fence and then to you. There is no way you should have been able to make that jump.

They point their weapons at you but you’re already running, sliding over a roof gable and rushing towards the far edge. They’ll be calling in reinforcements. You need to beat them.

From what you’ve memorized of the map, you can cut across the town area and reach the town’s edge in only a few minutes. You should be safe then - well, as safe as you can be now that The City is alerted to an Unauthorized venturing through town.

As the sun bears down angrily, you can’t help wonder if your mother has read your note by now.

“Can we eat yet, Mother?”

Your mother stirs as your brother’s voice grows louder. Eyes still closed, her fingers wraps around a paper in her grasp.

“I will see, son. Give me one—“

She gazes at the note at her fingertips, her chest seizing as she realizes what you intend to do.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

But it’s too late now. You’re almost at The Campaign.

Dear Mother,

When you awake, I will be gone. Please do not try to find me. I will come back to you both very soon. I promise. And I will bring with me riches greater than any we ever imagined.

Please stay safe. And please forgive me if I fail.

With all the love in my heart,

Y/N

“Get the Unauthorized! There!”

You can hear shouts over your shoulder as you dart from one rooftop to another.

Your foot slips and you slide roughly down a set of connected shingles, landing with a thud in a patch of greasy water, the vile liquid stinging your eyes.

Jumping up, you bound through another alleyway, shoulder brushing against the rocky wall. Your boots slap across the dirty puddled road, your pace almost as quick as your hammering heartbeat.

You feel for the map, considering whether you could stop for a few seconds to gather your bearings, but you decide to continue running, catching a left at the end of the road.

You come out into the town’s outer limits and come to an abrupt halt.

In the distance you see dots moving in one direction and you no longer need the map.

Looking to the far left, you see the mountains rise majestically to touch the orange sun now nearing its zenith and you become acutely aware of the impending mid-day bell. The stroke of the end.

“Catch the Unauthorized!”

Glimpses of the armed men appear over your shoulder and you break into a run. Unfortunately, with your muddy rags and bruised legs, you are not quite as fast as you should be.

Joints stiff and skin dripping wet, you narrowly avoid colliding into a group of men. The shouts of the armed men behind you grow louder as you skid to a stop before a glimmering blue sea.

The Emerald Sea.

A being hovers above the sea dressed all in black. The steely cold eyes catch you staring and a feeling of dread reverberates through your body.

“There! There!”

As if snapped out of a trance, you twist your head and catch sight of the entry gates.

But these aren’t ordinary gates.

Metal rises out of the ground in a series of spikes like the bars of a jail cell. Beside the gates stands the ruins of a towering castle, glimmers of a beauty that once held all the riches of the world.

But what catches your attention is not the castle nor the gate itself. It’s the line of heavily armed men dressed all in black, their guns at the ready.

You swallow.

Glancing back you choose the rock over the hard place, and this decision propels you forward, your legs pumping as fast as you can go.

But you aren’t fast enough.

A set of rough hands clasp around your shoulders.

Onlookers stop and crowd around as you struggle against their grasp.

“Stop! I’m here for The Campaign!”

Your words are drowned out in the rumble of the crowd as more onlookers gather around.

A voice booms behind the crowd and it falls silent.

“Who dares disrupt the peace?”

You continue to struggle in the men’s grasp as the crowd parts down the middle.

A very large man emerges between them. His beard is long and white, his face full and round. He has a cloak of gold and boots of silver.

The armed men start to speak, one letting go to provide the man a warrant for your arrest. “Mayor Danaus, we will take away this Unauthorized and leave your tournament to begin without delay. Here is the warrant.”

Mayor Danaus.

The leader of the City. The one who is responsible for your family’s woes, the one who seeks to bring children of poor families to The Harvest where they will waste away for the benefit of the City.

Cold seeps deeper into your bones and you stop struggling, instead letting your knees sag as you contemplate what they will now do to you.

“Enough,” Danaus says, raising one hand in the air. The City men stop speaking. “Rise to your feet, Unauthorized. Why are you here?”

As the hands around your arms loosen, you drop to the ground with a thud. Eyes blinking open, you place one unsteady hand on the wet soil before rising to your feet.

Your voice squeaks out a lot quieter than you’d hoped as you struggle to push words out through your parched throat. “I.. I am here to join the Campaign.”

When you look up at the large man, a gleam catches your eyes. There is someone behind him that sparkles brighter than all the chaos around you.

You blink again, wondering if you are simply imagining things, a mere hallucination like that hovering lady must have been.

“Funny child, do you wish to die?”

“I am not a child.” Those words bounce out a lot more easily.

His laugh bellows out unexpectedly and with it, more laughter joins in chorus. It’s raucous.

You wish to put your hands over your ears, but instead you focus on the wet cloth sticking to your skin. It’s much too loud in your head anyways.

“Alright, not a child, I will consider letting you join if you answer one question,” Danaus says, and you look up at him, watching his chubby cheeks peek out from beneath his beard. “What will you do with the prize money if you survive?”

Laughter breaks out once again, as if such an outcome is so unlikely to obviously be some kind of cruel joke. A mere mortal like you could never even hope to survive.

He, however, eyes you very closely.

Inhaling deeply, you look Danaus in the coal of his irises, defiance budding in your chest.

“I will make sure you and your men can never harm my family again.”

It’s suddenly quiet.

Too quiet.

And then the murmurs start.

Like buzzing bees you can hear words upon words exchanging between mouths as they circle you both.

Insubordination. The City can never let a mere Unauthorized speak to the Mayor with such blatant disregard for his position.

You half expect a slap across your face.

You most definitely did not expect his smile.

“Regardless of your years, you are indeed still a child. Only a child would speak with such insolence.” He claps his hands and the guards grab you again.

You start to struggle but then he speaks. “Take the Unauthorized to the entry gate. Such misplaced bravery needs an outlet,” he says, rubbing his beard, “and I like a show.”

He breaks off a gold bracelet from his belt and grabs your hand, which you attempt to draw back. He is stronger.

You watch as he slips on the bracelet carefully, his eyes never leaving your face. “Don’t forget why you came here.”

The guard’s eyebrow flicks up momentarily but when Danaus turns on his heel to head to the gate, the guard follows, dragging you to the grounds wordlessly.

It’s only when you’ve crossed the threshold that you realize the vastness of the Campaign grounds.

And the emptiness.

As if transformed by the gates, the land is suddenly barren, dotted only by a few straggly weeping willows that seemingly erupt from the ground. At the horizon, a forest looms wide and large, partially hidden by an expanse of fog.

The Emerald Sea mercifully only extends along one border with the ruin of a castle sagging at its edge. The rest of the land seems to be caged in by some type of metal.

Are they keeping you in — or something else?

Your mind quickly turns from the grounds themselves to the bodies traversing them.

They look… strong. And healthy.

Of course that’s not unexpected but standing among them, you realize now just how much famine can put you at a disadvantage. And how different a life these competitors must have lived compared to you.

Why do they even compete?

You watch them stride with the confidence you’ve never even dreamed of, clothed in shiny fabric and even shinier smiles.

They do not need the prize money.

“Uh—”

You feel the wind knocked out of you as you fall to the ground, glancing up to catch a cruel sneer.

“Watch where you’re going, filthy creature.”

It’s suddenly dark as a grotesquely large body eclipses the entire mid-day sun. You’re pretty sure giants no longer exist but this man must be a direct descendant.

His sneer breaks into a laugh as he walks away, muttering something under his breath you can’t even repeat to yourself.

You sit up, dusting off your clothes when a brilliant light in the distance catches your eye. That light transforms into a being as he emerges through a parting in the crowd, with skin the colour of honey, all aglow under a tunic that barely covers his torso. A being so beautiful he must have been sculpted with a practised hand. You look away, scared if you stared long enough you might catch fire.

As you stand, others seem to take notice of this sun incarnate and a buzzing ensues, suddenly consuming the grounds. Words float all around you as the man (for what other word could you use to describe him?) approaches.

“… that’s him…”

“Jungkook…”

“…bestowed with super strength by the heavens…”

You take a step back as he cuts the distance between you in half with only a few strides.

“…wait, isn’t he…?”

“That’s the Mayor’s son…?”

“…he is…”

He is Danaus’ son?

You turn away in disgust, arms crossing over your chest as you consider whether the universe really had to unleash the worst of bad luck for you.

The son of Danaus.

The one who has the strength of the world at his fingertips.

The assumed favourite to win any fight.

And he is surely to win this one too. The City will make sure of it.

The mirage you had built in your mind dissipates with this revelation as you expel both hope and breath.

You have no chance of survival.

Perhaps you could better serve your family another way. Surely, you are better alive…

You start walking towards the gates, turning his name over and over in your mind with despair.

Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook.

Danaus’ son.

You wish terrible things strike him down. For why should a man with so much already at his disposal have this opportunity too.

Greed. Men like him live on greed.

You are merely steps from the gate when you hear a boom. Followed by the staccato vibrations of the carillon.

The mid-day bell.

Loud gears screech and you watch as the large metal gates start to close. Bodies emerge in between and suddenly you hear screaming —is it your own?— as you shove them out of the way, a sea of large barriers of flesh to wade through.

A loud speaker crackles, but you don’t turn. Otherwise you would have seen a slender man adjust himself at the helm, his blood red hair glistening as he smiles at your desperation.

You finally make it past the entrants and launch yourself at the small, quickly disappearing partition left between the metal prongs.

“Welcome participants.” A clear and bright voice emits with a sickly sweetness as your face hits the metal gate. “You were free to come. But that is where your freedom ends. If you’re still breathing, that is. Welcome to the Campaign.”

what did you think? any thoughts would make me infinitely happy. and if you want to be tagged, just let me know :)

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #dystopian au #supernatural au #bts au #52hertz #the campaign #lilo fics

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yoongsisbae · 2 years

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The Woman with the Black Cat on Her Shoulder | MYG

Fearful, they buried them, stomped them into the dirt. Underneath their boot, scared men were unaware the seeds of hope had planted by their own volition. From the dirt and grime, grew flowers, blooms so tall, eclipsing their hatred. You were strong and unwilling to be cut down any more.

Dystopian Fantasy AU. Shapeshiftercat!yoongi x reader

Warning: 18+ adult themes, dystopian futuristic society (IS IT THO?), graphic violence against women, animal cruelty, attempted SA, mention of suicide, police brutality, angst, sex so soft and sweet and full of consent

Word Count: 9.1k

---

“It’s her,” they said. Whispers in the crowd, repeating the phrase to one another, like a wave of hope rippling over their bodies, energizing their fight.

It was true. She was there, and the crowd could feel her power, her anger, forged from pain. Because it was their anger too. It was familiar, it was a friend reaching over their shoulder and telling them, ‘It will be okay. I’m here now. You don’t have to fight alone. You won’t lose this time, because you have me now.’

The rumors spread far, even the law-forcers knew of her. They knew of her as a myth, a story the people would tell to ease the pain of their subjugation. An empty promise shouted at the law-forcers, that one day they’ll be sorry, that one day victory won’t be theirs to take. She was the woman with the black cat on her shoulder. One look into those feline eyes and judgment is swift.

Some believed the cat is a creature from the underworld. The beast heard the people’s cries and clawed its way up into this world, collecting souls of abusers and assaulters, dragging them back down to its dark home. Some people believe the cat is part of her, she wields and controls the beast like a limb, that she isn’t human, but an angel, the savior of the people.

But she is neither and the cat is neither. She is like them. Born without wealth, without love, abandoned and alone, she grew up too quickly. A sad story told a million different ways by a million different girls. She lived her life as they all did, she worked and worked and worked and worked, and lived. She didn’t want anything more but to live...

You didn’t want anything more but to live, and perhaps it was by some divine intervention, you don’t know, that you crossed paths with a lonely black cat, so small and broken, so desperate to survive like you. You freed him and in ways you could not imagine, he freed you.

---

From the crowd of bodies, the woman with the black cat on her shoulder stepped to the front. Her clothes were black, pants torn and patched, sewn back stronger. A tight shirt so they made no mistake, it was a woman under that mask. Black cloth covering her face and hair, the amount of her hair hidden under her hood. But they could still see her eyes, accentuated by black eyeliner and hatred. And on her shoulder, a large black cat, long wild hair to match its wild eyes.

The law-forcers stood in a line, guns and shields ready. The angry crowd had nothing but hope now.

The law-forcers didn’t really believe it was her, looking down at her still. Any woman could find a black cat and pretend. They saw her as a martyr, a faker, their trigger fingers itching to make an example of her.

The cat hissed, mouth stretched wide open and long fangs displayed. The hiss was loud and piercing and the law-forcers flinched, embarrassingly reacting. The crowd jeered and laughed and the law-forcers pointed their guns at the black cat, growing in anger for being made fools.

You whisper to your companion to wait. Let them attack first. Show the world the true aggressor before them.

You waited because you knew the beast on your shoulder was a magical being. And the thing about living magic in a world filled with human creation, is that magic and technology reacted like oil and water, coexisting but unable to intermix, and magic was by far the stronger force.

Red lasers land on you and your companion, but you stubbornly stand tall and the crowd mirrors your actions. The cat growls low and menacing and hisses again. It only took one scared threatened man, one trigger happy finger, and then it was all over...for them.

A gun shot rang out, and smoke appears where the black cat on the woman’s shoulder stood, weaving and twisting in the air like black rivers, dispersing and covering the empty zone between the crowd and the law-forcers. Bullets entered the smoke and the magical force created a barrier, stopping them in midair. That is when they all knew, they knew she was not just a myth.

As quickly as the magic appeared, electricity disappeared. The energy sent a shockwave across devices. Cameras and lights, the law-forcers military grade machinery, and all that expensive technology the law-forcers depended on broke and malfunctioned. Precious moments without their weapons that give a perfect window of attack.

The crowd stands transfixed and the woman screams, loud and deep within her gut…

A roar.

The black cat appears and reappears, so quickly it’s impossible to follow the cat’s path. Fangs piercing through skin and muscle of the men paid to silence the people’s cries, now crying for help, crying in pain as sharp claws rip through kevlar and tear the flesh from their bones. She runs towards them without fear. That's what the crowd sees, they don't witness her fear of losing what she loves most that carries her feet forward. And then the crowd begins to run forward too, headed straight towards men with bullets ready to fire.

It’s chaos.

---

“Dinner’s ready.”

His voice was soft and calming but you startle awake. You don’t mean to, you’re just always on alert and so anxious these days.

His hand moves from your back to your shoulder, fingers pushing into your tight muscles. His way of telling you to relax. You place your hand over his, pulling him into bed. You’re so tired, he must be too. You wish he wouldn’t worry over you, you could have heated some left overs up instead.

The news plays loud on your home's display screen, events of afternoon recorded right before the blackout replay from many different angles. You listen to the cheers of your arrival, inwardly groaning.

Tonight it’s going to get worse, you’ve bruised the egos of the elite, and men like that always lash out in anger, unable to take a loss so great.

“We should go out tonight, just in case,” you sigh. Your companion doesn’t speak, he’s tired. He fought so hard. And he might have to do it again. But this is the life you both chose. Somehow, it has become this, nights upon nights of this. You wonder, if others had this kind of power, would they be able to sleep at night knowing they could have done something more, or would they be like you?

It wasn’t always like this. Before you were a fighter of the system, you were a victim of the system.

Like the night your companion, Yoongi, showed you what he truly was.

---

“Sweet kitty.” He purrs loudly while he eats, broken purrs between grumbles as he devours his dinner. The sight makes you laugh as he eats the meat leftover from your lunch. He waits for you, always in the same spot. The black cat you saved has taken to following you from work to your home at night. Every night you try to coax him into your house, but he never does decide to join you. He’s a cat of the streets.

You click your tongue softly as his fluffy tail wraps around your calf. Using two fingers, you run them along the cat’s back as he eats. “I have to get going, kitty, sorry for making you wait,” you muse, scratching behind the cat’s ears as he finishes. It’s later than you usually leave. Hours at the warehouse seemed to stretch longer and longer these days.

You move quickly and quietly, kept your purse tight to your side. You walked behind restaurants, away from drunken men and street girls that took over busy streets at night. Walking these dark alleys alone was daunting, but better than dealing with confrontation and a quicker route. And you had kitty. The animal gracefully walks next to you, happily bouncing along with his tail held upright. You somehow felt safer walking with the tiny street cat.

Age thirteen was the first time you encountered the wandering eyes of strangers, walking the district’s marketplace with your friends from the learning center. Three teenage girls enduring the catcalls of grown men, following you for blocks. You knew the feeling of someone watching you all too well, it was the same feeling you felt tonight.

You stop and bend down, petting kitty, cooing at how cute he looks when he stretches his neck towards you and in the corner of your eye, you noticed them, two men in the shadows following close behind you. There is no safety at night for a woman in this world. You learned that not this night, but you felt the fear of your reality in waves, stronger than any night before.

Standing up again, you ignored them and kept your pace. You were too scared to run. Running escalated things. You learned not to do such things. Once you ran they would chase, they could catch you, they would hurt you. And you knew you couldn’t fight two and win, you weren’t confident in one. You fiddle with your e-bracelet. You could signal an emergency, but the law-forcers took hours to come to this part of town, even as attacks continue to escalate, you knew they wouldn’t save you.

Kitty meows next to you. He meows, he meows, did kitty notice them too? “I know,” you whisper.

You think if you keep this pace, you can make it past the corner, and run then, hide yourself in the crowd. But like you, it was not the first time for these men either. Experienced predators, they noticed your hunched shoulders, the concentrated steps slowly escalating. They attacked.

Dirty hands grab at your body, your hair, yanking you backwards into pavement. It was too quick, too forceful.

You fought, you fought hard, with everything you had. You kicked and you screamed, and when fingers covered your screams you cried, when stronger arms and legs kicked back and shoved you back down, you pulled your limbs tightly together, protecting what they wanted from you.

You tasted your own blood, felt the sting of cuts and bruises on your body just formed and yet you still fought, unwilling to let them have any of you.

Acting on instinct to protect yourself until your legs were ripped open and your arms were held down and you retreated into your mind, thinking of what you could have done to stop this outcome, was there anything, one small difference, that could have changed everything? You were asking yourself these questions when the heaviness lessened, and your voice was no longer the only screams in the night.

You lifted your head at a terrifying sight. Limbs reacting quickly to move away from the bloodshed. You reminded yourself to breathe.

Breathe out. You looked down at the scene, the two assaulters were dead, their bodies covered in scratches.

Breathe in. And another man, black hair wild and covering his eyes. Hands red, covered in blood that wasn’t his.

Breathe out. He walks closer to you, bends down, covers your bruised cheek with his bloody hand. Street lights flicker and static electricity stings you at his touch, but you don’t flinch away, feeling a familiarity that didn’t frighten you.

Breathe in. Somehow you knew the most improbable situation was what this was, you knew what he was.

Breathe out. “Kitty?”

Even with all your breathing, you still passed out at the revelation.

---

You sit straight up, yelping, breathing eratic.

‘What's this?’ You stare at napkins and plastic bags, the trash falling away from your body. You're outside on your porch. Your purse had been underneath your head.

“Ow.” Your ribs hurt, your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your temples hurt. You run your tongue over your dry lips, over a cut and wince. Your bracelet beeps. You’re late for work.

You didn’t have time to think about last night until lunch time. Unable to make food, you stood in line to pay for lunch. Waiting for your turn in line, you listened to today’s gossip. The women of the warehouse discussed in hushed voices last night's murder. “An animal attack, they think.” “What kind of animal could do such a thing?” “Not too far from here at all, two men.” “Men?!” “From the Financial District at that.” “No CCTV either. It made the trending headlines this time.” “Maybe now they’ll do something about the attacks.” “Y/n, what happened to your face?”

“Went drinking last night, went home with the wrong one.” you mutter, running your fingers over the cut on your eyebrow.

The women look over at you with sympathetic eyes, “Please, y/n, my nephew is a good one, I wish you would give him a chance,” your coworker says, a lovely old woman who treats you like a daughter.

“You didn't met him in VR first?! They have apps now to vet men like that,” another says in an accusing tone, “I would never.”

“Men can still pay to scrub that info from their V life,” the older woman says, rolling her eyes.

You wrap your leftovers in a napkin, pocketing the food. “I don’t have time to take care of a man, sorry Auntie!” Hugging her goodbye, you try not to wince when your ribs touch.

You head back to work, lost in your thoughts, piecing together what your mind allowed you to remember from trauma of last night.

After work you wait at your usual spot, clicking your tongue, but the black cat doesn’t come.

So you wait stubbornly, until it becomes even later than the night before. You check behind trash cans and old boxes, huffing. You were so certain you saw him in the morning, scampering away from you as you woke. Where is he now? You're certain you remembered the events of last night correctly, you're sure of it...aren't you?

Your usual route has been taped off, now a crime scene, so you’re forced to walk through the crowds, weaving through drunken bodies.

Drunken men won’t leave you alone, especially one, even when you tell him off, even when you push him away, he jeers and makes fun of your bruises.

“Looks like someone already taught you a lesson on manners. Didn’t you learn anything?” he slurs, following after you.

You turn down a deserted alleyway and feel small pads hit your shoulder, the warmth of a large cat pressing down onto your back, fur ticking your cheek. You reach up to steady the cat's body, pulling him into a protective embrace close to your chest. The black cat purrs as you stand stunned, looking down at the black cat. “When did you get so big?”

The man takes a swaying step forward and the cat hisses and swats a large paw in his direction, making the man flinch back, chuckling in his drunkenness.

“Leave me alone.”

He’s too drunk, eyes glazed over, unwilling to stop now that it’s started. He lunges forward and the cat jumps out of your hands, claws aimed at the drunken man’s face. He screams as you attack as well, pushing him away as hard as you can, anger overtaking you. You don’t feel remorse as he hits the ground with a thud, blood pooling around his head, just stunned that it actually worked.

The crowd hears the commotion, men begin to head towards your location. Your heartrate spikes, preparing yourself to run, but instead someone pulls you into a hug, concealing you in the shadows, lifting you into his arms easily instead.

You’re both gone before anyone can reach you, left only to look at the drunken man, now dead.

A piercing scream echoes, but you’re already so far away. He holds you in his arms, moving across roofs with agility like you’ve never seen before. You kept your head buried in his shoulder until he landed in front of your doorstep. Placing you down, your legs buckle once they touch the ground, unable to stop yourself from falling into his arms.

You apologize, searching for your keys as he holds you upright. When you finally unlock your door he turns to leave. Just like that. No!

You find his hand, “Please don’t go, please.”

Smoke appears like a gust of wind, black and thick, and the hand you held evaporated in your palm as you coughed. When the smoke clears, a small figure stood, a cat with wild hair, his back towards you. The black cat looked over its shoulder, green eyes piercing yours.

You held in your gasp, and bent down, bruised knees hitting hard ground.

Reaching a shaky arm towards the cat, he stills. You hold your breath petting soft fur, hands delicately lifting his body into your arms. You couldn’t help the tears escaping, the wetness falling onto his soft hairs.

“I’ll stay out here then.” You whisper into fur, body shaking.

A meow erupts from the cat in protest.

For the second time you fell asleep on your front porch, for the second night you watched a man die and felt no remorse.

---

The next day at work the second murder was all your coworkers could talk about. Trending reports of another slashed bloody, a dead man found blocks away from your own warehouse. The news had trended statewide too, the headline was too juicy, too scandalous; a tourist visiting the labor district, brutally murdered on the night strip, presumably by a prostitute, a dirty woman! He was a father, a leader in the community, a good man!

Fuck him. You kept your head down and worked and didn’t entertain their gossiping. You were on edge all day until you stepped out of work and a familiar feline stared up at you, tail swishing back and forth.

You bent down and wrapped your arms underneath his fluffy belly, pulling him close to you, head nuzzling his furry body. He wiggled in your embrace but did not try to leave, paws instead reaching for your shirt and eventually jumping onto your shoulder.

That’s how your walks went from then on. You talked to him like always, but now with the understanding that he really knew the words you spoke. He never changed back into the man who helped you, and he always jumped off your shoulder before you could walk inside.

“Please come in, please.” you always said.

But he didn’t, he wouldn’t. ‘Stubborn kitty,’ you thought, and your heart hurt.

One night, instead of going home after work, you went dancing.

“Meow.”

“Is it just me, or is that stray following us?”

“Just you,” you joke, giving your date a small unconvincing smile.

You finally agreed to go out on a date with your coworker’s nephew, Hoseok. “Maybe it’s hungry.” He wonders, laying his arm over your shoulder, confused by its strange behavior.

You looked down at the black cat, walking back and forth gracefully, and looking very much annoyed. “Maybe.”

“My house or yours?” He asks, voice gruff, eyes downcast. Even the good ones still act all the same.

You smile. “Yours.”

A loud deep meow erupts from the black cat.

The next time you left the warehouse, there was no black cat. He’s mad at you. Did you deserve it? He doesn’t expect you to feed him every single night, does he? If he just accepted your offer to stay inside your home, he wouldn’t have to worry about such things, you thought, offended and weary to walk home alone, cautiously making your way down the usual path.

You heard soft footsteps behind you. ‘Not again,’ you thought. Fearing the worst you spun around, coming face to face with your ‘black cat.’ You met deep brown eyes with flecks of green that almost seemed to glow when he stepped cautiously out of the shadows.

He crossed his arms over his chest and walked towards and then past you, looking over his shoulder, an annoyed look on his face. You took the hint and stepped in line. “Um, are you hungry?”

He didn’t speak.

You dug into your purse. You held out the leftovers wrapped in foil to him. He took it and ate as he walked, big urgent bites that made you frown, noticing his hunger.

You pass a man walking in the opposite direction and your companion presses his shoulder to yours. The gesture warms your heart. Usually, when a man passed by you, you were met with questions or a comment about your body. This time nothing. The stranger keeping his head down, walking away without a word, and you almost wanted to scoff at how invisible you became now that you were in the company of a man, annoyed that’s what it took for strangers to leave you alone.

You stopped once you saw your home in the distance. He looked at you in question, turning to you for the first time. “Thank you…for walking me home tonight. And all those nights. Thank you, kitty.”

You hugged him, his body stiffened against yours and you didn’t let go until he relaxed, arms slowly reaching around you too.

“Yoongi, my name is Yoongi.” His voice was gruff and raspy like he hasn’t used it in awhile. It was the first time, in a long time he felt he had a reason to speak.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you whispered. And then you let him go, smiling, turning back to your home.

---

The thing about injustice, is that those who wield it, do not have to live with the pain they cause. But for those who are hit, every day the pain builds upon itself, robbing energy and time to tend to wounds caused by injustice, leaving scars that make it impossible to forget.

You’ve felt it growing inside you, the anger. The past continued to assault you, making you feel disgusted. You tried to ignore it, but the memories were scars inside you that keep opening, making you angrier, repulsed.

And worse, attacks in the district grew exponentially, outcries from the people were met with platitudes by officials.

And worst of all, the latest trending case involved an elite from the e-tech district. It took four women, the last one reported to have died from the trauma. Of course he faced no punishment. He was a powerful man from the e-tech district, and they were powerless labor women. Injustice upon injustice. The wounds kept on opening, your trauma you kept on remembering, again and again in the faces of these women, anger simmering and growing.

So when you walked your usual path with Yoongi high on your shoulder and heard a concealed whimper in the shadows, you didn’t just mind your own business, like you would have done out of fear no less than a year ago, you were too angry to be afraid.

“Get off of her!”

You hit his back, you hit his head, you hit any part of him you can reach. “Go! Run! Hurry!” you tell the woman, who chokes on her cries and looks at you with tearful scared eyes, nodding.

He is startled, but he is stronger, pushing you away, slapping you across the face. “Crazy bitch! You want to die, yeah?”

He hits you again and you don’t care. You kick him and hit him, knuckles hurting the most with how hard you swing.

He is surprised, but he is stronger, and it only take one solid hit to make you double over, wind knocked out of you and curling into yourself.

Legs trap your body to the ground and you feel disgusted all over again, gritting your teeth, angry tears escaping, your nails dig into his face, drawing blood that surprises you both.

He’s angry, and he’s stronger, fingers wrapping around your neck, a murderous look in his eyes that you match. You belt weakened hits down across his forearm. Part of you, furious, makes a promise that if you survive this, you’ll find a way to kill him and every man who hurts another woman with your bare hands. But another part of you, the part of you that’s tired, that expects this pain to never end, would rather just die.

A single clawed digit runs across the man’s neck, ending the fight and silencing your thoughts. Yoongi pulls the man off with you ease, throwing his dying body to the ground.

Yoongi crouches down, looking over your battered body. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me!”

“We have to leave.”

“No, leave me alone!”

“Get up,” he says, insistent.

“NO!” Your breath out rapidly, unable to calm your nerves or your anger.

So Yoongi waits, sitting down next to you. “Then I’ll stay here with you.”

Finally, you calm down, tension growing as minutes tick by. “Let’s go,” you swallow, pulling off your blood soaked work shirt, revealing a black tank top underneath, standing up to leave.

“This is not the way home.”

“I know.”

Black smoke zips around you, Yoongi appearing in front of you annoyed. “Where are you going?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, you were going to find another drunk man, you were going to see if he deserved to die too. “Why did you save me?!”

He looks at you, “Because I wanted to.” His answer short, hiding his real answer.

“Why?!”

“When you found me, why did you save me?” He asks, temper rising.

You stumble over your words. “Because it was the right thing to do, how couldn’t I?”

You think back to the day you found Yoongi, thin as a rail, patches of fur missing, tape wrapped tightly around his body, barely clinging to life, you thought he was surely going to die.

It was too cruel, what happened to him, you hadn’t expected him to live through the night, but you wanted him to know kindness too, to know there were good people out there too who wouldn’t hurt him. You nursed him all night and all morning, for days, until he found the strength to walk again, and then one night when you came home from work he was gone, the following night began your walks.

“That’s why. Because it’s right,” he replies.

You swallow down angry tears. “This is not going to stop, it’s not going to stop unless someone stops it.”

---

Spring came and it became unbearably hot in your small home. You left the windows open at night to let the heat out. On your day off, you took to spring cleaning. As you cleaned you looked to the side and saw familiar black fur, Yoongi was outside your window. You put out a bowl of water on the window sill, adding an ice cube which he gratefully licked, slurping the water cutely. He looked bigger. Hair longer, he did not look like the straggly stray you first encountered. He kind of looked intimidating, you mused.

You lean your head against your window frame, running your hand through his thick fur. “You can come inside anytime you want,” you let him know, smiling.

With the spring heat, you traded pants for shorts, thinner fabric, your hair up and off your shoulders. Now that nights were no longer cold, that meant even more people outside. More attacks too, some trending cases coming in from the upper districts.

Once the brutality reached the elite, rallies begin to form, marches through the Neostate's capital. You watched on your home display, conflicted in emotions. It looked nice, but did it change anything? Maybe in those districts, but definitely not here.

It didn’t matter to you, because you promised yourself that night, you would die before you let another man take advantage of you.

So when a man put his arm over yours, pulled you out of the dance hall, and he thought of all the ways he was going to have you that night, you thought of all the ways you were going to kill him.

Alone with him, you spoke low and direct, only once telling him to let you go before he regrets it. He laughs in your face, leans into you, whisky smell coming out of his slimy lips as he attacks the corner of your mouth.

Ever since that night you let your nails grow. It made it a bit more difficult to complete your duties at the warehouse, but the trade off was worth it, watching men crumple to the floor, screaming in pain when you ripped gashes across their face. Oh, it was so worth it.

“You crazy fucking whore!” The man screeches expletive after expletive, anger growing. You don’t care.

Before you can attack again, before he can attack you, Yoongi attacks.

From behind you, moving quicker than either of you, Yoongi transforms into a man. He lands a series of punches, large hand gripping the assaulter’s face, slamming his skull hard into the unforgiving pavement.

He looks back at you and you look at him and you don’t need to speak to one another before you both are running down the alley away from the dead drunk who could have saved his life if he hadn’t tried to impose himself on you.

You walk next to one another in silence. And then you decide to turn back into the crowd. Yoongi holds you back, wearily asking, “What are you doing?”

“I’m thirsty. It’s hot. I want a popsicle.”

He stops you again. “Cmon on, I’ll buy you one too. A milk one.”

You sit on your porch, smiling at Yoongi who holds two popsicles, once in each hand, licking the frozen milk.

“You’re trending on the local page. Well I guess we’re both trending.”

Yoongi nods, focused on licking.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Yoongi nods.

“Why won’t you come stay inside?”

“My kind are territorial. If I choose a home, it’s um, important to choose the right one.”

You pout, “I know my house isn't big or fancy, but it’s sturdy. It’s not that bad.”

“That’s not what I meant! I just... I had a home once. I thought I would always be welcome. I...” He can’t finish, voice shaking.

You exhale, understanding. “I grew up in foster homes. Some were okay, but it never felt like a family. Some were...horrible...” You wince at memories. “Anyways, what’s the saying, ‘Home is where the heart is’?” You nudge his shoulder. “This feels like home right here. Here with you.” you smile. “Yoongi? Are you…purring?” You look over at him with wide eyes, hearing the familiar vibrations come from deep within his chest.

“No!” He looks away.

---

Neostate's capital never seemed to care about the attacks on women, but the attacks on men? More law-forcers tasked to your district. On every corner. Men protecting men. More arrests of street girls. A curfew for women (unless a man was with you). You could almost feel the fear and tension within the night crowds now.

The people didn’t like the constant watchful eye. Rallys were every day now. Violence was met with more violence. The women who were caught in the crosshairs weren’t taken to Neostate run prisons, no, they were taken immediately to special e-commerce owned prisons, forced to work in the gencrop fields with migrants and farmbots, forced to work with cancer causing chemicals that unions outlawed amongst its citizen workers.

And by some accounts, women were given a second, more heinous, option. Better than slowly dying from cancer causing chemicals, they could use their prison time to serve as live incubators, as human birth was always the more desired option to incubator births. That was Neostate’s answer to the violence, a more sinister, pathological brutality.

Where was the justice for the battered women? Where was the justice?

That kind of injustice, that kind of shared pain, it didn’t lessen or become better over time. It stayed, stretched and thinned, like a blanket, almost comforting at times, suffocating most of all. The hypocrisy was sparking an age old fire amongst the people who had let it simmer for too long. And now, that cloth caught fire, and there was no stopping it.

More rallies and more marches, in every district a curfew now.

The fire was flaming.

And inside danced one flame known as her. Rumors of a powerful woman, with a pet, no a beast, no a cat! People have seen her at night, seen her cat move, jumping over buildings. She walks the streets at night to deal out justice the law-forcers won’t, women she has saved talk of her all the time; the woman with the black cat on her shoulder.

One night, the men who deserved punishment, to your surprise, were in uniform.

You stood stunned, unable to process. “L-Let her go...”

“Grab her.”

Of course, unfortunately for him, Yoongi would never allow him to touch you. Larger than you have ever seen him, appearance more like a panther than a black cat, Yoongi attacked the law-forcer with ease.

This was before you learned Yoongi’s abilities were unmatched by bullets. You jumped in the firing path of the law-forcers. Your vision blurred from the blood loss and the immense black smoke that suddenly appeared. It was everywhere, and Yoongi was unstoppable.

Everything was destroyed. The destruction didn’t look human, didn’t even look monstrous, it looked like a killer force of nature.

You only heard rumors of it like everyone else, the unexplained phenomena that took the lives of two heroes, because you fell unconscious before you could witness Yoongi's true power.

You woke up in your bed, bandaged, Yoongi and an unfamiliar man at your bedside.

Your throat itches, dry from days of sleep. Your muscles stiff, tight bandages around your stomach.

“Hello,” the stranger besides Yoongi speaks calmly. “I’m Namjoon, a friend of Yoongi’s. You’re okay now, we were able to stop the bleeding, no major organs or arteries were hit, you’re lucky.”

Lucky, he says. You groan. “You’re doctor?”

“Not quite,” he laughs uneasily. “A veterinarian.” He smiles sheepishly.

You fell asleep after the small exchange, and woke up with a small black cat purring across your chest, feet and tail tucked in, head resting under your chin.

You find enough energy to pet him softly. “Don’t leave, please,” you croaked out, half asleep. “You’re my home.”

Yoongi never left.

---

These days, when you walked with Yoongi, he walked in human form beside you. Yoongi stayed more and more in human form. Stray cats were being round up and euthanized. Animal hospital records were being sequestered and families who owned black cats were being investigated by the State. All over a rumor. Well, the rumors of the woman with the black cat on her shoulder had become more than just gossip between warehouse workers. Whispers of you were heard in every home, in neighboring disticts, in Neostate's capital! You and Yoongi have become a symbol of strength, of hope, a battle cry, a reason to keep fighting.

“What should we get? Hweh?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, shaking his head no.

“Hmm,” you browse through the food screen at the grocery kiosk, “Well I can’t afford steak,” you pout.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“Noodles!” Yoongi visibly grimaces at the thought, making you laugh.

“How about we settle for chicken?” You smile. Yoongi smiles wide. You somehow always ended up buying the chicken set.

“Y/n? Hey! How have you been?”

“Hobi, hey!” You turn around to see Hoseok’s cheerful face smiling down at you. “I’m great, all things considered.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. You know, I pick up my Aunt and some of the other girls from the warehouse after their shift ends. Has she told you? I can take you home too. It’s not safe to walk alone at night.”

“It’s never been safe,” you sigh. You knew, most women now walked in pairs or with a trusted male escort. “I’m fine,” you reassure Hoseok, “Yoongi walks with me.” you look over to your companion, smiling. If Hoseok only knew how many walks it has been now.

“Oh, nice to meet you! Are you…together?”

“He’s my fr-” You feel Yoongi’s hand reach for yours, intertwining his fingers as he stares down a confused Hoseok. “-iend.” You look down in surprise at his hand tightly holding onto yours.

“A-Ah, okay.” Hoseok looks away flustered by the way your companion stares daggers into him.

The screen beeps and the kiosk's door opens, your food bagged and ready to be picked up. “We g-gotta go.” You turn, pulling Yoongi along.

You walk home and Yoongi never lets go of your hand.

You don’t question him, afraid he might take it the wrong way, instead enjoying the moment, because as affectionate as Yoongi was in cat form, he never touched you unless absolutely necessary in human form.

Yoongi, however, silently stews over the brief encounter, feeling more and more threatened by the man who took you on a date so long ago. Once you enter your home you finally ask him, “Are y-you okay?”

“Yes.” He says, still holding your hand. Lips pressed into a tight line, full of jealousy and quiet rage.

You raise your eyebrow, “Are you sure?”

“You see me as a friend?” he snaps.

“You, um, don’t see me as a friend?” you ask confused.

“I see you as more.” He says it softly, eyes staring you down. He looked angry but he looked sincere, confusing you.

“What do you– What do you mean, Yoongi?” You heartbeat escalates in anticipation.

He didn’t have a proper word for it, the closest human word didn’t sound right at all. He saw you as more, yes, he felt a connection so deep to you, words couldn’t describe it.

He lifts your intertwined hands over his heart, struggling to say what he felt. “You’re– with me– You’re home.”

He raises your hand to his mouth, pressing the skin to his lips softly, before licking.

You smile, giggling at his cute affection before moving closer to him, burying your head into his chest, listening to his erratic heartbeat.

“You’re…more than a friend.” You whisper. You look up at him, catching his eyes, irises such a deep brown shade with tiny flecks of green, his eyes so mesmerizing. “I love you.”

The words were barely spoken. He bends his head down, forehead meeting yours, long messy hair still as soft as a cat’s, ticking your skin. He's closer than he’s ever been to you. You took the chance to move one last inch, closing the distance, pressing your lips against his.

His soft lips brush against yours, making you feel so good you have to force yourself to pull away from him. “Was that okay?”

He answers you by kissing you again, this time with intention, his lips moving against yours, soft and hard and soft and hard and so so warm.

Your heart overflows, it makes you feel dizzy, a happiness you weren’t used to, only touching the surface of the love you felt for him but never diving in, and now it felt so strong and all consuming it left you breathless.

You hug him close again, anchoring yourself to him. “Did I do it wrong?” he hesitates.

“No, everything is right, everything.”

---

You answered Hoseok's chat right away.

“How did this happen?!” You move beside Hoseok, staring at the hospital bed where his Aunt lies, bandaged and connected to tubing.

“She got caught up in the rally. The law-forcers thought she was a protestor. What shit, they hit her thirteen times! She was still in her warehouse uniform!” You put your hand over her bruised knuckles. Hoseok’s shoulders rack with sobs, Mrs. Jung was Hoseok’s Aunt, but she raised him like her own. “The march was so large I couldn't get my car through the crowd, I couldn't get to her!” He cries, feeling guilty and distraught. You turn to Yoongi, exchanging silent words.

You never attended the marches, deciding to pick your battles. But this time, you decided you enemy was not only a misogynistic bottom feeder from the labor district, not just a sadistic elite taking advantage of his status to hurt women, or a sexist law-forcer abusing his power, your enemy had become bigger, a system working against women like you at every turn. You were going to defend yourself and the women you loved, and even the women you didn’t, you decided.

And that is why you and Yoongi revealed yourselves to the world. You had enough. The people had enough. And this time, because of you, the people had won. It showed the world, power is not just given to men.

---

“The Women’s Protection Act,” your coworker scoffs, moving the hospital food around her plate, “Sounds like Enslavement.” She frowns. “My husband is dead, how am I supposed to get to work if I can’t even leave my own house by myself?”

“I could take you.” Hoseok says.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s a nice thought, but doesn’t fix the problem.”

“It won’t pass, right?” Yoongi asks.

“They’re scared of us, it will pass,” you say solemnly.

“Then we fight.” Yoongi says. You all turn to stare at him. “Err right?”

“Fighting here does nothing, the elite districts have to join in, for real.”

“Those girls never worked a day in their life,” she groans, “you think they will dirty their hands for us?”

“If they had someone to rally them, I bet they would… The woman with the cat on her shoulder.” Hoseok says wistfully. “They would follow her, look what happened.” You catch Yoongi’s eyes and quickly look away.

“Yeah, can you believe it? Those fuckers’ weapons all jammed. Can you imagine that cat of hers in the e-tech district?” Hoseok’s Aunt cackles, “Oooh, the entire place would combust!”

You swallow hard while Hoseok joins in on the laughter. “Ahh that would be great. But the capital has technology that hasn’t even reached us yet, I don’t think she could even survive a fight like that.”

“We should still try.” Yoongi murmurs.

“Yeah? Got a way to chat her? I’d love to meet her,” Hoseok laughs.

Yoongi leans back in his seat, crossing his arms, huffing.

You ignored Yoongi’s questions all night, until finally you snap.

“What if you die?!”

Yoongi looks at you stunned, chuckling. “You’re not worried about yourself?”

You scoff. “I should have died a long time ago.”

“Me too, but a woman saved my life when she didn’t have to, gave me…a home.”

“W-We could expand our watch over to the agriculture district instead. That’s something we can fight and win. Maybe we should just focus on that?” Yoongi stays quiet. “Why help the Elites when half of them agree with the act?!” You ask angrily.

“If you want to stay…I’ll stay with you.”

Every part of your being is screaming at you not to back down now. “I don’t want to lose you.” Yoongi kisses your forehead, hugging you close.

To the capital.

You didn’t want to disappear and worry Hoseok and his Aunt, so you went to the antique store and bought paper, wrote a note using real ink for the first time in your life. You gave it Hoseok after leaving the hospital for the last time. Now three people knew your secret. Well, three people and a cat.

“Packed?” He asks.

You nod, on the verge of tears. You hated this place, why did it hurt so much to leave it?

Yoongi sensed your sadness, pulling you into a hug. “I’m sorry, I’m being silly,” you sniffle.

“You’re not, it’s okay to feel sad.”

You finally broke down in Yoongi’s arms. You were terrified and you were sad. You felt like you were being pulled away at sea, the currents of the revolution were too strong for you to swim through, you weren’t strong enough for this. You had no real power, it was all Yoongi, you were a fraud, and you were going to drown and take Yoongi down with you.

A soft purr pulled you away from your thoughts, Yoongi trying to console you the only way he knew how. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, damn if it didn’t work. He’s too cute, too loyal, too perfect for someone like you. You didn’t deserve him, but you were too in love to let him go now.

You lay against him, sharing your bed one last time. “I’m sorry for dragging you into my fight.”

“I might not understand everything, but I know what you’re fighting for is what I want to fight for too.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. No matter where we go, my home is you.”

He kissed you softly, wanting to make the moment last. Soft kisses became stronger, deeper. Hands wrapped loosely around your waist and became tangled in your hair, cupping your cheek, firm, pulling you into him.

You moved on instinct, nestling your body close to his, pressing tight to his strong frame. Your heart began to beat so quickly it matched his own, your breath escalating against his lips. You didn’t want it to end, you wanted to be closer, always closer. You wanted all of Yoongi.

“Is this okay?” you ask between heated kisses, Yoongi nods quickly, groaning, head falling forward into the bend of your shoulder as your fingers wrap around his shaft, feeling him harden as you pump. His tongue runs along your shoulder, softly scratching your skin, making you shudder and moan.

His mouth envelops your own, this time with more urgency, tongue licking over your lips until you part them for him. He takes his time tasting and licking into your mouth, holding you tightly as you work to pleasure him.

“I want you, y/n.” Yoongi grunts, moving his body over yours, watching you intently, memorizing your heated expressions to memory. “Please?” he asks, licking his lips.

“Yes,” you nod, widening your legs for him. His fingers pull at your panties, growing a claw just to tear the fabric away. You pull your nightshirt quickly over your head before he can tear it off too.

He stills and admires your body before lips kiss the newly exposed skin as he presses his body down onto yours, slowly connecting himself to you, inside and out. You gasp, stretched by his length, try to steady harsh breathing. Having sex with Yoongi was nothing like you ever felt before, it was so gentle even when he rutted hard into you. It wasn’t just sex, it was making love. The pleasure, the love, it was overwhelming, his fingers exploring your body, pulling at your curves, pinching the most sensitive parts of you.

So much love, so much pleasure, your walls began tightening around his length until he couldn’t hold back any longer, mouth finding the sensitive part of your neck and biting down, releasing inside you. He relaxed into you, licking the mark, softly apologizing. It didn’t even hurt, you reassured him, the pain eclipsed by the pleasure and happiness you felt. It felt so good and right.

He kissed along your neck, down your shoulder, across your chest, moving lower and lower, determined to give you just as much pleasure as you gave him. Rough tongue licking across your sensitive skin until he fell in between your legs, admiring your beauty. You shiver as his fingers run along your sex, push the liquid overflowing out of you back inside, his come, possessively wanting to mark you still. He keeps his fingers deep inside you as he licks your core, tongue pressing over your nub sending shockwave of ecstasy through you, building the pleasure inside you once more until you reach euphoria’s edge again, this time toppling over. He moans into your core satisfied, your walls clenching around Yoongi’s fingers.

“Come here,” you finally rasp out, as Yoongi is all too happy to continue to lick you clean.

Hugging him close, tangling your limbs together, you fall asleep one last time in the largest district in the Neostate, the labor district.

---

“How the heck are we supposed to get a pass to visit the e-tech district?” you realize, asking Yoongi when you both step out of your home at sunrise.

He smirks.

“Hey Joon.”

“Ahh look at you! You look great.”

“Yeah...Well, Yoongi is not happy.” You frown.

“It will wash off, they do this to all the pets in the higher districts.” Yoongi growled and panted in his cage, his fur a bright shade of purple.

“Let’s go, ‘wife.’” Joon held out his elbow to you.

Loud hisses emit from the cage. You laugh awkwardly, wearing clothes that cost more than your entire wardrobe.

“So your family is from the financial district, eh?” You ask trying to break the tense silence. Joon, Yoongi, and you took a bus to the distribution district, and then once you arrived you transferred into a private driverless car sent by his family.

Namjoon smiles, “Yeah, want to know why I stayed down there, I assume?”

“The thought crossed my mind, yes.”

“Love is funny that way,” he sighs. “They really try to box us into different sectors, make it so hard for each of us to find happiness somewhere else, but when you find the one, nothing else matters.”

You clutch the altered ID card of Namjoon’s late wife.

“You stayed, even after, when you could have gone back...”

“I never had a reason to until now.” He taps on the cage, “Plus, I had a very stubborn patient who wouldn’t leave either,” he raises his voice, teasing Yoongi.

You make it to the financial district in Namjoon’s smart car. You walk with Namjoon to your hotel with Yoongi in tow and you've never seen so many...things. Useless things. What is that thing? Pouring out water you can't even drink. Where does the water go? Why are they wasting so much water?! Water is a scarce commodity, it doesn’t make any sense!

‘Neostate’s Safe Sector continues to riot as our Capital’s Citizen’s Defense Force begins deployment to our nation’s largest sector.’

“Did they just call our district…the Safe Sector.” You blink. “Namjoon places a finger over his mouth, signaling your silence.

He turns the hotel’s display screen’s volume up louder, closing the blinds. He clicks the release on your e-bracelet, placing both his and yours in his suitcase. “Surveillance here is much worse,” he whispers.

You mouth the words ‘safe sector,’ aghast.

Namjoon laughs quietly. “I mean, I don’t think they meant safe as in safety, but I see what you mean,” he whispers.

“Can I let him out now?”

Namjoon nods and Yoongi stretches his tiny cat body outside his cage, bounding towards the hotel room’s bathroom.

“Wait!” Namjoon whispers urgently, running after him. “Don’t transfo-”

“THE FU-” Namjoon covers Yoongi’s mouth. Finishing the proclamation, “ONLY ONE SINK?!”

“Huh?!” you rush towards the bathroom but it promptly shuts in your face.

“What’s wrong? I want to see!”

You hear snickering on the other end of the bathroom door and the soft whipping of a towel smacking marble, Yoongi taking out his anger on the poor bathroom’s sink. You can only imagine what he looks like now, you sigh, vowing to make Namjoon tell you in detail what happened.

“Do you know what a blueberry is?”

“No.” you say excitedly, you wait to hear Namjoon’s explanation.

In your lap, Yoongi bristles, purple tail puffing out in all directions.

“Even with your e-braclet completely offline, I’m still worried. An alert might still send off if they notice someone from the labor district in the capital. I sent it back to Hoseok, Yoongi said that it was okay.” Namjoon whispers.

You nod, a little disappointed your v-life was now truly non-existent. ‘Yoongi is home,’ you repeated in your mind, petting a purring Yoongi. “I got you a new one,” he hands you the shiny new tech. “It’s rudimentary, uses old satellite tech instead of the web. I programed my number and a few trusted others from other sectors. Now, remember your lines for the border-forcers?”

“Yeah, I’m visiting for the day to buy a dress because my husband is being honored with an award.” You say, gripping the leash connected to Yoongi as if your life depended on it, “...with my cat.”

Underneath your expensive clothes you wore all black. You walk in hand with Namjoon, pass a large metal installation sticking out of the sidewalk. It’s marked ‘emergency,’ a button with an icon of a woman engraved in the metal. You wonder what exactly would happen if you pushed it.

How many times has that button been pushed, you wonder, would this district even need a use for such a thing? You took in each passerby. There were so many…men. You’ve only passed by one other female and no children. The men here had manners, which only meant they kept their heated stares upon you for only moments before hurriedly going about their day. But as you pass another installation you think there must be a reason.

“I’m in surgery with a patient, that’s why I can’t come with you. But…” he waits for you to remember your lines.

“There’s a family friend waiting to escort me on the other side,” you repeat the lie.

“Great, you got this! Now, try to keep your chin up, act like you belong.”

Ugh.

---

You look across the city lights, so many buildings, so many people. Everything looked so new and clean and so different. The wind was even different here; crisper, fresher.

Under these circumstances, you could see why it was easier for most of them to ignore the abuse. You had to believe they wanted to stop it too. You had to believe the oppression broadcasted from other districts had echoed loud enough with an uncanny cry, familiar to them too.

Well, for now you’re here with just one other by your side and the hopes of your people on your shoulders.

“What do you think, Yoongi?”

Yoongi turns his head and smiles, stealing a kiss. “I’d say I have seven more lives, at least,” he muses.

“What’s the supposed to mean,” you huff, weary. You hold up the plastic map, it generates the landscape, Yoongi studies nine Xs across the terrain. “You know there are only two women on the council? And one of them is in favor of the act! Well,” you sigh, “I guess a 50/50 vote is the best odds we could hope for.” You think out loud.

Yoongi crouches down, as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, settling on his back. “Ready?” he asks.

“No,” you mumble, “What did you mean by seven lives?”

“Just that...my last life, I want to spend just being happy with you.”

You hug him tighter, nodding. Smokes appears around you and wherever you and Yoongi go. The power goes out and the city shuts down. It’s not the women who are afraid, it’s the men.

---

The line “forged from pain,” what I meant was, written from pain. This is pain and anger and sadness of a woman in a society that wages war against women. Sorry, no lightheartedness from me for awhile. If you didn’t like this story or its ending, I’m not sorry. I will finish my WIPs soon, but I’m going to keep writing stories like this for now.

Spring Fling Masterlist

#yoongi smut #bts smut #bts angst #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts fantasy au #bts hybrid au #bts science fiction au #bts dystopian au #sugar fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fanficton #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #suga smut #min yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #hybrid bts #bts hybrid fic

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mirahuyooo · 1 year

Note

If you ever have the time and motivation! then how about a dystopian AU like where the member and reader has to survive and whatnot. But make them ✨enemies✨ I’m a sucker for when one of them is like dying/gets hurt and the other has to go through a ride of emotions. Turns out to nobodies surprise that they actually love each other?!? This was just an idea! feel free to do whatever you want with it 😵‍💫

Beyond [moodboard] | jjk

“You'll get thrown into prison for this, you know.” Your heart drops at the sudden voice that comes from behind you, jump starting at a frantic pace even as you try to ease your breathing. A soldier clad in all black, muscular, and towering over you in height, cocks an eyebrow at you through the visor of his helmet. In his hands is a big bulk of metal—a gun—not necessarily directed at you, but it sends shivers down your spine all the same. You know him. His face, that is—vaguely familiar amongst the sea of people that were practically sardines in the weary slums. You simply didn't have a name to pin onto it. Still, you don’t trust a stranger in a circumstance such as this. “Not if you don't report it,” you manage to steadily drawl, your hands traveling to your side and securing a hold on the rusted pipe you had thought to bring with you. The soldier all but scoffs. “If it weren’t for that terrifying thing,” he chuckles at the measly metal stick you have against his gun, “I would've thought you're bribing me with a good time.”

[click for HQ! 💖💓💕]

A/N: hi, anon 🥺💖 the oneshot for this is underway, but with the plotting alone, it's getting longer than I anticipated (I went with jk for this btw!~) so uh... prEPARE FOR A LONG BOI!!! IDK WHEN, bUT IT'LL COME I SWEAR! 😭

I'm a sucker for shoving fillings for a plot especially for a e2l kind of theme which is why it kept getting longer than I originally would go for on a request huhu

With that said, in the mean time, I hope you liked this moodboard for the story! ☆⌒(*＾-゜)v

[masterlist] | check out more [moodboards]!

#bts au #bts dystopian au #bts imagines #bts moodboards #bts writing #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook moodboards #jeon jungkook imagines #you ask mira answers 💖

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hopekoobii · 1 year

Text

Pull Me Close and Set Me Free AO3

Hopekook | Koobi

NSWF

8.4k part 1 of series

dystopian au

“You are very lucky with your timing Hoseok-nim, bunny hybrids are in extremely high demand, the person after you on the list had actually requested hybrid J97MBS right when you arrived. We always give priority to our algorithm chosen matches, so you are in luck today! Would you like to read his profile as we get him ready?” The receptionist asks, pulling Hoseok’s attention back to her.

The haze that has clouded his mind sits heavy in his ears, but he manages to catch her words.

At the end of the day it is the law; it isn’t what Hoseok wants. Owning a hybrid was something he never wanted.

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almndjin · 2 years

Text

Blood & Freedom

Part of my fics that could’ve been that can be found at the bottom of my masterlist

author’s note: I wrote this about 2 years ago when the ON MV came out so it was heavily inspired by that but unfortunately I don’t know what to do with the plot so I didn’t continue it. Despite that, I still want to do something where I post some very good fic ideas in here, sort of like an archive where people who may be interested can read it. This would be the first of many.

warnings: mentions of blood, death

The crowned prince huddled over his journal, writing profusely. He turned to writing his overbearing thoughts onto paper to find a sense of relief whenever they crowd his mind.

The New World is caged.

Humans are on the brink of extinction and the remaining population lives within walls so high it was deemed enough to protect them from the evil that lurks beyond the green pastures but does not protect them from the evil that lives within.

I already know what kind of evil that lives within these walls. They wear crowns and act dutiful, their feet above others using the death of innocent lives lost for this certain platform. With a heavy heart, I myself would be soon stepping on them as well.

But what is it that lurks beyond these walls?

The history books say that the creatures that live beyond the protective walls were once human. Now they are nothing but a carcass of twisted evil that anything it touches, dies.

It is death itself if death is brutal and unforgiving.

And it is this embodiment of death that is the only thing the king and the past kings are afraid of.

It is this death that cursed people would face if their identities are revealed. If they are found out and banished.

The crowned prince stopped abruptly, his heart beating against his chest, rattling in fear.

Upon hearing the buzzing sound of human thoughts mingle with his own, the crowned prince hid his diary with quick hands, swallowing down the rush of anxiety.

He quickly replaced it with a book he never bothered to read as a prop, as if to appear that he had been busy with more mundane things.

A knock resonated from the door before his servant announced his father’s arrival but he could hear their thoughts even before they closed in on him. If he could focus enough, he could know their deepest thoughts.

“Your highness, the King is here to see you.”

He turned towards the door, his back facing the colossal window to which his desk was propped up.

His father walked regally towards him, an unreadable emotion set upon his aged face. The prince knows better that whatever news he brings won’t bring him any delight.

“Namjoon.” His father's calls as the prince bows slightly to show respect.

The presence of the King made Namjoon worried. His father never sought him personally despite their biological relation; Namjoon never once felt that he had a father.

So the King being in his chambers made Namjoon sweat anxiously to which he hoped he had masked with indifference much like what his father did with his own emotions. He would be King after all so to put on a façade was part of what he needs to be good at.

Namjoon’s father is a selfish man. Everyone knows that he is but most especially the crowned prince. Though it is Namjoon’s birthright, the King still looked at Namjoon as if he didn’t deserve the throne and Namjoon knew from the very beginning that his father, the narcissistic king, would try to find a way to keep his throne by either living forever or trying to live through his son.

The crown that sits upon his head was nothing more than a symbol of power and Namjoon loathed it. His father never once cared about his people, not one bit.

Namjoon had seen his father’s thoughts and he knew better than to follow in his footsteps.

So when the Prince heard about a growing rebellion down south, he wasn’t surprised. What surprised the prince was the fact that his father is more ruthless than he thought he already was.

Namjoon sat at his desk, thinking. It was all he could do after knowing about his father’s crimes. How could he resolve this once he owns the crown? If he’ll ever get to that point.

There was always that looming fear of his father ending his life for the crown and what’s worse is that the King might even have the reason to do it.

Namjoon was cursed after all.

Namjoon debated confronting his father about the crime that happened this morning.

A few nights ago, the council meeting was held and Namjoon was obviously needed to be present but as soon as he stepped foot inside the hall, his father uttered, “Prince Namjoon, you may retreat back to your quarters.”

He wanted to question his father but all he did was nod and stood up ignoring the eyes on him, as if waiting for him to disappear so they could resume whatever topic they wanted to talk about without him.

One peep at a council member’s mind was all he needed to know what they would be talking about and it made Namjoon’s stomach drop.

Namjoon needs to know why his father wanted to massacre the rebels rather than compromise with them. He would rather trick people into having hope of being heard, gathering them in one place then sending them to their graves.

He wanted to ask why but he’d already know the answer.

That night, Namjoon couldn’t sleep and he couldn't do anything except let all thoughts, him and the others, overwhelm him. The weight on his shoulders became heavier.

He needed to be King, a better King.

Better than the one peering down at him at this moment. Calculating eyes piercing him.

Has his father discovered the crowned prince’s true nature? Would he banish him? His own son? Just because he is one of the people who are cursed with abilities.

He never wanted it, he never liked using these abilities. He was sure he’d be killed if he did so, crowned prince or not, his people would never forgive him but the growing fear inside of him almost made him tap inside his father’s mind and see what he wanted just to ease his growing fears to whatever word his father would say next.

“You are to attend a trial with me.”

Namjoon cleared his throat to hide the sigh of relief that escaped his lips, “A trial?”

There is no trial that requires two royals to be present. No trial important enough to summon them. Unless…

Twisted, thick branches with no signs of life scattered across the grass plain so green the sight is so uncanny. It was so contrasting how the colorful scene was littered with death.

Hoseok feels the cold, his breath is visible as he huffs. He pulled on his clothes tighter but it gave no warmth despite the sun blazing ahead. He searches the vast land for more. His dreams always tell him more than what it shows.

His throat went dry, his heavy feet picking up pace as he circles the land.

Nothing but dead trees and grass full of life. These visions are always a puzzle he needs to solve once he wakes up.

It was silent, only the sounds of his ragged breath and uneven running could be heard.

He closed his eyes for a while, trying to catch his breath. Even in dreams he grows tired, something that always perplexes him.

He opens them slowly, his head automatically looking down at his feet to where he had stopped only to find a person lying beneath, making him jump in fright.

A boy lay motionless on the grass. He looks younger than him, arms curled in front of his face, cuffed with painful thorns, the exposed skin of his bloody arms were laced with markings that are foreign to Hoseok.

He gulps, slowly reaching to touch the boy, to see if he is dead just like the trees surrounding them but as his fingers grow closer the sound of crows screeches next to his ear and he feels the familiar pull of waking up and he fights to stay in this dream but he wakes up gasping.

He never found out if the boy was alive.

It was raining. So much that it leaks inside the house. The roof did not provide much shelter for both Taehyung and his sister.

He had tried fixing it but he couldn’t, all he could do was place empty bowls on the floor and hope the rain would stop.

It did eventually for a while and he was thankful. He had time to empty them and avoid wet floors that could flood their home.

That night, the air was thick and damp, the rain had just stopped and the pitter patters of what had occurred lulled both of them to sleep.

Until whispers echoed inside Taehyung’s mind, jolting him awake.

It was after a few blinks that he realized he didn’t imagine it and it wasn’t an echo inside his head. Someone whispered into his ear, the ghost of someone’s lips at the shell of his ear made him shiver.

He looked at the other end of the room towards the bed where his sister lays fast asleep. He could only make the figure of his sister, not really seeing her properly by the lack of light. He relaxed, lying down properly as he wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

The room was engulfed by darkness. Not even the moonlight provided visibility for him. He lays back to continue his slumber but upon closing his eyes, the whispering continued.

“Please stop.” His voice, rough and low, pleaded into empty air. He could never make out what they were saying but he didn’t like the feeling it brought.

He covered both his ears and eyes and counted, hoping it would ease the fear blooming inside his chest. He continued his whispers, the number higher and higher mixing with the dead’s voices until he grows tired and eventually succumbed to sleep.

At least in his dreams, they come to him more calmly.

The cold seeps through Seokjin’s clothing, the smell of rain and iron swirls on his senses. The morning dew was replaced with blood as he walked slowly across the field that used to be green.

Nothing good comes out of a rebellion, that much he had learned.

The people are just too loyal towards seemingly pristine royalty and thus he eventually was betrayed. The result of that betrayal fills the pasture in front of him.

As he approached what he was looking for, he couldn’t ignore the bodies that mere hours ago were alive and trusted him and his words. He could still remember their cheers as he spews out bullshit to get them to fight, to get them to hope.

How many of them had he led towards death with those words? How many ghosts loom behind him, cursing him? How is he any different to the king that wants them dead? Is he just helping the king in bringing death to his people?

The flag that symbolizes their rebellion stands crooked, its fabric torn. It was overshadowed by the King’s overpowering blue and gold flag. How fitting.

He started hating the color red, despite it being the color he picked to symbolize the rebellion, it was also the color he was now surrounded with.

Seokjin’s eyes steeled as the wind graced his features, the smell of the battlefield more prominent. He can feel the absence of life surrounding him.

The familiar prickle of his abilities made his eyes widened, the feeling of dread blooming at the pit of his stomach.

No. Too much. He can’t save everyone. As much as he wanted to, he just can’t.

One of the rebels walked past him, eyes glazed with defeat when they met his own. He wanted to apologize but the man looked down as if he couldn't bear to see their leader.

It made Seokjin feel as if the ground wasn’t there anymore. He hopes it would just swallow him, burying him completely. He was useless as a leader and everyday that feeling grows and grows, their fight proving to be fruitless.

Ignoring the feeling of death and guilt, he made his way towards the dove that was pierced with an arrow.

No matter how many times he freed this bird, it always ended up in the middle of the battlefield. It always ends up being the only life he chooses to save. He didn’t know why and he so desperately wanted to know.

He clings to his repeated actions, tying him down to sanity. He wanted to feel useful, wanted to save everyone but much like this dove, no matter how hard he tries, despite his abilities, he had doomed more lives than save them.

Perhaps the king was right to call them cursed.

Yoongi always felt like he never belonged anywhere and yet he seeks the feeling of finally being accepted.

He just wants to know the purpose of his life. He knows that such a dream is insane. Insane because the world is not as free as it was before.

They are caged and have to accept that they are where they are needed to be. It is a human emotion; To want something out of reach. But as the world progresses like this, safety is what most people want.

How could they ask for freedom when the rest of the world outside the walls were a threat to their survival?

As much as the world had changed it also didn’t. People are still divided and there is always a pyramid of power and right now, he is at the bottom and so is the majority of the people.

People still suffer, people still sin.

The world just grew smaller and the threat just became more dangerous than his own kind but humans are still the same.

When Yoongi discovered he wasn’t as human as he thought he was, he didn’t know what to do.

He had an affinity towards the dark and found comfort in the shadows, to his will he could bend them and even transport him to places he didn’t mean to go to.

At that discovery, he finally found the courage to run away from his so-called home and found something that made his life more meaningful, something that can get him to fight the injustice of this so-called New World.

His mind was clouded, confused but the taste of what freedom could mean willed his legs to move. He found Seokjin, a leader of a small group who was cursed such as himself.

He stayed with him and helped put hope in people’s hearts but with the recent events that just happened, he didn’t know anymore.

Yoongi approached the rebellion’s leader, the door opening didn’t even garner a reaction towards the broad shouldered man.

“I was too late, Yoongi.” Seokjin whispered, Yoongi could hear the weight of defeat in his voice.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even apologize because what good would it do? The sight of the battlefield was unbearable and Yoongi had to watch everything unfold at the safety of his room, not being able to do anything and Seokjin had to face it alone.

Once again, the heavy feeling returns to Yoongi but he really couldn’t run away anymore, not when someone clings to him, makes him feel important and makes him feel he belongs. No, he would stay with this man, no matter how little hope they have left.

Jimin has to always be careful when he talks to someone. One simple thing could provoke him to use his abilities and expose his curse. He would be sentenced to death or banished so that he could perish outside these walls.

When he found out what he could do, he cried. He was 10 and was still considered a child. He watched in horror as his friend jumped towards their death with just a few of his words. It wasn’t his fault, he tried telling himself but deep down he knew it was.

They had argued over something childish and Jimin, with his temper going haywire, told him things he didn’t mean to.

He never expected his friend to do exactly what Jimin told him. After that event Jimin didn’t leave his house to play with others, not even speaking to his parents.

His parents understood what it is that he’s going through or they thought they did. They thought their child was grieving the passing of his friend.

He did grieve, he also blamed himself for it but that was something he could never tell his parents. So Jimin grew timid and lonely, never befriending anyone. He feared that he would bring death to someone again.

He thought he would never find a friend, but that changed when he met a young man who was the same age as him, who is a recluse like him. Who talks and whispers despite him always being alone.

Jimin learned the young man’s name was Taehyung. They had talked properly when they were away from prying eyes. Taehyung looked down beside himself and introduced his sister to which Jimin was perplexed for he saw no one beside him but realization soon dawned on him and realized Taehyung was cursed like himself.

Jimin heard from his parents that Taehyung’s last remaining family, his sister, died several years ago.

Jimin refuses to tell Taehyung this, that what he clings to was the ghost of his sister. That he could speak to the dead, that he was cursed. No, Jimin, could not bear to lose another friend.

So he promised to himself that he would always protect Taehyung and that they would always be together.

Jimin would soon learn that promises are easily broken.

The sun was high up but the winds were cool enough for you to enjoy the afternoon. The market was quite busy but that didn’t stop you from buying the flowers you needed.

“Why is it that you always forget to inform me that you are visiting the market?” You heard Jungkook beside you, slightly catching his breath.

“I didn’t forget,” you admit, “You were busy with your training and I don’t want to bother you.”

“When did you ever become a bother Y/N.” He rolled his eyes, lightly pouting, “You know I’ll drop everything for you.”

Your cheeks warmed up at Jungkook’s words. He chuckles as he teasingly poked it to which you swatted his finger and stomped ahead of him, trying to leave him behind.

The day isn’t complete if you didn’t get to spend time with Jungkook. You’ve known him since you both were five and the moment you chipped your tooth because of him, you’ve been inseparable ever since. He always promised then that he won’t let anything happen to you and you believe him, of course you do. A smile stretches on your lips as Jungkook cheerfully tells you about his morning.

“And after that I got to see Prince Namjoon!”

“That’s great. You hardly ever see him nowadays.”

You weren’t close with the Prince despite your father being the King’s royal advisor. You’ve caught glimpses of him but you never really got to know him.

Jungkook, on the other hand, idolizes the Prince and you have no idea why. He isn’t that great in your eyes but to Jungkook, he seems like he had placed the stars in the night sky himself.

“That’s true but once I completed my training then I can finally be his royal guard.“

“Does that mean you won’t have time for me?” You tease and Jungkook’s eyes widened before he opened his mouth to retort. Jungkook didn’t get to finish his sentence when a man accidentally bumped into him.

The stranger’s dark brown eyes widened in shock as if he had seen a ghost. It was as if he had known your best friend. He then proceeded to look at Jungkook’s arm, which was covered with his long sleeves, as he gulped.

What was he looking for?

You didn’t notice Jungkook stiffened once the stranger’s eyes zeroed on your friend’s clothed arm.

It was after that display of emotion was he able to apologize and then continued to scuttle away as if he had been burned.

“What was that about?” You asked, perplexed as your eyes stuck on the retreating stranger.

Your eyes turned back to Jungkook, who was fiddling with his gloves as he looked around. You grabbed his hand, halting his actions.

“Do you know him?” You asked Jungkook, a bit worried about how nervous he suddenly looked.

He let out a shaky laugh and grabbed your basket filled with flowers from your hands, “No idea. Let’s just get going.”

It was the first time you have seen Jungkook act so nervous, terrified even and that made you worried.

“Okay.” You said, trying to erase the strange encounter.

Hoseok can hear his heart beating loudly against his chest. He can feel the blood rushing to his face, his palms becoming sweaty.

It was him. It was the boy, no doubt about it.

Panic slowly creeped up on his bones, his hands pulling on his hair. What was he to do? Should he tell him?

No, not without risking his own identity. Not when he and his company wear the colors of the royal family. But the guilt was eating him away. That young man is in danger and he never questioned why. That young man must be cursed as well. From the looks of his bound hands, it seemed that he would be caught, especially to how close he is to the very people that are pursuing them.

He had never been wrong. Everything that he dreamt of in his life had come true.

To the death of his parents, to his fiancé leaving him. He had seen that all before it happened. He had dreamt it all. But why a stranger this time. He didn’t know and he was terrified.

All his dreams were all related to him, connected to him which is why it hurt him so much.

What is his connection with this boy?

Jungkook had always been bright. He was good at everything he did, albeit a little shy, but that didn’t stop him from being called the golden boy of his family.

Whenever someone asks him what he wants to be when he grows up, he would always say that he wants to be strong. Strong enough to protect someone, strong enough to protect the crown.

And with how great he is, he knew it would only be a matter of time to get there as long as he didn’t slip up or make mistakes but even the greatest warriors, the smartest people were not immune to make mistakes and Jeon Jungkook was only human after all or so he wished he was.

He couldn’t be more wrong as he heard the walls closing, the grating sounds deafening him.

The thorns cut his wrist and once the gates were completely closed, he knew he didn't have a home anymore.

One mistake, one slip-up was all it took to banish him away. Did he regret it?

No, he didn’t. He’d always wanted to protect someone and that’s what he did even though it cost him his life.

Even though he would die because of it, at least he proved to himself that he was strong enough, brave enough to protect someone he cared about.

But he didn't want to die, not yet. Not when your voice echoes through his head, piercing his heart. He didn’t want to die.

So he ran as fast as he could.

He needed to find somewhere to hide before the sun would set and the darkness could find him.

He needed to live.

#bts #btsfanfic #kpopfanfiction #fantasy au #kim namjoon fanfic #kim seokjin fanfic #min yoongi fanfic #jung hoseok fanfic #park jimin fanfic #kim taehyung fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #kpop scenarios #dystopian au

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books4llamas · 9 months

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Can someone do me a favor and read 3099: Genisis by @mono-moonchilds ?? I need someone else to fan girl over this story with 🤨

- xoxo management

#bts #bts fanfic #dystopian au #min yoongi #kim namjoon fic #knj fic #yoongi fanfic #ANGST #:)

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wiinterchiild · 1 year

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Welcome to the Revolution (tell them that the prince is coming for their heads)

Taegi

Dystopian AU

Hurt / Comfort & Angst

"They're calling you the 'Prince of the Revolution', you know." "Yeah? Well, tell them that the 'Prince' is coming for their heads." The Red Sun has been growing their size in the past months, years after more and more people realize how wrong and corrupted their government is. The organization is preparing for a final blow when Yoongi's father is assassinated. He has to take his place as the leader and finish off what his father has dreamed of.

#taegi #taegi fic #bts fic #dystopian au #revolution au #angst

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masteryaddleisagilf · 1 year

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I got curious, so I did a bit of “research”

The most popular fic in English is an NSFW (incredibly raunchy, wow) Guardians of the Galaxy fic with 128.179 kudos.

In Mandarin, it is a mature RPF fic of the actors from The Untamed that resulted in AO3 being blocked in Mainland China. It currently has 26.916 kudos

For Spanish, the prize goes to an explicit omegaverse & mpreg The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System fic with 3.245 kudos

Indonesian gives us a BTS college AU with 1.569 kudos and French stays on the bandom vibes by giving us an explicit One Direction dystopian story. But the band rpf award goes to Tagalog* ***, with their first page (sorted by kudos) being all Kpop (ENHYPEN, EXO & SEVENTEEN) and no-fandom.

(For those curious, Korean has a low amount of Kpop rpf on their first page. I assume they publish it somewhere else)

Egyptian Hieroglyphics (which, yes, is an option on AO3) gives us a beautiful song translation with an impressive 495 kudos. I really recommend everyone check it out; it is incredible. Welsh** (160) and Old English (222) also had their most popular work have an English translation. Latin (124), on the other hand, is just fully in Latin. There are a few translations, but they are provided by other people and not the original author.

Greek has a lot of Greek political RPF. Like, a lot.

I was incredibly surprised by the fact that you can write fanfiction in Quebecois sign language. I was not surprised at all by the fact that Sindarin was an option.

A few of the languages had their most popular stories not be in that language and just be a case of mislabelling (or, in some cases, people using less-used languages on AO3 as dumping grounds for tests or personal notes.) Also, there were a couple of languages with no stories at all.

If you have been thinking about writing fic in a language other than English, take this as a call for action. There are a lot of people out there reading in all sorts of languages. Even in languages with only a couple kudos, those are a couple of people who are incredibly happy to find a story of a media they love in a language they love too.

. Edits from 7/12/2022:

* Filipino*** is the standardized version of Tagalog and the way Ao3 refers to the language, which is why that is the word used instead of Tagalog. Feel free to reach out if there is a better way to word that sentence.

** Welsh was included next to Old English as they both had English translations, and not as an implication that it is a dead language. Welsh is a living, thriving language with more than half a million speakers.

Edits from 26/12/2022:

*** More Tagalog speakers reached out asking me to change the language name to Tagalog. I did. The original note is left for those looking at the notes/asks and wondering what is going on.

#ao3 #fanfiction #linguistics #language comparisons

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hamsterclaw · 8 months

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Fic Library: Yoongi (Pt 1)

My ult bias, it makes sense that there were too many to fit into one list. All of these authors capture the essence of my favourite tsundere king, check these stories out and show them some love.

Pause by @whatifyoulivelikethat. Music producer MYG x reader, domestic abuse. The first time I ever slid into an author's DMs was after I read this, to let them know how much I loved this story. It's unexpected, and profoundly beautiful, and re-reading it now takes me back to where I was when I first read it.

Like Butter by @bonvoyagenoona. Photographers MYG x reader, director KNJ x reader. Set in the setting of a magazine production team, and featuring a very sexy scene with our fave maknae and a scheming Park Jimin.

Countermelody by @bonvoyagenoona. Producer MYG x shopgirl/musician reader. A gorgeously rendered enemies to lovers story that's as much about life, love, new starts, self belief as it is about Min Yoongi and his beanie. IYKYK.

Moonlit throne by @hobidreams.Joseon king Yoongi x reader, historical AU. The seminal Joseon dynasty story told in a non-linear timeline with a perfectly characterised Yoongi and incredible attention to detail.

Three Tangerines by @kithtaehyung. Fuckboy Yoongi x f! reader, brother's best friend AU. 3tan makes it onto almost every fic rec list I've seen, and deservedly so - the dialogue slaps, the writing's sharp and this Yoongi's irresistible.

Bet on it by @minisugakoobies. Quizzers Yoongi x reader, featuring a super competitive reader and Yoongi with a blonde undercut. Hot, fun and hilarious.

Perpetual Datejust by @jiminrings. Model Yoongi x manager reader. A very sweet, romantic read, with a devoted reader and a healthy dose of angst.

Sodium Vapor by @miscelunaaa. Yoongi x f! reader. An atmospheric, wistful read about a chance meeting that also has Em's signature raw honesty.

Man of the year by @raplinesmoon. Single dad Yoongi x gn reader. A sweet, heartwarming read, and Yoongi's relationship with his daughter is adorable.

Look down on me like that by @here2bbtstrash. Co-workers Yoongi x reader, enemies to lovers. There's nothing better than Yoongi being an asshole, and he's written so perfectly here, as are reader and cute and endearing babystarcandy JK.

Teardrop by @hesperantha. Yoongi x reader, road trip AU. I read sometimes just for the pleasure of how a writer puts words to paper, and this is one of those stories - there are so many truths woven into the words, subtle and beautiful.

Moving day (Explicit) by @here2bbtstrash. Yoongi x reader, domestic AU. Sweet, sexy smut involving Yoongi tying up his hair. I repeat, Yoongi tying up his hair. The visual still gives me chills.

Proof by @illneverrecover. Yoongi x reader, strangers to lovers. A confident reader approaches an equally confident, sexy Yoongi with the added bonus of Joon and Jin as supportive besties.

Quiet Kitten by @thatlongspringnight. Professor Yoongi x college student reader - a smutty read with a fiercely sexy, stern Professor Min.

Straight Shooter MYG x reader, cyberpunk AU by @snackhobi. A perfectly characterised Yoongi, a dystopian futuristic setting and a subtle and gorgeous love story that I've read and re-read more times than I can say. The story that pulled me into BTS fanfic that I still have so much love for now.

Punch Drunk MYG x reader, boxer AU by @joonbird. From memory there's an open ending but that hasn't stopped me from re-reading. A troubled Yoongi's depicted so beautifully here.

Greedy MYG x reader, mafia AU by @xjoonchildx. Ana knows how much I love this - this Yoongi breaks my heart every time and I love how the relationship develops between him and reader.

Close Call by @xjoonchildx - a follow up to Greedy that's just as stunning as the OG story. I can't tell you how much I love this. Yoongi's a provider, and he takes care of his own, and there's nothing sexier.

All the wrong places by @mrworldwideshoulders. Yoongi x reader, strangers to lovers, in progress. An intriguingly irritable Yoongi covers the tab for reader at a bar.

Interlude: Sundown by @eoieopda. Part of the Darksided series, featuring Yoongi x reader in an established relationship. Hot, smutty, intimate goodness.

Angel by @sailoryooons. Mafia Yoongi x sex worker reader. I started reading this and couldn't stop - the writing's sharp and riveting and the pacing is perfect. A sexy, smutty, captivating read with a sexy, dangerous Yoongi.

Part 2

#fic rec: yoongi #fic recs list #min yoongi fic

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star-my · 15 days

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BTS Fic Recs ☆ Tumblr (i)

These are all available on tumblr as of April 2024. Some are likely crossposted on ao3 as well.

~Ao3 RECS HERE~ ~Recs (ii)~ ~Recs (iii)~

Almost all are complete works, those with “+” after WC are incomplete. Most are BTS x (F!)Reader.

Most of these are Mature or Explicit (usually because of smut) ~ mdni ~ italicized titles rated G or T ~ Please read responsibly

If any authors tagged here wish to be removed/untagged, please lmk! | Shoutout to @ggukkiereads who does an amazing job creating rec lists, which helped me find many of these fics

F2L = friends to lovers ; E2L = enemies to lovers ; FE2L = frenemies to lovers ; R2L = rivals to lovers ; BFB = best friend's brother ; BBF = brother's best friend etc

OT7/Multi

☆ BTS Reactions by @dreamescapeswriting | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @btsjfans | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @bulletproofwhalien | NSFW + SFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @salvejoon | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @sunshine-and-bangtan | SFW + NSFW |

☆ Desperado Series by @heartbeatan | Mafia AU | PJM + JJK + KTH (in progress) | 60-160k(+) each

☆ The Company series by @btsmakesmehappy | Agent AU | 25-37k(+) each (in progress)

☆ Mafia BTS Reactions by @ninetailedfoxmanchi | Mafia AU (+Yandere AU) |

☆ #CodeBTS series by @yminie | Mafia AU | 1-12k each

Kim Namjoon

☆ The Ghost in Apartment 1403 series by @notsoguiltykpop | Ghost AU, Supernatural AU, Roommate AU? | ?k

☆ beauty & the bookworm by @jungshookz | E2L Library AU, Uni AU | 20k

☆ la vie en bonsai by @jungshookz | S2F2L Neighbours AU, Baker AU | 38k

☆ The Seven Nights series by @theunknowncryptid | SMAU, Mafia AU | 13k

☆ real magic by @heretobbtstrash | S2F2L Single Parent AU, Coffee Shop AU, Coworkers AU | 17k

Kim Seokjin

☆ {Unavailable}

Min Yoongi

☆ Take One by @untaemedqueen | Pornstar AU | 24k

☆ The Deal series by @untaemedqueen | Mafia AU | ?k

☆ suit & tie by @jungshookz | CEO AU, Office AU, Coworkers AU, PA AU | 21k + drabbles

☆ hellish by @jungshookz | E2L Demon AU, Roommate AU | 22k

☆ strike a chord by @snackhobi | S2L Pianist AU, Bar AU | 16k

☆ straight shooter by @snackhobi | F2L/E2L Cyberpunk AU, Dystopian AU | 14k

☆ devil with the mint hair series by @theharrowing | E2FWB Brother's BFF AU, Stoner AU | 11k+

☆ a wager of lords and love by @hisunshiine | S2L Historical AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 7k

☆ daechwita by @chemicalpink | Daechwita AU, Assassin AU | 10k

☆ stay by @luffles424 | Daechwita AU, Assassin AU | 3k

☆ daechwita by @se0kie | Daechwita AU | 4k

☆ make me proud by @moonscriptsx | Established Relationship AU, Canon Idol-verse | 6k

☆ by its cover by @kittae | S2L Cat Dad AU | 2k

☆ misfortunately, yours by @sor-vette | S2F2L Dark Fae AU, Dark Fantasy AU | 32k

☆ mixtape by @jungblue | F2L Uni AU, Radio AU | 15k

☆ cyberslut by @kimnjss | SMAU, Uni AU, Fboy AU | ?k

☆ alive aha fxck by @softyoongiionly | F2L Neighbours AU, Vampire AU | 43k

☆ a brew of wings by @inkedtae | S2F2L Dragon AU, Witch AU | 10k

☆ fury of their scales by @kpopisthereasonihavenolife | Dragon AU | 18k

☆ inheritance series by @jincherie | Hybrid AU | 21k

☆ tuxedo series by @whatifyoulivelikethat | Cat(-shifter?) AU, Roommates AU | ft JJK | 49k+

☆ Assuage series by @btsqualityy | Omegaverse AU, Werewolf AU | ?k

☆ show by @httpjeon | Pw/oP ft BTS | 2k

☆ drip by @here2bbtstrash | Pw/oP | 5k

Jung Hoseok

☆ midnight confessions by @snackhobi | BFF2L Coworkers AU, Office AU, Buzzfeed Unsolved AU | 27k

☆ the bride of ashmedai by @jeonggukingdom | Demon AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 13k

Park Jimin

☆ The Bird Cage series + The Lion's Den series by @untaemedqueen | S2L Mafia AU | ?k

☆ Set It Off series by @btsqualityy | Mafia AU | ?k

☆ the hunt by @httpjeon | Shifter AU, Fantasy AU | 8k

☆ lovebug by @httpjeon | Hybrid AU | 12k

Kim Taehyung

☆ Pied Piper by @untaemedqueen | Mafia AU, Established Relationship AU | 10k

☆ maybe i do series by @chateautae | Arranged Marriage AU, Chaebol AU, CEO AU | 410k + drabbles

☆ kinda hot by @kimnjss | BFF2L SMAU, Uni AU, Fboy AU | ?k

☆ nip it in the bud by @opaljm | Brother's BFF AU, Piercing AU | 10k

☆ heatwave series by @curly-bangtan | F2L Roommate AU | 12k

☆ under the covers by @jessikahathaway | Agent AU | 23k

Jeon Jungkook

☆ heavy lifting by @snackhobi | Coworkers AU | 13k

☆ Miss Vagabond by @bubblesuga | F2L Gamer AU | 8k

☆ blizzard by @curly-bangtan | S2L Roommates AU | 16k

☆ Sparkle by @btsmosphere | F2L Roommates AU | 3k

☆ Hands-On Learning series by @ladyartemesia | Uni AU | 5k

☆ kiss it better by @jincherie | Uni AU, Sports AU, Cheer AU | 12k

☆ ghosts just wanna have fun by @sugaxjpg | Ghost AU, Supernatural AU, Uni AU | ft MYG + KTH | 20k

☆ tell me your secrets (i'm all ears) by @jinpire | Uni AU, Hybrid AU | 7k

☆ under the bridge by @jincherie | Hybrid AU | 11k

☆ Swipe right by @ppersonna | BFF2L Tinder AU | 9k

☆ overtime by @cupofteaguk | CEO AU, Office AU, PA AU, Coworkers AU | 12k

☆ I won't stop you series by @imsarabum | Vampire AU, Fantasy AU, Office AU, Coworkers AU, CEO AU, PA AU | ?k

☆ life eternal by @jungkookiebus | Fae AU | 9k

☆ hotter than hell series by @chateautae | Demon AU | 136k

☆ Hellblazer series by @jungkookiebus | Demon AU, Constantine AU | ?k

☆ agent of love series by @ppersonna | SMAU, Agent AU | ?k+

☆ strawberry kisses series by @kimnjss | SMAU, Brother's BFF AU, Tinder AU | ?k

☆ drag me down (to hell) series by @kimvtae | Mafia AU, Single Parent AU | 58k (abandoned)

☆ Concealed Weapon by @gimmesumsuga | Mafia AU, Husband AU | 10k

☆ hate sex by @yeoreos | FWB Pw/oP | 4k

Overall Favourite Authors (If I recc'd all their works like I want to/more than I have, I'd have to make this series even longer >.<)

☆ @bonvoyagenoona's masterlist

☆ @chateautae's masterlist

☆ @flowerwrites06's masterlist

☆ @here2bbtstrash's masterlist

☆ @hollyhomburg's masterlist

☆ @icyhobi's masterlist

☆ @jungshookz's masterlist

☆ @justcallmenikki7's masterlist

☆ @kpopfanfictrash's masterlist

☆ @ladyartemesia's masterlist

☆ @luxekook's masterlist

☆ @magicalsalamander's masterlist

☆ @yminie's masterlist

☆ @yoonia's masterlist

#bts fic recs #group: bts #type: fic #i think i did a pretty good job of hiding my yoonkook bias if i do say so myself :]

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 16 days

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Paradise (what about us?) | JJK | SNIPPET

Pairing: military! husband! Jungkook x engineer! wife! Reader

A/N: Welcome, darlings, to my April's GOLDEN fic! This was inspired by "Paradise (what about us?)" by Within Temptation as well as the video game "Fallout 4" so you can thank my dad he played it while I watched :D I'll be publishing snippets here and there as well as progress on the story. I really hope you will like it and remember you can get access to exclusive fics with my Golden Membership I'll link below! ALSO, the poll I said I'd publish have been postponed because uni has been kicking my ass. That's why I'll be writing this story I'm currently inspired to write. Additional content will be published on Ko-fi

Warnings: apocalypse! AU, war! AU, dystopian! AU, violence, blood, gore, use of weapons, angst, some fluff here and there, survival! AU, married! AU, ft. OT7, futuristic! AU, sci-fi, military! Jungkook (I'm in love), oc is described to be shorter than Koo, more warnings will be added on the fic,

~SNIPPET

The world ended 150 years ago.

And now, what was left to do was to survive in this new cursed paradise.

“Have you ever wondered what it was like to live before hell fell upon us?”

“Have you ever wished you had died in the war?”

“Have you ever wanted to live so much like now?”

Those questions were commonly asked. Cruel questions. Questions you didn’t know the answer to. Questions that made you think in a world where you could only act. Where impulses won over reasoning. Where life was considered both as a curse and a blessing and sometimes, neither you nor your husband Jungkook knew if it was worth fighting for a fallen world or to join the dead, for in death there’s peace you’ll never find in this dark paradise.

Get my GOLDEN Membership for exclusive fics, additional side-content and special snippets. As well as insights of my writing process! Don´t miss out on this opportunity of becoming GOLDEN!

April/16/2024

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bts-0t-7 · 1 month

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BTS | PJM | FIC RECS

Jiminie is here!! Hehe... Don't forget to tell the authors how much you have liked their work. I know they'll love hearing from you

Have a meal, darlings 😏

Into The Wilderness, @gukyi (angst, fluff, comed,f2l, camp counsellor au, unrequited love)

The Iron Ring, @sailoryooons (fantasy au, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers)

Long Term Couples, @taetaespeaches (series, fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, idol au)

Placebo, @bangtanlicious (smut, soulmate!au, love triangle, s2e2l, hurt/comfort, fate versus destiny, dystopian backdrop)

Crystal Snow, @minniepetals (figure skating!au, fantasy!au, king jimin, supernatural power)

Schrödinger’s cat, @dovechim (guardian angel jimin, comfort)

Destined With You, @borathae (Forbidden Love!AU, Fantasy!AU, Childhood Friends to Lovers!AU, Romance, Smut)

Backtrack, @mapofthesea (smut, dom!yoonmin x sub!reader, fem!reader, producer!au, feat. Yoongi)

Rock Bottom, @jkbabiey (Idol!Jimin, angst, fluff, smut, establishedrelationship!AU, marriage! AU)

Nectar, @gimmethatagustd (roommates to lovers, supernatural au, smut, angst, fluff)

Desperate, @ressjeon (smut. That's all I'll say. Heavy fricking smut)

#park jimin x reader #jimin x oc #park jimin x you #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #park jimin x y/n #jimin fic recs #jimin imagine #jimin scenarios

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notacelestialbeing · 10 months

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criminal (tiffany x f!reader)

a tiffany au, chapter story.

⤷ synopsis: tiffany is the leader of a criminal society known as the syndicated. she meets you through her father who wants her to marry you as a way to grow army of the syndicated. it all starts to spiral out of control until tiffany and you begin to develop feelings for each other. tiffany being unable to love/be loved, doesn’t know what this new emotion is, you help her figure it out. however, an unknown society begins to invade any possibility of happiness entering the two societies and tries to take revenge from the past. a past two guys tried to put behind. but can you two truly defeat whatever unknown society has started to take over the world?

⤷ characters:

switch!f!reader - co-leader of the jaded morningstars

switch!tiffany - leader of the syndicated seraphs

jung ho-seok - father of tiffany

kim namjoon - father of the reader

IU - mother of tiffany

han sohee - mother of the reader

kim chaewon - sister of the reader

rosé - right hand woman of the reader/older sister

bang chan - left hand man of the reader

huh yunjin - right hand woman of tiffany

min yoongi - left hand man of tiffany/older brother

newjeans - the reader’s younger sisters

dreamcatcher - the reader’s cousins (special appearances)

aespa - tiffany’s younger sisters

itzy - tiffany’s cousins (special appearances)

the serpents/vampires

the dearils/shapeshifters

lilith’s messengers/demons

hades’ pigeons/phoenixes

+ more guest appearances/special appearances.

⤷ warnings: violence, sexual themes, suggestive language, cursing, mature themes, gore, mentions of traumatic experiences, fluffy, slightly angsty, supernatural characters/places, themes of paranormal activity, greek mythology, dark.

⤷ themes/tropes of the story: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, cults, dystopian societies, cyberpunk, paranormal, supernatural themes, mentions of greek gods/goddesses, mentions of demons/vampires/evil seraphs/phoenixes/shapeshifters.

⤷ songs:

s-class by stray kids, venom by stray kids, freeze by stray kids, charmer by stray kids, etc.

cyberpunk by ateez

end of the night by jay park

love killa by monsta x, got me in chains by monsta x, rotate by monsta x, etc.

dive by jooyoung

bother me by chungha

mirotic by tvxq, everyday it rains by tvxq, wrong number by tvxq, etc.

trauma by sf9

love on the floor by nct 127

criminal by taemin, move by taemin, artistic groove by taemin, heart stop by taemin & seulgi, eclipse by taemin + a lot of songs by taemin.

bite me by enhypen

eve, psyche & the bluebeard’s wife by lesserafim

sinphony by kim wooseok, shame by kim wooseok, red moon by kim wooseok, etc.

miss right by bts, dimple by bts, coffee by bts, rain by bts, 21st century girl by bts, etc.

h2o by lay

⤷ a chapter series.

⤷ chapter 1: the unknown society.

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sailoryooons · 1 year

Text

A Spring Offering Collaboration

As the veil thins, the magic strengthens. Let our festival leaders take you on a magical journey to experience the wonders of Beltane and be blessed with the power and spirit of Spring.

Disclaimer: This is a collaboration put on for members of the BTS Fantasy and Fangs Server. The depictions of Beltane and its customs are the initial inspiration, but the stories may not represent the original customs, practices, and beliefs from the original practice. These stories, characters, and festivals used here are not meant to represent any real or factual people, places, or things.

Rating: Most works feature 18+ content and are NSFW. Each work will have its own set of warnings.

Coming throughout the month of May.

Festival Leader: @sailoryooons

Title: Break

Pairing: Seokjin x f. reader

AU: Witches

Genre: Angst, smut

Summary: Seokjin has been at your side for the last few years. He's your closest friend, and the one person you don't think you can live without. But what happens when you discover that he might be the source of the curse he's been trying to help you escape from?

Read Now

Festival leader: @colormepurplex2

Title: Flowers of Fate

Pairing: UnseeliePrince!Yoongi x Human!f.Reader x UnseelieGuard!Jungkook x SeeliePrince!Jimin x WoodNymph!Namjoon

AU: Fae/Magick

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst

Summary: You grew up hearing whimsical tales and ballads of magic and the hauntingly beautiful fae from your late grandpa. In an effort to feel closer to him and experience the joy he so often spoke of, you take a spur-of-the-moment trip to Scotland to partake in Beltane— a festival that took center stage in many of his stories. But, in a shower of yellow flower petals, you find yourself getting far closer to your grandpa's stories than you ever thought possible.

Read Now

Festival Leader: @quirkybtsarmy

Title: Hoseok

Pairing: Jung Hoseok X reader.

Genre: Horror, fluff, romance

AU: College/University AU, Carrie AU

Summary: Gwangju Music Academy is a prestigious school that has many different personalities walking its halls. There are promising musicians, dancers, producers; you name it, they are. Two of those personalities are Jung Hoseok and L/N Y/N. But what happens when the Beltane Festival which celebrates the union between South Korea and Ireland reveals Hoseok's darkest secret?

Read Now

Festival Leader: @theharrowing

Title: An Ghealach

Pairing: Jimin x reader

AU: Speculative horror

Genre: Angst, smut

Summary: Field Linguist Jimin Park travels to a remote island called An Ghealach off the coast of Ireland to research and document an endangered language, just in time for the community's Beltane festivities. What he encounters is both horrifying and mesmerizing beyond his wildest dreams.

Read Now

Festival Leader: @gimmethatagustd

Title: What the Fire Gave Us

Pairing: Shadow elemental!jungkook x water elemental!(f)reader

AU: Supernatural, dystopian

Genre: Angst, smut, fluff

Summary: You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

Read Now

Festival Leader: @beahae

Title: Essence

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Jungkook, Fem!Reader x Taehyung

AU: UndefinedMagic!AU

Genre: Smut, some darkness/angst

Summary: Jungkook is on cloud nine after meeting what he can only describe as the girl of his dreams on the morning of the festival. Interestingly, Taehyung explains he is experiencing something similar when he comes back to their tent to get ready for the celebrations of the night.

Read now

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts collab #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut #namjoon smut #hobi smut #yoongi smut #jin smut #mem x mem #mem x reader #jungkook fic #taehyung fic #jimin fic #hobi fic #namjoon fic #yoongi fic #jin fic

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soraviie · 1 year

Text

you don't trust androids.txt

━ type: BTS (hyung line) x f! reader

━ about: android! au, heavy angst, slight fluff, nothing majorly fun

━ pictures taken from Pinterest ━ navigation

━ c/w: implied smut, mentions of suicide attempt, mention of near-death experience, mention of losing a limb, a portrayal of poor mental health, undercurrent of dystopian themes, mention of losing bodily autonomy, mention of hating one’s body, mention of depression and anxiety, discrimination against androids

━ wanted to keep this one in the drafts but here it is T-T

NAMJOON: “There’s a ç in Jean Lurçat,” he points out helpfully. His programming suggests it is friendly but the way your teeth grind suggests otherwise. Perhaps…cavities? Humans were prone to them and Namjoon was no medical unit to know any better, he was after all an informational unit. But you don’t seem to be appreciative of that either.

“Have I done something wrong?” he asks.

“Contrary what your chip states, being an obnoxious know-it-all is not helpful!” you snap, red rimmed eyes meeting his. “I mean, who do you think you are?”

He blinks. You’ve met dozens of times already, surely you knew who he was.

“My name is Namjoon,” he points at the tag on his chest. “I am an informational android unit. Here to help.”

“Well, you’re not! Not by nitpicking every single sentence I write!” you hissed and despite it not being expected, he experienced an operational error. If a sudden simulated pang of sadness could be called that.

He rarely gets to talk to anyone in the museum and over the course of these weeks with you coming in and out of the building, he’d assumed, naively, that he’d made a friend for the first time in his life. Or existence rather, he corrects. Androids were not alive hence they could have no, well, life.

“I apologize,” he bows curtly and leaves, shoulders slumped. You watch after him feeling like the grandest asshole in the world.

“That’s because you are,” you chide yourself before slamming the multi-kilogram art book closed shut.

A week passes and despite it not being a part of his programming, Namjoon is sulking. You’re nowhere to be seen. Maybe you avoided him due to it being awkward. Or maybe you just flat out hated him. The operational error occurs again - it makes his stomach feel like a gaping hole in spite of him knowing it was full of wires and memory cards. Perhaps he should be checked for bugs.

“Excuse me,” a thin voice appears behind him and he finds you shifting from one foot to another, a gift in hand.

“Hello!” he greets you pleasantly, face contorting in a dimpled smile before recalling last week and lets it deflate quite fast.

“Are you in need of assistance?”

“No, I came here to say “thank you” and apologize. It was rude of me to insult you. I’m just…” you exhaled, shivering faintly to yourself with nerves. “I moved here only recently and I’m not used to androids. Not that it is any excuse for my behaviour. It was cruel, I apologize.”

“Accepted,” Namjoon graciously nods along, the weird bug in his stomach evaporating into thin air. He glances down at the anxiously clutched gift bag.

“Is that from your family? Was your thesis accepted?”

You glimpse at it almost self-consciously.

“It did. You caught onto all the mistakes so there were no objections from the superiors hence…thank you. You were not being an irritating know it all but…helpful,” you offer him a small smile and he encounters a different sort of bug, this one gnaws on his chest. “It’s for you.”

Astounded, he gently accepts the bag and peers inside. No one has ever given him anything. Inside there sits a folded shirt. The quality of the cloth is to his liking and on the tag he spots the name of the company specializing in android wear. It must have cost a small fortune.

“I thought at first to give you a book but you probably already know everything and then I remembered you wear the same clothes every day but I didn’t know which colour-”

“It is perfect,” Namjoon interrupts, his wires suggesting that the limit of his smile has reached the maximum capacity. “Thank you, ________.”

You squirm but then frown.

“Why is your face so red?”

“Uh…an operational error,” he lies. trying to appear sincere. “Will I be seeing you here?”

“Would you like to?” demurely, you question and he eagerly nods.

“Very much.”

YOONGI: “So at which point you thought to inform me?!” you shrieked though it came out more like a hysteric squeak. But who wouldn’t be upset when their boyfriend, previously assumed as human, factory reset himself whilst being balls deep into your guts.

“Baby, I can explain,” he begins, cautiously inching himself across the bed but you throw yourself against the headboard, clutching the sheets to your chest. Not that there was anything left to hide anymore.

“You better!” you yelled. “You knew from the very first meeting! I don’t trust androids!”

He licks his lips guiltily. He looks human. Acts like one too yet even so you can’t help but feel like an utter dimwit for being fooled like this.

“I know, I know,” he mutters guiltily, running long fingers through the orange hair. He said he dyed it. Bud did he? Did it matter? What else did he lie about?

“And I’m sorry for that! I meant to tell you. I did! But you wouldn’t have me if you knew early on and I liked you so much. I…love you so much.”

His gaze lands to sit dead onto your eyes, a feat for Yoongi indeed and despite expecting to see some blue lights, cogs and wires stretched beneath the artificial material there’s nothing but the familiar brown staring back.

“No fair,” you grumble. “Busting out the L-word.”

He chuckles fondly - a sound you adore even after this mindfuck.

“Can’t risk you running away from me.”

Gingerly, he touches your knee and you flinch.

“It may be a synthetic skin but it’s real,” he whispers moving to softly cup your cheek. “I’m the same Yoongi you’ve always known.”

Unwillingly, your body relaxes as he does his magic, fingers grazing through your hair in a monotone, calming motion. His ultra-effective weapon to having you be soft.

“But how can you…feel?” incredulous yet truthful, you ponder out loud. “You run on…programming…?”

“I’ve been a free android for twenty years,” he insists. “All my "programming” has rusted so much it’s running independent like a human brain would. No exterior orders.“

"So what was that?” you abruptly plank attempting to demonstrate his sudden seizure. “What was that all about?”

“Oh,” he laughs timidly, the gummy smile on show and ears flushing pink. You wonder if there’s wiring there as well but then simply let the matter rest. “I realized I love you, want to spend my life together with you and I…I freaked.”

“Good or a bad freakout?”

He leans in to peck your lips.

“Good,” he mutters in between kisses. “Very, very good.”

JIN: “Want to hear a joke about pizza?”

“No.”

“Good, it’s too cheesy.”

You could physically feel your eyes roll 360 degrees around your skull. The recovery and betterment android unit, J-I-N-100, levels you down with a thoroughly displeased scowl.

“Why aren’t you laughing?” he frowns. “I specifically requested it.”

“Fault in the program,” you slighted, moving to adjust the IV drip.

“Ah! A derogatory reference to my existence. How very original.”

His face and tone is neutral, for all intents and purposes he could have just recounted the level of precipitation outside. That’s what’s wrong with them, you think to yourself, how quickly they can go back to being robotic. And frankly, it’s not all androids you can’t stand to be around, it’s this specific unit that’s been making your life a miserable hell, even further than it was.

Losing a limb, a leg, in this case, was hard. It still continues to be hard. The bitterness that seeps from the court decision - the overruling of a criminal penalty for the drunk driver who’d mowed you over was a bottomless well. On top of that, churning away at a hospital, trying to regain the simple ability to walk using a prosthetic leg made you claw at the walls frequently enough and then this thing came.

The jokes you could tolerate, barely but still, but you couldn’t, couldn’t handle to watch him get his palm crushed one day and then without a care in the world church it away, grab a new one like a brochure at a religious congregation, given away like candy, and stuck it onto himself. No recovery period, no shock, no trauma. Brush it off, move on. How could you not hate him when he joked to you all day long as you fell out of bed or fell walking due to the simple fact that you were human.

Pain was the basis of all life and he felt none. To be in the presence of something that was not alive yet acted as though it was…unnerving. Deeply unnerving yet humanity had already moved past being the only humanoids, moved past the notion of disgust for artificial intelligence, leaving you to choke alone on the bouts of spontaneous rage.

All you heard whenever he opened his mouth was “tiny, pathetic human, wriggling around like a worm”.

“You bent your leg the wrong way,” he points out and your head twitches upwards, removing the crayon-coloured painting of yours from your vision. It’s now brimming with his face, one he said is of course mechanically engineered as it was perfect. He was perfect. A thing he often remarked on.

“What?”

“Your leg,” he repeats slowly as though talking to a child. “It’s made of a similar structure as my legs, if you bend the knee in that position, it’ll wear out the joint wiring.”

You hadn’t even thought about that. This leg…this leg doesn’t belong to you. It’s like him. An alien object lodged onto you. A parasite.

“Here, lemme fix that,” he reaches and on the brink of hurling, you kick yourself away, falling onto the floor. Android unit J-I-N appears almost startled.

“Don’t touch me! Do not touch me! Get out!”

“I can’t!” he objects weakly. “I’m your personal betterment unit if you reject me, I’ll be -”

“I DON’T CARE! GET OUT!”

For an android, purposefully wired being not meant to experience fear, he looks terrified. And that expression haunts you.

Waking up in the midst of a deep night is nothing new. Doctors said the traumatic event of nearly dying and then losing a limb will give you hours upon hours of unslept nights. Walking was still difficult, especially in the dark of the hospital where everything was quiet and creepy. Usually, J-I-N-100 would help you, asked or not, guide you to the bathroom, or fetch you a glass of water but after kicking him out he hadn’t shown for the entirety of the day.

You wander the halls blindly and then the knee jerks on its own and you find yourself on the floor.

“Fucking shit.”

Trying to push yourself off the linoleum, you faintly hear a peculiar noise. A strangled noise of crying. At first, you dismiss it. It was a hospital people cried day and night, every hour of the week but the sound is so terrified, so broken you couldn’t bear to continue the asshole routine.

Following it, you stumble upon the escape stairs, grey and empty and in the middle of them sits unit J-I-N-100. Crying. An android crying. A sight you never assumed was possible.

“Uh…are you okay?” you dumbly ask.

He hides his face away, shoulders shaking before a venomous hiss flies your way.

“Why do you care? I’m a machine.”

You stand awkwardly.

“If this is about what I said, just ask for them to transfer you to a different patient-”

He abruptly laughs loudly and dryly, a laugh of no amusement.

“You don’t understand do you, human? There are no transfers for androids. If we don’t satisfy our patient, there are no do-overs! I’ll be sent to the HQ and be,” his voice drops into a hush. “Be disassembled.”

For an android that was death. You didn’t like him but for him to die due to your displeasure was tyrannical.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp. “I-I didn’t know.”

“You don’t know anything,” he accuses heatedly and you couldn’t blame him.

“No, I don’t.”

There’s a beat of stilted silence.

“You hate that leg of yours because it’s like me. It’s strange. An alien organism. You hate for having these parts but they are not mine. Every part of me belongs to someone else. My eyes, my ears, my legs have been replaced thousand times over. This body is not my own and yet I’m forced to reside in it. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

Abruptly, all his magnanimous tirades about having the most perfect body make sense in another kind of way. He must have been trying to convince himself of liking it when the truth couldn’t be any further away. Your words now feel sickening and a surge of want, to protect, to shield this android, makes you almost dizzy.

But he doesn’t care for it. Not anymore.

“Please, leave,” he asks. The sound of his voice is broken, worn to its absolute limit. “If I’m around you it is my programming to smile and I don’t want to smile anymore.”

You oblige and close the door to the staircase quietly behind yourself.

To be home again was to experience bliss. Your small, overcluttered apartment had never appeared like the gate of heaven itself. The smell, even the crowded look into the smog-ridden city below is pure ecstasy. Putting the crotches down you sink into the sofa, nearly crying at the comfort of unity. But then that grading, awful sound interrupts your ecstasy. A fucking neighbour. Grabbing the crutch, you’re already prepared to beat these annoying motherfucking neighbours into the next planet only to find J-I-N standing on the other side.

His expression is murderous.

“Why did you do that?”

Timidly, you shift in the doorway.

“I was trying to help.”

“You lied!” he cries out. “You chased down the board members of the android unit assignment, harassed them for hours and then lied to their faces that I’m the most adequate, most perfect unit in the facility!”

“Did it work?”

He calms down, hands coming to stand still by his thighs.

“It did. No unit has ever reached such a score.”

You nod.

“But you hated me…” he breathes, even without any visible cogs, you can see how the logic of your action is not computing in his brain. “You literally hated me all this time.”

“I don’t wish you death. I would never want that!” frustrated you trying to run a hand through your hair only to remember it is supposed to hold a crotch now. “It’s just my fragile human psyche. I’m sorry for it and I’m sorry you have to go through everything. It’s horrible.”

He seems to be beaten into a state of stupor only to shrug.

“It…It is what it is.”

“It shouldn’t have to be.”

For a while, there is only the muted sound of either of you trying to make some sort of conversation.

“Because of what you did, they’re reassigning me. Private health field, I’m a home care unit now.”

“That’s…great,” you weakly surmise. You don’t actually know if it’s great or not. There’s a lot you don’t know. Maybe it was high time to fix that.

“Wait does this mean you’ll be reassembled?!”

“No,” J-I-N shakes his head. “No, reassembling or disassembling. Home care units change very little. Just a little update and I’ll be sparkly new.”

“Perfected the perfection,” you try to joke and he chuckles weakly almost sounding surprised that someone might amuse him and not the other way around.

“Do you…” he shakes with nerves and you grow ever more astounded. He was so alive. A very peculiar android, one who couldn’t give it credit for his programming. Whatever happened that made J-I-N, he was different. Perhaps he made himself different.

“Do you need a home care android? Your recovery period is almost a year.”

“They sent me a catalogue but I haven’t gone through it yet,” you throw your head at the inside of your apartment.

“May…I apply for the job?”

You blink at his demureness.

“But I’m awful.”

“You were,” he agrees. “But you’ve got an update and besides I’m in need of employment.”

“I…” you think it over. In spite of not getting along, you still had grown at least accustomed to him. And J-I-N was far more gracious than you would have been in his situation.

“I’m okay with that. Are you?”

“Yeah,” he squeezes a small smile. “You’re not the worst human on the planet anymore.”

“Thanks,” you snort.

“Also fair warning, this update will contain nearly 68GB of various puns and jokes for the sake of breaking the ice with the patient.”

You feel a part of yourself shrivel and die with that information, still, you force out a polite -

“Looking forward to it.”

HOSEOK: “But…but what am I supposed to do with him?!” as quietly as possible, you hiss into the phone where a woman sighs at your incessant questions.

“He is a mental health android unit, treat him like an app or something.”

“He’s not an app!” you argue with some heat. “He is an android! A being! One you sent to my home without my consent.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have tried to slit your wrists open at a workplace,” she snides and drops the phone, leaving you open-mouthed at the sheer audacity before slamming the phone down into the kitchen counter.

“Your levels of adrenaline and anger are out of the norm. Should I help you to relax?” the android’s voice pops up unexpected right beside you and you scream.

The last thing you wanted after being discharged from a mental institute is to be observed. Like a zoo animal. What will it do if one does this? What will it do if one pokes it in this spot?

“No, please, it is not necessary,” you trail off, fear gripping you whole. This thing will live you. For three months, there will be a stranger, designed to hover over you like a Damocles sword. You couldn’t even feel safe in your own home when it was anxiety in the first place that wore you down so much you wanted to escape it in any way you could.

The mental health unit leans its head to the side. He looks very human, it must be the absolute prime model and somehow it’s even more disturbing. It’s a humanoid that was not human and that knowledge activates some primal terror gifted by your ancestors. You’re choking on your tongue.

“I’ll just use the bathroom,” you force out and make a run for it.

It takes hours for you to exit, shaking on the tile floor was time-consuming and finding the android unit freely moving through your space doesn’t put you at any ease.

“What are you doing?” you rasp.

He turns around, beaming wide and you shudder.

“Making dinner,” he replies cheerfully. “Your file suggested it will be one of my duties.”

In his hands, there sits a cup. It’s your favourite cup. It wasn’t passed from generations, it wasn’t a gift and it wasn’t really that expensive. It had a chip in the side and you bought it essentially from a flea market but it still is your favourite cup. One he has usurped like your peace in your own home.

“Please, don’t..don’t touch my stuff.”

The smile falls from his face and noticing your intent, scared gaze at the cup he places it down.

“But I…I have to make you dinner.”

“You don’t. I’ll do it on my own.”

He blinks, struggling to understand. It goes against his programming, while the emotional core of his does state he should instantaneously assume greater distance. He was creating unease, something he was not engineered to do and the two clashing commands were rapidly wearing down his operational core.

“I can…run you a bath. Baths are beneficiary for human beings.”

The thought of undressing in front of him, of being that vulnerable, nearly makes you gag.

“No, please, just do nothing.”

“If I do nothing, my dispatchers will think you don’t want me.”

“I don’t want you. I’m scared of you.”

His mouth despite it being an impossibility runs dry.

“You’re scared of me?” he echoes weakly.

“You’re a stranger invited into my house without my consent. Of course, I’m scared of you!”

“Right,” he buffers. “I-I…I’ll log myself off in the hallway. Will that make you feel better?”

It’s probably cruel, nevertheless, you nod. You couldn’t be around anyone and despite the opinion of general denizens, androids did count as someone.

Shoulders slumped, he dragged himself away before plopping to sit by the door and proceeding not to move. It was creepy.

At night, you hear him moving around and shivering underneath the blanket from the rampaging onslaught of paranoia, you could not relax for a single second.

Weeks pass and the mental health unit keeps an intrepid vigil to keep out of your way. You don’t even know where he is at times as he occupies no room and makes no noise but at times you almost forget he is there. He still performs some menial tasks when you’re away either being tested or taking a prescribed walk and exercise class. Your floors are too clean and when you fail to make food for yourself it magically appears, though you note that they’re not served in your dishes and neither your pots nor pans were ever used again.

Coming home late one night, you step over the threshold and find it empty and dark, abandoned almost but on the counter there sits a cupcake with a simple note attached.

“I’m very proud of you, ______________.”

Heat rushes to your eyes and your throat tightens. You can’t even recall when was the last time anyone said they’re proud of you.

“Umm…mental health android?” you call out. He didn’t even have a name you realize. He wore no badge and there was nothing in his introductory form. “Mental health android?”

No response. Perhaps, he left. You gave him no order, maybe it somehow messed with his programming so bad he left. You rifle through the apartment high and low, in the end, finding him crouched in the broom closet. It’s an awfully minuscule space, not suitable for anyone, be it an android, human or a cat but it is the only space in the entirety of your home, you did not look into. Just how long had he slept here for your convenience.

You lean down and shake him but he does not wake.

“Sir? Sir?” you shake him harder but you might as well be handling a ragdoll. “Sir? Please, wake up.”

At that, his eyes pop open and you screech from the abruptness of the motion, falling on your backside. He rushes to help you up but pulls his hand away at the last second, conflictedly squirming in the place.

“Are you okay? Are you in distress?” he questions nervously and you gather yourself off the floor.

“No, I’m just…” you sigh. “You shouldn’t sleep in the broom closet. It’s too small.”

“It was the only hiding place. I would not scare you there. You would not see me.”

Something in the innocent explanation, so purely kind-hearted, mellows your own.

“Please, use the living room.”

He nods stiffly.

“Also uhm…” unwillingly, tears pool in your eyes. “Thank you for the cupcake. Did you…make it?”

He shakes his head sadly and solemnly.

“You did not give me permission to use your things, so I bought it.”

“With what money?” as far as you knew androids couldn’t pride themselves on the biggest income.

“I work odd jobs at times,” he shyly confesses. “If I earn enough money, I can apply for citizenship and become a self-sustained android.”

“You used that money to…” you choke. “To buy me a cupcake.”

“To buy you all food and the flowers by your bedside table.”

He shrugs it off with such ease like it’s not by far one of the kindest things you’ve seen a humanoid do.

“Oh, no, don’t cry!”

Too late you’re absolute sobbing your heart out. About everything. When you were little you thought it will be such a dream. It wasn’t. It wasn’t a dream at all.

He once again reaches to hug you, probably due to his programming but holds himself back, to be respectful, however, you hug him first, not caring anymore that his skin is synthetic and his brain is made of chops. You just need someone to connect with. Any connection, any at all would be bliss and this android has shown you unbridled kindness no humans in your life would.

When you’ve cried out half the hurt, not all but a decent chunk, a steaming cup of chamomile tea, served in your favourite mug sits in front of you as the rain taps against the window. It’s easier to breathe. The android sits unsure at the edge of the sofa, uncertain what his next action should be.

“Do you have a name?” you ask, twiddling with the edge of the blanket.

“I’m a mental health care android unit 9876Q36x/3.”

“Right. Have you considered choosing a name?”

If he wanted to be a self-governed android, the idea of freedom must be constant in his mind.

“I did,” he slowly says as though it’s a secret. “Hoseok.”

“It’s a lovely name.”

He offers a gentle smile and you feel for once a bit better.

“Thank you, _______________. I like your name as well.”

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts x you #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #jin x reader #jin x you #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #taehyung x you #bts reaction #bts angst #bts drabble #bts x y/n #bts android au

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