#ghosts bts are always so good

[chekovsvwodka]

I am normal and okay

#I am not normal #I am not okay #how dare he show leg #and those arms #why is Thomas in shorts im CRYING #pat looks dead inside #ghosts bts are always so good #ghosts #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts captain #the captain #bbc ghosts thomas thorne #Thomas Thorne #bbc ghosts pat butcher #pat butcher

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

sink, m | jjk

you left your hair tie, battin’ those eyes by the sink, you leave ‘em behind think I know why – 'hair tie' by ØZI

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends-with-benefits going downhill thanks to shitty communication; smut (fem reader, f and m-receiving oral, heavy petting, m-masturbation, ball spanking, spit kink, breath kink, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS – fuckboy?Jungkook x rock fan!reader tired of his shit XD inspired by the song above and ofc I referenced 'Too Much' ;)

--

You left your hair tie by my sink again.

Oh, shit, my bad. I’ll pick it up next time I’m over. :)

You left him on read.

Went back to brushing your teeth, looking down on the clear hair tie by your sink. It was one of those squiggly ones that were meant to not leave ceases in the hair. Not one of those that could easily be secured on the wrist. He must have taken it out right after. Well. He had needed it. You would have opened the window to get that cool night air, but Jeon Jungkook was loud when he was fucking.

Hm.

He sweat a lot when he was fucking. All over his back and chest, his skin glistening in the rainbow starlight generated by your mood lamp. You didn’t really care if the lights were on or off. He liked mood lighting, so he bought it and left it in your room so he could turn it on when he wanted to turn you on. Always tried to act all cool about it, as if you didn’t know exactly what he wanted when he hit you up. As if he actually needed to talk to you in-person about the latest installment of the Marvel universe.

Uh huh.

Somehow your back had ended up against his chest. Somehow his mouth had ended up by your neck and somehow his hand had ended up sliding under your shirt. Can’t stay too late, he always said. Same lines to the same old story. You half-scoffed into the mirror, switching sides of your teeth. The same routine, accidentally knocking the light switch, somehow knowing exactly where in your nightstand the remote for the mood lighting was, and then it was clothes on the floor. Your hand around his wrist and your hot breath by his ear, the fuck you think you’re doing?

“What? Too much?” he had replied with a smirk.

The shit Jeon Jungkook pulled.

Fuck it.

The hair tie must have been because he had planned to eat you out today. Precautions. He was better at it this time than the last. It wasn’t that his black hair was excessively long. A good amount simply fell past his ears when he leaned forward and, between your thighs, it stuck when he sweat. You might have lightly complained about it last time. Jungkook was self-conscious enough to remember and pull back the upper half of his hair before showing up at your doorstep. His own damn fault since he liked to plant his hands on your ass and drag you forward into his face, strong tongue consistently and firmly pressed to your clit and looking up at you with those round dark brown eyes of his. He had been trying to tease you but you saw right through him.

“A little higher up,” you had gently prompted.

The simmering waves danced through your veins as soon as he obeyed. Your hand had eventually found the back of his head. Crowning touch and locking your hips, feeling your slickness press against his lower lip and chin. The thought of your juices smeared into his double lip rings. Your tense thighs pressed into his jaw and cheeks. His long fingers sinking into the full curve of your ass.

The ghost of imprinted fingertips lingering on your skin.

You leaned over the sink bowl and spit out foam.

Jungkook had been truly annoying about it from the start. Needed to know that he was the best you had ever had. First kiss was an accident in the way that accidents don’t really happen. The kind of accident that was you getting into his face after he called you at three twenty-four in the morning and ordering you to stay on the line so he didn’t drunkenly pass out while walking home on a night out. He had even thrown up in some poor neighbor’s flowerbed mid-walk. The next day you had gone over to his place with take-out food and an annoyed attitude, confronting him after he had groggily brushed his teeth, smelling his minty breath as you scolded him that he was too old for this shit, right next to his bathroom sink.

Jungkook’s dark brown eyes had given you this look.

And you immediately knew how this was going to play out.

The kiss was to get you off my case, he said.

But.

“But… would you do it again?”

You rinsed your mouth out and applied your lip balm.

Not seeing yourself in the mirror, but instead seeing your shocked face from back then, squeezed between his bare arms and tasting the mint of his breath, strands of his black hair against your face. You remembered the way he smelled. Like warm, crystal-clear rain. The residual notes of cologne. You had found it later on his dresser. A square glass bottle.

Calvin Klein, Euphoria for men.

Strange, you had smelled that scent on other men before but he never smelled as good as it did on Jeon Jungkook.

But he did this shit all the time. A little kiss here. A little kiss there. Loved to disappear and pop up at just the right time when you were thinking about him and suddenly you were alone with exploring hands and a smiling mouth, is it too much, and you would reply in your most unfazed tone, shut the fuck up. He would promise he wasn’t fucking around but also he wouldn���t stick around either. You didn’t chase him but also you would blow his mind every time. Like that one instance where he had thrown himself into the wall and wheezed for air after you non-stop sucked him off for three orgasms straight, only stopping because you were done swallowing.

“Fuck… How does your mouth always get me hard so fast, f-fuck…”

“Told you not to question me,” was your calm reply as you wiped your lip with the heel of your palm.

There was no way that you were going to tell Jeon Jungkook that he was driving you insane with his behavior. Maybe he really wanted you to be the one to say it. But you weren’t going to, not with his constant, too much or next time or his stupid non-accidental leaving of his hair tie by your sink. He had shirts and sweatpants left behind in your apartment, just in case. The scent of Euphoria for men lingering on your bedsheets for a few hours, but it would disappear before the morning.

Just like him.

You knew Jungkook didn’t like it that you never tried to stop him from leaving.

“If you have to go, you have to go.”

If he wanted to, he would.

You left the bathroom, holding your phone loosely.

-

Jeon Jungkook looked up at the ceiling and wondered if she would let him love her the way he did.

He had a sinking feeling.

It started in the way that all accidents don’t happen. His finger hovering over her name in his contacts one too many times. More than one of those drunk times actually pressing it and then immediately ending the call. And then a single one of those extra drunk times not hanging up when she answered at the second ring. The fuck was she doing up at three in the morning anyway? His drunk brain was too over the moon to care though. His impulses uninhibited and his mouth going off before his brain could keep up.

Then promptly informing her that he needed to vomit and throwing up in some random flowerbed.

Not one of Jungkook’s best moments.

For some reason, she hadn’t completely written him off for that. Both a good thing and bad thing. A good thing because at least that didn’t disgust her. A bad thing because it made him fall in love a little harder. Then she had showed up on his doorstep the next morning with breakfast and looking like a million bucks. She looked too beautiful with tousled hair and that stern kindness. Even her lips moving as she chided him, you are not a kid anymore, you’re an adult, they looked so soft and inviting and she didn’t back away from he leaned in.

His head hurt like hell but he did it.

Her perfume was sweet and smokey and addictive.

He could still remember the feeling of her hand on his chest. Only thin white jersey separating him from those five fingertips. What are you doing? It was his fault. She put him on the spot and he couldn’t admit it fast enough. Getting you off my case. She shoved him and he laughed it off, setting a precedence that he couldn’t stop. No.

Didn’t.

“But… would you do it again?”

She had scoffed at him.

“Let’s see if you’re brave enough to meet me after dark when you’ve got a clearer head. Bye.”

There was something in that expression that dared him. Something in her body language that he couldn’t get out his head. Word on the street was don’t fuck around and find out, so Jungkook did precisely what any man would do when encountered with that information.

He fucked around and found the fuck out.

“Hey, now.”

Shit, her ass had looked so damn good in those black leather pants.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing, punk?”

He had never met a better tongue. And her breath. He had begged her to breathe on him before. Hot and heavy like his heart, over his neck and chest and down his abs, warming the line of spit made by her wicked tongue. Unseen marks that stayed in his mind when he closed his eyes, looking down to her sensual stare, locking eyes with him as her tongue curled around the swollen head of his cock. Didn’t even need to look. So fucking hot. There was magic in that mouth. He never knew what to expect next but it was always exactly what he wanted. Soft and tight. Rough and deep. Warm tongue that curled around his girth and pressed him into the ridges, driving him insane with the sensations and the pressure.

If he had ever wanted anyone else, he had already forgot about them.

Jungkook refused to believe that she fucked anyone but him with that kind of vigor. She would place her palms on the headboard and ram her hips into him like he owed her goddamn rent. Pussy squeezing him all around. Dripping down his balls, sticking to his inner thighs. She would throw her hair back and grin after she blew his mind, sure, I can go again, like it was no big deal even though his chest was about to burst. He must be special.

Right?

He had brought a hair tie with him last night so his hair would stop sticking to his face.

He needed a haircut.

It made him so mad that she wouldn’t take the bait. She would corner him before he had his trap set and then he would balk under her stare, lips to lips to avoid saying anything. Hand to skin. Lips to his jaw, tongue playing with his earrings.

He just didn’t know.

Jungkook rolled in his bed, wishing it was her body beside his.

Stay away. She was a nightmare dressed like a daydream, everyone said. Road to ruin, everyone said. He didn’t care about that shit but he could feel the distance. Even between naked bodies and tongue to tongue, Jungkook got the feeling that she was never going to need him and that pissed him off. Was that stubbornness? Yeah. But wasn’t she being stubborn too by not giving in to what was so clearly there?

He had pulled the hair tie out and put it by the faucet, rinsing off his face to clear his head.

I’m not gonna stay if she doesn’t make me, he had said to himself, using her soft white hand towel to wipe his face. Looked at himself in the mirror and remembered that morning when she had come up behind him, yanking his shoulder and telling him he was too old for this shit. He wished she had done the same thing to him last night too.

But she hadn’t.

The sinking feeling persisted.

He texted back and he would get the hair tie next time. Next time. But she was pulling away and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t like it. It made him irritated. It made him think he didn’t need this. It made him think he didn’t want anyone else because he was addicted to her now.

And.

It made him sad.

He looked to see if she had replied and of course she hadn’t. Reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside with a click of his tongue. Needed a shower. Needed to wash her memory off his mind. Maybe make an effort to call his friends and go out tonight.

Jungkook got up from his bed, holding onto his phone.

-

People were scared to be messy these days. But not you. The world was always going to be chaos. The only way to be in control of it was to be at the center.

Or start it.

You liked to be alone and you liked to be alone amongst people. The kind of feeling most people dreaded. You slid in deeper, deeper into the crowd, caged by body heat and bated breath. The world was darkness alight with neon points. The thundering bass traveling up from the floor seized the heart, threatening to stop it. A steady, continuous beat before the chaos. The other audience members where whispering amongst themselves in the dark. And there you were, standing in the vacuum of space surrounded by universes abound, and you the black hole, catching bits and pieces of their excited conversations, passively devouring in their palpable anticipation.

The music started.

The mosh pit came alive.

You had earplugs to prevent permanent damage for your dangerous pastime. Drums and guitar and guttural vocals. Bodies on the floor and leaning up against yours, even jostling you, but you paid it no mind, licking your teeth and letting the vicious, subline energy burn through you. It was hard to think about anything else. The band was alternative rock but they occasionally covered heavier songs live which was a real treat for your nostalgia.

A phase you never grew out of, heh.

You headbanged along and thankfully the hair tie kept the majority of your hair away from your face.

Not that it would have really mattered here. The concert was a psychedelic and everyone here was under the influence, lost in their own high, too deep into each song, reliving old memories and creating new ones. No one would care if you were sweaty. Everyone was sweating. Still, even with the mesh cutouts on the thighs, you probably shouldn’t have worn these leather pants. Now it was becoming disturbingly hot and you were really hoping adrenaline could make you forget about it. At least you had opted for a mesh long-sleeve shirt and loose crop top with the band’s logo on your upper half. Plus, you learned from last time – a skimpy black swimsuit top under instead of a bra.

Moisture-wicking, check.

“Nice jewelry.”

“Thanks,” was your quick reply between songs. They were talking about your tangle of silver bracelets and chain necklaces, you assumed. You did not really want to engage anyone too much. Rock bands tended to attract a lot of unsavory men. You never knew who you were amongst unless you trusted too much, so it was better to be distant and vigilant.

You tensed during the interlude as the band took a break.

“Are you by yourself? Me too.”

It was years of unfortunate experience that made you relax, because now you could tell the difference between someone you could hurt and someone that could hurt you. You didn’t check your phone when it vibrated while you spoke to the man who approached you. You could feel it and your cardholder practically glued to your hip in these tight leather pants. You weren’t going to get pickpocketed without a fight. But that wasn’t what this was. The guy was calm. Young face with an oddly wise aura. Seemed a little nervous. He was cute in a shy way.

Reminded you of someone.

Intimidating with his broad shoulders and all-black fit. Black hair swept over his forehead and soft dark eyes so large that they reminded you of boba pearls. You got him to smile easily. He had a brilliant, stunning smile. Apparently, he was supposed to meet a date and they flaked on him. It could have been a fabricated story, but he seemed genuine in the way he described it. Since he had already paid, he had decided to stick around. Noticed you because, unlike everyone else tightly packed in their groups, you thrashed alone. He said he was surprised that you had come alone. Even more surprised when you clarified that you had wanted to come alone.

“Well, big bad lone wolves like me can protect timid chipmunks like you, hm?” you joked.

After all, the world didn’t stop revolving just because Jeon Jungkook didn’t try hard enough.

That made him laugh and you let him enjoy the night with you. Even without knowing someone deeply, there was just something about enjoying music together that was its own intense experience. Bonded by bass and beating hearts, by the winded lightheadedness of whipping your heads too hard, by melodies that reminded you of darker times that made you stronger now, strong enough to be alone and casually with another, impulsively letting this strange wrap his arms around your legs and lift you so you could blow your lungs out and go hoarse during the last song.

You didn’t even feel your phone vibrate again because the bass was too fucking intense.

You bounced off that broad shoulder as the lights went down, laughing manically, electricity still simmering in your veins.

“I always wanted to do that.”

“Glad I could help,” the handsome stranger was chuckling. “You’re insane.”

It was, and you took it as such, a compliment.

You didn’t see Jeon Jungkook’s double text until you pulled out your phone to get this guy’s number.

Hey.

I see you.

A strange feeling. But you did as you intended and broke away, not lingering as the rest of the crowd filed out. You weren’t sure if this annoyed new guy, and at the moment you didn’t really care. Life, after all, was not a fairy tale. You wouldn’t have linked up tonight anyway, with or without Jungkook’s texts. The concert had been set in was a small venue next to a bar. People were either going through the side door or through the bar to keep the night going. You also followed towards the bar because you needed to get to the main street to get to the train.

If Jungkook had seen you, he must have brought tickets as well.

You hadn’t thought to even ask him.

You texted back.

You still see me?

Yeah.

You raised your eyebrows at the immediate answer, breaking out the crowd and moving towards the wall. You didn’t, however, look up. You weren’t about to give that satisfaction. Checked the time and the train schedule. Hm. You debated on whether or not to entertain this bullshit.

You look really good. Love your hair like that.

It took effort to not roll your eyes. Thing is, he could just approach you right now. The crowd was thinning out, but you ignored everybody and stayed glued to your phone. The only reason he wasn’t, then, was because he must be with others, which meant for some reason he didn’t want them to know that he was talking to you right now.

And.

That shit really pissed you off.

You cocked an eyebrow.

Come get your hair tie.

One of those times where you actually wanted to be left on read.

But he disappointed you.

Your place or mine?

You stuck your tongue in your cheek and dropped your hand, shoving your phone into your leather pants. Didn’t bother looking around. Just started walking out the door, thinking about the fastest route to the train station. Huh. Twenty-first century and Jeon Jungkook was out here thinking only guys like him could be fuckboys. You pushed through the smoked glass, out into the cool night and bustling street lit up with streetlamps and neon signs. Maybe you should have followed that stranger tonight. No. Deep down, you knew this wasn’t right. You shook your head at no one, whipping your hair about your shoulders, and began your brisk walk, Jeon Jungkook on your brain.

Fucking idiot.

-

He realized it too late.

The top of her hair had been pulled back, half-up, half-down, with wisps of bangs around her face, and he recognized those black leather pants, damn, her ass looks so good, and then he still didn’t get it as her shoulders slumped. She completely ignored his reply, walking out instead.

Ten minutes and then it hit him.

Come get your hair tie.

Fuck.

“Sorry, guys, I gotta go.”

“What? Why? Did something happen?”

“Yup, bye.”

“Yah, Jeon–”

He didn’t even wait to hear his name being called, instead jumping over the chairs in haste and one beat away from running, just now realizing how fucking stupid he was. His heart fluttering as he knew a little piece of him was with her, but he was also mad. One of his friends had suggested the concert thing earlier tonight, and they had arrived late, staying in the back with their beers and enjoying the music. It had been a small, dark venue, but it suited the band and their heavy sound. Jungkook thought he had been going a little crazy, thinking about her all night with a drink in his hand, so crazy that he thought he had seen her silhouette towards the front. Thought he recognized that flying hair and rocking shoulders, but, no way, right? Then that same girl was lifted onto a shoulder and bouncing with her hand held high.

Devil horns and everything.

Whoever it was tipped her head back and Jungkook swore he recognized that back and those body proportions. Then her hoarse voice entered the meld of screams and instruments and boosted bass.

And he knew.

She was with someone.

Someone that wasn’t him.

He wanted to remind her. Remind her it was him that held her last night, remind her it was his mouth between her legs and his hands on her ass, but mostly he just wanted to remind himself. He wanted to know who it was that she was with but she had emerged from the doors alone. Weird. It made him feel a little better though. Selfish, Jungkook knew, but so he was. He had stayed were he was, at a table with his friends, out of her sight, but she didn’t even look up. Really. She was willing to make him feel all kinds of fucked up and not willing to even look the fuck up.

Okay.

Come get your hair tie.

Yeah, okay. Okay, she wanted to use him. Fine. Fine, he was cool with that. But she left him on read. In fact, he watched her not look back and leave. Wow. And then it hit him and now he was running in the night, past flooding pools of light and wishing to catch a glimpse of mesh sleeves or black leather pants or even those heavy black boots with silver metal heel. Now he was throwing himself onto the train and trying to remember which one was her stop, wondering why he didn’t see the invitation for what it was. Now time was a thief stealing away the perfect moment and he was chastising himself for not chasing that feeling that he wasn’t so sure about.

-

You pulled the clear hair tie out of your ponytail. The squiggly kind that was meant not to leave ceases in the hair. The strands still ended up wild from the headbanging and the windy night. You ran your fingers through it haphazardly, annoyed when your fingers caught a snag. Scowling at your bathroom mirror as you untangled the strands and wondered why the fuck you ever let Jeon Jungkook get in your brain and drive you insane.

Fuck it.

Fuck him.

Your body was still on a high from the concert. Nerves alight, senses simulated, emotions caught in a rollercoaster. You yanked your clear earplugs out and cleaned them off in your bathroom sink, patting them dry with your hand towel and leaving them next to the hair tie.

You looked down at it.

Should throw it away.

Your hand reached out and then there were three loud thumps at your apartment door.

You jerked and backtracked, surrounded by no light except for the one from the bathroom. It was a short walk. You had to step past your heavy black boots, careful not to stub your toe on the metal heel, and peered through the peephole, seeing a large dark brown eyeball because Jeon Jungkook was too damn close to your door.

You yanked it open.

“The fuck–”

And froze.

He was panting, slightly hunched over. Wearing a black racer jacket with white stripes. It lay half off one shoulder, exposing the black tank top underneath and a peek of his right arm tattoos. Slate blue jeans with slight rips on one knee and black boots, but none of that made you stop and stare, not even his furrowed brow and annoyed expression.

“You cut your hair,” you beathed.

It was fresh. Sides cut short, with the top layer long enough to touch his brows. Currently half swept back, probably from running around. A few strands fell by his dark eyes, additional shadows to this harrowed tension. You backed up. He stepped in, one hand catching the doorframe.

Jungkook glared at you and you felt none of that fake frostiness.

“Yeah, I had a hair appointment today,” he huffed. “I didn’t come for the damn hair tie.”

It was all piling together. The moments of hands around each other’s waist, around his wrist, around his hard cock with his low voice in your ear. Don’t stop. The things unsaid and not said. The nights with him and the mornings without him. Backing away from Calvin Klein’s Euphoria still clinging to your sheets. Alone. The music of your youth, hard and rough and full of anger. The strength of a stranger and the cold air of the night, and suddenly you felt alive, alive and needing answers and fucking pissed off at all the shit Jeon Jungkook pulled.

You let him in your apartment, but not in your space.

“How did you know where I was going to be?” you accused.

The door fell shut.

Jungkook cocked his head. Dark eyes finding yours, cornering you with his gaze. You locked stares and did not back down. “Where else you gonna go but home?” he shot back.

You narrowed your own eyes and didn’t bite your tongue.

“How would a guy like you know what home even means?”

-

Goddamn, the one always knew how to hit him where it hurt.

He stopped moving forward.

But his heart was racing fast, remembering all the moments piling together. Lips to lips, hips to hips, and how tightly she held him, as if she wasn’t going to let him go. Not falling for any of the traps he set but drawing him closer and closer each time with that look in her eyes. Alone. Trying to forget how it felt to be held by her even through it was the most secure he had ever been.

Thinking about it now, maybe too much.

His voice wavered in the darkness between them.

“But, would you do it again?”

She paused at his question. Those eyes seemed a little less shadowy, a little less space between them but only for this second. Kept her hands by her sides though, not reaching out to him.

“How much of this was a lie?” she quietly asked.

He answered honestly.

“None of it.”

She scrutinized him. He stayed an open book. Mostly because he didn’t know any other way to cover up except run, can’t stay too late, didn’t know what was the right thing to do when clearly he had done so much wrong, didn’t know how this was going to end but Jungkook damn well knew this was gonna fuck him up for his whole life.

Silence.

That sinking feeling.

“You have time to spend?” she finally asked.

-

“Yeah.”

Must be a dream.

You closed the distance, trying to stay awake, watching his eyes. Waiting for Jungkook to run, as he did so many times before. He always had somewhere to be that wasn’t here. Following his dark brown eyes, the memory of his taste on your tongue, breathing in the clean scent of Euphoria, closer, body heat radiating off him, and Jungkook bit his lip, causing the two silver lip rings to catch what little light there was, like punctured stars in the darkness between you and him.

His lashes lowered.

You looked at him, unfazed.

Raised your hand.

Placed five fingertips on his black top. Thin jersey fabric between skin to skin, and you walked them up his chest, staring into the windows of his soul to find the truth. Your lips formed his name, but made no sound. His own followed suit, breathing your name under a tense exhale, not yet moving, shivering as your middle finger traced his chain necklace.

“You never have time to spend,” you murmured, your breath against his jaw.

He lowered his head, gaze flickering away. Then back, mumbling even though he meant it.

“I’m sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head.

Opened your mouth to chastise him, but all that came out was an exasperated chuckle.

“Don’t do it again.”

You pressed your lips against his.

Jungkook stole your breath and sank into you.

Your hand pressed into his chest and his arms slid around your waist. His fingers splayed out under your crop top, pressing the slinky micro-mesh against your skin and sending a tingling sensation up your spine. He tasted like haste and hunger. Warmth spreading out, squeezing your torso between leather-covered arms, gasping when your tongue flickered against his lips. Slow. Teasing. Dragging it out. Your other hand slid under his jacket, grasping the small of his waist and digging your nails in. He winced, a small whimper, then tried to cover it up by pulling back slightly, but your tongue remained, sliding out further between his open lips.

Your eyes cracked open to see Jungkook’s lashes flutter, his hot moan warming your lips.

“F… Fuck…”

Your tongue retreated.

Exhaled, giving it the weight that made it drift over his neck and chin. He sucked in a sharp inhale, opening his eyes too. A stand-off. His thighs pressed against your thighs. His erection was straining, even in his jeans. You traced your tongue around the perimeter of your lips, seeing him track the movement with bated breath, smiling slightly as his cock twitched.

He narrowed his eyes. “Can you not?”

You cocked one shoulder, smirking with the tip of your tongue at the edge of your teeth. “Why?”

The faintest of eye rolls. “You don’t suck my dick unless I shower first. And I haven’t showered yet.”

“That really sucks,” you hummed.

With just the correct about of intonation hat you had no sympathy. Especially since your hand was sliding over his ass to follow the line of his hip and then further down, hooking your thumb over the waistband of his jeans and molding your other four fingers around the unforgiving bulge. You heard him bite back a sound, pressing his biceps against you in warning, but you merely smiled, leaning forward to graze your lips against his cheek and jaw.

His cock pulsed strongly in your grip as you whispered into his ear.

Low and hot.

“That really sucks.”

Jungkook made a noise between a whimper and a growl.

But you didn’t care, pressing your breasts against his muscular chest. You knew he could feel your lack of bra through the layers of fabric, the confusion spreading over his facial features as you backed up. There was something there, his brain was working that out, but the swimsuit fabric was thin and your hard nipples were large enough for him to barely feel if he really flexed his pecs.

You unbuttoned his jeans.

He didn’t stop you because he would be crazy to.

The tension so tight that neither of you were breathing.

You grinned.

And yanked his underwear and jeans down at the same time.

You probably wouldn’t have tried this shit if it was someone else. Jungkook was habitual creature. The kind where he kept a small tube of hand sanitizer on him at all times, and you would catch him using it all the time, so absentmindedly that it seemed to have become second nature. He would do it after getting off the train. Walking aimlessly. Standing at your front door as you opened it, rubbing his hands together and directly looking at you, cocking an eyebrow.

The first time you noticed this action you thought he was being a creep before you realized it was hand sanitizer he was putting back into his pocket. He was not, in fact, imitating eccentric cartoon villain behavior. Had you in the first half, not gonna lie.

“What?”

It had been a pointed what at that time.

This time it was a sexually charged and gravelly, “What…?”

You squatted down and took his right hand, turning it palm up. Opened your mouth and drenched saliva all over his palm and fingers, the clean citrus scent of his hand sanitizer hitting your nose, hearing him hiss and feeling him tense. The tendons of his wrist stood out, black ink of his tattoos creeping out under the sleeve of the leather jacket. Your tongue lingered against the texture of his calluses along the top of his palm.

Guess he had been working out his frustrations.

“F-Fuck!”

You wrapped his spit-covered hand around his stiff length. Instinct and arousal and the slippery, tight, pleasurable sensation beat out any protest he had about what was happening, firmly and quickly jacking himself off right in front of your face. You calmly watched the glossy, swollen head pop in and out between his tightened fingers. All colors were desaturated due to the dark apartment. Didn’t matter. You had seen it enough times to know what he looked like.

You looked up.

Jungkook was looking down, gasping, the visible strain making his shoulders tremble. Jaw clenched, dark irises glassy, you’re so fucking pretty, shit, and you stuck out your tongue, enjoying the power. He shuddered, gripping himself tighter. Using your left hand, you hooked a thumb under the hem of your shirts, pushing them up, up, over your barely-covered breasts, revealing your hard nipples straining against the tiny black bikini top.

Those large brown eyes went wide, his lips parting.

“Oh, fuck…”

You used your right hand to shove the thin fabric away, scooping your breasts closer together to give him a good view, securing your left hand against your shoulder, easily holding the bunched-up fabric. Grinned, not hiding how pleased you were at his reaction. You lowered your right knee to the ground, stabilizing yourself.

And, now that your right hand was free, you reached forward and smacked his balls.

His black hair whipped in the air as his head snapped back, moaning sharply at the sudden impact. You slapped them again, and again. It was slightly slick from your own spit. Fast and firm. Not hard, since Jungkook hadn’t quite expressed the level he wanted yet, but then his head fell forward, erratic gasps and pupils blown out, squeezing the head of his cock hard, his entire body shaking.

“Harder,” he groaned out, depraved and deep.

You did as you were told, smacking harder and spreading out the hit over the entire area, keeping yourself exposed for him.

“Fuck… f-fuck…”

It was loud, lewd, and wet. His hand moving fast, and your fingertips repeatedly punishing his balls, his hips shaking in ecstasy. The scent of sex mixing with his crisp cologne, deliciously dirtying it. He turned his hand so it was palm up, knuckles down. You spat on his closed fingers and Jungkook moaned even louder, tipping his head back, sweat glistening along his throat.

Spit dripping down.

A bit of a mess, truly.

His head snapped back, fucked-out gaze, his voice rough and hoarse.

“Can… Can you breathe on me…?”

You leaned forward and parted your lips. Keeping eye contact, sliding your tongue out, and exhaled. Slow, heavy, saturated with warmth, leisurely drifting over his fast, tight grip on his hard cock. His eyes squeezed shut, drawn-out groan thundering in his chest. You did it again and his eyes opened, rolling back slightly, his lashes fluttering. You increased the pressure on his balls. The sharp smacks getting louder, wet thrusts, sensual sighs mixing with his desperate whine, and Jungkook tipped his hips down, fixated on watching himself cum onto your tongue and down your throat.

Hot, thick streaks.

You tilted your head back, drinking his orgasm down as you locked eyes with him, electric bliss simmering through your veins. His short black hair was damp with sweat. The strange feeling came back again, somewhere between a dream and reality, yet unmistakable clarity.

Fuck.

You were both sinking.

Shit.

-

“Don’t stop.”

To be honest, Jungkook didn’t like missionary for the sheer reason that she was too damn powerful in this position. Face too damn pretty. Tits too damn perfect. Legs on his shoulders letting him get too damn deep, soft thighs against his hard abs, pussy clenching around every centimeter of his length and not letting up, her hips smacking up every time he thrust down. Okay. It just felt too fucking good. It was a damn problem. He had to grind his teeth and fuck hard so he could slow down and not cum too fast. One would think the second orgasm would be difficult to reach, but one would be fucking wrong. His was rock-hard once she was naked and even harder when she dipped her fingers into her wet pussy to smear her juices over the throbbing head of his cock before he rolled the condom down.

“Are you a virgin or what – fuck!”

She was giving him that smug smirk of hers.

It both pissed him off and made him so damn happy.

A bitch faking it would be imitating shitty porn right now. That was why he never did missionary with any other women before her. It just made him limp. Better it hit it from the back and not have to look at their faces.

God, she was so fucking pretty.

“Always a virgin, only for you,” she snickered.

“I feel so fucking special,” Jungkook growled back, emphasizing each word by pounding her into the mattress.

He did, though.

Somewhere between dream and reality. That strange feeling as he watched her hands grip her pillows, her features softening as she fell into the pleasure, smacking her hips into his, their breathless moans blending together, primal harmony, and he knew he was well and truly fucked because instead of only drowning in the physical sensations of shoving his cock into that tight, wet hole, Jungkook was thinking about how he would wake up and bury his face in her hair the next morning, inhaling the scent of her sweet and smokey perfume, hoping other people could smell her on him, thinking about how lovely it would be to look over and see those eyes roaming over his face, every day and every night.

Well.

Shit.

She clenched around him particularly hard and Jungkook snapped out of his daydream.

Back into his lustful nightdream.

“Harder,” she hissed out, narrowing her eyes.

He was going to gasp, fuck you, but he was doing that already and there was no time to think because she sank lower into the mattress, angling her hips ever-so-slightly, and it was so deep, so good, so tight, losing his mind. Sweat dripping down his chest. He tucked his head back, trying not to get it all over her, bending his elbows and locking his muscles, driving his back and hips into his thrust, bending her in half and neither of them could breathe, closer, clawing up to the high, fast and intense and coiling tight in his chest, sinking down, down, deep down.

Airless.

His orgasm crashed into him so hard that his arms almost gave out.

“Fuck, Jungkook!”

He was sure that the noise that came out of him was not one he wanted to be self aware of. Something between a choked groan and whining moan, lost in the pulsating walls shivering against his jerking cock, wave after wave burning through him. The high seared him like electricity and the aftermath was layers of sparks building over his skin, tingling nerves and forgetting about anything else, suspended in this feeling.

Then his muscles screamed from fatigue and Jungkook realized his back was alarmingly sweaty.

“A… ah, hah…”

She plucked the white hand towel from her nightstand and flung it over his shoulder, falling back into the pillows and gasping.

He was in the middles of wiping his face before he realized that she didn’t have a towel there the first time he came over. But a towel was always there every other time he had showed up after. Either white or dark gray. Always fluffy. He looked down. Her eyes were closed, her pants slowing down to heavy breaths. She hadn’t been looking at him during his epiphany.

She smacked his arm for a second time before he realized she was trying to get his attention.

“Put my legs down, damn…”

“Oh, shit, right…”

It took him a moment to untangle himself. She went to the bathroom, as she usually did. Their clothes were all over the floor. Leather pants. Mesh shirt. The bathing suit top. Panties. His tank top. Black boxer briefs. His jacket and jeans were out there somewhere in the hall outside the bedroom. He noticed a pair of folded gray sweatpants and white shirt sitting on the corner of her room, randomly atop a low bookshelf. He had put them there a week ago. Just in case. She hadn’t moved it.

Jungkook breathed out.

He patted his temple.

I’m in idiot.

Then vigorously dried his hair.

The feeling came back when it was his turn to clean up in the bathroom and he saw his clear hair tie by her sink. A little tangled up from use, next to a pair of clear earplugs. He should probably check his phone and tell his friends that he was fine, but it was somewhere out there in his jeans and Jungkook wasn’t going to go hunting for it right now.

He went back to the bedroom.

Damn, she was so stunning even simply lying in bed. Her gray duvet was only covering her lower half, her forearm draped over her eyes. Amazing breasts. He took a moment to ogle them, perfect nipples and all.

“Stop staring at my tits.”

Well, shit.

She raised her arm and cocked her eyebrow at him.

Not saying anything, but the message came across quite clear.

Jungkook draped the hand towel over his shoulder and picked up the gray sweatpants from the bookshelf, yanking them over his legs before looking up again. Those shadowed eyes were watching him carefully. Surprise but not quite believing. He left the t-shirt and dropped the towel onto the floor, walking over to the other side of the bed and throwing himself down onto the mattress, making her body bounce.

Side eye.

“What?”

He shrugged.

“I’m tired.”

She frowned at him.

“Oh, yeah?”

He nodded.

“Yeah.”

He used his elbows to scoot himself to the pillows, resting his chin on the backs of his hands to look down at her. Her eyes followed the sleeve of tattoos on his right arm. Down and then up. Observing his facial expression carefully.

“Can’t stay too late?” she whispered. Somewhere between a taunt and weariness.

It broke his heart a little, hearing his own words said back to him. He moved one hand and lifted her forearm from her brows, seeing more of her face now. The mood lighting was still on. Points of color dancing over the ceiling above them. They reflected in her eyes even as she faced him.

Jungkook could smell her perfume, soft and sweet and not yet clinging to his skin.

“Can I stay the night?”

Her eyes narrowed. “And why would you wanna to that?”

He shrugged, realizing now that it had never been a no.

“Boyfriends stay over at their girlfriends’ places sometimes. Free breakfast.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed.

“The shit you pull, Jeon Jungkook.”

He leaned down. Had to fight for the kiss. Hands on wrists. His chest pressed against her breasts. When their lips touched, he could feel her smiling, so Jungkook smiled too and kissed her deeply.

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

[7ndipity]

Bts as Doms

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: Headcanons about how the members would be as Doms

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut. Mentions of bondage, oral(f. and m. receiving), degradation, spanking, choking, free use, edging, orgasm denial, one daddy joke(and this is the only time you will ever see it on this blog) not proofread

A/N: Thanks to @a-gayish-unicorn for requesting this! This list is a bit of a mess, but I didn’t want to leave you guys hanging all week without anything. As always, If y’all have any additional thoughts, feel free to add them in the notes!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

He’s mainly a soft dom, but he also gives Brat Enabler vibes. Like, he kinda loves when you sass him and act up in the same ways that he does when you’re in charge so that he can punish you.

Loves when you’re good for him tho and let him use you however he wants, holding your hair as he guides your mouth up and down his length, cooing at you whenever you gag around him.

Teases you constantly, making you tell him exactly what it is you want from him before he’ll do anything, letting his hands just ghost over your body and making it increasingly difficult for you to think.

Big fan of restraints and edging, pinning your hands over your head while he pushes into you, slowing his hips just before you both cum. “You can take it for a little longer, right Sweetie?”

Somehow still manages to make everything feel intimate and romantic. Like, he could be absolutely railing you from behind, but he’s whispering the sweetest things in your ear as he is doing so, telling you how good you’re doing for him and how much he loves you.

Tends to only be rough or mark you up when he’s feeling particularly needy or possessive, wanting to make sure that people know you’re taken.

Yoongi:

I’ve said it before, but he gives soft pleasure dom vibes. Like, he might get a little rough with you sometimes, but he really doesn’t have it in him to be overly strict or harsh with you.

Has certain petnames that he only uses for you when he’s in these moods. “Kitten, can you come here please?”

Drives him crazy to see you spread out or on your knees for him, so pliant and waiting with that desperate look in your eyes.

Similar to when he’s subbing, he’s not too crazy about degradation, but he really loves to tease you, always mixing in some sweet words so it doesn't sting too much, but still makes you blush and flustered, calling you his needy little baby while you ride his thigh.

Absolutely loves overstimulating you. Man will eat you out for hours till you’re in tears and writhing in his hold, begging for a break.

Super soft aftercare is always a must with him, no matter what kind of scene you just played out. He really enjoys the quiet intimacy of cleaning up and looking after you while you come back down.

Hobi:

Hobi is a hard, but very nurturing dom. Like, he’s super strict and not afraid to be rough with you, but everything he does is accompanied by soft guidance and reassurances in a low voice that makes your mind go a little hazy. “You gonna let me take care of you, Sweetheart?”

Rigger for sure, he loves shibari and thinks you look so pretty tied up in different styles. Would definitely take pictures of you like that if you’re comfortable with it.

Almost every time he doms ends with you face down, ass up, with one of his hands wound into your hair so he can pull you up to hear your moans while he pounds into you.

He’s also a fan of spanking for sure, be it on your ass, your thighs, etc. He has a slight sadism kink that peaks through now and then, but he never takes it very far.

Partially because of that tho, he tends to be extra sweet during aftercare, needing to balance out any harshness or punishments by being as close and soft with you as possible to help ground both of you afterwards.

He gives Sugar Daddy vibes, tbh. He loves spoiling you and buying you pretty things like jewelry or lingerie to wear for him. Also really into non-sexual shows of domination, like resting a hand on your back when you’re out together, it makes him feel like your protector.

Namjoon:

Daddy-Sorry what?

But fr tho, although he gives hard dom vibes, I think he actually leans more to the soft side, bordering on pleasure dom energy. He really gets off on your reactions and being the one to take care of you.

Obviously has a thing for dirty talk, as well as a slight humiliation kink. He loves making you tell him exactly what you want/need from him, because 1. Communication is super important and sexy, and 2. He knows it embarrasses you a bit and helps push you further into subspace.

Very big fan of bondage and sensory deprivation. He loves how sensitive and reactive it makes you, the tiniest touches making you twitch and wine.

Big fan of manhandling you into whatever position he wants, his favorites being mating press or having you ride him until he gets impatient and starts thrusting up into you.

Loves edging and orgasm denial, seeing how close he can get you to the edge every time before you finally fall apart. “Hold it. Don’t you dare fucking cum yet.”

Jimin:

Surprisingly stern dom with slight Brat Tamer energy. Like, don’t let the angel eyes fool you, when he gives you an order, he expects you to follow it or face the consequences,

Biggest fucking tease and the teensiest bit of a sadist, he will edge and overstimulate you within a inch of sanity, cooing sickly sweet little remarks in your ear. “Poor baby, can't even handle a couple rounds? We’ll just have to build up your stamina, won’t we?”

As harsh as he might be with teasing and punishments, he’s equally as generous with rewards when you’re good for him.

Big fan of guided masturbation, having you spread all pretty for him as he tells you exactly how to touch yourself or him.

Definitely likes experimenting with different themes and toys/tools. The type that would have you wear vibrating panties when you go out together so that he can tease you by turning them on randomly and watch you squirm.

Super soft with aftercare tho, handling you with the gentlest touches and sweet words. He always wants to make sure you know just how much he loves and cares for you after every session, holding you til you fall asleep.

Taehyung:

Super soft dom, he absolutely loves getting to baby you, kissing and touching you all over until you're a pile of mush in his arms. “Can I make you feel good, Baby? Please?”

He’s very much an aestheticist, he loves roleplay and setting the scene, as well as buying pretty little outfits for you to wear for him.

Praises you constantly, telling you how good you feel, how well you’re doing for him, how much he loves getting to see you like this, etc.

Definitely into taking photos and filming the two of you. Probably has a whole photo album of pictures, ranging from blurry polaroids to more professional shots he took with his film camera or phone.

Torturous levels of teasing. He will finger you for hours, bringing you to the very edge before stopping, kissing you as you cry in frustration.

Really loves the idea of free use, gifting you a special necklace or bracelet for you to wear as a sign to him that he can do whatever he wants with you. The idea of you always being willing to take him makes his ego(and other things) swell with pride.

Jungkook:

He has his softer moments, but I think when he doms, he tends to lean more towards hard dom. He really loves being in control and going all out on you.

Big fan of breathplay. He loves the way it makes you shake and clench around him, tattooed hand snaking up to hold your neck and squeezing just enough to make your eyes roll back in your head.

He fucking loves to overstimulate you, making you keep count of how many times you’ve cum before he’s even inside you.

When he’s in a teasing mood tho, he’s so fucking mean, denying and ruining you orgasms, laughing when you get frustrated. “I’m sorry baby, were you gonna cum?”

Loves leaving marks all over on you, be it hickeys/bitemarks, handprints, etc. His favorite tho is probably cumming inside you, watching it leak out before pushing it back in with his fingers(feel like he has an untapped breeding kink, but-)

Also really loves looking after you in non-sexual ways, be it paying for your meal or just helping you get something off a shelf that’s too high for you. It makes him feel needed.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#bts headcanons #bts smut #dom!bts #bts reaction #bts reactions #bts requests #bts scenarios #bts x y/n #bts x reader #seokjin headcanons #seokjin x reader #yoongi headcanons #yoongi x reader #hoseok headcanons #hoseok x reader #namjoon headcanons #namjoon x reader #jimin headcanons #jimin x reader #taehyung headcanons #taehyung x reader #jungkook headcanons #jungkook x reader #7ndipity

[filmflowersbangtan]

I Must Still Want You pt. 2

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: angst (so. much. angst) | smut

word count: 4k

warnings: rough sex | infidelity | explicit sex scene | I'm so sorry in advance if I make some of you angry with this one. I promise it'll get better in future chapters.

author's note: hey...I'm back. I have so much in store. I know I've said it before and then I disappeared again, but I finally left a toxic relationship that had me in a writer's rut for a very long time and I also stopped following BTS for a while. But then they all came out with their incredible solos, and V's "Layover" was so beautiful it had stirred up so many ideas. It also somehow aligns with this story so well, so I couldn't help myself. I'm really proud of this one. I put so much heart and soul into this. This is not the end of this series.

part i | part iii

----

At first, Taehyung understood. The excuses as to why you couldn’t come home for the holidays, why you couldn’t come home for his birthday, why he couldn’t come visit. Art school was difficult, adjusting to California was difficult, but making friends was easy. Making friends had always been easy for you. You and your mom were on bad terms, that’s why you couldn’t come home. You had deadlines and couldn’t afford distractions, that’s why Taehyung couldn’t come visit.

Then there were the arguments after Taehyung lost all his patience with you. And then the texts and phone calls became more and more infrequent until there were none at all. Taehyung’s calls went to voicemails, his messages echoed in a chamber of emptiness.

Months passed by like this, with Taehyung only knowing you were alive through news from your mom, whose lawn he mowed and driveway he shoveled. He sat with her sometimes for coffee. He didn’t dare going into your room again after he saw that your mother transformed it, pushing an untouched treadmill in the same corner your bed used to be.

And then, about a year after the two of you unofficially broke up, you posted on Instagram. A man was kneeling before you as you wore a stunning dress Taehyung had never see you wear before. An expensive dress. There were letters hung behind the two of you in the background. Taehyung stopped breathing. The letters read:

Will you marry me?

Still not breathing, he swiped right to see another picture of your left hand—a hand he used to hold so much he could still feel the ghost of its warmth—displaying a gaudy engagement ring encrusted with a sickening number of diamonds. The camera’s flash made them glimmer in a way that made Taehyung nauseous.

Despite everything, Taehyung had been taking the unofficial breakup well. He never said anything about it to your mother although he desperately wanted to understand why you stopped talking to him or know if she knew. He didn’t rot in bed. He didn’t stop photography. While you had been gone, he discovered a newfound love of singing and his roommate Jungkook was a small-time producer and part-time DJ, and through him Taehyung had virtually unlimited access to a studio. Instead of succumbing into a debilitating depression, Taehyung worked on his very first EP. He had finished a few days before the Instagram post. He was going to send it to you. He knew you were going to love it. Maybe it would even make you speak to him.

But the post.

Taehyung dropped his phone on his bed and steadily walked to the bathroom, breathing through his nose. An ugly surge of emotion ravished him. He thought he was going to cry, but when he closed the door behind him, he stumbled to the toilet. And vomited.

Jungkook rushed in, his headphones dangling from around his neck, concern stretched across his face. “Bro, you good? It sounds like you’re dying.”

Taehyung wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. His eyes and throat burned. Thick snot crept down his lips. He wasn’t going to cry, but seeing Jungkook standing there pummeled him. His dear friend who didn’t even know Taehyung had been going through a breakup. How was he going to explain this? He couldn’t. He dropped his head back into the toilet bowl and heaved.

Later, after Taehyung cleaned himself up and Jungkook sat him down on the couch with a cup of water, he told Jungkook everything.

Jungkook had been quiet the entire time, nodding to let Taehyung know that he was listening. But when Taehyung finished, gesturing to his phone because he couldn’t speak the words “she’s engaged,” Jungkook looked at the post himself.

A brief and subtle expression flickered across his face as he swiped. It was there and then it was gone, only noticeable in the slight tremble in the eyebrows and the momentary clench of the jaw. He looked up at Taehyung whose eyes were rimmed in red and whose hands were quivering as he dabbed at his nose with a napkin.

With a venom that Taehyung did not know his roommate possessed, Jungkook said, “That bitch.”

--

After grieving for a month, Taehyung pulled himself out of bed. He went to a party where Jungkook was DJing and downed shot after shot of anything anyone would hand him. He blacked out and woke up in his own bed wearing the same sweaty clothes from the night before, feeling like hell. He looked at his text messages to make sure that he didn’t say anything fucked up to anyone and noticed your contact at the top.

Of course, he reached out to you. How embarrassing. He cringed, afraid to read what he said, but all he sent was a link to his EP. Somehow, that was worse. He absolutely wanted to die.

And of course, you didn’t respond.

--

A year stuttered by. Sometimes when Taehyung looked in the mirror, he didn’t recognize himself. He was dirty blond now and handsome and miserable. He had slept with so many people in the last few months—girls, mostly but sometimes guys, too. He had had so many threesomes that he’d lost count. People on campus knew who he was now. He had gone from having one friend in his first year of college to becoming a name that people sighed dreamily as they said it.

Still nothing from you.

And then, one morning while nursing a hangover at the dining table in his shared apartment with Jungkook, a text from your mom. Maybe he was reading into it, but there was a tone of sadness in the wording, possibly regret. It said:

Y/N is back in town. Her grandmother died last week and the funeral is Friday. Please come if you feel comfortable. If you don’t, I understand.

There it was again. That roiling sensation inside of him. That urgent need to vomit.

The first time he had a threesome with Jungkook, he couldn’t perform. He had fumbled to the bathroom, his pants undone, and hurled into the toilet until the girl left. He had thought Jungkook would be pissed, but instead he sat on the bathroom floor with him in silence.

Now, Jungkook paused, a spoonful of cereal and milk halfway to his mouth. “I know that look,” he said. “What happened?”

Taehyung cleared his throat. “Y/N’s grandmother died.”

Jungkook wrinkled his nose. “So? Fuck her and her grandma.”

In other circumstances, Taehyung would've laughed. He couldn’t. He was too numb. “I liked her grandma when we were little. She used to make homemade blackberry jam and watch our stupid choreographies that we made up.”

Jungkook’s expression softened. He lowered the spoon. “I take that back about the grandma, but still fuck that bitch. Y/N, not the grandma.”

Now Taehyung mustered up a halfhearted chuckle that could’ve been a genuine laugh had the thought of you being in town—not in California—not robbed him of any sense of humor.

Jungkook hated seeing Taehyung like this because there was nothing he could do to help. “Don’t go to that funeral,” was all he said. It wasn’t a command. His voice was pleading. “Seeing her will only fuck you up. And what if she’s with—”

Taehyung closed his eyes as if expecting a blow. He hadn’t realized he was crying until warm teardrops slid down his face and into his mouth.

--

He went to the funeral. Your parents embraced him when they saw him. Individually, of course. Your dad remarried. He had stepchildren. Taehyung thought you probably hated it if you even still talked to him. The idea of someone else being frozen out of your life and not just him slightly comforted him. Slightly.

It was a beautiful day out—early summer, bright blue sky, cool breeze—but Taehyung was cold. And you hadn’t arrived yet.

“She slept in,” your mother said. “She hadn’t been feeling the best ever since she landed yesterday. She should arrive soon.”

An Uber arrived, and the back door opened. Taehyung held his breath.

You stepped out. You were so familiar yet you were a stranger. Your hair was longer, fuller. You were wearing a form-fitting black dress and red-bottomed heels. A designer bag dangled from the crook of your elbow. Large, expensive sunglasses obscured your eyes. Your lips were painted red.

The Uber departed before Taehyung realized you came alone.

You sauntered in his direction. He was breathless as he watched you move. Did you always walk like that? With such an elegant sway? Or was that new? A by-product of your reinvented life.

He realized that he was not your target. He was standing with your parents and your stepmother you probably hated. Except you didn’t hate her because she was the first you hugged. Then your dad. Then your mother. Then—

“Tae.”

He blinked. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears. Feel the bile rising in his throat. He cleared it behind a polite fist before croaking your name in return.

Then, very cautiously, you pulled him into a hug. He felt everyone’s eyes on the both of you. You were making him into a spectacle, and he hated it. In that moment, he realized he hated you. But his arms were stiff at his sides and when he became aware of that, he lifted them to pat you on the back.

“I know how much you loved her,” you said when you released him.

He blinked, not understanding. “I’m sorry, what?”

“My grandmother.”

His face felt hot. Jungkook was right. He shouldn’t have come. He had never once wanted to hurt a woman before, especially not you. But he wanted so badly to strangle you. To make you feel what it’s like to have your throat full of heartbreak. But he pushed a smile onto his red face. “Yes. My condolences.”

“Thank you for coming,” you said.

I hate you.

Taehyung nodded, and without meaning to, glimpsed at your left hand. The ring was still there. You were still engaged. But you returned home without a fiancé.

I hate you.

--

After the funeral, there was a gathering at your dad and stepmom’s house. Taehyung wasn’t going to go, but he couldn’t bring himself not to. He wanted to keep looking at you, breathing the same air as you, and wondering if you had listened to his EP.

But for the most part, he was just wandering around the beautiful countryside home as awkwardly as he had been at the party in middle school where he had first seen you kissing a boy on the porch. Except this time, you were getting married. You were getting fucking married.

At least at a funeral it wasn’t odd to cry. He went outside to do it.

He sat on the front porch steps and loosened his tie. No one came out to bother him. He was good at being invisible. Especially to you.

The front door behind him opened. The sound of heels approached him but stopped a few paces away.

Neither of you said anything. He quietly wiped away angry tears.

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” you said.

He wanted to scream. “Not here. Please.”

“I booked a hotel. Let’s talk at the bar there. You look like you could use a drink.”

Taehyung closed his eyes. “Was that a joke?”

“Yes. But I could use a drink, too.”

Taehyung dropped his head in his hands. “I shouldn’t have come.” He stood up and walked to his car. You didn’t follow. Didn’t beg. He grabbed the handle of the driver’s side door and looked at you from over the roof of the car. You were still standing on the porch, your hands delicately interlaced in front of you. You weren’t wearing your sunglasses, but he couldn’t see your eyes from where he stood.

Who were you?

He yanked the door open and got in the car. His phone vibrated when he started the ignition. You had sent him a text with an address and a time.

“Fuck you,” he whispered. “Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you.”

--

He arrived thirty minutes late. You were sipping a purple-colored cocktail at a secluded table. God, you looked so good. He hated it.

“I would’ve understood if you hadn’t showed,” you said, expressionless.

He hesitated before sitting down, considering leaving. When he did sit, you said, “I really like your hair. It complements your skin tone.”

“Fuck you,” he said.

“I deserve that.”

“Fuck you.”

“What are you drinking nowadays? It’s on me.”

The bile was threatening to choke him. He swallowed thickly. His voice trembled as he said, “What do you want from me? You don’t fucking care about me. All you care about it—I don’t know what you care about. You’re such a—”

A drink appeared before him. “I already ordered for you. I hope you don’t mind whiskey. It’s top shelf so you most likely won’t have a hangover.”

“I don’t want—”

“I listened to it.”

Taehyung stopped.

“It was beautiful. It was so fucking beautiful. When do you sing? And like that? Oh, my God.”

Now Taehyung was crying again. He downed his drink. You gestured something to the waitress and another whiskey appeared before him. Taehyung said, “Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to deserve this?”

You touched his hand. He flinched away as if burned. “I dropped out of college a couple of years ago. I was homeless. And then I met a guy who fixed all of that.”

“Such bullshit.” But Taehyung knew you were genuine. You were never a liar.

“Not bullshit,” you said gently. “I was embarrassed. Who flunks art school? But I was intimidated being surrounded by all of those freakishly talented people. I didn’t fit in. But you would’ve sure as hell did. Your photos, Tae—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m sorry.” You took a sip of your drink and looked away before continuing, “You are so talented. And then that fucking album—”

“EP.”

You glared at him. “Now it is my turn to say fuck you.”

“Get to the point.”

“I wasn’t measuring up. I dropped out before I got expelled. Mom wanted me to come home, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I love California. I slept on some friends’ couches for a few months, working odd jobs—bartending, dogwalking, commission stuff. I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” “I was embarrassed, Tae. And then you kept pestering me about wanting to see me and—”

“Pestering? You think so lowly of me?” “That’s what it felt like at the time. I had so much going on in my head—”

“But not so much that you still had room to go and fuck someone else before even breaking up with me.”

You finished your drink. “I didn’t fuck anyone.”

Taehyung had no response.

“I met a guy while bartending. He was rich. And kind. And I was very poor and lonely.”

“And he swept you off your feet," he said with betrayal in his voice.

“No. But his tips were nice. They were big enough to feed me for a couple of weeks. And then he would take me out to dinners. Next thing I know he’s buying me an apartment and a car and a dog and a life.”

Taehyung’s eyes were wet with fresh tears. He couldn’t look at you. “I wanted a life with you. I could’ve helped you.”

“With what money, Taehyung? All you would’ve done was spend way too much money on a one-way ticket and be stuck there with me.”

He had nothing to say to that. He downed his drink. “That doesn’t explain not telling me a fucking thing. Not even a goodbye.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you love him?”

You sighed.

Taehyung clenched his hands into fists under the table. He repeated, “Do you love him?”

Another purple drink appeared in front of you. The waitress flitted away, sensing the tension.

Finally, you said, “I think I could learn to. Someday.”

He blew out the breath he’d been holding and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked out the window at the pool. So still, so blue. So beautiful. He thought of California. He thought of the song on his EP, “For Us.” He wanted to fucking drown you.

In a soft, broken voice, he said, “I have loved you for my entire life. My entire life. Just wasted.”

You didn’t say anything. You just simply stared out the window with him. And then for the first time that entire day, you began to sob.

He didn’t dare look at you. He didn’t want to empathize with you. What for? But hearing you cry silently, seeing your shoulders shake with each sob in his peripheral vision…

Before he could say anything, you were already cleaning yourself up, dabbing under your eyes with a neatly folded napkin. “Should we go up to my suite for some privacy? I fucking hate crying in public.”

--

The suite was gorgeous. He didn’t know something so extravagant existed in his hometown.

“I need to get out of this dress. It’s not really my style,” you said, delicately removing your heels.

Taehyung looked away. For some reason, seeing you do that simple action made his heart ache.

You disappeared into the bathroom after telling him to make himself comfortable. He instead opted to stand around, unsure of what to do with his hands. Then you called his name from the other room, needing help with the dress.

“The zipper,” you said. “It was hell putting this thing on by myself. Can you unzip it for me?”

The bathroom was all marble and glass. Taehyung felt like there were a dozen versions of the both of you reflected around him. You were trying to catch his eyes in the mirror, but he purposefully avoided you. He focused on keeping his hands still as he stood behind you and reached up to grasp the tiny zipper at the nape of your neck.

The sound of the dress unzipping made his dick throb as longingly as his heart. You were fucking with him. You had to be.

But he wasn’t the same Taehyung that you left behind at the airport. Not at all. He was going to show you.

The zipper ended right at the top of your tailbone. You let the dress fall to the floor.

“You said you didn’t fuck anyone?” Taehyung said, voice gruff with want. He could feel himself hardening.

You were breathing slightly faster. You wanted him, too. This time, he allowed your gaze to meet each other’s in the mirror. You said, “Just myself. I never let him touch me, Tae. I don’t love him.”

He ran his hand up your leg, up your ass, traced the line of your back with a steady finger. He was no longer nervous. Fucking was what he was good at. And he wanted to fuck you until you regretted ever leaving him. Until you rued the day you said yes to that stupid fucking engagement.

He stopped his hand at the base of your neck. You stood still, breath shallow. Waiting. Wanting. You were probably so wet for him already, but you would have to wait.

He pressed himself against you so that you could feel how hard he was for you. A moan stuttered out of your throat. He clenched your neck from behind and shoved you forward, bending you over the sink. With swift fingers, he undid his belt, lowered his pants, pushed down his briefs. His cock sprang free, swollen with a two year long need for you, beaded with precum.

You shimmied out your underwear. With two fingers, he felt the velvety skin of your pussy lips. He was right, you were so fucking wet for him. You arched your back and shivered at his touch.

Your eyes met in the mirror again. Yours were heavy-lidded with desire, lips red like Marilyn Monroe. He wanted that lipstick smeared all over your face and all over his cock when he was done with you. His own eyes were low lidded as well. He grinned at you before he entered you. He didn’t want to take it slow, and he didn’t.

He fucked you like you were water, and he hadn’t drunk anything in days. You were a mess, clawing at the marble countertop like it would give you stability. Your moans were so fucking hot. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back so that his lips were at your ear.

“You’re mine, do you hear me? This pussy is mine.”

You tried to say “Yes, daddy,” but your eyes were fluttering and rolling and Taehyung was fucking you so good you couldn’t get a word out. He slapped your ass and you gasped.

“Fuck you,” he said but he didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean it at all.

He felt himself getting carried away and pulled out. You squirmed at the lack of him, begging for more. He didn’t want to admit he almost came. Sex hadn’t felt this good in years. Both of you were breathless, filling the room with your panting. But he wasn’t done with you yet. And you knew. You smiled at him, big and beautiful, and Taehyung almost came right then and there.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

Your pupils were dilated, your face was glimmering with sweat, your hair was a mess. You were so beautiful Taehyung wanted to fucking cry.

And then he was. “Fuck you,” he said, but he meant it this time.

You unclasped your bra and dropped it to the floor. Then you were on your knees before him, using that expensive dress as a cushion against the marble. You took all of him in your mouth, slowly, never losing eye contact. Your mouth was warm and wet and your breasts looked amazing, the nipples hard. You noticed him looking and pinched the nipple of your left breast as you sucked him off, using your right hand to jerk him in and out of your mouth. You were an expert with your tongue, paying close attention to the head of his cock. And then when he felt the back of your throat, he squeezed his eyes shut and grasped a handful of your hair again, this time to keep himself steady.

“Ah, fuck,” he whimpered. “Where? Where do you want me to cum?” He made the mistake of looking at you again, your mouth smeared crime-scene red.

You smiled at him like a good girl, like you didn’t have a spit stretching from your lips to his cock like party streamers. “On my face,” you said.

He didn’t hesitate.

When he finished convulsing the final streams of cum onto your pretty face, he stood there, face flushed and veins straining from his neck as reality crept back into his bones like a winter’s chill. He was disgusted with himself. He was angry with you.

“You’re fucking engaged,” he said, cleaning himself up. “Oh fuck. I’m such a fucking idiot.” He hastily threw on his clothes. Ran his hands through his hair to look somewhat presentable and not like he just face fucked someone’s fiancé.

You were extremely calm and still extremely naked. Taehyung realized belatedly that you hadn’t come yet. Good, he thought. You don’t deserve that release.

He finished dressing as you started washing your face. He went to leave but then stopped at the door. He didn’t turn to look at you, but he said, “You’re an awful person, Y/N. I hope you know that.”

Taehyung left the bathroom and was halfway to the suite’s door when he heard you say meekly as if to yourself, “I do.”

--

#bangtanwriters-net #btscreatorsnet #taehyung scenarios #taehyung smut #kreativewritersnet #kpop fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fanfic #taehyung fic #fic #smut #bts series #taehyung au #angst #filmflowersbangtan

[picnokinesis]

plottier / character focused thirteenth doctor fic recs

Ipseity by WalkerLister (43k, 10 chapters, gen) summary: Eight months since the Doctor sacrificed herself on Gallifrey, and Yasmin Khan is still struggling to move on. However, when she comes across a familiar face who is not acting like herself, Yaz may finally get the answers she has been looking for surrounding the Doctor. However, those answers will be revealed in a way a bit more dangerous than she had been anticipating. //Okay, so no one is surprised that I like the amnesiac!divisioned!13 fic, but in my defence, it's absolutely fabulous. This one was written waaaaay back in mid-2020, so we all knew that 13 was in prison and everyone was pretty sure that Jack was coming back due to some bts detective work, but that was about it - so, for obvious reasons, it doesn't align with ROTD, but it's such a fun one, guys, I love it a lot. Also, y'know, thirteen in a leather jacket and snarling at people? What more could you want?

don't have to make it to the moon by Ymae (28k, 7 chapters, gen/thoschei) summary: After New Year's, Ryan decides to stay traveling in the TARDIS for another little while. Only, the Doctor's rarely alright, and between experiencing the wonders of the universe, Ryan wants to figure out what's happening to his friend, too. //I love Ryan so much. He's such a wonderful character and I always love it when fics focus on him, or have him as the pov character. Unfortunately, fics like that are a bit few and far between, but this is one of them, and it's absolutely fantastic. It really delves into his character, but also his dynamic with the Doctor (especially after he talks to her in ROTD and she admits that she's scared and angry), and it's just auuuuuuugh so good!! And, it's also go some great whump and psychic content, with the Master showing up to cause trouble, alongside some gorgeous world-building, so I enjoy it very very much.

Ghost War by riptheh (25k, 1 chapter, gen) summary: All the Doctor wants to do is pass the time, and help a friendly face. So when a young man with a strange tattoo and a psychic wound shows up, she dives right into the mystery - and finds herself flung far into the future, mindwiped and alone, fighting a war that by all rights, shouldn't exist at all. A war she could help end, if only she could figure out who she is. //Oof, this one. It's absolutely stunning. This author really has a way of taking some absolutely fascinating and mind-bending concepts and just running with it, and just nails it each time. I feel like the less I say about the plot of this one, the better, because it sort of unfolds as you go, but please just trust me when I say that it's absolutely fantastic.

Lifelines by Sue_Denham (40k, 11 chapters, gen, wip) summary: Lifeline: a thing on which someone or something depends, or which provides a means of escape from a difficult situation. Set just after the events of Spyfall, the Doctor has a few things to work through. //Okay this fic is one of my favourites that's been posting over the last year or so - it's a brilliant exploration of Graham and Thirteen, and how different races deal with loss, guilt and death. I honestly think the best kind of sci fi takes concepts that we sort of take for granted, and then shows them in a completely new light. That's what this fic does. Also, Graham is just wonderful for the entire thing - though, as a note, Yaz and Ryan do end up somewhat side-lined, so bear that in mind if you're particularly looking for fics about those two, but I forgive it because it's such a great look at Graham and the Doctor. It feels like a character focused tie-in novel, y'know? Also it's pretty angsty in places, naturally, but that's what I'm here for haha.

Disordered by Echo (44k, 7 chapters, jack/13) summary: Messing with memories is always a risky business. Messing with your own memories, now that's just asking for trouble. The Doctor is very good at asking for trouble. And Jack is very good at finding it. //Ohhhhh okay so. This has been one of my absolute favourite Doctor Who fics for a long while. Definitely the shippiest of this list, but it's so lovely and such an excellent look at the Doctor facing the consequences of trying to get back her Division memories in the aftermath of s12, as well as the relationship between the Doctor and Jack across multiple regenerations. It's just so so good, flowing smoothly from very angsty to very soft, and the Doctor and Jack's voices are just spot on (especially considering that we see different versions of the Doctor, this is a particularly impressive note). Highly recommend!

The Trial of the Doctor by wreckageofstars (20k, 5 chapters, gen/thasmin, wip) summary: Haven is a planet at the edge of time, on the brink of destruction. Ravaged by the Time Lords and a war that time forgot, its people are desperate for justice before it’s too late, and the Doctor might be the only being left in the universe who can provide it — because she was the one who started it. So why can't she remember doing it? //Okay okay so, this one has only recently started posting but I've known about it since about 2020 and ohhhhhhhhhhh my goodness, GUYS. If you're not following this one, you need to be. It's a mix between Doctor Who at it's finest, Kafka at it's most unsettling, and Douglas Adams at it's most absurd, and it's delightful. There's so much in this one, and as always this author is just spot on with all the characterisation - especially Thirteen, who suddenly finds herself being prosecuted for a crime that she can't remember, and is forced into a situation where she's physically incapable of telling a lie. It. Is. Marvellous. Also there's a cockroach lawyer, whom I adore HAHA

lighthouse keeper by BlueLillyBlue (57k, 12 chapters, gen) summary: The Doctor is missing, and the fam is concerned. Featuring Yaz being a badass, Ryan being a cutie, Graham being a granddad, Jack being Jack, and the Doctor's complicated moral code. Also: space prisons, galactic war, the Doctor's time war trauma, the Doctor caring about people in her own weird and repressive way, and, most importantly, Thirteen wearing Jack's coat. //Oh, this one is such a favourite of mine. It's very angsty, so if that's not your schtick then - well, then you're kinda scuppered for all of my recs, to be honest, but this one is a bit on the dark side. Oh, but it's fantastic. Again, this one feels like a tie-in novel, and this author (as I think I've said before) is just incredible at crafting these very vivid worlds and really hard-hitting stories. The situation is pretty dire and desperate, and the Doctor is often faced with the fact that not every plan works out, and sometimes the only choices are bad ones. It's just really excellent guys (also! Thirteen in Jack's coat!!)

angel ellipsis by SleepyMaddy (36k, 8 chapters, gen/thoschei) summary: When the Doctor and Yaz find a planet in ruins, they’re only half surprised to discover the Master is responsible. But when his plan backfires, suddenly they have no choice but to work with him to stop his former allies from tearing the universe apart. It goes about as well as one might expect. //OKAY SO. This one is SO much fun and SO great - in particular, if you like the Master being a tricky bastard, but also getting screwed over by his own plans? You'll love this one. Everything about it is so vibrant and brilliant, and aaaaaahh man it all comes together in such a satisfying way. As with many of the authors on this list, this author just really gets these characters and how they tick, with some absolutely beautiful prose, and it's just such a joy to read.

nothing in the dark that isn't there in the light by river_of_words (6k, 1 chapter, thasmin) summary: Two weeks since Yaz got the most confusing rejection she ever hopes to get and the Doctor seems to have decided to blame Yaz for every single one of her furiously conflicting emotions. At this point she’s sort of asking to get hit. And at this point Yaz is sort of curious to find out what the Doctor is going to say that’s going to make her meet that request. //These next two fics are a lot shorter compared to the others, but I really wanted to include both of them because they're great and SO interesting to me. With this one, it digs into the Doctor and Yaz's relationship in the aftermath of LOTSD, and the ways that the Doctor does not actually talk about anything but does also tell Yaz more than anyone else. It's about the frustration that builds between them and the way that they're still finding more comfort in each other than anyone else. It's also a little feral, which as a thoschei shipper, definitely had a lot to do with why I liked this one haha. Anyway, it's really fantastic - really quick paced and emotional, and packing a LOT of punches with mostly dialogue in a very effective way. Go read it!

we'll do it right by daring_elm (3k, 1 chapter, gen) summary: She's never really noticed Yaz's perfume before. Shoulders relaxing, nausea subsiding, the Doctor inhales again, filling her lungs with jasmine and sandalwood, steel and glowing crystals and her box out of time. She can be back with Yaz within minutes of her leaving. She can save the child, change the foundation of Gallifrey and still return to have a picnic on Soria T4.  //Okay so I loooove love love this one because I just adore it any time someone explores the Doctor's reaction to the Timeless Child stuff after the fact, and this one is just so wonderful. The characterisation is just fantastic, and then just the progressive spiral of the plot as we follow the Doctor on a mission that is doomed to fail by the nature of her own timeline. It's about how by trying to change the past, all you do is mess up your present and your future, and I love that a lot. Augh, it's a gut punch and a half - highly recommended!

#doctor who #thirteenth doctor #yasmin khan #ryan sinclair #graham o'brien #dhawan!master #thoschei #spydoc #thasmin #captain jack harkness #long post #doctor who edit #dwedit #doctor who fic #thirteen #the doctor #fic #fic rec #yessssss another one!!! #probably the last one for a while unless inspiration strikes #but ahhhhhhhhhh yes i love these fics a LOT #taka edits #the ryan picture for ymae's fic doesn't quiiiiiiite fit but it was so gorgeous i had to use it #the trial fic one though....SKSKSK i'M SO PROUD OF THAT #had to make the lighting red and it was a PAIN #anyway reblog and share the love!! #and share any other recs if you have them!

[hamsterclaw]

Fic Library: Seokjin

Worldwide handsome, sexy, absurd, funny, steely Seokjin is always a star, and even more so when he's written by these amazing writers. Check these out and show them some love.

Wrong place, wrong time by @bangtanintotheroom. Seokjin x f! reader in an established relationship, Seokjin's on good form in this hilarious story with the funniest one-liner I've seen in a Jin fic.

The Flower Bridge by @yoongsisbae features Seokjin as a ghost and is soft, sad, poignant and beautifully written.

You can take it by @7deadlysinsfics is soft and smutty and this Seokjin is naughty, sexy and charming.

Fall in hatred by @jimlingss. A sad, stunning and truthful fic about relationships and when they fall apart.

Mood lighting by @sugalaritae features new parents Jin x reader. Sexy, eager, sweet dad Jin is such a treat.

A game of two halves by @madbutgloriouspond was written as part of a sports Jin collab and features an injured soccer player Jin who's snarky, bratty and snappy with his physical therapist reader. There's so much going on below the surface in this story and I love the way Seokjin and reader are written.

Soul on fire by @vyduan is an ongoing soulmate touch AU with a ridiculous but self-aware Seokjin and characters that you root for.

HoHoNO by @imaginethisbts. I always have time for a cracky Christmas fic and this is cracky masterpiece made me laugh so much.

I dream of Jinnie part 2 by @bts-hyperfixation. Written for Kinktober, this is another cracky gem that features a semi-awkward striptease and a fez as well as a subby Jin.

Love language by @augustbutwinter. This office co-workers AU features Seokjin x reader and features a sweetheart of a Seokjin in full hyung mode caring for everyone.

Once bitten, twice shy by @fantasybangtan. A Christmas fic featuring a stellar Bangtan ensemble cast and a warm, fluffy, perfect enemies to lovers setup for doctors Seokjin x reader.

Kiss me by @minisugakoobies is a 90s throwback story set in a college AU with a BMOC Seokjin who's sexy, and dorky, and so so endearing.

A Comedy of Manners by @vyduan is punchy, funny, absurd and beautifully human. It features Seokjin x reader in an arranged marriage AU.

Second first meeting by @taleasnewastime is a supercute Valentine's themed story with an annoying, cocky but sweet Seokjin.

Winter solace by @floralseokjin. A holidays themed story with Seokjin x f! reader that's heartwarming and touches on themes of learning to trust and love again.

Love, lust and life mushrooms by @miscelunaaa is the explicit Super Mario bros themed Seokjin smut of my dreams and I won't hear any different.

#fic rec: seokjin #fic rec: jin #fic recs list: seokjin #fic library: seokjin

[taleasnewastime]

The feeling’s slow to fade

Summary: There’s something out there. In the woods. On the streets. In your home. You know it’s there have just never seen it. It starts with one seemingly small death, a bird but builds into bigger and bigger animals. Everyone brushes it off, only you feel the ghost of something following you, only you keep seeing the animals it horrifically kills, only you think something bigger is going on here. But when you start to try and work out what’s happening, it seems the guy who has hated you since school is also taking an interest. The two of you embark on a journey to try and find out why animals are mysteriously dying in your town, discovering things about each other along the way.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: Enemies to lovers, horror with a touch of fantasy, smut, fluff, angst.

Word count: 26.7k

Warnings (there are spoilers in this): Mention of death of both human and animal, mentions of readers parents dying – though not graphically described it is heavily discussed, more detailed descriptions of dead animals, reader kills something, blood, reader feels queasy, uneasy feelings and feelings of being followed, reader is sick, idk I don’t think it’s overly scary but these are still the themes, it’s more emotional than scary? swearing, Explicit sexual content, safe sex, penetrative sex.

Authors Note: Happy (slightly belated) Halloween! Written for the BTS Writing Café’s Welcome to Horrorwood event. Surprise @sunshinerainbowsbts​! Or maybe not as I feel like I was being the most obvious person in the world. I tried to throw you off, but it’s hard to not talk like yourself (before the whole squash debacle I even tried to use the flavor not flavour etc. but quickly gave up when it became obvious I’m not American). I apologise for the length of this, I got carried away as I always tend to get when I write. I also really struggled with the ending of this. But before I completely downplay how great this story is, I hope you enjoy! Thanks for all your help writing this, I hope you notice all the little bits I added from the answers you gave in your asks. Et Voila!

There’s blood everywhere. Splatters on the floor and dots all over the walls.

Something died here. Or maybe it was dragged here given the smears in the blood by the door. Whatever happened, it wasn’t pretty, and it happened while you were sleeping only a meter away.

You feel a little queasy. You’d just stood in that blood, can still see the outline of your foot. It was how you’d first realised something was off, waking up and immediately standing in blood isn’t exactly your definition of the best start to the day. Flicking on the light to brighten the near pitch-black room had shown you the horror you now stare at.

Your stomach turns. How did you sleep through whatever happened here? What created so much blood? Whatever it was put up a pretty good fight. And though you have an idea of what, or who, may have done it, it does nothing to ease your worries. If anything it only heightens them.

Heart hammering, you work your way downstairs. Careful to not step in any of the blood, though much of the smaller patches have already dried. You’re not sure if you want whatever it is to be alive or dead. Both seem pretty grim options.

You follow the smears and splatters around your house. They don’t take you far, mostly because the cottage is only small, but soon enough you’re stood in your kitchen staring straight at the thing that created all the blood.

It’s dead. Lifeless body a bit mangled with no hope of resurrection. And sat on one of the bar stools, looking as if he couldn’t care less, is the murderer.

“Tofu,” you scold.

Your cat gives you a curtesy glance before going back to cleaning his paws. Given the amount of blood all over your home you’re surprised his pristine white fur isn’t marred. Though, honestly, you couldn’t care less about your arsehole cat in this moment. You give him a small push towards the exit and then a soft boot out the door. Through the window he gives you a small glare, you’d have normally given him food before kicking him out the house for the day, and he must be pretty proud about his catch. But he’s coated half your house in blood and by the looks of it, has already had a half decent meal today. No, he deserves to be outside, at least until you can clear this up. You’ll shove some food outside before you head to work.

You look back at your room, a headache already forming. You hate Fridays for various reasons, you really don’t need this on top of everything else.

Settling on at least getting rid of the bird’s body before heading to work you try to work out the best approach. The blood around the house will take longer than you have to clean, but maybe you can at least put something on the patches to stop it staining. Honestly, right now, it all feels like a problem for future you, though she won’t be impressed with that decision.

You step closer to the dead animal. It’s a big bird and you’d feel a little impressed with your cat if it wasn’t for the situation. You don’t examine it too closely, it’s pretty mangled and not the nicest sight, plus you don’t have any desire or the time to look at it closer.

You end up having to rush around your house to get ready for work, that headache only increasing in intensity as you leave the house.

The bell dings above your head, a twinkling sound so at odds to what you associate with this place. All you feel is dread whenever you step into the small, quaint bookshop.

The bay window holds a display that changes weekly, today there are various Agatha Christie novels and games. A murder mystery theme for Halloween. The walls of the shop are lined floor to ceiling with books and even in the small space there are a few tables also crammed with books.

Tonight they’re all pushed to the side and one is cleared and crammed with people around it instead. Games night. One of the few occasions you ever come into this place. All other times you avoid it like the plague. It’s a shame, because in any other situation you’d try your hardest to come to this place daily. It just so happens that the man you hate, or more the man that hates you, owns the place. You’re surprised he even lets you in on games night, there’s probably a barred sign with your face behind the till even though it’s only him and Olivia that work here, both know you. He’s probably scribbled little horns on your head and uses it as a dart board, you know, the usual.

As it turns out, you’re allowed on the premises, if only for one night every fortnight.

The man in question, the one who hates you with every fibre of his being, is currently stood looking down at the group sat around the table. He’s smiling, something you rarely see, and you hate the fact that the expression seems to suit him. It brightens his face, lightens his normally dark eyes, causes little creases to appear in the corner of his eyes and those little teeth are kind of endearing.

Ok, nope. Your traumatic day is obviously getting to you because nothing Yoongi has ever done can be considered endearing.

You take a small step into the room and call out, “hey.”

Yoongi’s head is the only one to turn your way. His whole demeanour changes in the process. Before he’s even made eye contact with you his smile has dropped, his body becomes stiff as he stands straight. He looks at you for all of one second, his expression flat, telling you everything he’s thinking; he wishes you weren’t here, hell, he probably wishes you didn’t exist. Your fake smile only widens a little, because as much as you wish you weren’t, you’re not as low as Yoongi and would never treat him like he treats you, even if you do dislike him.

His eyes flick to your smile, a look of disgust crosses his face as his jaw clenches and then he’s twisting and heading out the room.

Well, it could have been a lot worse. At least he didn’t verbalise his hatred.

You take another step into the room, shrugging off your jacket and trying your best to not let your first welcome set your mood.

“Hey guys,” you say again, this time slightly louder.

“There she is,” Seokjin turns and beams at you, at least someone seems happy to see you. “You do realise this thing starts at 7, right?”

“It’s 7:20, Jin, she’s hardly late.”

You shoot Olivia a grateful smile before looking back at Seokjin. “I’ve had a shit day, ok?”

“Oh?” He sounds happy rather than the concerned you were hoping for.

“At least sit down first,” Namjoon cuts in this time, gesturing to the empty seat next to him.

You drop your jacket on the back of the chair before sitting down. You don’t miss the fact that Yoongi has drifted back into the room. He’s stood behind the till messing with something you can’t see but you’d bet he overheard the fact you’ve had a shit day and has come to bask in your misery.

Honestly, you’re not sure when his hatred started. As far as you’re concerned it happened when you moved here and started at the same school as him. It was a rough time for you, your mum recently passed away due to a car accident, and your dad in his grief moved the two of you halfway across the country. New house, new town, and new friends on top of all the other emotions you were trying to process; you’d tried your hardest to feel upbeat walking into your first class. When your teacher pointed at your new seat you’d shuffled over to it and then smiled as warmly as you could at the boy sat in the seat next to yours. You introduced yourself, watched as his eyes dragged their way across your entire being, judgment and displeasure written on his face the whole time. He didn’t say anything, didn’t smile back or tell you his name, he just turned away from you and sat as far as he could while the class started.

When you brought up his reaction to others, they didn’t seem surprised, apparently it was a very Yoongi reaction – whatever that meant. You brushed it off, took it to mean he was shy. Only, the next lesson with him, he was sat somewhere else. So disgusted by just the sight of you, he asked the teacher to move.

It only went down from there. You started in the school late, were well into your GCSEs by the time you joined. You did well academically, actually enjoyed school. Unfortunately, Yoongi was in most of your classes, both of you at a similar level that you became rivals of a sort. You wouldn’t have minded much, could live with being in the same classes, but he obviously hated it. Whenever he outperformed you on a test he’d gloat, it became a race to answer the teacher correctly before you could or get better marks then you.

You remember one time trying to extend an olive branch by asking him for help with some homework, he didn’t even look at what you were asking for help on, just mumbled how he couldn’t help you and disappeared. The next day you saw him helping one of your classmates, Aimee, with the same piece of work.

You’ve never been able to work out what you’ve ever done to Yoongi for him to hate you. Apparently just existing is enough. Any time you brought it up with your mutual friends they brushed it off, that same old excuse of it just being what Yoongi does. It never felt like that when he only left rooms when you appeared or lost his smiles with you around or became impossibly quiet in your presence. Whatever it was he had against you went on well into sixth form, right until the point you left for university. While he stayed where you grew up, you moved away. You started a new life, studied hard to progress in the career you always wanted, while he opened this bookshop.

And then it all fell apart.

Your dad announced he had cancer. Stage 4. Terminal. All the words you never want to hear about a loved one.

You moved home to look after him. Left your job and your life. You had to, he had no one else, there was only you and you could never leave him when he needed you the most.

It’s been three months since he passed. Just over a year since you moved back here. Months when you could have left, gone back to your old life. And yet you’ve stayed.

“So come on then. What was so shit about this day?”

You look at Seokjin and the broad smile on his face, one of the group of friends from school who still live in the area. “Do you want me to go get you some popcorn so you can properly enjoy this, or are you happy listening without snacks?”

His eyes glimmer at the joke. “Yoongi will get it, won’t you?”

You can’t stop yourself from glancing at the man, his eyes already on you, cold and hard as if it’s you asking him to personally attend to your needs. You open your mouth to tell him he doesn’t have to, anything to not add another black mark against your name. He disappears out the back before you can say anything.

Seokjin’s still smiling innocently when your eyes turn back to him. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“Tofu killed a bird this morning, there’s currently blood all over the house,” you begin in a flat tone. “Then when I got to work Pedro gave me a list longer than my arm to complete, insulted me approximately ten times and then proceeded to sit back and do nothing all day while I slaved away.”

“Only insulted you ten times? Sounds like an improvement to me.”

“I don’t know why you still work there,” Olivia comments over Seokjin.

“Because I need money.”

“Yeah, but you have a degree. You could get a hundred jobs better than that one.”

Not here. You don’t say the obvious words because that would lead to questions you wouldn’t know how to answer. Instead you say, “if you know of any, feel free to let me know.”

“Yoongi was saying how we could do with some help with the accounts.”

Olivia says the words the same moment Yoongi leans between you and Namjoon to place a bowl of popcorn on the table. It throws you, the statement from Olivia because everyone knows Yoongi hates you, so why would she even bring it up if not to stir the pot? The fact Yoongi is so close, placing the food Seokjin asked for right by you also doesn’t help the way you tense at her words. The combination makes you unable to respond meaning Olivia carries on talking.

“That’s what you did before, right? An accountant for Jacobs or something?”

“I doubt I’d pay Y/N enough to enable her to quit her job,” Yoongi’s deep voice comes from right behind you.

You’d assumed he’d left the room again but when you turn he’s there, like right there. You have to crane your neck to look up at him and when you meet his eyes he lifts an eyebrow. Flustered you turn back to the table.

“Yeah, but I bet there are other businesses that need the same services. You could be freelance?”

“I, uh –”

“I bet if we asked Jungkook he’d say the gardening company would take you on too.”

She’s getting way too excited about this thing that’s never going to happen. You can’t start your own business, there would be hoops to go through, things you have no idea about to do. Yes you hate your job, yes you worked so hard to get high up in your old accountancy firm and yes you loved it. Part of you craves to go back to it and if an opportunity came up here to do just that you’d jump on it.

But that doesn’t mean you can do it alone with no experience of freelance. You can’t rely on your friends for business. And by Yoongi’s response it’s pretty clear he wouldn’t hire you even if you were going for it. No, it’s not happening, not even a possibility in your mind. You need to shut this down.

“Where is Jungkook anyway?”

There’s a second pause at the change in topic. Luckily Namjoon picks up what you’ve dropped.

“Worked late tonight so couldn’t make it.”

“Which,” Seokjin’s beaming again, this time the smile not directed at you but behind you. “Means you’re going to have to play. For even teams.”

There’s a pause and you can almost feel the hole being burnt in the back of your head.

“I count four of you. You don’t need me.”

“Two on each team. We need someone to ask the questions and you know, check Y/N doesn’t cheat.”

You glare at Seokjin; he doesn’t even look at you. They love to poke at the fact that Yoongi hates you.

“Fine,” Yoongi grumbles behind you. “Let me go get something to drink.”

You almost ask him to get you something too, preferably something strong to help you get through this night. At least you already know the result of the game because there is no way you’ll be winning even if you’re on a team with Namjoon.

This day just gets better and better.

There’s another dead animal. It wouldn’t be a weird sight on your walk to work given you see it on the main road through town, roadkill happens all the time, but this animal doesn’t look like it’s been hit by a car. What causes a chill to run down your spin is the amount of blood. And more the way it’s splattered across the road, mirroring your house.

Much like the bird in your house, this fox didn’t die without putting up a fight.

It’s too big for Tofu to have killed, even if he was allowed out at night to have done it. It’s too big for any cat to have killed. Maybe something bigger? A wolf? But you don’t get wolves here. Plus, you don’t think any animal would cause the injuries you can see, it all looks too calculated. Messy, but like they knew what they were doing.

Another shiver runs down your back.

Standing up you glance around the street. You have the feeling of being watched but as you look around you can’t see anyone. The street is empty and completely silent. Still, that prickling sensation lingers.

Completely spooking yourself on you decide it’s pointless lingering here, you can’t do anything for the fox now. You start back on your route to work, trying to shake the weird feeling that’s come over you.

“It’s weird.”

“Yeah,” you say, putting a pumpkin in your basket, you probably won’t eat it but it’ll look cute by your fireplace. “I mean it’s got to be a coincidence seeing two brutally killed animals so close together.”

“Yeah,” Olivia says, looking at the vegetables laid out in front of you. “But that’s not why it’s weird.”

You wait for her to pick the perfect courgette, something that takes far too much consideration. You sometimes do your food shopping together. You told Olivia about the dead animals you’ve seen in the last few days, how upsetting, gross and unsettling it is. The friends you have in the area is what you pin staying here on. You never had friends you could talk to so openly or go food shopping within the city you used to live. In reality there are other things, deeper feelings rooted in your dad’s death that keep you here. But even though it’s been months since he passed, you’re still unable to properly delve into those thoughts and feelings.

“It’s weird because I also saw a dead animal yesterday.”

“What?”

“Yeah, like the ones you saw, only it was a badger,” she picks up an apple, pausing. “I think. You know, it was hard to see with all the blood and you know, disfigurement.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She frowns at you. “You wanted to know about a dead animal?”

“If it was killed the same way as the one I told you about in my house, then yes.”

“Thought that was Tofu?” She says but then waves it off, starting to walk away from the veg section. “Anyway, it’s all a weird coincidence, like you said.”

“But what if it’s not?”

She gives you another look like she thinks you’re crazy before looking at the range of sausages. She doesn’t even give your answer a response.

“I mean Tofu couldn’t really have killed a bird the size of a pigeon. And there was no blood on him, but there was blood everywhere,” you pause, another thought only just coming to you now. “He’s not even aloud out at night and I don’t have a cat flap, so how did he bring it in?”

“Maybe he’s a better killer than you think,” she says flatly, not giving your theory any room to bloom. “You should watch out.”

“But there have been two other murders on top of that.”

“Of animals,” she corrects, carrying on with her shop, yours is long forgotten.

“Don’t you think that’s more than a coincidence though?”

“Tofu killed that bird. The other two were probably just a car or something.”

“A car didn’t kill that fox.”

“Ok then another animal.”

She’s stopped now, is staring at you with an exasperated look. You’re stood in the middle of the dairy aisle possibly having an argument with your best friend about, what exactly? Some dead animals around town? It feels stupid when you think about it, but you can’t let it go.

“This is why I didn’t tell you. What do you want me to say?” She says, her tone just as tired. “That some sick person did it? I don’t really see what that’s going to achieve.”

She’s right, of course. You’re not really sure what you want from this conversation, maybe just someone else to acknowledge how weird it is, to make you feel better about the dread you’ve felt since seeing that fox, that lingering feeling of being watched. But even if Olivia agreed with you, even if she said she also had a weird feeling about it, what would that achieve? It would surely only worry you more.

“You’re right,” you say, deflating. “Sorry, I’ve just a bit off all week. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

Olivia softens too. It wasn’t really an argument, but you’re both back on more even terms now.

“Do you want to pick up any medicine?”

You glance at your half empty basket and then plaster a small smile on your face when you look back at her.

“Nah, I think I might just head home and have an early one.”

Worry seeps into her face, smaller than before, but there nonetheless.

“I’ll text you in the morning to let you know how I feel. I can always take the day off.”

She’s still frowning when she talks, but at least has a joking quality to her tone. “What would Pedro say about that?”

“He’ll have to do some actual work for once I guess.”

None of your laughs are real, both of you faking that you’re ok after the conversation you’ve had. But neither of you say anything as you turn and pay for only half the food you came here for. You bundle yourself tighter into your jacket when you leave the shop and prepare for the walk home alone in the already dark evening.

“Heard about all the dead animals around town,” Seokjin’s stuffing his face with crisps, seeming not to care about any crumbs. “Weird how they’re all dying around Y/N.”

“Maybe she’s cursed,” Jungkook jumps in before you can respond.

“Or, maybe she’s the one killing them,” Seokjin looks to the door that leads to the back room and shouts, “she’s probably practicing before she kills you, Yoongi.”

Jungkook doesn’t even attempt to hide his laugh, while Namjoon at least stuffs his face with some pretzels to hide his. Seokjin still looks satisfied when his eyes fall on yours across the table.

“Maybe it’s you that should be watching out,” you reply, Jungkook ‘oohing’ and picking up the bowl of sweets as if watching a fight. “And anyway, it wasn’t just me that saw the animals.”

You glare at Olivia, the snitch, who conveniently avoids your eye contact.

“Was it also you at the old cottage?”

Your eyes snap back to Seokjin, “huh?”

“Police have reported a break in and asked for anyone to come forward with any information.”

“Well, if you don’t know anything, no one stands a chance. It is where you live isn’t it?” Jungkook teases Seokjin and you watch as a small fight breaks out over the sweets Jungkook holds.

It’s weird though. The old cottage is run down, sat in the middle of the forest it’s been empty since you were at school. One of those places that kids dare each other to go in. Maybe that’s all there is to it, some school kids playing a prank and the police having enough of it and finally trying to crack down. But why now? Why didn’t they report all the times it’s happened before? What’s so special about this time? And what are the chances that it happens at the same time all these animal deaths keep popping up?

“I might go.”

Your statement gets Jungkook and Seokjin to stop bickering. Silence falling over the room and all eyes on you.

“Go … where?” Namjoon asks.

“To the old cottage.”

“Why, exactly?”

“Because don’t you guys think it’s weird?”

“Yeah,” Olivia chips in. “But the police are dealing with it. There’s nothing we can do.”

“Oh come on,” you look to Jungkook and Seokjin, the two most likely to be happy breaking a few rules. “It’s not like I’m going to commit a crime. Walking through the woods isn’t a crime, is it?”

“No, just creepy as hell,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.

“Sorry, didn’t know I was sat with a load of wusses.”

It doesn’t get the reaction you wanted, you thought it might make someone bite and agree to come with you, but the table remains silent. Fine, you’ll go on your own, though you’re not about to admit that out loud given the reactions so far.

“Fine,” you sigh, relaxing back into your chair. The table seems to do an audible sigh of relief.

“I don’t get why you’re so obsessed by this,” Olivia asks.

“I’m not obsessed,” you say, not convincing yourself let alone the room. “Just curious.”

“It’s weird,” you decide it’s best not to point out that’s part of the point.

“Y/N’s just into creepy stuff,” Jungkook smirks.

“Yeah, you wish you knew that,” Seokjin hits Jungkook’s side with a wink, gaining a disgusted look from you and Jungkook.

“No I don’t,” he’s quick to defend, before his tone turns lighter. “But I know someone who would.”

“Alright,” you shake a hand, wincing. “Can we just get back to the game? Who’s go is it anyway?”

“Mine,” Namjoon pipes up for the first time.

Everyone trusts he’s telling the truth; no one even thinks he might be using it to his advantage to get an extra roll of the dice.

You look up at him, mind distracted by what you’ve learnt and what you’re going to do with the information. You know you have to go to the abandoned cottage; you just wish someone else had agreed to go with you. But whatever, you’re a big girl, you can go through some woods alone, however creepy.

Your eyes drift from Namjoon, catching someone staring at you behind him.

Yoongi’s stood behind the till, even when you look right at him, he doesn’t pretend to not be staring. His eyes bore into you like he can read every thought. It’s you that flushes and focuses back on the game. Yoongi just continues to stare at you.

A branch cracks in the distance. You jump, clutch the flashlight tighter in your hand as you look back towards the sound.

It was probably just as deer. Or a badger. Or a terrifying creature that’s following you through the woods determined to –

Nope. You’re not letting yourself do that. You’re not getting carried away.

It was just a deer. You repeat the words in your head as you turn back on your course. Heading up the track that’s covered in dead leaves you try not to let your mind wonder. Focus instead on the orange and brown leaves that make a light crunching sound every time you take a step. It would be idyllic if not for the creepy trees, darkening skies and near silence that surrounds you. But you’re trying not to think too hard about that.

There’s another snap, this time closer and you swear you hear footsteps.

You don’t turn to look. Heart hammering you just increase your speed. As if walking faster towards the creepy, abandoned house that’s brought you here is going to help. Why you thought coming here would be a good idea, you’re not sure. The sun is setting, soon you’ll be alone in the dark with the potential of something following you and no one knowing you’re here.

You’re going to die.

You’re going to die alone, in the woods, with no one even realising.

Another twig snaps this time closer, louder. You jump, trip over a tree root, and decide it’s just better to hide then run. Rounding a tree to hide you pull your phone out your pocket and clutch it to your chest. Your breath comes out unsteady and loud. You try to slow it down, try to calm yourself even as you hear footsteps getting closer.

It goes silent and then a figure rounds the tree and stands right in front of you.

“You alright?”

You jump, knock the back of your head on the tree and then stumble forward. There’s a dull ache made even worse when you look at who’s just appeared.

Yoongi looks at you, a small smile on his lips you wouldn’t see if you didn’t know him. It’s a look that’s subtly smug, a look that if you told anyone they would say he just looks flat faced but you’ve seen it enough to know that he’s amused by you. Not in a good way. Amused at the fact you’ve just embarrassed yourself in front of him. Just another reason for him to dislike you.

“Fuck,” you mutter, clutching your thumping heart. “Yoongi, what the hell?”

His head cocks to the side and that coupled with his casual greeting shows how he has no idea how scared he’s made you. That, or he was doing it all on purpose and is happy to see it’s all worked.

Rubbing a hand on the back of your head, more to make a point than anything, you send him a glare before continuing to walk. He easily falls into step beside you and even though you expected it, it still annoys you.

“What are you doing here, Yoongi?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Well I asked first.”

“I thought we’d agreed you weren’t going to come out here.”

You turn your head to look at him, a deep frown on your face, only to see he’s not joking.

“We?”

“In the bookshop.”

“I hadn’t realised you were part of that conversation.”

He’s quiet and when you look at him there’s a slight colour to his cheeks. It could just be the walking and cold air, but you like to think it’s because of what you’ve said. Good, he should feel awkward, he wasn’t even part of that conversation and what right does he have to come following you to tell you shouldn’t be here?

“Is this all something you’re doing?” His head turns to you at the question so you’re both staring at each other. “You know, is that why you’re following me here? Because you don’t want me to work out it’s something you’re up to?”

He looks taken aback, even shakes his head a little as if to clear it. “You think I’ve been killing animals?”

No, you don’t. Still, you shrug and focus back on the path even as Yoongi stares at you. “Maybe.”

“I came here because …” his voice is full of anger and the fact he cuts himself off makes you look back over at him. You both stare, a tension rising as you wait to hear his reason and he tries to hold it back. “Because I didn’t want you walking in the woods at night, alone.”

“But you thought I’d agreed not to come,” you push because it’s too awkward to acknowledge his reason because that would imply he cares about you and that’s absurd.

He gives you a look that speaks volumes, one that says only a fool would believe that.

“Right. Well. Next time don’t creep up on me.”

“Next time don’t go off on your own.”

“Well maybe next time you could speak up and help me not look like an idiot in front of my friends.”

“That’ll take some convincing.”

He says it lightly, playfully but in this moment and because it’s him, the joke flies over your head. You glare at him before walking a little faster, attempting to increase the distance between you. It only takes him a second to close the distance. There’s a light laugh on his lips when he’s back at your side.

“Oh come on, Y/N, you know I was joking.”

“Do I?”

“You’d have laughed if it was Jin who said that,” the lightness in his tone starts to seep out again, not that you notice, your anger consumes you.

“Because he’s my friend,” you say and then as if to drive the point home, add, “and he never made fun of me and my grades at school.”

It’s not fair and it’s not a point you overly dwell on anymore. Sure, it upset you growing up and it’s what caused such a divide between the two of you. But you’re old enough now to be over it. It’s just that in this moment, tensions running high with the man you are so rarely alone with, you find everything seeping out of you.

It’s silent as you round the top of the hill. And when you look at Yoongi there’s a frown on his face and a distant look as if he’s trying to work through something.

You sigh, about to apologise or move on but he speaks before you can.

“You think I made fun of your grades at school?”

It’s more the way he says the words that take you back. The light, slightly broken tone he uses as if the thought upsets him.

“Well, yeah.”

He looks at you with a face that reflects his tone, and you find yourself trying to explain as if he wasn’t there for it all.

“You never helped me with homework, and I remember hearing you laughing about a bad grade I got once. I’m pretty sure Jimin told me that you said you were surprised by me when I first joined too.”

“I never laughed at your grades.”

You roll your eyes. Though you’re not sure what you expected. When you moved back here you thought that after years of not seeing each other Yoongi might be more normal around you. He wasn’t, so you’re not sure why you’re disappointed not to hear any ownership for his actions now.

“It was never like that. I told –”

“It’s alright,” you cut him off. Even if he sounds keen to explain you don’t want to listen to his excuses. “It was years ago anyway.”

“Is that what you’ve –”

You cut him off again by pointing out the house that brought you out here. You should never have brought up your history anyway. And Yoongi trying to deny everything he did only proves that.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He doesn’t say anything as you walk towards the house. It’s creepy, the cottage has some its windows boarded up, ivy growing up the exterior. There’s a metal fence a few meters from it, a notice telling people not to enter. You ignore it, stepping up to the fencing you look back at Yoongi in a silent question. Understanding, he steps towards you, flicks you a smile before placing a hand on the joint between two fences and pulling them apart to make the gap bigger for you to slip through.

Flustered by him being a gentleman for once, you slip through the fence without a thank you.

A chill runs through you as you take a step towards the house and wait for Yoongi. You’d never admit it aloud but you’re glad he followed you. The dark, crumbling house looks less than inviting and despite your attempt at heroics you know you would have backed out of this by now.

“How’d you know I was here anyway?” You look over at Yoongi when he steps beside you.

His eyes flick to yours briefly before going back to the house.

“Shall we get this over with?” He ignores your question, walking away from you before getting an answer to his.

You nearly trip in your haste to catch him. “Because I get that you might not have believed me, but how did you know I was coming tonight?”

He continues to ignore you, hand going to the door he gives it a hard push and it creaks open.

You’re annoyed when you walk in, a common emotion when you’re around Yoongi. He continues to walk away from you, doesn’t hold the door open for you this time and you don’t think to catch it. Just before the door clicks shut he turns with words on his lips.

“Don’t let it –” the door shutting cuts him off and he flashes you a glare. “Close.”

“Right, because it’s my fault.”

He rolls his eyes, looks to be struggling to bite back words as he walks back towards the door. You watch as he reaches for the handle, but there’s nothing there. Your heart drops, blood runs cold and again you have that weird feeling of being glad you’re not alone.

“I never said it was your fault,” his voice comes out low, quiet as he tries to not snap at you. It does nothing to calm you.

“You didn’t need to.”

He ignores you, his fingers working at the door, body pushing into it. While you stand staring at him, verbalising your annoyance, he’s being proactive and trying to get you out of this mess.

“I didn’t ask you to follow me.”

“Yeah, well I bet you’re glad I did now. What would you have done if you were stuck here alone?”

“If you hadn’t been distracting me, then maybe I would have thought to hold the door open.”

“I didn’t realise you found my back so distracting,” his voice is still deep, but that same jokey tone has seeped back in. Much like last time it only riles you more.

“I didn’t ask you to come Yoongi. I don’t need you to save me or whatever the fuck you think you came here to do.”

Silence fills the air. Thick and heavy. Yoongi’s stopped prodding at the door and you’ve stopped shouting.

He turns to look at you and you can’t read the emotion written over his face when he looks at you. A mixture of too many things to decipher. His eyes flick over your features no doubt trying to read you the same way you’re trying to read him. Whatever he sees has him looking away and clenching his jaw.

He doesn’t say anything as he walks away deeper into the house.

You stand, shocked by the door for a few seconds before twisting and chasing after Yoongi.

“Where are you going?”

“To find another way out,” he says it curtly, a message to not argue with him. You once again ignore him.

“But we’ve only just got here.”

“And there’s clearly nothing here.”

“We’ve not even looked.”

He rounds on you. “Listen, I don’t know what you expected, but there’s nothing here Y/N. Even if there was, what would you do? What would that tell you?”

You don’t know. It’s the same thing Olivia asked you and you still don’t have an answer. You don’t know what you expected or what you wanted. But, just like with Olivia, it doesn’t stop his words hurting.

This time when he walks away from you, you don’t follow.

You were going to do this alone, you don’t need to follow Yoongi around like a scared pup. You take a few seconds to calm yourself before twisting in the opposite direction.

It’s not a big cottage, only three rooms on the ground floor and you assume the same on the top. You can imagine it would have been nice back when people lived here. But after so long sitting unused and unloved, it would take a lot to get it back to that state.

Still the exposed beams are cute, the windows old and warped. You peak your head around the door of one of the rooms downstairs, do a visual sweep of the room without stepping in and when you find nothing of interest you back away. Just because you’re trying to be brave doesn’t mean you’re going to be reckless.

You pause at the bottom of the stairs. There are vines crawling up the banister, a small window blocked from letting in anything from outside.

Gripping the banister, you put a foot on the first step. Slowly put your weight on it to test it out. There’s a creak but that’s it. It doesn’t collapse, doesn’t strain under your weight. It’s only the first step, but it makes you more confident to slowly go up.

Your heart pounds with every creak your foot creates. Alone, you can feel your fear building. However hard you try to supress it, it doesn’t work. You can’t help but think that Yoongi might have left you here alone. You wouldn’t blame him, you weren’t exactly fun to be around earlier. Still, the only positive you can think to him leaving you is that he found an exit. All you need to do is do a sweep of upstairs and you can follow his lead.

There’s an overpowering smell when you reach the top of the stairs. Throat thick, heart hammering you don’t want to consider what it could be. You’re only half aware of Yoongi calling your name as you walk towards the smell.

It’s a cleaner kill then any you’ve seen so far but it’s a far bigger animal.

Stood frozen in the doorway you gaze upon the animal as footsteps work their way up the stairs. There’s a soft curse as Yoongi comes to your side, but you’re more aware of his warmth seeping into your side.

“It looks like someone slept here,” your voice is husky, eyes still firmly on the animal despite your words.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, you can see his head scanning the room before he turns to look at you.

“Do you think it struggled?”

He doesn’t answer, because what can he say to that, even if he answered it would be a lie. His hand coming to rest on the small of your back rips you out of your trance. Head twisting to look at his soft features.

“I found a way out.”

You nod, find yourself twisting to look back at the animal. Yoongi stops you with his other hand going to the shoulder furthest from him. He turns you to fully face him.

“It won’t help,” he says the words you know but can’t process. “Let’s go.”

Still in a trance you let him guide you. Honestly, you’re terrified. You’re not sure what you hoped for but finding another dead animal, bigger than any you’ve seen before, more human sized, hasn’t helped. It’s cemented in your head that’s something not right, but it’s also made you realise that you can do nothing.

You don’t know what it is and even if you did, something that’s killing animals that big, that violently, what help do you think you’ll give? You feel so helpless, so lost, so scared as Yoongi guides you downstairs and then out through a window he managed to open in one of the back rooms.

Together you walk silently back through the woods.

The next few days are much the same as your everyday life, the only difference being your mental health.

You can hardly sleep, feel nervous as you walk to work, are jumpy at even the smallest noises. You don’t socialise as much, try and find comfort in solace, though it doesn’t comfort you in the slightest.

Every dead animal you’ve seen in the past few weeks plays across your mind and every day you expect to see a bigger, more horrifically killed one.

Though it was the smallest, the bird is the one you dwell on. It was killed so close to where you slept and you were unaware until you woke that it keeps you up at night. You don’t know what’s causing it, don’t know what you’d do if you came across it. The not knowing somehow makes it all worse. Your imagination running away with you.

The only thing that you can think that makes it any better is that so far you don’t know of any humans who have been killed.

You go through your days worried and more like a zombie than a human.

“What you buying?”

You jump, clutch a hand to your chest. This man is going to give you a heart attack one of these days.

“Do you make it a habit of sneaking up on people?” Despite the question you shove the chocolate you were trying to convince yourself not to buy in your basket and move through the store.

“I didn’t sneak up on you. You’re just really unobservant.”

“I had my back turned; I literally couldn’t see you. Hence, you snuck up on me.”

He lets out a little sigh when you stop by the bread, but you continue to ignore him. You have no idea why he approached you to begin with let alone why he’s following you. Normally you both stay on opposite ends of the shop if you are unfortunate enough to visit at the same time.

“I’d go seeded if I were you.”

You glare at the bread you were mentally debating over and even though you know he’s right you grab the loaf of white, squishing some slices as you put it in your basket and carry on around the shop. Yoongi continues to follow.

“You planning on advising me on all my shopping?”

“I can if you want.”

You come to a stop by the juices. If he’s not going to leave you alone, you’ll just ignore him.

“Orange and mango is way better than just orange.”

“Thanks,” you say, picking up the apple juice.

“I’d go cloudy apple too.”

“Thanks for that,” you mutter continuing to ignore his advice as you walk away.

You pick up some rigatoni and then pause and look at him when he doesn’t make a comment. There’s a small smile on his face to show that while you’re hating this, he’s loving it.

“Not got anything to say about my pasta choice?”

“It’s the one I would have gone for,” he shrugs. “Not going to change it to prove you prefer everything different to me?”

You work your jaw as he continues to smile. This whole thing is so unnerving for so many different reasons. And while you could stand and argue with Yoongi all day, you just twist and continue with your shop.

“What do you really want, Yoongi?”

You walk a few steps before he says anything.

“I wanted to see how you are after everything.”

“I’m great.”

“You don’t look it.”

You glance at him, can’t even bring yourself to give a sarcastic smile. “Thanks.”

He rubs his hands together as you continue to debate your choice of squash, there’s just so much choice. You pick up on the fact you’re making him uncomfortable but do nothing to change your tone. If he’s regretting doing this then he can just leave now.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” his voice sounds like a sigh, as if he feels as tired as you are. “I’m just … the other night was a lot and I wanted to check you’re ok.”

The words make you pause. You know you look like shit, you know you look as tired as you feel. But Yoongi has never shown concern for you before, normally he does everything he can to ignore you. Speaking to you in the first place is strange enough but checking in on you is something else.

You pick up the orange squash, it’s your favourite flavour.

“I’m fine.”

Before you can twist and walk away Yoongi’s hand reaches out to grab the handles of your basket. Your jaw tenses as you look down at it and he’s quick to drop them, though he doesn’t apologise.

“What are you doing after this?”

You frown as you look at him. This conversation is only getting more and more weird.

“I just,” he pauses again, runs a hand through his hair as his eyes dart around the room in search of the words he wants. Now you’re looking at him you can see the same tiredness in his features. Maybe you’re not the only one having sleepless nights over this. “I wondered if we could talk about it?”

“I thought you thought it was all bullshit?”

His head dips as he narrows his eyes at you. “Can we just talk?”

You toy with the handles of your basket, become fidgety as you play for time. Yoongi lets you have it, is patient as he waits for your answer. You know what you should say, it’s just that it’s Yoongi. But he’s the only one who’s on the same page as you and you won’t deny that you also need someone to talk to. Even if it this person who you don’t like very much, you realise you have to talk to someone soon or you’re only going to build it up more in your head.

“You alright to come back to mine?” Yoongi’s shoulders relax at the words though his face doesn’t change in emotion. “I need to get this stuff in the fridge.”

He nods. “I’ll follow you.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

You turn as you speak, “he’s not a people person, so I wouldn’t –”

You cut yourself off when you see Yoongi. Tofu is winding his way around Yoongi’s legs, his purr loud enough for you to hear. As Yoongi bends down to scratch his head your cat even leans up to try and deepen it.

That bitch.

You beg for his affection and he never gives it and yet here he is willingly giving it out to a man he’s never met before.

“He must realise I hate you.”

Yoongi chuckles, his eyes still on your cat, completely unbothered by your statement. You start to warn him that he hates being picked up but are too late. It doesn’t matter anyway, because as Yoongi cradles your cat in his arms, he only snuggles closer and purrs louder. It takes you a second, the picture of your grumpy cat looking so content in the arms of a man you thought you hated, someone who currently looks softer than you’ve ever seen him, is a sight that’s hard to break away from.

“Of course,” you mutter, eyes still focused on the scene.

Yoongi only looks up at you, a bigger smile than you’ve ever seen on his face directed straight at you. Your heart does a weird flip, your stomach twisting, the air in your throat catching.

“He’s cute.”

“Tofu,” you manage to mutter.

Yoongi looks back down at your cat with that same big smile and eyes full of love.

“Well Tofu, as much as I love this, you’re getting white fur all over me.”

He gives the cat one last scratch before setting him of the floor. You watch, still frozen to your spot, as he wipes a hand down his top, trying and failing to get rid of all the white fur. When he looks up his eyes meet yours and his smile only widens at whatever he sees in your face.

“You alright?”

“I didn’t know you liked cats.”

“Right,” he laughs, stepping further into your house, closer to you. “You pictured me as some sort of all hating, miserable guy.”

“Something like that,” you mutter.

“Well, I like cats.”

“Ok,” you nod, trying to snap out of it. “Want a tea?”

Tofu follows both of you as you head to the kitchen. You ignore them both as you flick the kettle on. You can sense Yoongi looking around the room, taking everything in as you focus on making the drinks. His first question still takes you off guard though.

“Have you got plans to move back to the city?”

It’s asked awkwardly, not the best way to necessarily word what he’s asking, but you know what he means.

It’s a question about where you live of sorts, possibly his way of broaching topics you’re less comfortable with but intrigue him. Because they intrigue everyone. And now he’s here, in your home, maybe he thinks it’s ok to start asking. The topic that never comes up, finally some vague way to broach to it.

You clench your jaw as you reply only a half answer.

“It’s been so long I don’t think my old company would take me back.”

“You could contact them and ask?”

You shrug. Honestly you’ve thought about it, but there’s always an excuse as to why you don’t have time. You know you’re putting it off, you’re just not ready to dig into why.

“Or you could re-apply for some other jobs?”

“Maybe,” you mutter, the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

There’s a small pause and then Yoongi says, “the other day, when Liv said I need an accountant and I … well, I do actually need a hand if you want?”

You finish making the drinks, turn to place it on the counter in front of him. He seems genuine, nervous even. “I don’t need any handouts.”

“It wouldn’t be a handout. I need an accountant, you just happen to be one.”

“Used to be one,” you correct.

Yoongi shrugs. “I can get someone else but the offers there.”

Focus on your tea, fingers fiddling with the handle, you give him a small, muttered thanks.

“So the other night,” you thought he’d ask more, thought he’d start asking about your dad the way everyone tries. You look up at him, surprised he’s already moving on to the reason he asked to come here. “What did you think?”

You frown, again, not the question you were expecting. Yoongi seems to catch himself, letting out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck, eyes flicking away from you. He seems overly nervous since arriving here, it’s only now you’re looking at him you’re picking up on it.

“I guess what I’m really asking is, are you ok?”

“Why wouldn’t I be,” you answer too quickly.

One of Yoongi’s eyebrows lift. “It was just a lot, I guess.”

“It was just a creepy –”

“And you seemed to space out a bit when you saw that dead deer.”

Is that weird? You want to ask. Seeing a dead animal and not being overly comfortable. Seems perfectly reasonable to you.

“And you wanted to check I was ok?”

“That’s hard to believe?” He asks, your tone obviously suggesting it is.

“We’re not exactly friends.”

“I can still want to check in on you,” he says sharply, almost annoyed.

You take a beat so that when you talk your tone no longer holds any emotion. “Alright, I’m fine. You?”

He doesn’t look like he believes you, or at least looks like your answer hasn’t done anything to reassure him. Yet he doesn’t say anything else, just nods his head.

“Great,” you say. “Now can we get to the reason you came?”

Yoongi waits, doesn’t say anything. He looks like he couldn’t care less about asking anything else. As if he’s already spoken about whatever it was that made him want to come here.

“The animals are getting bigger,” you state, as if giving him the answer in the quiz.

Still, he says nothing.

“Does that not creep you out?”

“Does it creep you out?” He throws the question back, irritating you.

“What is this? A therapy session?”

He looks taken aback by your sharp tone for a second, but quickly levels his features. “I guess I don’t know what you’re expecting from all of this? Animals die all the time.”

You clench your jaw as you turn away from him. He’s just like everyone else, you should have realised. This was why you were going to do it alone all along. Because everyone thinks you’re insane. Because no one else gets how weird and creepy this whole thing is. Because no one else had an animal murdered a few feet away from where they slept. Because no one else cares that things are dying and that maybe, just maybe, something could be done to stop that.

“But yes,” Yoongi carries on in a tone as if he’s stepping on eggshells. You’d feel bad for making him feel like he has to try and work out how to navigate this conversation with you if you didn’t dislike him so much. “I have to admit that deer didn’t look like it died of natural causes.”

You turn back to face him, he’s said enough to deserve that but not enough to get rid of the glare on your face.

“Is that what the bird looked like when you found it here?” His words sound the equivalent of a hands up gesture; please don’t shoot.

“Yep,” you say. “I found it right where you’re standing.

He doesn’t seem phased by the fact, his eyes just casting down as if he’s going to find some clue there.

“That must have been pretty creepy,” he admits, his eyes going back to yours. “You ok here on your own?

“I have Tofu to help, it’s fine.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe you, but at least doesn’t dwell on it. “And you’re sure Tofu didn’t kill the bird?”

“I don’t let him out at night. How would he have gotten the bird in?”

He pauses to think. “What do you think it means?”

You sigh, it’s the million-dollar question. “I don’t know. But I was hoping we’d find some sort of clue at that house. All we discovered was it’s probably some sick human who’s camping out at an abandoned cottage in the woods. They’ve probably run away from there now anyway if the police really were there.”

“Maybe fully run away? Meaning this is all over anyway?”

“Maybe,” you say, not convinced at all.

“What’s everyone dressing up as for Halloween then?”

It’s Friday, which means it’s another games night. While everyone is focused on their hand of cards, trying to work out the next best move, Seokjin is leaning back in his chair his cards face down on the table. You’d wonder if it were a tactic into making you think he’s amazing at this game if you hadn’t already played it with him before. He’s horrendous at it. He just doesn’t care enough to get any better.

“Can’t tell you. You’ll find out on the night,” Jungkook says as he moves around the order of his hand.

“Boring,” Seokjin states, eyes trailing around the table. “Yoongi, what are you wearing?”

You find yourself looking up at the man in question. For once he sat at the table with no complaint. Though he’s still sat as far away from you as possible, he didn’t try and get out of playing or run into the back of the shop when you arrived. In fact he might have given you what he’d consider a smile when you walked in. Now though, he’s sat not quite as relaxed as Seokjin, but his cards are loose in his hand, and he looks like he knows exactly how he’s going to play and will probably win this game.

His eyes flick to you as if sensing your stare and you dart your focus back to your hand, face flushing.

“I’ve got some black jeans on and this top says Fear of –”

“Yeah, not now,” Seokjin snaps as if he’s the only one allowed to get the laughs Yoongi’s currently gained from the table. “For Halloween.”

“Right,” he replies flatly, though you think you hint a smile in his tone. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Oh my god. Y/N, help me out here?”

“Uh, I was going to do Jen Walters,” you pause and when everyone wears blank faces you continue. “You know, She-Hulk?”

“You’re going to paint yourself green?” Seokjin’s face lights up like Christmas day.

“No,” you crush his hopes. “I’m going as Jen Walters. The human form. You know, big shirt and … never mind.”

“Yeah, sounds boring.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you smile and look back at your cards.

“I’m surprised you’re not going as the killer.”

Your smile drops as quickly as it appeared. You don’t look up at Seokjin, don’t want him to see that he’s gotten to you, it’ll only encourage him. But it’s too late. However small your reaction, he’s seen it.

“You could bring a dead animal, have blood splattered all over you and –”

“Alright Jin.”

To yours and seemingly everyone’s surprise, it’s Yoongi that cuts Seokjin off. Yoongi looks at him with a hard gaze while Seokjin looks back with his lips twisted into a smile. Your heart pounds for so many different reasons as you watch whatever is happening unfold.

“What?” Seokjin sounds innocent enough. “I was just saying it would be a good costume.”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t funny.”

“Who said it was a joke?”

There’s silence from Yoongi, his glare seeming to harden which only makes Seokjin’s smile widen.

“How is that all going by the way? Gotten any closer to catching the killer?”

All eyes turn to you and you heat from within. You know their feelings about this and you know they don’t align with yours. No matter what you say, they’ll tease you for it.

“You don’t care, so why should Y/N tell you?” Yoongi once again comes to your rescue and you’re too relieved to question it.

“Maybe you can tell me then? You have been helping, right?”

Yoongi flashes his eyes to you, something like guilt crossing his face, though you’re not sure why he would feel guilty.

“Can we just play this game?” Jungkook cuts everyone off. “I really wanted to get home by 8 for bake off.”

“Is that who you’re going as?” Taehyung jumps in. “Paul Hollywood?”

Jungkook just pouts his lips a little as if to stop his smirk and shrugs. Picking up three of his cards he announces, “three tens,” and places them in a pile in the centre of the table.

You don’t even bother to look at your own cards to check how that affects you. You’re too busy looking at Yoongi and wondering what the hell just happened.

“Are you dressed as Tofu?”

Yoongi looks down at himself, then back at you. “Isn’t Tofu white?”

He has a point. Still, the small amount you’ve had to drink coupled with his all-black outfit, little black cat ears so soon after meeting your cat makes you question it. Or maybe it’s just the surprise of him wearing something besides his normal outfit. You can’t recall Yoongi’s previous Halloween outfits, but you’d put him down as a wear normal clothes and say he’s Ross from Friends sort of person. But here you stand, at the annual Halloween party, being proven wrong.

“Yoongi’s met Tofu?” Jimin hands you the drink he left you to make. “When?”

He sounds way too interested and you feel a little sorry for Yoongi given the smile Jimin’s shooting him. The smile only adds to his outfit, the half red, half blue hair really makes him look like a psychotic Harley Quinn.

“The other day,” you cut in, attempting to save Yoongi but only put the spotlight on yourself.

“Yoongi came to your house?”

“That is where my cat lives, yes.”

“But Yoongi was there?”

“Is that so unbelievable?”

Jimin looks back to Yoongi, something unspoken goes between them, something you don’t understand. You take a sip of your too strong drink to cover your awkwardness before Jimin is looking back at you.

“No,” he says with a smile, everything about him screaming that the word he’s just said is a lie.

“Right,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Well I need a new drink,” you lift your still full cup up, eyes flicking between Jimin’s beaming smile and Yoongi’s flat face. “I’ll see you weirdo’s later.”

Before you make it out of earshot Jimin’s already on Yoongi.

“You went to her house?” He half screams and you resist the urge to look back at Yoongi’s expression.

“It was nothing.”

“But –”

You don’t catch anything more. Jungkook’s appeared in your face making that horrific slurping noise as if about to spit on you. You push his shoulder, fingers running along the exposed skin on his chest. Does his V-neck really have to be so large?

“You’re not Chris,” he makes the same joke he’s made a hundred times. And like every time before you don’t laugh.

“And unfortunately, you’re not Harry Styles.”

Jungkook just beams at you. “Harry Styles wishes he could be me.”

You hum, smirking into your drink. You have to admire the boys confidence. And his costume is pretty cool or would be if he wasn’t incessantly making spitting sounds as if he’s going to spit on Chris Pine.

“You should have brought a goat,” you say.

“And what are you anyway?” His eyes trace up and down your shirt covered body, disapproval on his features.

“She’s my Sophie of course,” an arm wraps itself around your back.

“It’s a crap Sophie costume. Isn’t she, like, an old woman?” Jungkook continues to judge.

“Nah, she’s as gorgeous as this lady here.”

You roll your eyes as you look up at Taehyung. “Is one drink all it takes for you guys to turn into utter sleaze balls?”

“Ouch,” Taehyung laughs, his arm only brining you closer into his side. “Thought you wanted me to show you the world?”

“Isn’t that Aladdin?” Jungkook says flatly.

Taehyung brushes the comment off. “Same difference.”

“Well, thanks Howl,” you say, slipping out of Tae’s arms. “But I think I’ll give it a miss.”

“You know who he is but not me?” Jungkook shouts after you as you walk away, sounding genuinely offended. “At least let me know if you see Chris!”

You look over your shoulder laughing as you shake your head at them. Eyes drifting you see Jimin and Yoongi still stood talking where you left them, the latter’s focus is purely on you. It makes you stutter the way he doesn’t hide the fact. His flat features would have once caused a pang of anger to shoot through you, as if annoyed he would be staring at you with such dislike for doing nothing. Now, knowing Yoongi better, you can’t help but wonder if the look isn’t dislike at all. Instead of a pang of anger, you only flush and whip your head to look away from him. Your heart still leaps, though the feeling is nothing like annoyance.

You spend the party trying to avoid Yoongi. Once you would have done it because you had no desire to be around him. Now, it’s because you can’t trust your feelings.

You drink, have one too many of Jimin’s ‘special’ cocktails that taste like pure alcohol. You laugh at Seokjin trying to convince everyone why dressing as John Tucker is the best outfit. You watch as Olivia walks in dressed as Chris Pine and Jungkook finally gets to spit on her lap, it’s gross and yet Olivia laughs like it’s the best joke they’ve ever made.

For what feels like forever, you have fun. Sure, there have been glimpses of fun since your dad passed, but tonight you feel fully free of everything. For once there is no guilt or overbearing thoughts of something you should be doing instead.

You manage to avoid Yoongi until late in the night when, stood alone, someone comes to stand by you.

“How you getting home?”

You twist to look at Yoongi, a smile still on your face. For once it doesn’t drop when you meet his flat face.

“Huh?” You glance to where you see people leaving; is it already that late? “Oh, I’ll just walk.”

He raises an eyebrow, gives you a look to let you know that’s not an acceptable answer. You flounder, search for something to say to distract him.

“Did you see Namjoon scuttle?”

“Scuttle?” He questions and you beam, mission success.

“Yeah, you know,” you pincer your hands in a crab like motion. “Scuttle, like the crab he was dressed as.”

“Oh,” he elongates the word. “Was that what he was?”

You giggle. You actually giggle at something Yoongi said. And it wasn’t even that funny a joke.

“God, I’ve had way too much to drink.”

He lets of a small, huffed laugh. “I’d don’t know whether to be offended or not?”

You laugh again, this time swaying a little because of it. As if on instinct, Yoongi’s hand comes out to steady you.

“Alright, let’s get you home.”

You roll your eyes. “I can walk home alone.”

“You’re on my way.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, then it’s not much of a detour.”

“In a place this small it really is.”

He levels his gaze at you, clearly done with coming up with reasons and is just going to try and scare you into agreeing. It doesn’t work. But you still find yourself stopping from putting up a fight. It’s an effort to argue and not any other reason that you don’t continue to push.

Yoongi stands by your side as you go round and say goodbye to everyone. Surprisingly nobody comments on it. You thought Jungkook would for sure make some sarky comment, but maybe he’s had one too many too as he just pulls you into a hug and whispers something about having a good night but making sure you’re safe. Maybe he is concerned about the mysterious thing killing animals after all.

You walk in silence. Your focus on your feet as they move through the pitch-black night.

“Did you have a good night?”

Yoongi’s cheeks are tinted with colour from the cool night air when you look over at him. His gaze is set forward, avoiding eye contact after the awkward question. You don’t think anything of it.

“Yeah. Hoseok even let me try on his astronaut’s helmet.”

“Wow,” you look at him, catch the smile he’s trying to hide. “That’s a big word for you.”

You laugh, the tension between the two of you instantly disappearing. Once that joke would have rubbed you the completely wrong way. Now you find yourself wanting him to keep talking.

“Says the man dressed as a cat.”

He hums, the noise deep, developing in his chest and vibrating through his throat. Fuck. Has Yoongi always had that low a register? It’s not something you’ve picked up on before. Not in this way anyway. Not in a way that makes you look at him like you’ve never seen him before. The smirk growing on his face tells you he knows you’re looking at him.

You clench your jaw, eyes darting from his face up.

“Hey! Your ears have gone!” He reaches up, mock shock on his face as his hands go to his actual ears. You giggle, again, and gently slap his arm. “Your cat ears.”

“Oh right,” he says as if he didn’t know that the whole time, the wide smile on his face telling a different story, one that says he’s proud of the reaction he got from you. “They were making my head hurt.”

“Oh,” you pout, looking back in the direction of your house, you’re nearly at the top of your lane now. “I thought they looked cute.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond and you think nothing about what you’ve said.

“Did you have a good night?”

“Yeah, possibly one of the better Halloween parties Liv has thrown.”

“Really? You weren’t a fan of the 80’s themed one?” You say it in a teasing way. No one was a fan of the 80s themed year. Firstly, there was a theme that wasn’t just Halloween. Secondly, it was back before you all went to university when everyone drank way too much, Jimin didn’t know his limit and threw up in the first twenty minutes, Taehyung following close behind merely at the sight. It all went downhill from there.

Yoongi only laughs at the memory, shaking his head at you.

“Don’t take this the wrong way …”

“Always a great start to a sentence.”

You pause, before deciding to just go for it. “I never really took you as one to enjoy parties.”

It takes him a second but he laughs at your words, a small huffy laugh that implies the words aren’t a surprise to him.

“Because I’m a cat hating, party hating, fun hating sort of guy?”

“No, it’s just …” you look around as if in search for the words, though mainly are trying to avoid Yoongi’s stare. It’s not unkind, it’s just interested and a little intense. “I don’t know, we didn’t really get on growing up.”

“We didn’t?”

You look at him, eyebrows raised in a really? expression. He smirks back.

“Ok, you didn’t get on with me.”

He frowns a little at that one. “I didn’t?” This time it does sound like a question, not an attempt to joke.

“You hated me.”

“I’m not sure that’s true …”

“You changed seats so we weren’t sat by each other in class. You used to boast whenever you got a question right that I didn’t. I’m pretty sure you mocked my choice in shoes one time.”

“Ok, maybe I was a little jealous.”

“Jealous?” The word throws you.

“Well, yeah?” He throws back as if it’s obvious. “I mean you had it so easy.”

“Easy?” Another word you weren’t expecting. This one never being something you’d associate with any part of your life.

“Yeah. You just walked into school one day wearing the uniform like … well … like you did and everyone instantly liked you and then you were sitting next to me and I had no idea how to talk to you. Then you just made it all worse by being so good at literally every subject. You were perfect.” He shrugs, looks across at you and you swear your mouth is popped open as wide as your eyes currently are. Frankly, you’re unsure how you’re still walking. “I was jealous, Y/N.”

You were perfect.

You must have misheard or not understood. But the words, said in Yoongi’s deep tone, just keep cycling through your mind.

You were perfect.

You would never have thought Yoongi would say those words. Because surely that’s not true. He hated you. He would leave whenever you arrived, looked angry when his friends invited you to stuff, was annoyed when you got better marks then him, looked disapproving when you turned up with your tie in the perfect knot and your skirt floating mid-thigh. He hated you.

You were perfect.

But he was jealous? All this time you’ve read his emotions wrong. He was jealous of the girl who felt like she struggled to fit in, who’s mum had just passed away, who was awkward and hated her hair and the spots she’d get across her forehead, who thought every girl in school was prettier and funnier than her. Who thought the boy currently walking beside her was far smarter than her. He was jealous of her?

“This is you, isn’t it?”

He knows it is, but your far away look and the fact you haven’t turned down your lane makes him ask. You look at him, mind still whirling trying to work out what it all means, and nod.

He’s back to being awkward as he continues to do as promised and take you to your door. By which point you’ve at least made up your mind that Yoongi isn’t as bad as you thought, that maybe you need to give into the fact that you like him more than you make out. If he can admit he was jealous of you – which you still can’t get over!! – then you can admit you like him.

“So, uh, goodnight?” Yoongi says when you manage to unlock your door. Your turn to face him, endeared by him clutching his hands and looking awkward. He once thought you were perfect.

“You don’t want to come in to see your biggest fan?”

His eyes flick over your shoulder as if half considering it. “I should head home.”

“Oh come on,” you reach out and grab his wrist, encouraging him into your house. He doesn’t put up much of a fight to stop you. “I’ll find my dad’s scotch and everything.”

“Oh … you don’t have to –”

“It’s only going to waste in the cupboard anyway.”

You’ve dropped his hand now and while he awkwardly stands by the door watching you, you’re a riot of movement around the kitchen.

“Honestly, it’ll be nice to see it enjoyed,” Yoongi still doesn’t say anything as you grab two glasses and a half empty bottle of scotch. “I hate the stuff. But still find myself having a sip from time to time,” you pause, even having had a drink you find it hard to admit. “It’s probably weird, but it helps me remember him, helps me feel closer to him sometimes.”

“It’s not weird,” Yoongi is quick to reassure you.

You nod, thankful even if he’s only saying it to be kind, and then lead the way to the living room. Setting the glasses down, Yoongi says nothing as you pour large, nearly half full glasses of Scotch. When you settle into the sofa you take your glass with you and find yourself twisting to look at Yoongi.

He’s staring down at the amber liquid, watching as it swirls around the glass. When he looks up at you his face is flat but everything about him is soft.

“Will you tell me about him?”

It’s asked in a way that tells you to say no if you want to.

But the feeling that comes over you is utterly mad because you find yourself wanting to answer him. It’s mad because you never answer that question; not when he was alive and struggling, not when you were the only one there to help him through it, and certainly not since he’s passed. Every time someone has tried to broach the topic of your dad with you, to see if they could help when he was battling cancer, see if you were ok when he was passing away, see if they could do anything when he was finally gone; every time, no matter who it was you’d push them away with a none answer. And yet here you are, wanting to answer. Which is mad because it’s Yoongi. The man who you thought hated you, that you disliked, that you’re now not sure how to feel about. Maybe it’s because of everything that’s happened to the two of you recently, extreme circumstances pushing you together despite your feelings. Or maybe it’s because he's someone that you’re not as close to, someone you feel you could talk to and then not have to see again.

Like most emotions you feel, you know the reason you want to open up to him, you’re just not ready to acknowledge it.

“He was really funny,” you start, and it takes Yoongi a second to realise you’re not saying no. As you talk, he takes a sip of the Scotch, his face warming and his body relaxing as he listens to you. “But in the way most dads are. He loved to embarrass me. I remember once I got 100% in a test, and he would tell everyone who would listen about it. I found it really embarrassing but now looking back I can see he was just really proud of me. He was the same when I got my place at university. He didn’t cry or tell me he was worried; he smiled the whole time he drove me there and left me in my new flat. It must have been hard though, driving his only child off to a new life leaving him all alone. But he was so excited and he obviously didn’t want me to worry about him.”

You pause as you take a sip of your drink, wincing against the strong taste. It helps soften the tightness in your chest though.

“He sounds like he really loved you.”

You smile at Yoongi, sadness still in your eyes. You’re putting on a brave face like you always do when this topic comes up. But for once you don’t deflect, you say what’s actually on your mind.

“I think that’s why I feel so guilty,” you start, finding your glass of Scotch easier to look at than Yoongi. “I hardly came back here, left him all alone while I was out building a career. I even pushed him away at times, used to cancel coming home and say I couldn’t do weekends when he asked to visit. All because I was trying to build a different life.”

You pause again, take another, much larger, glug of your drink. It goes down easier this time and when you look at Yoongi he just sits patiently waiting for you to continue.

“I’m sure you know my dad had cancer,” Yoongi gives a gentle nod as you expected. “He didn’t hide it from me. He didn’t even know he had it until he went to the hospital for something else. But I just wonder if I hadn’t moved away, if I hadn’t pushed him away, if I’d seen him more, maybe I’d have notice something wrong. Even if he hadn’t realised, maybe I would have. Maybe he’d …”

You trail off, not able to say the words. Tears fall down your face and your throat matches the tightness in your chest.

It’s how you always feel when you even think about your dad, let alone talk about him. The guilt and feeling like you never did enough. As if you wasted the time you could have had with him. He did so much for you in his life and you took it all for granted. You feel so rotten. And it’s why you never think about it.

You try and push away all the emotions now, conscious that Yoongi is still sat watching you.

“Sorry,” you smile despite the tears rolling down your face.

“Don’t apologise.”

As you wipe your face Yoongi shuffles closer. You don’t even jump when his hand comes into contact with your knee. It’s done so gently and feels so comforting you let him leave it there.

“I’d offer you a tissue, but I don’t know where you keep them.”

You laugh, spit flying out your mouth. It’s gross but Yoongi is still smiling at you, his thumb now rubbing soothingly on your knee.

“I just … you asked me what my dad was like and now I’m just laying all these unwanted feelings on you,” you laugh again, this time it’s hollow and Yoongi doesn’t join you in it. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he gets you to drag your eyes back to him and does something that shocks you. His spare hand reaches out and wipes away some of the tears you missed, you jump a little at the touch but not enough to get him to stop. “I told you not to apologise.”

You nearly apologise again but manage to stop yourself and just end up nodding instead. Catching the slip, Yoongi smiles at you, his one hand still on your face, the other on your knee.

It doesn’t feel weird, if anything it takes you a while to click who you’re currently sat with, who’s hands are currently on your face and on your knee, who you feel comfortable with and don’t want to pull away from. But you do realise who it is, and however comfortable it feels, part of you thinks how weird it is.

Slowly, you pull away. Part of you wanting to stay in his hands, gaining his comfort. Part of you not wanting to upset him. Part of you still feeling a little weird that you are feeling all of this towards Yoongi and that he’s so willingly giving you this affection.

He doesn’t look offended or upset as you pull away and wipe a hand across your face, he just lets you go. The distance between you increases, but only marginally. There is no longer the length of the sofa between you like when you first sat, though he isn’t holding you anymore, his knee still grazes yours and if you wanted to you wouldn’t have to reach far for his hand.

“Anyway, that’s all in the past.”

Yoongi looks unsure for a second, doesn’t seem to know whether he should say anything that might upset you more or just leave it and let you gloss over everything. Secretly, you get what you want.

“I never knew him, so I realise how this will sound, but you know he’d be proud of you, right?” He pauses, waits a second as if expecting a reply. “And all that stuff, the guilt you feel and the sadness, you really don’t have to apologise, I’m happy you told me. But you shouldn’t feel guilty. It sounds as if he got everything he wanted. His daughter going off into the world and making something of herself. If he really did go round shouting about how great it all was and how proud he was, doesn’t that tell you how happy he would have been to see you achieving everything you did?”

He's right, you know he is. And having opened up for the first time about your guilt, it’s the first perspective outside of your own that you’ve heard. It’s one you’ve not considered or at least one you’ve not let yourself consider.

You sniffle, the noise not cute or delicate. You’re past caring.

“Thanks Yoongi.”

He reaches out and lightly squeezes your knee, though this time his hand doesn’t linger.

“You know, you’re really not so bad,” it’s easier than you had imagined to admit. “I can see why everyone’s friends with you.”

“And here I’ve been hoping you’d be the one to convince them to leave me alone.”

You laugh again, rolling your eyes at the blatant lie for the purpose of comedy. A smile returns to his face as he looks at you and it makes your chest tight for a different reason. Your focus goes to your empty glass. It’s a good distraction, leaning forward to fill it back up, topping Yoongi’s up as you go.

“So, what do you think?”

Even though he’s already drunk plenty of it, he takes a long, slow sip to savour the flavour and give you an honest opinion. You watch as his lips pucker, his Adam’s apple bobs and then his tongue runs a slow trail along his bottom lip. You feel flushed when his gaze finally levels on you.

“I think your dad had good taste.”

There’s movement out of the corner of your eye. Your heart stutters when you notice it, but it truly drops when you look fully up at it.

Of course you’re right by the graveyard.

Of course that’s where you see a shadow like figure darting away from you.

Of course it’s night time and a mist has settled over the village.

Of fucking course.

A deep breath and you’re heading into the graveyard. You contemplate telling someone but then question who you’d tell. If the last few days have told you anything it’s that nobody believes you, or even pretends to show an interest in this.

Well, that’s a lie. There is one person.

It’s at the first noise that you break. It’s only a bird taking flight from the trees but you jump so high, your heart nearly giving out, that you decide to give in. Yoongi hasn’t been that bad recently. Maybe it won’t be so bad telling him.

“Y/N?”

He sounds surprised. His pitch high, you can almost picture him looking down at his phone as if double checking he didn’t misread the name. The mental image almost makes you smile if it weren’t for the more powerful thought that you’re calling Yoongi. Min Yoongi. The guy you’re supposed to hate, who’s supposed to hate you and therefore not answer your call. Especially sounding so –

“Y/N,” his tone is firmer, the question gone.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you stumble over your words, eyes scanning the misty graveyard. “It’s just that, well, it’s probably nothing. And sorry for calling you, you’re probably really busy and don’t need me disturbing –”

“What is it?” He cuts you off.

“Right, sorry,” you say these two words slowly but the following coming in such a rush they sound like one word. “I thought I’d let you know I think I saw something in the graveyard and just in case I die or go missing someone should know where I went so yeah that’s where I am the graveyard.”

“Hang on. Slow down. You’re where?”

“The graveyard.”

He curses before you hear some background noise. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know what he’s doing.

“I didn’t call to get you to come here,” your voice has lost its fear at least.

“Stay where you are.”

“Yoongi –”

It’s your turn to curse at your phone. The fucker hung up on you. The cheek. The fucking ego on that man to think you always need saving. He has some sort of hero complex, that at least might explain why he’s always trying to help you.

You click on your phone, about to call Yoongi back, but are cut off by a branch snapping and when you look up you see something moving in the shadows.

Blood running cold, phone forgotten, you start to move towards it. You’re too loud though, the thing pauses long enough to look at you – at least you think that’s what it does, the dark doesn’t help – and then it’s moving a lot faster in the opposite direction to you.

Cover blown, you shout after it to stop as you try and run after it.

Whatever, or whoever it is, is too fast though. Every one of your steps seeming to be three of theirs.

“Wait,” you shout into the darkness, your breath coming out in a thick fog of white.

You really need to get in better shape. Only a short distance covered and yet you’re panting as you come to a stop. The thing is gone. At least out of sight in the dark foggy night. But there’s something else. A weird smell in the air. When you get your breathing under control you realise what it is.

Your blood runs cold as you stand straight as a rod. Despite the fear you head towards the smell.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you wonder around the graves. You find it where you saw that thing, only making you more certain that whatever that thing was, was what you’re after. It’s smaller than the deer you saw in the cottage, but bigger than a fox, but its body is so disfigured that you can’t tell what it is.

You feel sick.

“Y/N.”

You’d nearly forgotten you’d called Yoongi, nearly forgotten he was going to come here. At least this time his appearance doesn’t make you jump.

“Y/N,” his voice is louder and when you look over your shoulder you can see his silhouette outlined by the streetlights behind him.

“Here,” your voice is hoarse, but his head still snaps in your direction. You don’t watch as he stomps in your direction, can just hear his annoyed mutters as he gets closer.

“- told you to stay. Assumed that would be clear enough to mean the entrance of the graveyard not the fucking darkest spot. What if something had –” he cuts himself off when he comes to your side. You expect him to question what he’s looking at but he remains silent. You guess it’s pretty obvious what it is.

“I saw whatever it was,” you say, drawing Yoongi’s attention to you. “I chased it but it –”

“I’m sorry,” his tone it tight, terse and gets you to look at him. His features are just as stern. He looks livid. “You did what?”

“It ran off before I could see what or who it was.”

“Well thank fuck for that,” his tone almost has you stepping away from him in surprise. It’s been a while since you heard him speak to you like this.

“Oh right, sorry. Didn’t realise I had to wait for you to arrive before I went and found out what’s been causing all this.”

“Do you have a death wish or something?” It’s a rhetorical question, still he continues before you can answer with a snarky comment. “I asked you to stay put and wait for me. Not run headfirst into trouble.”

“Yeah, and what help would you have been?”

“Probably none. But at least we would have been together.”

Together. The word feels so weird to associate with you and Yoongi that it makes you pause. Both of you stare at each other through the white fog created by your breath.

“There’s nothing more we can do here,” Yoongi’s voice is softer, still tense but less accusing now. “Shall we leave?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, take one last glance as the dead animal before nodding your head.

Yoongi waits for you to lead the way, closely following behind you. He doesn’t leave your side until you’re safely back at your house. Even then he looks reluctant to leave you.

Yoongi doesn’t appear at your weekly shop. You don’t bump into him in the street. It’s the week off for your games club.

What once would have been a week you’d have loved, now seems weird.

You don’t miss him, but you notice his absence. You find yourself looking for him when the door opens in the grocery shop. You find yourself looking over your shoulder when walk to work. You find yourself listening to Seokjin a little more closely, just in case Yoongi’s mentioned. Everywhere you go, you look for signs of him.

He’s not mentioned. He’s not there. And strangely, you feel it. Even Tofu reminds you of him now.

All of it only pushes you more into working out what’s going around town.

There haven’t been many dead animals in a while, but that doesn’t comfort you. You’re on edge all the time, waiting for something else to turn up. You fear this time it won’t be an animal that you see, which only makes you think about the whole situation more.

The police have gone quiet, not that they were doing much in the first place, but they at least were looking into the abandoned house in the woods. And then there was the graveyard. Maybe it’s moved to another location to sleep, but whenever you try and think of somewhere it could sleep, there’s nowhere.

When you think of all the times you saw dead animals, the time you saw whatever it was in the graveyard. There’s a thread. Thin, but a lead none the less.

You have a plan.

He wasn’t best pleased when you didn’t tell him last time you did something like this. You could text him your plan, or call him, or just not bother saying anything at all. Still, you find your feet walking towards Yoongi’s shop.

The lights are still on and as you approach the glass door you can see Yoongi’s shadow moving around in the back room.

You pause only a beat before knocking on the door. As expected, Yoongi’s head pops out from behind the door to the back, his lips popped open in that way you’ve grown to know is his thinking face. It’s cute.

The thought jolts you. Maybe it’s why you give an awkward wave of your hand, forcing a smile onto your lips as Yoongi tries to smother his as he heads to the door. He doesn’t unlock it before he opens it.

“It wasn’t locked.”

“I noticed,” you say through your forced smile. He makes it hard for you to like him.

“Ok, well you know for next time.”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.”

“You coming in or ..?”

“No.”

“Ok,” he pauses, waits for you to explain. As always, his patients outlives yours.

“I, uh, I’m going back to the cottage in the woods.”

His head cocks to the side, surprised. You carry on before he can get annoyed.

“I thought I’d tell you. Only because, you know, you seemed pretty pissed off last time I didn’t.”

A nerve ticks in his jaw. But he just nods his head, his hand slipping from the door.

“Give me a minute.”

And with that he turns and leaves you standing alone at the door.

You fiddle with your fingers, shift your weight from foot to foot. Yoongi’s quick to grab a jacket and appear back at the door. His reaction is expected at this point, but it doesn’t make it easier, the way he comes so easily without question. Especially given the fact that you so easily came here. You’re not one to easily ask for help.

“You alright?”

You force the smile back on your face, not sure if the gesture is reassuring or makes you look more manic. “Yep, good, great. You?”

He hums, you definitely need to chill out. Any second now and he’s going to call it a night before it’s even begun.

Yoongi locks the shop, tests the handle to double check and then you’re both walking.

“What you been up to recently?” You shoot a look at him as if his question proves he knows how much you’ve been missing him this past week. He doesn’t look like he’s been secretly watching you or hearing things through your friends, he looks like he’s genuinely interested.

“Uh, just work,” it’s awkward and it gains you a small smile from Yoongi.

“And works made you want to go back to the cottage?”

It throws you, like most things Yoongi says. It puts you on edge even though he says it lightly, the smile still on his lips.

“Oh come on,” he laughs the words. “Did Jin tell you the police had been back?”

“No,” you mutter.

“Then what’s changed?”

Your whole demeanours changed since first seeing him. You’re on edge, preparing yourself for whatever he’s about to say. You knew he wouldn’t be happy about this, you just hope he won’t talk you out of this.

“Nothings changed,” you say flatly. “I still want to find out whatever’s happening.”

“And you always have to do that when it’s pitch black out?”

He laughs at his joke, you only clench your teeth. His laugh continues as he looks at you, low and light, but meeting your pissed off makes him realise you’re not on the same page.

“Hey,” he mutters, hand coming out clasping your wrist, bringing you both to a steady stop. You don’t look at him, but also don’t pull away. “Let’s go later, when it’s light out. Come back to mine and we’ll have a cuppa.”

You shake your head. No. Being stubborn has never been one of your best traits.

“I have a theory,” you admit. He waits, hand still holding you in place. You take a breath before explaining. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing. But I was just thinking about it and every time I’ve seen an animal it’s been at night, or just as the day’s started. And when we last went to the house it was night and there was nothing there. I just thought, maybe, it hunts at night and if we went now, in the morning, we might see it.”

“Ok,” he says gently. He doesn’t point out that if you waited a couple of hours like he suggested your theory might still be proven. Maybe he sees how anxious you are to do this, how you couldn’t sleep last night after thinking the theory, how the minute you could class the day as starting you got ready to go. His eyes roam your face for a second, his fingers holding onto you for a second longer before letting you slip away “Let’s go now.”

Both of you walk in silence as you head towards the path that’ll lead you to the house. Slipping into the trees the day only grows darker.

You’re lost in thought as you walk. You’d not considered your plan this far in advance, maybe a small part of you had thought Yoongi would stop you, but there he is next to you. Your thoughts turn to whether your theory is right. If that happens then you’re about to come face to face with whatever is doing this. And then what?

As different scenarios flash through your head you get distracted. The darkness, your distracted mind and the tree roots littering the path is a combination that has your feet tripping. Your hands go out to break your fall and while it stops your from hitting your head, it doesn’t stop the pain.

Your hands and knees bang into and then scrape along the ground. The pain starts in your right knee but it flares brighter in your hands. Yoongi is down by your side before you can lift them up to inspect the damage.

“You ok?” There’s no hint of anything but worry.

His one hand is light on the small of your back, while the other goes to your hands as you lift them from the ground, not quite touching but hovering around them, unsure. There’s a sharp intake of breath as you turn them palm side up. You can’t see any cuts, but that’s more because there’s too much blood to see where it’s being produced.

“Let’s get you up.”

Yoongi’s hand moves from your back to your hip and though you don’t need his help, it’s nice to have his support as you scramble up from the ground. You know he’s a one step at a time sort of guy and you also know with how bad this cut is what his next words are going to be. It’s why, when you’re stood up, you turn your hand away from him, push it down to your side as you stand facing him.

“It’s ok,” you say before he can speak.

A frown forms between his brows. “We should go clean that.”

“It’s fine.”

“There was a lot of blood.”

“And yet, it’s fine. We should keep goi–”

“You must be joking if you think we’re still going.”

“Then call me Nicole Byer, because clearly I’m fucking hilarious.”

“I don’t know who the fuck that is,” Yoongi says flatly. “I’m not taking another step unless it’s in the direction of my house.”

“Relax,” you say despite clenching your own jaw. “It doesn’t hurt that muc- ow!”

You accidentally brush your hand against your leg causing a flash of pain. One of Yoongi’s eyebrows quirks, a sign of him letting you know he’s right. Your jaw only clenches tighter in response.

You’re about to protest further but the sound of a branch snapping behind you stops you.

Yoongi’s eyes shoot over your shoulder as you grow tense. There’s another snapping twig, closer. You can only watch Yoongi’s reaction to whatever is playing out behind you. The way he tenses, his eyes wide, his skin losing all its colour, only terrifies you.

You open your mouth, about to ask what’s happening as you start to twist. Yoongi’s eyes snap to you. He lunges, takes the step to close the distance between you and closes his arms around you.

“Shhh,” he whispers into your hair.

There’s no comfort in this embrace. It’s all fear and tension. You want to know what he’s seen, need to know what’s going on. As if predicting this, Yoongi speaks again.

“Don’t move.”

Despite the words you do the opposite, Yoongi’s hands tighten around you in response.

“What is it?”

He shushes you. Not rudely, but in a quiet way, a panicked way. It only makes you want to twist in his arms more, which only makes his grip tighten.

“Y/N,” he mutters, his lips right by your ear. “Please, for once, listen to me.”

“What is it?” You whisper back.

“Nothing.”

It takes a second for him to reconsider. And then before he can clarify his hands are on your hips and moving you from his front to behind him, his whole body a shield as another branch snaps, the closest one yet.

You can see it now. Over Yoongi’s shoulder, hidden behind his back.

It’s like nothing you’ve seen before. More human than animal. But less human than anything you’ve seen.

It’s walking slowly towards you. Its movements distorted, head jolting from side to side with every step it takes, arms held out limp in front. It’s wearing clothes but they’re ripped and torn showing scarred skin underneath. Its head, if you can call it that with hollow sockets where eyes should be, thin to little hair and a flattened nose, lifts in the air.

It’s stops then. The action should feel comforting, if only a little, but it moves its head around as if sniffing the air.

And then it looks right at you.

Body no longer moving, you feel like your breath has stopped. Yoongi’s grip tightens on you, his whole body tensing as if he’s readying to fight.

The blood on your hand, you realise. The cut that you created only moments ago is what has brought it here. It kills animals, devours them presumably for food. And now it’s sniffing the air as if it’s about to do the same to you.

And while you’re utterly petrified at whatever that thing is and what it might do to you, the strangest sensation washes over you.

You don’t want Yoongi to die.

Sure, you also don’t want to die. But he told you to run while he was going to stay and fight. He’s now protecting you like a human shield. He’s now gripping you as if he’s feeling exactly the same way about you.

Oh god. Do you like Yoongi? Like, more than like Yoongi?

The answer doesn’t have time to form in your mind as the thing jerks, drawing your attention back to it. Yoongi pushes back into you, clearly also shocked, but in doing so he knocks into your hand, pain coursing from the cut there. He must realise, hearing you suck in your breath or maybe from your body language, because his hold on that side of you softens.

Both of your focus still on the thing and waiting to see what it’s going to do.

To your surprise, and utter relief, it takes one last sniff, turns and then runs away. Both you and Yoongi stay where you are for a second longer, just in case. But only a couple of seconds pass from it disappearing from view to Yoongi letting you go enough to turn and face you. He doesn’t say anything as he grabs your good hand and starts to lead you out of the woods and back to his place.

Your hand is clutched to your chest as Yoongi tears around the room. You thought you’d seen Yoongi mad before, but it was nothing in comparison to this. You can’t even take in his home, which you’ve never been in before, due to your eyes tracking his every movement, unsure what he’s going to do next.

He tears open a cupboard door so forcefully you think he might rip it off from the hinges. You bite back any words you might have; you don’t want to add to his annoyance, but your hand is also throbbing so badly that you just want something to help with the pain.

“Why do you keep doing it?” He spits the words out as he searches in the cupboard for anything to help mend you. “Why do you care so much? You always hated this place and yet you’re so fucking obsessed with that thing.”

You tuck your hand a little closer, blood dripping onto your already ruined top. Your stare is firm when he twists round to look at you, bandages in his hands. His look is like thunder, still you hold it. Tension rises as neither of you break the stare or the silence in the room. When Yoongi speaks it’s soft, almost croaky with emotion.

“You could have gotten us killed.”

Your eyes drop at the words. Maybe it’s the shock setting in that’s making him lash out, but he doesn’t need to say it out loud, you were both there and you both know you were only there because of you and that thing only came because of your blood. You almost killed him. And what’s even more confusing is he was going to act as your human shield.

There’s a deep sigh before the sound of feet shuffling towards you. A scrape of a chair before you see the tops of Yoongi’s feet. When he sits his legs are framing yours, his knees almost touching yours. Still you don’t look at him.

“Let’s see it then.”

His voice is gruff and doesn’t inspire you to give over your injured hand. Yoongi must realise, he’s much more observant than you thought. Shuffling closer his knees press into yours as he lays his hand face up on your lap so you can see it.

You look up at his face. There’s a pleading look in his eyes, like he really wants to help you.

Reluctantly you lay your hand in his, keep your eyes on his face so as not to see the cut. Yoongi looks down at it and lets out a sharp hiss. The noise makes you start to pull away but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist and stop you.

“It’s ok,” he mutters, his free hand trying to sort out the things he needs.

“It doesn’t sound ok.”

“There’s just more blood than I expected.”

“My now red shirt didn’t allude to that?” Your tone is snappy despite the attempt to joke.

“It’s ok though,” he pauses, looking up at you with a smile. “I don’t think I’m going to have to cut it off.”

You flush, have to look over his shoulder to stop the tightness in your chest. It’s a terrible dad joke, something Seokjin would say, and yet you find it loosening you.

“I’m going to clean your hand,” he goes back to his muttering. “It might sting a little.”

The wipe touches the outside of your palm, as far from the cut as possible. Yoongi works it over your skin in gentle swipes, getting closer and closer to the cut. He pauses before he wipes the cut and then, holding your hand firmly in his, he runs the wipe over it. Instinctively you try to close your hand, but Yoongi doesn’t let you.

“It’s ok,” he says, gently. “Just a little more and then it’ll all be over.”

He continues, muttering about how he has to do it to stop any infection, how the cuts not that bad but maybe you should go to the doctors in the morning and keeps repeating how close to finishing he is.

He doesn’t say anything as he puts some cream on your cut and then wraps a bandage around your hand. It gets a little unnerving. You liked his gentle mutters, found comfort in it. But the silence is horrible, worse even then when he was slamming the cabinet doors. At least then you knew how he felt. Now, you have no idea.

“Thanks,” you say as he twists away from you and starts to clean. The only thing that gives you a little hope you haven’t completely messed this up is that he hasn’t drawn completely away from you, his knees are still firmly pressed into yours.

You nudge your leg into his. His movements stall for a second, not much but enough to create another spark of hope. Still, he doesn’t look at you, just continues to clean. Or maybe he’s just pretending to clean.

You move to knee him again, a little harder, a more distinct movement to tell him you want him to look at you.

The smile that was starting to grow drops as Yoongi pushes away to stand.

Eyes wide, you follow his movements. Heart pounding in your throat you watch as he runs a hand down his face.

Maybe you misread everything. Maybe these feelings aren’t two sided. Maybe Yoongi is genuinely just being nice. But how could you have read this all so wrong? As if to answer the question you silently watch him for any signs.

He goes back to cleaning up, winding up bandages, creating a neat little line of safety pins, something for the sake of nothing. He’s avoiding you; being near you, looking at you, talking to you. Everything. And it only makes your heart pound that bit harder.

You should leave him to it, you shouldn’t push him. But something makes you reach out and take his wrist, the same gesture he’s done to you so many times before. It gets him to stop his movements if nothing else. But he doesn’t look at you, just stares down at the counter.

“Yoongi,” you whisper his name. It’s spoken like a question, one you’re not even sure the meaning of.

His eyes flick to you, his body still facing away from you, your hand still wrapped around his wrist.

An unknown confidence sparks inside you despite the fact your throat tightens. You swallow before slipping your hand lower. Yoongi lets you lace your fingers with his, his eyes tracking the movement before they look back at you, a small frown now between his eyes. You try not to worry about how your actions could be a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” the words are said as gently as his name was.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want you to apologise.”

You nod, not sure what he wants you to say instead. He doesn’t enlighten you to what he does want and the fact only makes you more desperate. There was a time, not so long ago, when you wouldn’t have cared what Yoongi thought of you, in fact, him ignoring you would have been welcomed. You would have done anything to push him away. But now, you don’t want that.

“Yoongi,” your voice sounds pleading as you push yourself to stand. He doesn’t back away, doesn’t pull his hand out of your grasp, so in the end you’re chest to chest with him, bodies not quite touching.

“I don’t get you,” he says, and though it’s not what you want to hear, you’re so relieved to hear him talk that you just want to hear him continue. Because you can’t lose him too, all your other friends didn’t believe you, they left you to do this alone, only Yoongi stayed by your side and now after one mistake, you can’t lose him too. “I don’t get why you keep pushing this.”

You know why. You may not have realised the day you saw that dead bird in your kitchen or when you started to realise that wasn’t an isolated incident. You didn’t read into it, probably because it was too painful to admit. But now you know why. You just can’t seem to admit that to Yoongi.

Your eyes dart over his shoulder. “Because that thing is killing animals in –”

Panic. That’s all you feel as Yoongi shakes his head and starts to pull away from you. Heart hammering you chase after him, scramble to reattach your hands.

You can’t lose him too.

“Because so many things have died in my life, so many people, that I can’t risk any more dying.”

The words fly out of you. They ring around the room in the silence that follows. Neither of you are moving anymore. Yoongi stopped at your admission and you followed suit not long after. His brow is furrowed even though you thought he would have guessed that was the reason why, just wanted you to admit it, show you trust him.

It pains you to carry on. But it’s as if now you’ve said one thing, you can’t stop.

“Because my mum died. And then my dad. And honestly, I can’t let anyone else die,” your voice is pained, starting to take on a husky quality as the emotions start to build in you. “Because that thing is starting to kill bigger and bigger things and who’s to say it won’t be Jin next, or Liv … or you.”

It doesn’t look like it was the answer he was expecting. But as soon as the first tears slips out of your eyes he’s back on you, arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his chest, lips by your ear as he tries to sooth you.

“I can’t … let … anyone,” your words stop coming out, throat closing as tears continue to fall down your face and sobs wrack your body.

Yoongi pulls you tighter against him, letting out a soothing shush in your ear.

“It’s not going to kill anyone. I won’t let it.”

You nod, even knowing Yoongi has no power over that. Your throat is too tight to speak.

“Everything’s going to be ok.”

It doesn’t feel that way but you want to believe him regardless. You trust him and over the past few weeks you’ve started to rely on and lean on him for support. Even if he can’t do anything, maybe it’s best you start letting someone in, help hold the load that’s been weighing so heavily on you. Together, that’s the words Yoongi used and it’s one you need to start believing in.

Your breath comes out as a shudder as you pull away from Yoongi’s chest, just enough to be able to look into his eyes. They’re full of concern as he flicks between yours, deep gorges of worry lining his forehead.

Neither of you move. Neither of you speak. You’re hardly even breathing as you stare at him from what feel like a breath away.

A tension rises between the two of you, one you’ve felt before, but this time there’s nothing causing it to break and you find yourself not wanting to break it.

It’s you that leans in. It would feel like a risk but knowing everything Yoongi has hinted at about how he feels – or at least felt – about you and after growing so much closer over the past few weeks, you’re confident he wants this as much as you do. And you know, or at least can guess, that the first move will always have to come from you. There’s too much troubled history between you and Yoongi seems like one of those guys that wouldn’t be able to read a sign if it was right in front of him.

He’s still when your lips touch his and you’d bet if you opened your eyes you’d see him looking back at you. Lips curling at the edges at the thought of how affected you’re making him, you push further into him, take his bottom lip between yours and tug it gently.

You feel him gasp, his fingers tightening on your hips. You smile again as you start to pull away. But Yoongi’s finally woken up from whatever shock possessed him. He chases after you, so eager that he pushes too much of his weight into you causing you to have to step back.

Still in his arms you laugh as your lips pull apart. How have you gone from Yoongi slamming doors and shouting at you that you nearly killed him, to this? It’s surreal.

Holding you steady in his arm Yoongi attaches his lips back on yours. There’s no laugh on his lips and he effectively kisses yours away.

There’s so much want in his kiss. His fingers curling around to your back, tugging you impossibly closer as if he needs more and more of you, wants to make sure he’s not missing out on a single thing.

All your thoughts simmer down until only those of Yoongi are left. The feel of his hands, so large, on your back. The push of his legs against yours. The taste of his tongue as it pushes against yours. The feel of his slightly chapped lips. The smooth plane of his nose running along yours, dragging along your skin as he twists and turns his head to get the perfect angle to kiss you. The coolness clinging to his hair as you tangle your fingers in it.

Every part of him is a contrast. And every part of him you want more of.

You push into him, too hard to begin with so that he has to take a step back. You laugh while Yoongi remains serious, hands on your hips dragging you back onto him. His lips steal your laugh, swallowing it as his hands start to roam your body. Laugh turning into a moan, you arch up into him, try and silently encourage him as your own hands wonder the panes of his body.

He’s solid. Far more than you thought he would be.

You shift, your thigh grating along his body. You’d not noticed before, your bodies pressed fully against him, but obviously not there. He’s hard. And now you’ve felt it you realise how much he must be straining in his pants. While Yoongi tries to twist away, get back to the position you were in where you couldn’t feel him pressing into you, you try to chase the feeling of him. Because, damn, is that how turned on he is from making out with you?

“Stop,” he pulls away, hand firm on your hips to make sure you follow the command, the other going down to his crotch to adjust himself.

You smile at him, glance down at where his hand is to see what you’ve only felt until now. When you look back up at his face, he’s finding it hard to hide the amusement he’s feeling.

Pushing forward you steal a kiss before he can stop you.

“Do you have a bedroom in this place?”

The question should be obvious but it seems to throw Yoongi off, the hand on your hip tightening as his face quirks in surprise. Your heart squeezes.

“You know, so we can …” you drift off, not quite able to spell it out so plainly. Still Yoongi doesn’t say or do anything, your words seeming to freeze him. “Unless you just want to continue making out in your kitchen?”

His eyes flash to your lips then just as quickly go back to your eyes. Colour lights his cheeks. You think he’s going to chicken out, think you’ve moved too fast or said something wrong, read him wrong, but then he’s moving. He nearly grabs your injured hand, but just as his fingers graze the bandage wrapped around your hand he pulls away. You laugh as you hold out your other hand. Back to being serious Yoongi takes your hand and leads you through his house.

You catch glimpses of his house as you head through his hall and up his stairs. It’s not much smaller than your house, a narrow hallway leading to some steep stairs. There aren’t many photos, not a lot to tell you about the man in front of you. A few pieces of art, even fewer photos, all on white walls; clean and tastefully placed, rather than the more chaotic and colourful approach you take.

It’s very Yoongi, you realise. And the fact that doesn’t worry you tells you everything.

As soon as you walk through Yoongi’s bedroom door, you’re back on him. Tugging his hand, you get him to twist towards you before you push into him and place your lips back on his. Even as your tongues tangle you don’t stop moving. Your hands go under his t-shirt, feeling the smooth yet hard panes there. You feel his muscles go taught as your hands go higher.

You smile against his lips, satisfied with the reaction you gained. Your hands start to go higher but stop when Yoongi’s hands take a handful of your ass. Gasping you pull away from him, pulling your hands out from under his top you lightly slap his chest.

“It’s a good ass,” he defends, as if that would help.

You hit him again, still soft but a little harder so that you push him backwards. He laughs and when you go to push him again, he takes your wrists in his hand. He easily tugs you back into his arms, keeping your hands pressed between you as he gently kisses you.

Nipping and tugging, he pulls your lips gently between his teeth before kissing the spot better. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips but when you open up for him, he doesn’t go in. He’s teasing you and while it frustrates you, it really turns you on.

Building you up to a point where your hands are tugging to be out of his grasp, he finally lets you go.

You tear at his clothes, struggle for a second to find the hem to his top but when you do you break away from his lips to tug the material over his head. Making the most of the opportunity, Yoongi rids you of your top in a similar manner, his eyes roaming your chest appreciatively. Rolling your eyes you reach behind you and remove your bra, giving him something to actually look at. Colour tints his cheeks but his eyes don’t move away.

“You just going to stand there?” You smile, working at the button of your jeans.

Your trousers are halfway down your legs before Yoongi comes back to himself, the colour remaining on his cheeks as his hands go to his trousers.

“You got a condom?” You say when you’re both naked and your lips are back on each other, the back of your knees touching the bed.

“Yeah,” Yoongi mutters but doesn’t move from the spot in your arms.

Too transfixed by him, it takes a second for you to do anything. “Are you going to get it?”

He hums against your lips. “In a minute.”

You giggle, the noise swallowed by Yoongi. Still neither of you break from each other.

A minute passes and then another. Hardly any time but enough time for you to want more.

“You going to get that condom?” You say against his lips, only gaining a hum in response.

It feels like torture to pull away from him. You let your legs dip beneath you as you sit down on the bed behind you. Yoongi’s hands fall away from your side, your lips feeling cold without his on them. Now much lower, your eyes are level with one of Yoongi’s other attributes. Only having seen it straining against his trousers before now, you can’t help but admire his hard, thick cock. You don’t even realise you start to lean towards it until Yoongi steps away, a deep laugh leaving him.

His hand wraps around himself as you continue to watch. Dragging your eyes up to his, you curl your lips into a smile. He doesn’t react, his face flat as he stares down at you. You swallow, swear a pool is starting to form between your legs. And then he nods his head to the headboard, and you know you’re dripping.

He’s silent as he drifts away from you, cock still wrapped up in his hand. Your eyes track him as he walks to his draw. He pauses before looking over his shoulder at you. Fuck. He doesn’t have to say a word to get you shuffling back up his bed.

The draw opens and as Yoongi walks back over to you he rips open the foil pack, dumping the rubbish on the floor but keeping the condom rolled up as he crawls onto the bed. Your breathing feels heavy and laboured as he crawls towards you and then knees either side of you, shuffles over you. He stops only when his knees are level with your hips.

You watch, breathless, as Yoongi kneels over you and rolls the condom down his length.

Is this happening? Are you really about to have sex with this guy? It’s not even that, are you really about to have sex with Yoongi? The guy who hated you, who you disliked, who you couldn’t even be in the same room with only a few months ago.

Even as you watch him rolling the condom on. Even as you’re lay naked beneath him. It’s hard to believe.

“Hey,” the word makes you drag your eyes up to Yoongi’s face, now full of concern rather than lust. “You sure you’re ok with this?”

You nod, then realise that you should verbalise your feelings. “Yeah.”

“We can stop. We don’t have to go any further.”

“I want to,” you reach a hand up and he leans in so you can more easily run your hand along his jaw. It’s a contrast to all the heat between you up until now. “I just can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Me either.”

You feel like you mean it in different ways. The way Yoongi says it doesn’t make you think he means he can’t believe he’s about to have sex with the girl he hated not so long ago. No, he looks like a man who’s dreams are all coming true.

Yoongi leans down, chest resting on yours as his lips touch yours. Slowly, deeply, with so much love that you try not to read into, you kiss each other. Tongues twisting against each other, teeth clashing, lips pushing and pulling.

You reach down between your bodies but before you can get to where you’re aiming, Yoongi’s on you. In that all familiar way his hand encompasses your wrist. He doesn’t even have to break the kiss as he drags your hand back up your body and pins it over your head. The whine you let out is halfway between pleasure and dissatisfaction. You want more and you want it now.

Yoongi is slow to give it to you. His hand pinning one of yours above your head, the other injured one he’s more careful with.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he mutters against your lips. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You’re so drunk on him that you can’t comprehend the words just yet. Arching up into him you just try and let him know how much you want him too. Still, he takes his time with you.

Kissing you for another excruciatingly long minute, Yoongi finally reaches down to grab the one thing you want. He never breaks the kiss as he runs his tip between your folds, but when he comes to rest at your entrance. Forehead pushing against yours, his breaths are heavy as they mingle with yours, chest heaving so much that it dips low onto yours.

He doesn’t push into you, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t kiss you or move. Just looks down between your bodies breathing so heavily you begin to wonder whether it’s him that’s not ok with this.

His hand now loose on your wrist you easily pull out of his grasp. Gently your run your fingers through his hair, his eyes flicking to yours at the gesture. You don’t rush to speak, let the moment linger for a second.

Eyes now on yours, you don’t even get a chance to speak before Yoongi’s pushing into you. Just the tip to start. In and out in slow yet satisfying motions. Your eye contact never breaks. Even as he starts to push deeper into you, even when the pleasure becomes so much you have to fight to keep your eyes open, your contact never breaks.

Pushing your feet onto the bed you angle your hips so you can push up into Yoongi every time he grinds down into you. Deepening how much Yoongi goes into you, increasing the pleasure, which seemingly only gets Yoongi to stop.

“Fuck,” he elongates the word as he comes to a stop fully in you, his eyes closing and head dipping. “Please don’t do that.”

It takes you a second. He doesn’t want you to help him? Only wants you to lie there looking pretty? But then it occurs to you.

“What, this?” You say as you clench around him.

He lets out a low growl like sound, his jaw tight as he angles head to look back at you.

“Just give me a minute, ok?”

You smile, at least it seems that one thing hasn’t changed, your joy for winding him up hasn’t diminished. “You going to come so early?”

A nerve in his jaw ticks, his eyes darken.

“And what you going to do, huh?” You carry on when he doesn’t respond. “If I don’t stop?”

You wait a second and then smirk as you clench around him.

“No, seriously,” he says, voice strained as his chest buckles in towards you. “I need a second.”

You bite back your laugh because that’s not going to help this. Hand going to his head you run soothing lines across his scalp, pushing him to relax into the crook of your neck. It’s flattering, honestly, because even though you’re not gaining much physical pleasure right now, Yoongi being so affected by being inside you is such an ego boost.

Slowly, as if not wanting to move too fast too quickly, Yoongi begins to move again. His head remains where it fell on your skin, his forehead pushing into you, lips hovering just over your skin, breath coming out in huffs that fan out across your skin.

His pace builds. From long, slow movements, to faster and quicker thrusts. Your head falls back, you can’t stop yourself from arching up into him, your hips gyrating into Yoongi on their own accord. This time he doesn’t tell you off, doesn’t stop, just keeps going.

“I’m going to come soon,” he admits more breath than words.

You can’t even speak, words losing all meaning before they can leave your mouth. Instead you hum out your agreement. You’re so close, his tip running along every seam within you.

He shifts on the bed, skin becoming slick with sweat, he adjusts his knees either side of you so he can thrust deeper but slips as he does so. Though not graceful, it pushes him into you at such an angle that has you groaning out.

“Oh,” he says in his own bout of pleasure, pausing just long enough to feel you loosen around him before thrusting into you again, trying and succeeding to hit that same spot. You twist in pleasure beneath him, the coil in your stomach knotting and tightening. “That’s the spot?”

You don’t respond, can’t respond, as Yoongi leans over you hold your hip on the side of your injured hand and your arm on the other side, pinning you in place as he thrusts again. He makes it harder to move, puts you in a position you’re at his mercy. You’ve let him know your weak spot and he’s going to use it against you.

The moans fall from your mouth of their own accord as Yoongi punctuates every spot by making sure he hits that spot within you. Every time you can flutter your eyes open you see his own face contorted in pleasure, screwed up in a way that lets you know he’s fighting every instinct to come.

Reaching a hand between you, you sloppily place a finger on the bunch of nerves to help you get to your release. With every thrust you feel Yoongi’s skin on the back of your hand. With every thrust the coil in your centre tightens and tightens.

“You close?” Yoongi can barely get the words out, his hips never stopping for a second. “Please tell me you’re close.”

You let the question go unanswered again. Unable to answer him. But yes, you’re so fucking close. And as if spurred on or maybe just growing impatient or possibly just chasing his own release, Yoongi dips back down onto you, his hips flush with yours as he puts more power behind each thrust. One, two, three, four short but powerful thrusts is all it takes for you to come. And on the fifth Yoongi stutters and comes in the condom.

His hips continue to move, slower, shallower, as he mumbles words you can’t hear against your skin.

Too tired to move, you both stay like that for a few minutes, when Yoongi finally pulls out you’re already half asleep. You try to rouse yourself, you should head home but Yoongi’s hand grazes your forehead.

“You should sleep,” he mutters.

Too tired to protest or think much about where you’re with, how significant it could be to stay the night, you fall asleep.

The last thing you’re aware of is a light press of lips on your temple.

A twig snaps.

Your heart hammers as you look around the woods. It’s so dark but the moon is bright tonight and it’s letting you see the outlines of the trees around you, but nothing else.

Another twig snaps. This time louder. Closer.

You twist, heart hammering as you look behind you.

There’s nothing there and it only terrifies you more. There’s something out there, watching you, getting closer and you can’t see it.

Snap.

You twist a final time and there it is. Limbs disjointed. Movements jolty. You watch as that thing takes another slow step towards you. It’s still far away, but it’s getting closer. You would twist and run but when you try and move this time you find you can’t. Looking down your feet are in thick, wet mud.

Panic sets it. Withering and pulling and fighting you try to escape the mud keeping you trapped while that thing gets closer and closer.

Snap.

You want to scream, but your voice catches in your throat. Silent and stuck you become a victim to whatever it wants to do to you. You can’t escape.

You watch in horror as it tilts it’s head in that now familiar way, seeming to sniff the air. You expect it to twist away like it did before. Expect it to be repelled rather than attracted to your scent. What you don’t expect is its head snapping in your direction.

You finally let out a scream as the thing comes running towards you.

You wake with a jolt. Feel sweaty in the bed from the dream you just had. Heart still pounding from what you’ve just witnessed.

Just a dream, you try to reassure yourself, despite it feeling so real.

The next thought that goes through your head is that this isn’t your bed. The arm draped over your waist isn’t something you normally wake up to. And yet it doesn’t add to your panic, if anything it helps calm you down.

Twisting, you roll over so you’re facing the person next to you.

Yoongi’s eyes are heavy with sleep, barely open as a smile transforms his face.

“Morning.”

Your stomach flips at the dark husk that is his morning voice. Yoongi’s hand tightens on your hip, his fingers rough on your skin but so nice. It brings back flashes of last night, only heating you up more.

“Hi,” you whisper back causing Yoongi’s smile to broaden.

A silence falls over the two of you, not awkward or weighted but comfortable. Yoongi’s fingers steady on your hip, a small comforting movement on your skin. Sleep still heavy on your brain, laying in bed, in Yoongi’s arms, you feel yourself slipping back into sleep.

That is until you shift, the initial aim to get more comfortable, but your leg bends and pushes a little too close to Yoongi. You feel him, not quite erect but still hard.

Every nerve in your body comes alive, the point on your leg that touched him retains the feeling. Even though you touched him all last night, had him inside you, have now slept in his arms, you still feel unsure how to react. Do you call it out, try and be sexy and cool, two words you’d never associate with yourself? Or do you pretend nothing happened, something you once would have done but now unsure if that’s how you should be?

Yoongi, the ever-patient man, let’s you think it out.

“It’s weird,” you say, surprising both of you by speaking so calmly as well as the actual words. “I would never have thought I’d wake in bed next to you.”

Even though the words come out as rude, Yoongi smiles, his fingers squeezing your side. “The Min Yoongi.”

You giggle, shuffling closer into him, though careful to avoid anywhere your leg touched earlier.

“I’m pretty sure my fifteen-year-old self wouldn’t believe this is happening either.”

It’s something he’s alluded to before, something you’ve never pushed for more information but now you have the chance.

“Because he hated me?” You say it with a smile, a hint of a joke, but it’s a serious question you want to know the answer to.

“I’m not sure that’s the word I would have used.”

“It’s what I always thought.”

“I guess I was a bit of a dick with all the nerves I felt around you.”

You smile, shaking your head.

“You don’t believe me?” He says. When you nod your head he hums in thought, the hand on your hip pulling you even closer to him so that his hand can rest on your back, your chests ghosting each other, your faces only inches away so that you could hear each other even if you whispered. It’s like, even though you’re the only two in the room to hear whatever is spoken, you want to make sure these words are only for the other. “Jimin mentioned there was a new cute new girl who started before I ever met you. He thought anything with a heartbeat was attractive, so I didn’t think much about it, until you walked into that first lesson.”

You can’t smile at anything he’s saying. It all feels too real. Probably because it is real. All these things he’s hinted at in the weeks you’ve been getting to know him and yet it still feels strange to have such a shift in what you believed to be real.

“I don’t really know what I thought. I’ve never really reacted that way at just the look of someone. You just looked so beautiful and perfect and my hormonal self really struggled when you started to walk towards me and I realised you were going to sit beside me,” he smiles as your heart pounds. “Fuck,” he chuckles the words. “Let’s just say I wish I had a pillow.”

“So you asked to move seats?” Your voice is raspy, but neither of you draw attention to it.

“You really I think I could have sat next to you when that was my first reaction to seeing you?”

You laugh, “what did you tell Miss Talbot to get her to move you?”

He shrugs, the colour tinting his cheeks telling you a different story. It warms your heart thinking of that boy you knew from school doing all of this.

“I just can’t believe it,” you say. “I can’t believe you actually liked me.”

He hums again, his eyes flicking over your face. “I think I more than liked you.”

“You had such a funny way of showing it.”

He groans, closes the distance between you, his bare chest pressing into yours as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. You can only laugh.

“I was an awkward fifteen-year-old boy who didn’t know how to react around beautiful girls.”

“How did you ever pull?”

“I hardly did,” he mutters into your neck.

Your heart clenches, your hands going to the messy strands of hair on his head. “Still, I really did think you hated me,” you pause then add, “even when I moved back, I thought you hated me.”

He pulls away from you, holds his weight so that he’s resting above you. His eyes are intense now, no longer half closed and sleepy, but instead are awake and dark.

“I’ve been a dick,” he repeats, no excuses made. “Can I make it up to you?”

You watch as his eyes flick to your lips, a clear message of how he hopes to make it up to you. It’s still weird, still takes you a second to comprehend just who this is and what you want him to do to you.

It’s so different from last night, at least the start when you were the one who was having to push him. That shy, nervous guy is gone now.

“How do you plan on doing that?”

“I can think of a few ways.”

He’s slow to lean down into you. Slower still to move his lips against yours. Nose pushing into you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. There are so many emotions behind everything he does, as if if wants to tell you things without using words.

Even when he pulls another condom out, rolls it on and pushes into you, his movements are slow. His lips reattach themselves as he rolls his hips into yours and you try and not think too hard about the fact that all of this feels like way more than just sex.

The bell tingles and for the first time it doesn’t fill you with dread. What you do feel though, is nerves. They’ve been pumping through you before you even saw Yoongi through the window, well before you decided to come here after work, to be honest they started nearly as soon as you left his house this morning.

The door closes slowly behind you. Your focus purely on Yoongi and the way his eyes drag slowly to yours. They’re indifferent to start, start to warm in welcoming a new customer but then burst with shock before settling on what you think is joy, even if he does school his smile down from the beam to a small curl of his lips.

“Oh hey,” your eyes shoot left at the voice, not realising Olivia was even here. “You’re here.”

Her eyes flick to Yoongi, a question on her face that reads what the fuck is going on? when she looks back at you she plasters a smile on her lips.

“Don’t see you here much.”

“Oh right, hi Liv,” you say, not having thought too much about the fact you’d have an audience for this. Turning to Yoongi you’re surprised he’s moved from behind the till, stepping towards you with that same small smile.

“Don’t you have some stock to deal with in the back?” Yoongi asks Liv, predictably she doesn’t move.

As you step towards him you can’t help but remember that this is the first time seeing him after the night you spent together. It was only this morning, but you didn’t do too much talking before you left his place. You heat, try and fail not to suddenly be awkward. Yoongi’s smile only widens, clearly picking up on your behaviour and is clearly very amused by it.

“Hey,” you mutter.

Yoongi’s smile twitches, his eyes alive. “Hi.”

“You ok?”

“Yep,” he pops the p. “You?”

“Uh-huh,” you smile like a fucking teenager who’s in front of her crush.

“Did you come here for anything in particular?” Yoongi’s tone is playful. “Need my help finding anything?”

You laugh, light and gentle. Your mouth opening to come back with some retort. The words never leave your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” it’s Olivia that speaks this time, dragging your attention to her but failing to get Yoongi to stop looking at you. “What the fuck am I watching right now?”

You heat for a second time, find it hard to drag your eyes back to Yoongi even as you can feel his focus still on you. This whole thing is weird enough without Olivia being here.

“I – uh –” you look back at Yoongi for help, he only raises an eyebrow as if also wondering the same thing. “Well, I’ve come for a book.”

You look back at Olivia and smile, though you’re sure the gesture looks more manic than reassuring. Olivia frowns, eyes flicking back to Yoongi with that same unsure look.

“Ok,” she elongates the word as her eyes drag back to you and your still manic smile. “I guess I have work in the back to do then.”

She hesitates a second, reluctant to go as if waiting for you to shout out for her help any second. Slowly, she drags her feet along the floor in the direction of the back room.

“So what book do you want?” Yoongi’s tone is all amusement and cheek.

“Lord of the Rings?” It’s the first book you think of, one that causes Yoongi’s lips to pop open for a second before he nods and starts to lead you around the room.

He takes you to the corner furthest from the open door leading to the back room. His back to you as he searches the shelves you build up the courage you need.

“So, uh, I didn’t actually come here for a book.”

He turns, his face still alight with amusement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, though his tone suggested that was pretty obvious.

“Well that’s good because I don’t have Lord of the Rings in stock.”

Your eyes flick to the travel books he’s lead you to as if betrayed by something you didn’t even want. The smile is wide on his face when you look back.

“Who doesn’t stock Lord of the Rings?”

“I can order it in if you want?” He lifts an eyebrow, a laugh on his lips. “But I thought you didn’t come here for it?”

“Right,” you flush, eyes darting away from him. The only way you think you’ll be able to ask him is if you don’t keep eye contact. “I was wondering if you wanted to come to mine for food tonight?”

Your eyes flick back to his face to gage a reaction. The smile doesn’t fade, his eyes don’t dim. He still looks immensely happy and your heart softens in relief, worry seeping away as if he may answer any other way.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “That would be nice. I can get to you by 7?”

You nod, a smile to match his taking over your whole face. Back to being crushing teenagers you stand for far too long just smiling at each other. The only thing to break you being Olivia dropping something heavy in the background. You jump in the air as you hear a loud ‘sorry’ that doesn’t sound very apologetic.

Flushing you look back to Yoongi who still looks like he couldn’t care any less by the rest of the world. As if, as long as you’re stood in front of him, he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.

“Right,” you mutter. “Well, great, I guess I’ll see you later?”

Yoongi nods, you nod back and then remembering the audience flash your eyes to the back room before darting out of the shop to safety.

Tofu darts out the door when you open it. Yoongi’s stood with a bottle of wine and a large bunch of flowers. You awkwardly take them off him, the items getting in the way enough that all you can exchange is a small half-hug. You flush and ramble about having to find a vase as you lead Yoongi to the kitchen.

“I didn’t even ask if you ate meat,” you say, horrified as you put the flowers in an inch of water in the sink. You look around at the nearly finished meal. “Or if you have any allergies. I mean do you? Because we can order something in or I can run to the shop and get –”

Your words trail off when you turn and look at Yoongi leaning against your counter, a wide smile on his face.

“It looks and smells amazing,” he says.

“It’s just roast chicken.”

He hums, then says in a sweet yet sarcastic tone, “just,” as if there’s nothing throwaway about what you’re making.

“Well,” you say, drifting off and turning away from Yoongi’s gaze. You’re so unused to this Yoongi. Or at least having to interact with this Yoongi like it’s a normal thing. “Shall I pour some wine?”

“Tell me where the glasses are and I’ll do it.”

You look over your shoulder, eyebrow raised. “A proper gentleman,” you tease before telling him where he can find them.

You fall into an easy rhythm as you both get on with your own tasks. Yoongi pouring the wine, you managing the food. It’s easy, feels normal. It’s nice.

“Here you go.”

You turn to be given a glass of wine, gladly accept and gulp a large sip. The two of you fall into easy conversation about your days.

There’s a weird noise, a meow that’s high pitched and more a warning than anything. Still half concentrating on Yoongi you flick your eyes over his shoulder.

You see it. Through your kitchen window. It’s in your fucking garden.

You go still before the panic fully sets in. Yoongi’s still talking, his back to the window he’s completely oblivious to what you’re seeing. But that thing is all you can see.

It’s seen something, you can tell. Your heart hammering in your ears, your breath shallow, your mind is slow to catch up to what you’re seeing.

And then you realise.

Your first instinct is to go for a knife you left out to cut the veg. Sharp, powerful, you don’t think any of this through as you start to walk to the door.

“What’s going on,” Yoongi’s words are slow to come to your ears, but as you’re slow to head to the door, he’s faster to work out what’s going on. “Fuck.”

Your hand is nearly on the handle when Yoongi stops you. You fight against him, are deaf to his words begging you to stop.

“It’s Tofu,” you blurt. “It’s going for Tofu.”

Yoongi’s hand slackens enough for you to pull out of his grasp. Banging the door open you rush outside, Yoongi hot on your tail.

“Tofu,” you scream as if your cat is like a dog and would run to you. He doesn’t, his attention is solely on that thing. Cornered, Tofu’s fur stands on end, back arched, tail bushy to make him look as big as possible.

Heart still pounding, adrenaline coursing through you, you start towards that thing. You scared it off once, maybe you can do it again.

Something stops you. A tight hand wrapped around your wrist. When you turn to look at Yoongi it’s with betrayal.

“Give me the knife,” he says

“I’ve got this,” you bite back, trying and failing to escape his grasp.

“Give. Me. The. Knife.”

“No.”

“Y/N,” he warns.

You look at him, glance over your shoulders to see the thing nearly on top of Tofu. His small furry body starting to shake in the corner of your garden. It’s not stopping. If you don’t do something now it’s going to get him. When you look back at Yoongi you’re sure it’s with desperation.

“Please,” you mutter. “Let me do this.”

His hand slackens, his face softening. You know he’s not happy about this, but he can see why you want to do it. You’ve opened up so much to him, more than anyone else. Still, he doesn’t let you go.

“Please,” you plead.

He shakes his head and your heart drops. But then he releases your arm. Before you can turn and carry on your mission he says, “we do this together.”

You nod though really you have no plan and no time to come up with one. In the time Yoongi stopped you, all your confidence has gone. Your adrenaline is still high but fear is starting to creep in.

“Hey!” Yoongi screams, he gains your attention but you’re not sure it’s done anything to that thing. “Over here mother fucker!”

You’d laugh if this were a different situation, but as it is your face stays steady as you look back towards Tofu. That thing is now looking at you, it hasn’t moved this way but is at least looking, head cocked to the side in an almost unnatural angle.

“Hey,” your voice is croaky, and you have to cough a little to clear it. “Get the fuck away from my cat.”

It comes out clearer. The thing turns and looks fully at you now. And then it starts to move.

“Y/N.”

There’s a flash of white fur as Tofu takes the opportunity to run. The thing is moving straight for you now, faster than you’ve ever seen it move before. It’s why Yoongi shouted your name. It’s why you held up the knife, the only thing you could do, hardly enough time to do anything else.

You scream, guttural, more like a war cry than from terror.

You stick your arm out, feel and hear the knife penetrating skin and then muscle and eventually the cracking of bones. There’s a screech from the monster, high pitched and full of pain. It flails it’s arms, catching your arm and ripping the skin. Still, you manage to hold the knife tight, your own screaming mixing with its. Blood sprays out of it and from your arm. Your injured hands gives a twang of pain as you bring it to grip the knife, twist as you pull out and then stab it again.

This time it pulls away. Movements more disjointed but slow as it slinks away from you. Blood pouring from the wounds. You don’t want to watch but you also can’t look away. You did this, you need to watch the consequences.

Slowly, but eventually, it stops moving. The world is silent and the thing is dead.

There’s blood everywhere. Not quite splattered like the bird you first discovered was, but this time it’s all over you.

Twisting to the side, you throw up all over your lawn. Yoongi’s almost immediately there to hold your hair back and rub your back through the whole thing. He whispers words you hardly hear, things about how it’s ok, how there was no other choice, how he’s going to stay with you for however long you need him. You think that might be forever, and you think if you asked he’d agree.

You remain on the lawn far longer than you should before Yoongi coaxes you inside for a wash. He takes care of everything, the long-forgotten food, Tofu still hiding outside, and you.

It’s all over, you let yourself think as you fall asleep in Yoongi’s arms that night.

“You can’t place a Jack on a King.”

“It’s the same suit.”

“Yeah, that means fuck all.”

“They’re both picture cards.”

“Have you even played this game?”

“Pretty sure I’ve played it more times than you.”

“You do realise this isn’t cheat, right?”

“Y/N,” you try to dampen your smile as you look over at the man whining at you.

“Seokjin?” You ask back in a sarcastically sweet way.

“Can you tell your boyfriend to fuck off?”

You hum as you look over at Yoongi, that smile becoming hard to hide. You open your mouth to say as much but Yoongi leans in and kisses your words away. Pushing his shoulder you laugh before he can kiss you again.

“I preferred it when you two hated each other,” Seokjin groans as he fishes his Jack off the pile. You and Yoongi are too consumed by one another to hear.

#Yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi fan fiction #horrorwoodcafe22 #btswritingcafe #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #suga fan fiction #suga x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff

[gyunglitter]

introducing𓏧

the losers club !!

summary: just you dicking around with txt college!au besties

warnings: doja cat fandom slander, mentions of soobin's feet, mentions of bullying, cursing

contrary to your group’s self-appointed nickname, you guys are actually well known (and liked!) on campus!! :D

you guys have NO IDEA as to how so many people on campus grew to like you and want to hang out with you

especially since you guys had a hard time in school before

but woohoo to not peaking in high school right?!

tbh, you guys are testaments to that second round of puberty nobody talks about

ya know, the glow up that happens after you graduate high school and get away from all the pricks you were forced to see everyday?

yup, you and your losers are finally thriving

besides when you’re dying bc of all your classes and tests

but yeah

while other ppl really like your group’s personalities

YOU GUYS ARE SUPER HOT TOO🤭

i mean, just look at y’all!

[choi yeonjun]-

‘99 liner//junior

took a gap year before getting dragged back to go to school so he could learn to be a normal human being

did someone say IT BOY??

literally the girls and the gays are in love with this man

dance major and student athlete who unironically does zumba every saturday morning

had no social life in high school because kid was NEVER there

he was a bored only child, while his neglectful parents were filthy rich and figured their kid could do whatever he wanted to entertain himself

so what he wanted, they got it—including vacations

with him being gone so much, his classmates always wondered who this choi yeonjun guy was and how he could miss so much school while still passing

though the intrigue kind of stopped when he pulled up to school with the ugliest shoes to walk south korea

him and his obnoxious shoes gave a lot of people the ick :(

but never fear, yeonjun and his footwear are just ahead of their time!

(you can't say they are in quite yet, but they probably will come around some day!!)

yeonjun typically spent his days doing sports, travelling, and running away from talent scouts lmao

no idol life for him in THIS lifetime

but as life would have it, the man is too scrumptious to be out of the spotlight for too long

bc he became a model not too long after college started due to a school project photoshoot went viral on twitter!!

his twitter is a minefield while he reserves his insta for the wholesome content :)

[choi soobin]-

‘00 liner//junior

glue of the group despite insisting how much he HATES y’all

broadcast and entertainment major so he can get into the entertainment industry and get the bts of moviemaking!!

(really just wants to meet all of his favorite voice actors tbh)

known for being the Ultimate Boyfriend™ despite never actually being in a relationship lololol

in middle school he got into anime, which was COMPLETELY normal! he actually made a ton of friends that way!!

at least until one of his friends came over and saw his body pillow collection

yikes :/

unfortunately didn’t take long at all for the whole school to find out, and then they never let it go

all the way up until he graduated high school :(((

it’s okay tho!

he had tons of online friends from going to conventions and stuff!!

but making irl friends was definitely hard for him when he got to college

[choi beomgyu]-

01’ liner//sophomore

absolute MENACE to your little society

he’s the guy who gets whoever is in his company to unironically admit “last night was a movie”

music major studying composition while playing guitar in a band

the girlies are FAWNING

ppl are so in love with him because he’s so pretty

but then the kid opens his mouth :/

he was the most extroverted kid

which worked perfectly bc with his good looks and personality, everyone wanted to be his friend!! :D

but with high school, friends, and all his 100 extracurriculars

kid burned out by senior year :(

his last year of school, he totally ghosted his friends and stayed inside all day playing video games

(he actually got diamond 1 on LoL, boy is nothing if not determined)

eventually rumors went around that he got dropped and turned into a social outcast

but he didn’t really care since he was fine with rotting away the rest of the school year

by the time he got to college, he wanted nothing to do with things that would suck his already nonexistent energy

[kang taehyun]-

02’ liner//freshman

the one that always has the braincell

and really wishes he didn’t so he could escape yall

stem major for engineering, which is just another one of his controversial choices (being second only to befriending yall)

everyone on campus knows him as that one guy you go to when you need the answers to your homework or your final

yeah, he’s selling the test answers on the black market :P

what? he’s in DEBT

he never gets suspected tho bc he alrdy knows all the answers, so why would he be involved with that??

but the rest of the town?

well, the town knows him as terry

mans is always seen at the gym and the club pulling without even trying

this is TOTALLY contrasting to his high school life, where he literally only gave his time of day to his studies

mans did not have TIME to hang out with anybody

bc of this, he became a bit of an easy target to the one-dimensional jocks that tried to use him to get them better grades :(

he was a small kid, so he got picked on and tossed around a lot :(((

it’s okay, since he’s buffer than them now!! >:)

[huening kai]-

‘02 liner//freshman

maknae that’s more mature than ALL OF YOU

he acts like he isn’t, but kid grew up a MIDDLE CHILD between TWO SISTERS

they’d managed to craft the most perfect and thoughtful angel to grace south korea

except for his demonic laugh :/

but YOU GUYS LOVE IT!!

he’s coasting through college, wishing he could tell you what major he was

but boy is constantly changing it LMAO

he just loves learning about different subjects!!

not to mention he’s good at most things he tries

so he makes tons of friends!!

but he didn’t always :(

from middle to high school, he was THE band kid

he could play the guitar, percussion, trombone, and piccolo!!

so when little kai walked home in his minecraft hoodie carrying his giant instrument case

8/10 times kid would get pelted by eggs or something on the way home

good thing he had his trombone case to shield him!! :D

kai would also be insanely awkward and didn’t have good icebreakers besides his plushie collection

too bad that didn’t become socially acceptable for another few years

[y/l/n y/n]-

‘01 liner//sophomore

ladies and gentlemen i give you

her

the group's resident photographer, despite the fact that you're SO HOT

you are beauty

you are grace

well, you are now

high school: not so much

you were LOSER #1 girlie ://

you were just a little slow to pick up on a lot of social cues and what was "cool" or not, making you prone to awkward situations and bullying

for example: pinky promises and saying “on god” was quirky and acceptable, but spit shakes were not

neither were bowl cuts

or pretending to drown at the school pool and see how everyone would react

like i said, you were behind on a lot

but what took you the longest to learn—the people you thought were your friends were no longer laughing with you and your unfortunately timed puns, but at you (and your unfortunately timed puns) :(((

but you digress, because your overactive imagination worked to your advantage of getting clout and a full ride scholarship!!

you’re an art major with a minor in photography, winning a national photography contest that got the attention of your college

your genius piece of "different kinds of falls in public", where you purposefully tripped people walking by you and taking photos of them, had won the heart of the public and the school board over to the point of them begging to have you!

your parents and teachers just wished you had the same genius outside of cameras--as you slacked off in every other academic aspect

notes: enjoy me being unfunny but having a blast anyway! feel free to send in asks/requests regarding this fic. can't guarantee i'll respond to it, but i'd love to see what you guys think/want!

#txt #tomorrow x tomorrow #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #kang taehyun #huening kai #txt fluff #txt smau #txt crack #yeonjun #soobin #taehyun #kai #hueningkai #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader #the losers club

[minisugakoobies]

Burning Down | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: smut, crack, DadYoongi!AU, BadCop!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: weapons - guns, switching POVs, angst!, allusions to murder, mentions of blood, references to war, allusions to choking, Yoongi is not a good guy (ymmv)

Word Count: 1.8k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: You're going to finish what you started. But Yoongi won't let you take it all away.

A/N: Everyone thank Yoongi for those recent D-Day concept photos, because they inspired me to write another chapter! I think we're closing in on the end here 👀

Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Part 5 💵 Bad Cop Masterlist 💵 Part 6

The house is dark when you turn into the driveway. Tall trees on either side of the gravel pathway stretch endlessly into the cloudy morning sky, their thick canopies providing the car with cover from the rain that’s just starting to fall. 

Jungkook leans pretty heavily against you as you walk him to the door, and your knock is a little clumsy while you struggle to keep your partner on his feet. A light flickers on in the window, and then the door suddenly wrenches open from the inside. A rather handsome man peers down at where you’re slumped under Jungkook’s arm. 

“Holy shit, what the fuck happened?” 

Seokjin is not an agent. Seokjin is a former combat medic. You’d met years ago on a tour in a foreign land. He’d saved your back and you’d saved his, more than once. The blood you’d shed together had formed an inseparable bond between the two of you that meant more to you than your actual family. Which is why you’re here, in the middle of the night, holding a man who is slowly bleeding out all over his doorstep. 

“For fuck’s sake, come in, I just bought that mat.” Seokjin ushers the two of you inside, glancing around. His house is fairly secluded, the copse of trees bordering the property protecting him from prying eyes, but he’s been in enough battles to know that you can never be too cautious.

He leads you and Jungkook into his living room, ordering you to help your partner onto the couch. He disappears for a moment and returns with a first aid kit - not the kind you’d find at your local pharmacy but one meant for the battlefield. You don’t ask why he has one so readily available. You know what it’s like to be haunted by war; always prepared for the day those ghosts might return.

You also don’t ask why he happens to have a small freezer in his basement where he keeps bags of blood. After he’d retired from the armed forces, Seokjin had gone into private practice. You have no idea just how “private” that means, what type of clientele he might be stitching up, accepting payment under the table instead of involving insurance. Or cops. It might be your place to ask, considering you’re a federal agent, but right now you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth - not when Seokjin’s busy saving Jungkook’s life. 

Afterward, as Jungkook sleeps, blood slowly being transfused back into his strong body, Seokjin makes you some tea and he sits in the kitchen as you stand and sip, staring out the window at the rain. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks gently, rubbing a hand over the scruff on his chin. You haven’t even apologized for waking him so early. 

“No,” you reply honestly, but then you tell him, as much as you can without compromising your mission. As if it hadn’t already gone to hell anyway. You talk and talk, and soon it’s not the details of the job you’re describing, soon it’s how things between you and Yoongi started, how they progressed, how they ended - in bullets and blood. 

Seokjin is quiet once you run out of words. He drums his long fingers on his placemat, watching the spoon resting there as it bounces from the rhythm. “Well, to be honest, that’s not the worst break-up you’ve ever had,” he drawls after a few seconds. 

“Fuck off,” you snap, but your lips twitch of their own accord. He’s not wrong. “It wasn’t a real relationship. It was all part of the plan.” 

“Is that so?” Seokjin levels you with a sober look. “Then why are you here, wearing a groove into my kitchen floor with your pacing, while your partner drains my last bag of O neg? Was that part of the plan, too?” When you don’t respond, he plows on. “Because it seems to me that you went a little too deep this time. Got a little too entangled. Would you say that’s accurate?” 

“Sir, yes sir,” you chirp sarcastically, saluting him with your middle finger. Seokjin’s eyes crinkle as he laughs, and for one brief second, you’re back in the field, joking with your friend, and not sitting in his house panicking while your mission goes up in flames. But then you hear Jungkook stirring in the other room, and Seokjin’s laughter fades as he rises to check on his patient. 

Seokjin, as always, is right. You’d gone too deep this time. Let yourself believe the lie. As much as you didn’t want to admit that you could be compromised, you knew the truth. You’d fallen for Yoongi, and now you had to clean up the mess you’d made, before anyone else got hurt. 

Even if it meant breaking your own heart.

Seokjin wanders back into the kitchen. “The transfusion is almost complete, but he’s gonna need to rest for a while longer.” 

“Can he - “

“He can stay here, that’s fine.” Seokjin looks so tired. You wonder how you must look. Probably about half dead. “But what are you going to do now? Call for backup?” 

You shake your head and reach into your satchel, pulling out the box from Yoongi’s safe. Inside, as you’d expected, lies a key. 

“No. I’m gonna finish what I’ve started.” Jimin’s face flashes through your mind and your vision goes red. And then Yoongi’s, and your heart pangs, even as you make your vow. “I’m gonna bring him down.” 

Yoongi hates this. 

He hates hiding. His safe house isn’t nearly as luxurious as his other house or the vacation home he’d just bought on the bay. Most of the rooms here are nearly empty, save for a random couch or table. Except for the one room that is fully stocked with guns and ammunition, along with a small safe stashed with emergency cash. But beyond that, the house is bare. It’s not meant to be a long-term residence, he knows, but he hates it anyway. 

He also hates not having his daughter with him. He’d called Da-som’s friend’s mother at dawn and told her that he had to go out of town for work suddenly and asked if she could look after her for a few days. Not having her by his side fills him with anxious energy, makes him want to claw his skin off. He hopes this won’t take more than a day or two. 

But that. That’s the thing that he hates the most - not knowing. Not knowing where you are, or what your plan is, or how any of this will end. Makes him feel weak. Powerless. Like he used to be. 

Like when Da-som’s mother left him.

He fucking hates feeling powerless. He will not go back. 

From his perch on the table that serves as the sole furniture in this room, Jimin watches him stalk back and forth, like a tiger prowling his cage. He doesn’t say anything to Yoongi, likely not wanting him to bruise his throat again. Jimin’s developed a bit of a squeak when he laughs, and it has not amused him in the slightest. Although Yoongi thinks it’s pretty funny.

The burner phone in Jimin’s pocket buzzes and he flips it open. “Any sign?” 

Yoongi halts in his tracks, waiting.

Jimin sighs. “Fine. Just keep looking.” He tosses his phone on the mahogany surface, merely shaking his head at the older man. 

Yoongi resumes his steps. Where the fuck did you go? You couldn’t have gotten very far in Jungkook’s police cruiser. It never returned to the station, and Yoongi’s goons are sweeping the area under his orders. But even though he has everyone searching for you, you’re nowhere to be found. 

“We’ll find them,” Jimin finally speaks. “It’s just a matter of time.” 

“Time is running out,” Yoongi spits back. The longer you’re gone, the more likely it is that you’ve called in reinforcements. Set a trap in motion. He can’t just sit here and wait for the walls to close in on him. 

He needs to move. 

“Listen, I nailed the kid, so he’s undoubtedly slowing the two of them down. We’ve got guys watching the hospitals, the clinics, every medical center in a 100 mile radius - there’s no way they’ll get past us to get him some help.” Jimin smoothly slides off the table, brushing dust from the sleeves of his button-down shirt. “We just have to be patient.” 

Yoongi immediately pounces forward, pressing Jimin back into the wall behind him. He doesn’t touch the younger man, but holds him in place with the intensity of his stare. 

“No. I’ve been patient. For five fucking years now, I’ve waited to take my place at the top of the chain in this goddamn city. And now that I’m here, I’m not going to fucking hide and wait any longer. YN-” he curses silently at the slip-up, “she isn’t going to take everything from me.”

“What are you saying?” Jimin asks, wincing at Yoongi’s glare. The usual sociopathic gleam in Jimin’s eye is dimmed under the older man’s gaze. He’s terrified right now.

“There’s a key in that safe that she stole. It belongs to another box, where I have kept a very important list. Among other things.” If only he hadn’t kept that safe at his house. If only he hadn’t brought you there. If only you were who you said you were. “I’ve got to get to that list. It’s the only thing that she needs to bring this all down.”

“And you think you can get to it first?” 

“No.” Yoongi laughs, a cold, ugly sound that sends chills down Jimin’s spine. “I’m sure she’ll beat me to it. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

For the first time in hours, Jimin grins. “Okay, so an ambush, then?” 

Yoongi nods.

“You know I’m in. But… everything you just said, how you just got all this power…” Jimin pauses, considering his words very carefully, “are you prepared to lose it all just to beat her?”

“I’d rather lose it all in a blaze of glory than have that bitch steal it from me,” Yoongi retorts, ignoring the stab of pain in his chest when he snarls the word ‘bitch.’ Stop it, you pussy. Stop pretending like she means anything, he berates himself. 

“Blaze of glory? Fuck yeah, let’s go.” Jimin pulls his handgun from his holster and cocks it. 

Yoongi smirks. “Let’s burn.” 

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

#bts x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #btshoneyhive #bangtantheatrenet #thebtswritersclub #min yoongi fanfic #bad cop!au #fic: burning down #possumswrite

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

Chaeri's masterlist

❒ Reading order: 1. Chaeri's recovery | 2. Calvin Klein with Jk | 3. HS concert

❒ genre: Angst

❒ words: 2.5k+

❒ summary: In which Harry Styles' post-concert doesn't go as planned for Chaeri, as Jungkook has something to tell her

❒ warnings: swearing; heated argument;

❒ pairing: Jungkook x 8thmember!OC

❒ notes: I'd have much to say about what I wrote. First of all, it was very difficult. Chaeri has this very annoying way about her in which she uses anger to hide other emotions, and I did not find it easy to write. Usually I don't expose myself much, for those who read my blog know that I didn't plan yet an ending of this story, but I think Jungkook is not in the wrong this time. Chaeri has sent him some unclear signals, plus she has completely distanced herself from him. In one way I understand his point of view.

Credits to media owners!

March 20, 2023

Chaeri bubbled with joy as she left the concert arena, greeting fans on her way out.

Concerts always put her in a cheerful mood, especially when it was Harry Styles performing, and having the chance to meet him backstage had made it an even better experience. For two hours, she felt like a normal friend hanging out with Yoongi and Namjoon rather than a celebrity herself.

When the concert paused halfway, Taehyung, who was nearby with Jungkook and a friend of theirs, asked her to tag along for a bite after the show. She accepted the offer, knowing that Yoongi and Namjoon would head home straight away once it was all over.

Though it didn't take her long to catch up with the two guys, she had to wait for the personnel managing the event to have most of the onlookers removed and organized so that all the celebrities could leave without being mobbed.

Chaeri waved to both of them as she drew near, her face aching from the long smile it had been wearing since the night started. "It was stunning" she exclaimed.

Wrapping Taehyung in an all-encompassing hug, she beamed with happiness "Harry was so nice to agree to take a picture only with me! I can't believe it's already finished"

She diverted her attention from Taehyung to give Jungkook a warm welcome too.

Harry Styles had put her in such a great mood, she wasn't going to let the bad vibes from their last encounter while on the set of the Calvin Klein photoshoot ruin her night.

So, she gave him a hug, albeit briefer than Taehyung, and then touched his arm gently, asking "Did you have a good time?"

Jungkook nodded, his voice muffled by the mask he had not yet taken off his face. "Yes," he said "there's not many who can put on a show quite like Harry Styles"

Chaeri gave his arm an affectionate pat in reply to his comment. "Well said!"

"Did she just turned in fangirl mode?" Taehyung teased her playfully, and she stuck out her tongue in response.

"Aren't we all a bit of a fangirl for him?"

Once they were in the car and out of sight, Tae maneuvered himself from the backseat to the front, taking care to not bump into them with his long legs. He then took a seat next to the driver

"What the hell are you doing?" Chaeri inquired, avoiding the near-miss of a kick that the boy almost gave her as he scrambled to get into the front seat

Taehyung leaned back in his chair and breathed a sigh of relief, pleased with himself for achieving the task. He spun around to face the two people he had just brought together. "I'm giving you both the chance to clear the air."

"What? There's nothing to talk about"

"Stop it," Taehyung replied sternly to her. "Every time we're all together, it's incredibly awkward because of you two. I don't know how you avoided it tonight. This has to end. Make peace."

With those words, he shut the divider between the back and front seats of the car, providing them with some privacy.

Chaeri had her mouth slightly open in amazement and was beginning to get nervous. She also knew that the broken rapport between her and Jungkook was a source of stress for the whole group, yet was that really the night and was that really the way to discuss it?

Jungkook shifted in his seat, his gaze fixed on Chaeri. "I'm sorry," he said "Don't take it out on him, I was the one who asked him to tell you to come in the car with us and give us some privacy. I needed to talk to you"

"I really can't believe you two pulled me into this little game"

Taehyung's words echoed through the divider, making Chaeri jump. "No one is playing games," he had his gaze focused on her reflected eyes in the driving mirror "You two have been avoiding each other for weeks, and it's not healthy for the group dynamic. Clear the air, talk it out."

She tapped her knuckles against the divider and asked, "Don't you remember you said we'd have some privacy?"

"My apologies," he replied. The boy in the front seat had now tucked his head down, out of sight. He was trying to be invisible.

Jungkook glanced down at his hands, where an array of silver rings glinted in the light. His fingers nervously twisted them around and around as he spoke, his gaze fixated on the shining metal "Before anything else," he began, "I want to apologize for what happened last time. I should have respected your boundaries... But I don't regret saying what I said." 

A heavy silence filled the air as she stared at him, her lips parting slightly before closing again. After a long pause, she finally muttered "Jungkook, please. Let's not talk about this again” 

The car had been driving for several minutes, thus taking away any hope of escape from that conversation she did not want to face. She made a mental note to kill Taehyung once that day was over.

"No,I refuse to delay this conversation any longer”

Well, from better to better.

Crossing her arms, she turned away from him, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm not going to hear what you have to say” she had to warm her voice first, to make it come out as if she didn't care what he had to say to her

Jungkook's emotions were now clear on his face: lips slightly pursed, eyes narrowed, and a jaw clenched tight in an effort to stay composed.

Damn stubborn girl

It typically took a lot to shake him up, anger or irritate him in any way. He was used to having his patience pushed by disrespectful people, and he considered himself quite logical and thoughtful. But it took all the willpower in him to utter the right words without starting an argument; that was the goal, after all - discussing without fighting.

He paused and took in a breath before continuing "Remember when you promised that you'd always hear me out? Has that changed too since then? What is left of us? I'm not talking about our..relationship. But of who we were for each other before all this”

Chaeri's stomach was in knots. She had been dreading this conversation for weeks and didn't want it to take place with an audience. Taehyung must have sensed her apprehension, as he cranked up the volume of the car radio. A song by Harry Styles came on - what a strange coincidence.

"I remember," The memory of them sitting on the steps of the old BigHit's building, much less tall than now- or at least Jungkook -, came vividly to her mind, along with the promise they had made each other to always remain close. It felt like a lifetime had gone by since then. ”But things have changed. We can't go back to the way things were before” Uttering those words felt like an inferno in her throat. She never wanted to say them aloud, yet there they were, hanging heavily in the air.

Jungkook felt something break inside his mind at the sound of those words, wishing he had been able to keep his composure and not let his anger get the better of him.

"You don't even try! You avoid me like a plague! You were already distancing yourself from me before the accident, and now it's worse. When we were living together in the dorms while you were healing, though, it was almost like things were back to normal; like my Chaeri had returned. At least my friend" 

"Why won't you understand that we can never be fucking friends!” Her voice grew louder than she anticipated. It was her fury that prevented her from forming the words in her head before they came out of her mouth.

Jungkook's jaw dropped as his eyes widened in shock. He felt the tell-tale thumping of an accelerated pulse against his ribs, as if it was trying to escape his chest

"I will always care about you, no matter what happens. You'll always be family to me, but I can't be friends with you anymore - that's all there is to it”

Chaeri's voice was firm and unwavering but her eyes are were filled with sadness and her lips quivered slightly as she spoke. Her hands clasped together tightly in her lap, her knuckles white from the strain.

"That's all there is to it!? Are you fucking serious?"

Jungkook's voice had risen, the intensity of his emotions coloring his words.

They were both going too far with their words, causing pain to one another.

Taehyung quickly turned down the volume of the radio, sensing the tension in the car. He had hoped for a peaceful resolution, but it seemed like things were only escalating.

"Listen," he interjected, trying to diffuse the situation. "I think it's best if we all calm down. Emotions are running high right now, and we're not going to get anywhere like this."

Chaeri ignored him completely but leaned over to inform the driver to stop because she wanted to get out

"Is that how you want to solve the problem? By getting out of the car?” Jungkook was incredulous

"I don't want to hear from any of you anymore" Chaeri spat back

"We're on the highway Chaeri, where the fuck do you think you're getting off"

"At a goddamn truck stop, can I pee in peace for fuck's sake?" 

Jungkook observed as she opened the vehicle's door and stepped onto the shoulder of the highway once the car had come to a halt. Her form was tiny and vulnerable in the darkness, and he felt an overwhelming urge to go after her.

"I'm gonna go talk to her" he said to Taehyung, who nodded in agreement and stopped the driver who was about to get out of the car to follow both of them

"Chaeri! Just stop for a second”

Chaeri’s small frame and her strides cast a determined silhouette in the night. Her blond hair swished around her shoulders and fluttered in the wind as she continued walking, unfazed by Jungkook's pleas.

"No, you know what I'm going to do? I'll head into that store, use the restroom, and then enjoy the dinner you said you'd buy me - by myself."

"Why are you so stubborn?!" His voice rose in frustration

Chaeri stopped mid-stride and spun around, her face flushing bright red with anger. She glowered at him, "You used to appreciate my stubbornness!"

Jungkook’s eyes were focused yet there was a hint of exhaustion around the edges. The light from the passing cars illuminated the determination on his face "I still do," he said. "But not when it's at the expense of us" 

She drew closer to him, her heart pounding in her chest. She cleared her throat and spoke quietly, “Us? You say it as if we were still an 'us'”

Was she really taking out on him all the bitterness she felt toward her own agency for what it had put her through? As soon as the fog of her fury cleared, she knew she'd regret how she was treating him. But in that moment, it was still overshadowed by her blazing anger.

"And you say this as if it was up to me!" Jungkook's voice was rising with frustration, he cast a furtive glance around the empty parking lot of the truck stop, double-checking that no one was within earshot. "I could not decide anything about this relationship. I know I said that we had to move on, I remember the night I said that.. But I ... I can't stand it. I tried, but I can't"

Jungkook took a step closer to her, his hands outstretched as if to pull her into an embrace. "I don't want to move on," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to let go of what we had"

Chaeri backed away, her eyes fixed on the tips of her shoes as she hugged herself tightly to keep out the chill and contain what she was feeling; whether it be was positive or negative 

"Whenever we're together, it seems to bring out the worst in us" 

The umpteenth realization that she gave the worst of herself every time she was with him made her sick. 

BigHit had been their downfall since they were first caught together - one continuous downward spiral until the crash in 2022. 

"It's like gasoline and fire; we bring out the worst in each other" She repeated at the end.

Jungkook took a step back, his hands falling to his sides. He understood what Chaeri was saying; since the break up they had been like a time bomb when they were together, ready to go off at any moment.

"It was not our fault" 

"I know, but it still happened. It didn't...work. We tried. We thought we could do it but in the end they won” She tried her best to keep her voice emotionless

"If I didn't know you-if I didn't know you, your indifference would make me think you never loved me!" Jungkook his voice hoarse with emotion

"Don't you dare say anything like that!" Chaeri's voice wavered, and she fought back tears. She took a step closer to him, looking up into his eyes "You know that's not true! "

"I don't understand why you're so determined to push me away" Jungkook said, his voice shaking. "I'll get over it if you.. love someone else now, but I cannot bear the thought of losing you as someone in my life" Those words on the tongue tasted like poison.

"We cannot be friends. Not the way we have been" she said, her gaze lowered to the ground, understanding this was the best decision for both of them.

"Why not!?"

"Because our love consumed me! Because every fucking time I see you, it feels like I'm stuck in the past. Every time I'm with you, you fucking idiot, I question myself about-" she couldn't dare to finish the sentence.

The tears that streamed down her face as she spoke were like a raging river, unstoppable. Her hands trembled and her voice was ragged, yet full of passion and emotion. He watched her with remorse, knowing he shared in the blame for the way things had disintegrated around them. She continued to scream out her frustrations, her words echoing off in the empty park

She sniffled and wiped her wet cheeks with one hand "The time spent together while I was recovering from my injury made me realize that it's best for us to keep some distance"

"Is it better because you don't have to deal with your feelings that way?"

Their faces were suddenly illuminated by dazzling lights, causing them to look as white as ghosts. Abruptly, they both turned in the same direction and noticed a pair of paparazzi - the distance too far to hear their conversation luckily -

"Fuck.."

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @ycuvi | @bts-dream

#bts 8th member #bts female addition #jungkook x reader #jungkook drabbles #jungkook fanfiction #bts female member #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook images #jungkook scenarios #kpop female member #kpop female addition #kpop female oc #bts x reader #bts addition #bts eighth member

[sourbinnie]

☆ never bloom again.mp3 ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst! ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> namjoon x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> leaving you was the first and last thing that killed him ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> cursing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

a/n: first bts post! hope you enjoy it to the person who requested it and i'm also baaaack, so hihi!

he didn't think this through at all. once you're offered the chance of a lifetime, you really don't think what you're leaving behind right? you don't stop and take a second, you accept and don't look back. he really thought this was gonna be better for his career, moving somewhere else for a couple of years and living his best life while he was still young and thriving.

yet now in los angeles with the hot weather killing him slowly as he walked through the streets, he was paralyzed. his feet refused to keep moving as he saw a figure walking with their friends and enjoying the california sun. they looked so much like you that it took his breath away. in the distance it truly did look like you, as they got closer the resemblance went away and that's when he could walk away again and not look like a creep.

once he got back to his apartment, he felt haunted like he just saw a ghost. his apartment didn't feel cozy and homelike like yours did. his studio was nothing like the one back home and he felt like he was losing himself slowly in a different scene that wasn't his to begin with. he really thought he would have things in control like he always did but as he was brought back to reality again, he felt like everything was getting away from his grip. he was starting to lose his breath, his mind, his soul and all of it was because he made the wrong decision. 

he wanted to call one of his brothers, a friend, a family member, no. he knew who he wanted to call and it was you because you had been through hell and back together yet you remained in his life like the most precious person he had ever met. but it was too late now huh? he made the decision to leave you behind, to end things. he looked at the ring he bought every day and wondered if he made the right choice. he wondered if he truly was the most selfish person on earth 'cause what he did only was good for him, for his career, that's the benefit that he got. getting bigger in another country was the step he always wanted to take yet he couldn't have everything. he couldn't have you and also the fame, success he always aspired to get.

maybe he made the wrong decision. 'cause no matter how famous he got after this, he would never be as happy as he was with you. he would never get to live the moment where he would propose to you, he would never be teary eyed seeing you walk down the aisle and he would never know what a family with you would look like. he lost it at all when he left seoul and when he left you at the airport. you promised to try long distance out yet a few weeks after it, it was too little and not enough for either of you. so you gave up, you stopped fighting and namjoon let you go.

if he couldn't love you like you deserved, what was the point right? why keep fighting for something that's already dead? it wasn't worth it. but right now he wished he wouldn't have stopped fighting, that he would've stayed in the battlefield if he still got to call you his. he didn't get to see that face of yours and call you the most beautiful person in the world, he didn't get to cherish you, to actually appreciate you.

it killed him slowly and softly how much he needed you right at this moment and till the end of time.

so he did the one insane thing he didn't want to do and called you. he expected nothing, no voice of yours in return. that voice that he was slowly starting to forget because it's been so long. because even if it destroyed him that he was not seeing you anymore beside him, he decided to stay and make the best out of what he already created. 

"namjoon?" your voice asked and startled him as he composed himself. he took a deep breath and prepared himself for either a call that was gonna change his life forever or for the most dreaded decision of his life. 

"yeah, it's me. can we talk?" he asked and could feel you hesitate through the phone call. even miles away he could imagine you every move you were making.

"yeah, did something happen?" you asked this time and he knew this was either his chance to fuck it all up or to make things right. he needed to think his words through and to be careful with them.

"kind of? i don't even know where to start." he said and he was already facepalming himself as he tried not to sound ridiculous and desperate. "i just really needed to talk to you. it's been a while and i needed to hear your voice." yeah that wasn't smooth at all but he truly did need to hear you.

"i'm glad you called then. i wish you had done it sooner." you replied in a lower tone but he still heard every word clearly as he was starting to regret just leaving you like that. most of the time when you tried to talk to each other he would be busy or the time zones were so different that you could never have space to be with each other. he sometimes wishes he would have picked somewhere else to at least be closer to you but nothing would be like having you in his arms.

"i wish i did too but you know how it's been." he said but now that he thought about it, you probably didn't know how things were going. he just always expected for you to be understanding but he never was and that wasn't good.

"yeah i know but if you want to talk about it, i'm here joon." god the nickname. it brought joy back to his heart that he could not describe, the way you were so comprehensive even when he was a mess. he could not explain the way he loved you, it was so much more pure and bigger than he has ever felt. 

"i know, i just wish i could be there right now." he was so blunt about it but it didn't matter anymore, he needed to get everything out. "i miss you, i miss us and everything we had. i wish i could go back and never had made the decision i made. 'cause even if right now i might have it all, it doesn't feel like it when i can't be with you and be comfortable in my own house, close to everyone i love but especially you." 

there was silence. a silence so loud that hurt but nothing beat the words you said.

"why did you do it joon? i know you wanted to be bigger, you wanted your career to ascend. but i told you many times you had to be sure about this and that you might lose me in the process of it. and i think you have, you took so long to call, to talk to me and tell me how you feel." he felt his heart breaking into a thousand pieces as he sighed and tried not to let the tears fall. even if he was hurting, nothing could compare to what you went through when he left you, when he decided to leave everything you've built behind like it was nothing.

"i'm sorry (y/n) that i made you feel this way. i'm sorry that i was an asshole to you, that i did not consider anything but is it really too late? am i really the last person you want right now? please tell me so i can forget you." he pleaded, he was desperate for you to tell him how you actually felt and if this was truly over. 

"i don't know how i feel. i want you so bad, i want to be with you and hold you like i did before but right now it might be making the decision too quickly and i don't think i can give it another try. you hurt me too deeply when you left and even more when you decided to break us off. i knew it wasn't working out but i was willing to always fight for you." you said and he could hear a tiny sob coming from you which made the tears fall from his eyes completely. "i'm sorry it had to end like this and that it was probably not what you were expecting but i hope you understand there's always gonna be a place in my heart for you joon, goodbye." 

and with that you hanged up. 

he felt lost, completely broken and like he could fall apart at any moment. he truly did lose you and it was all his fault. he was not gonna be able to go back to korea and tell you how much he loved you, how much he needed you and how much you meant to him. he was always gonna be stuck here till the end of time, working for something he didn't like, putting his effort in a job he didn't feel passionate about anymore when his inspiration was all gone with you.

he didn't think it through at all.

#sourbinnie #bts imagines #bts drabbles #bts imagine #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts angst #angst bts #bts x reader #bts x gn reader #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #bts #bts rm #bts namjoon #rm x reader

[dangerpronebuddie]

Okay, I hate this

I hate this I hate this I hate this

We just had an episode that implied Eddie didn't know he could say no to the possibility of sex with Marisol. It was also implied that option didn't occur to Buck either.

And now there's a speculation that Buck and Eddie are not just letting loose and having fun... but are drugged and out of their minds.

Eddie getting his shirt ripped off because he's finally breaking out of the box he's been confining himself to? Beautiful and poetic and I love it.

Eddie getting his shirt ripped off because he's been drugged? No fucking thank you!!!!

But it's possible and that pisses me off.

(Whump is always fun. But in canon, with two characters who don't know they can say no and one who's been assaulted before, it's not good!!! This show is fantastic about handling serious issues and heavy conversations. Consent? Not so much).

Unfortunately, since there's possibilities surrounding consent right now, I have a theory or two.

If they're really copy pasting BT onto Eddie and Marisol, then they could possibly do the 5x11 thing and Eddie is going to kiss someone. Drunk. (Or drugged, depending on that spec). Consent? Don't know her.

But if they do, it could shatter the box he's been in, and himself. I hate the idea that Eddie always has to completely break to be able to heal, but he doesn't know any other way to be. Ryan hinted at the possibility of Eddie breaking again. So what makes it happen, what does he learn from it, and how does Marisol factor in?

If they do the BT parallel and he kisses someone, consensual or not, he's going to feel incredibly guilty about it. He's failed as a boyfriend (and knowing him, he'll twist it around as failing as a father too) and the box will break again.

The next few episode titles even lean into the guilt of it all. Ghost of a Second Chance, Step Nine, even Unfinished Business is ominous enough to suggest the storyline is involved there too.

With the writers for 7x08 being Juan Carlos Coto and Bradley Marques, and Coto being who wrote the breakdown, I wouldn't be surprised in the very least if something happened that episode. It doesn't need to be a breakdown again, but it can be this cathartic experience where Eddie finally lets go of the guilt he's been carrying for decades.

The title for 7x08 has been on my mind since we found out about it. Step Nine in AA is about making amends, no matter what. It's going to be a Bobby centric episode, no doubt, but Juan Carlos Coto usually writes episodes that are big for both Bobby and buddie (2x06, 3x09, 4x05, 5x13, 5x16, 6x10 to name just a few). Add in the fact Bradley Marques is writing it with him, the guy who's only done episode 100 so far, is... Interesting!

Bobby is likely making amends with Amir. Eddie has to make amends with himself. If we get a realization or a coming out that episode? I will pass out.

They're setting it up to be a brilliant queer storyline for Eddie. I would HATE for it to be tainted by drugs and a lack of consent and another cheating storyline.

And if they don't go the drug route (yay!), then an almost between Buck and Eddie would most likely be enough to make Eddie feel guilty about it and then have to face it and realize he has nothing to feel guilty about at all. Nothing happened. He just realized he wants it to happen, and for a moment it felt like Buck did too. It would push him to either hide with Marisol or drop her and be free. And since he's grown and recognized that he moved too fast asking her to move in, it's possible he breaks up with her instead of becoming more serious.

#does any of this make sense #im barely awake rn #the pink and that promo and the specs are making me insane so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ #911 #buddie #911 meta #911 spoilers #911 speculation

[static-radio-ao3]

@jegulus-microfic // september 19 // prompt: content // words: 532

brought to you by the fact that i listened to waste it on me by bts on loop for an hour

It’s Friday and James finds himself on the middle of the dance floor of his favorite club. He lost Peter and Marlene ages ago, but he doesn’t mind too much. James is content to spend the night on his own. He likes music, he likes dancing, he doesn’t need company to enjoy himself.

Tonight though?

Tonight, he’s spotted the most beautiful creature right on the dance floor. He’s got curly hair the color of night that flashes in the dark whenever he turns his head, strands of glitter hidden in his locks. He’s also got glitter on his cheekbones that surely have been carved by the gods because no human being looks like that. The collar of his shirt slips down his slender shoulders, revealing the divot between his collarbones that James wants to kiss and bite.

He makes his way over easily, almost as if the crowd were parting for him. James steps up to he fantasy he’s set his sights on, sliding an arm around his waist. It’s forward, but James Potter has always been a little too cocksure for his own good.

The man he’s dancing with turns his head slightly. James leans in, nose brushing over those curls he so desperately wants to wind his hand in.

“What’s your name?” James calls over the loud music. He nearly needs to shout to be heard, but the dream he has pressed to his front nods his head towards the bar where it’s a little quieter. It takes some maneuvering, but eventually they find themselves in the corner of the club. The loud music is still pounding in their veins, but it’s easier to hear each other.

“Regulus,” the man says. Regulus. His voice is velvety and smooth. “Yours?”

“James,” he says. “Are you here alone?”

He looks around for good measure, making sure no one is looking for Regulus. He’s not sure he could handle it if someone were, though.

Regulus tilts his head, gazing at James through half-lidded eyes. “And if I am?”

“Then I’d ask you to dance with me.”

As if on cue, the song changes. Something slow and seductive. James wants to see how Regulus would look swaying his hips to the beat. Wants to know how he would feel under James’ hands. Wants to taste and see and have.

“And what if I have someone at home?” Regulus asks. James’ eyes catch on the way Regulus bites on his lower lip, thoughtful or teasing, he’s not sure.

“Well, do you?” He reaches up to nudge two fingers under Regulus’ chin, gently grabbing it between his thumb and forefinger. Looks Regulus right in the eye as he replies.

“No,” Regulus says and James thinks he’s got him, surely. But then, “And what if I-”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions,” James interjects with a laugh. He throws his hands up in surrender when Regulus shoots him a cutting glare.

“And what if I think love is a waste of time?” Regulus asks.

James simply leans in close, breath ghosting over the side of Regulus’ face. He sees the way Regulus suppresses a shiver. Victory.

“Then I’d tell you to waste it on me.”

#james is so smooth with it i am unwell #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #jegulus microfic #james x regulus #regulus x james #my writing #mil's microfics

[chloe-caulfield94]

The demonic bargain of the Storm

I think that the most accurate interpretation of Max's nightmare in general and the character of Other Max in particular is that it symbolizes an internal struggle of Max against her fear, self-doubt and self-loathing. I think that interpretation most likely corresponds to what the writers intended and is most firmly rooted in the game.

Having said that, I think there's also a different interpretation that fits the events of the game quite well. Not a psychological, but a metaphysical interpretation of Max's nightmare and the final choice. In which Other Max is not just a figment of Max's mind and the Storm is not just a meteorological phenomenon. Rather, they are both facets of an independent, conscious and malicious entity. An entity of the kind that we usually call demons.

Now, one might say that a demon would be out of place in Life is Strange. Would it really be, though? In Season 1 and BtS there's plenty of metaphysical events already.

Max's reality bending power that despite the best efforts of Max, Chloe and Warren cannot be explained away using "chaos theory". Chaos theory could only be used to explain the reverberating effects of rewinding time. But it most certainly doesn't explain how Max is manipulating time with a flick of her wrist.

Rachel's fire and/or wind based power, which was only teased and never thoroughly explored, but definitely seemed to escape any rational explanation.

Numerous sightings of various "spirit animals".

Rachel's ghost, in the form a doe, guiding Max to Rachel's grave.

Chloe's visions of William, which may have been just nightmares, but may also have been her communing with the dead.

The blue butterfly, which may have been a guardian angel, or another spirit animal, or something else entirely, but most certainly wasn't just an insect.

Life is Strange has always had a strong undercurrent of spiritualism and mysticism. Just listen to one of Samuel's talks.

So with all that already present in the game, is a demon really that far out?

Let's imagine that just like Samuel said, there's a powerful spirit lingering in Arcadia Bay. However, that being is anything but benevolent. You could call it a demon, you could call it a vengeful local deity. Maybe it has always been always hostile. Or maybe it is just a reflection of the hearts and souls of Arcadia Bay's dwellers. And as the dwellers became more and more hateful, cruel and greedy, they tainted the town's spirit too, making it malevolent.

Whatever it was and however it came to be the way it was in October of 2013, the spirit had acquired a taste for evil.

And the dwellers of Arcadia Bay provided a steady supply of it. Sadists kidnapping and tormenting others for their sick "art". Bullies driving others to the brink with their hatred. Drug dealers preying on minors.

But evil acts done by evil people quickly become predictable. Boring.

And that's when Max came back to town. Someone unique. Someone with a beautiful heart. Full of love, strength and courage, even if Max herself didn't realize it yet.

Just like Jefferson wanted to turn the "innocence" of his victims into "corruption", to taint, despoil, contaminate, brand them, the spirit wanted to do the same to Max. It wanted to empty her heart of love. To break her strength. To replace her courage with doubt. And that would be achieved by tempting Max, the genuinely good, kind and well-meaning person, into commiting the worst sin of all.

In the interpretation I'm proposing, the final choice represents Max being tempted to sin. The sin she is being tempted to commit is the rejection of love. Just like love (both romantic and platonic) is the root of everything good in the world, the rejection of love is the ultimate sin, in which all other sins are contained - hatred, greed, cruelty, disdain. Max is tempted to reject Chloe's love, to take back her own love, to erase it, to make it so that it never even happened.

One could say it's unfair to maintain that sacrificing Chloe would be a sin on Max's part, because she would do it to save the town. But that's the whole point! Temptation is not about presenting someone with a choice that is obviously evil, both at its core and at the surface. Temptation is about presenting someone with a choice that is evil in its essence, but is dressed up as something else. Usually it's dressed up as something alluring, something pleasurable.

But the best kind of temptation (and by "best" I mean the most insidious and most effective) way of tempting is to present something evil as something that would lead to "a greater good". To present something evil as a "necessary evil". To make someone consciously commit an act of evil by inducing in them a mistaken belief that there's no other way forward but to commit this act of evil.

That's precisely what Max is being tempted with. She is told to become an "everyday hero". To save her hometown. But to do that, she must commit the ultimate sin - reject love. This is truly a demonic bargain.

In my mind, by tearing up the photograph, Max defeats her tempation. She sees through the rotten, sadistic deal she has been offered. She chooses not to commit an act of evil. Rejecting love and friendship, taking back the hope you've given someone, leaving them to die alone, abandoned and afraid - it's always an act of evil. Always a sin. No matter what it would accomplish on the physical plane.

There is no such thing as a necessary evil. EVIL IS NEVER NECESSARY. And a lesser evil is evil still. You are only responsible for the things you choose. So if you choose evil, you are responsible for it. Even if it's a lesser evil, even if you've deluded yourself into thinking that it's a necessary one.

If you're presented with a choice to stop a greater evil at the cost of commiting a lesser evil and you refuse to do so, that doesn't make you responsible for the greater evil. On the contrary, it shows you chose no evil at all.

#max caulfield #chloe price #pricefield #life is strange #lis #bae vs bay

[bangtanintotheroom]

Where is Everybody?

Hello there! So, this post here is gonna be a doozy, but I need to get some things off my chest and hopefully, I can get some answers at the end of the day.

For the last few months, I’ve noticed a significant downtick in interactions on here. And it’s not just for my blog, quite a few of my moots seem to going through the same issue as well.

On top of that, the ever-present issue of liking over reblogging seems to have just gotten worse.

The main question I want to ask is why?

I know the holidays are a busy time for many people, but compared to last year when I joined, it almost feels like a ghost town. I ask if people want to see teasers or graphics I made and out of the significant amount of followers, I only get a handful interacting, many of them my moots (ily guys so much and appreciate you mwah 💋)

I was letting it slide until I saw the amount of notes Offsite Services has been getting. Mind you, it’s a drabble collection based off of Fanservice, which judging by notes, is one of my most infamous works. Here’s a comparison:

Fanservice: 1,877 notes

Offsite Services: 180 notes with Up Close and Personal having 242 notes while “Bear” with Me only has 111 notes

You see what I mean? Offsite Services only has just under 10% of Fanservice’s notes. And they’re in the same series!

It’s bothering me because so many people for months have been asking for updates for this series. Now that I started it back up, it’s practically radio silence and it’s highly discouraging. It definitely cemented my decision to work on whatever speaks to me at the moment and not try to rush things out, only for it to get little recognition.

And to get back to the likes/reblogs issue, lately, it’s seemed like it’s worsened these last couple of months. I know there’s a lot of users who shifted here from Twitter thanks to the madness that’s been going on, but you need to understand something:

Likes do not spread our work around.

Works can get buried within tags, especially if they don’t have a large amount of notes, which makes it harder to get recognition. By reblogging, it introduces our fics to a wider audience, even if you only have a handful of followers. Believe me, it helps!

And feedback is always helpful as well! You don’t even have to write a full essay, something along the lines of ‘thank you for writing this!’ or ‘wiofwoihih this was SO GOOD’ is highly appreciated.

Also, my ask box is always open, for anons and non-anons. If you want to talk about something or just say hi or discuss a fic or WIP, don’t be shy! I might not respond right away, but that’s because I’m busy or at work. I only won’t respond if it’s a request (REQUESTS ARE CLOSED INDEFINITELY)  or someone demanding I update a fic (which hasn’t happened yet, thank God).

I don’t want to drag this on much longer, so I want to just cap this off by asking again why there’s less people interacting lately. These are the answers I came up with:

1. BTS’ hiatus (which doesn’t make sense to me because now would be the best time to catch up on fan content but 🤷🏾‍♀️)

2. Taking a break from Tumblr

3. Not enough time to read

Again, these are only my theories, but I won’t know for sure unless you guys tell me. If you know the reason why and would like to tell me, feel free to come to my ask box. All I ask is that you don’t be rude or extremely defensive; whatever reason you might have is valid and I’m not trying to start any fights. I just want some clarity to help ease this question that’s been bothering me for the last couple of months.

Thank you so much if you read all of this, I appreciate it greatly. I hope everyone has a steady 2023 and I wish you all the best. 💕

- AJ 💜

#rambles #important

[soraviie]

you're a writer.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ navigation

━ about: fluff   ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: “Swiftly.”

“Eeeehhhhh.”

“Rapidly.”

“Eeeeeeeehhhh.”

“With increasing speed.”

“Now that one,” you laugh dryly. “Was the worst.”

He scoffs, glaring at you from the side of the couch, and proceeds to toss a newspaper onto the angular coffee table. 

“Well, if you’re going to be unpleasant,” he remarks, pretending to leave. Immediately you jump out of the seat, pencils scattering in all directions, and hang on his elbow, much to his chagrin, disappointment, and overall annoyance. 

“No, please, I promise I’ll behave,” you plead, swinging back and forth. “Just help a fellow struggling artist out. Oh, please, oh, Great Namjoon!”

For a second, the facade of unwillingness cracks, and his lips quirk in a fleeting smile but he’s quick to cement it. 

“A struggling artist, my foot,” he growls. “You’ve been sitting on your ass and watching Tik-Tok videos instead of revising.”

The said ass gets a pinch and you yelp but have no excuse for it. 

“I was,” softly, you agree. “I was simply enraptured by your thirst traps.”

Just for good measure, you fan your eyelashes but unfortunately, you’re at the point of your relationship, where Joon has smelt your bullshit for so long, he’s developed immunity towards it. 

“Enraptured?” he smirks. “Now you’re sounding like a writer.”

Derisively shoving him away, you stomp towards the desk, to glare at the jumbled mess of words that wear the thinnest veneer of a masquerading plot.

“Okay, see how you like when I dedicate my book to my editor, my friends, the dog our neighbour owns, anyone but you!...meanie.”

Not even a second passes when with a chuckle, Namjoon leans down to lay a soft kiss against your neck. 

“Okay, okay, struggling, starving artist, I’ll help you but just for an hour, okay? We have to sleep.”

Seeing your rainbow in the rain, you hum agreeably. 

“An hour will do.”

“So…Abruptly?”

“Nah.”

“Hastily?”

“No,” you take one of the pencils thrown haphazardly on the desk and tap the rubber end against your lips. “What about - swiftly?”

“That’s the first thing I said!”

YOONGI: Your apartment is haunted and yet unfortunately you’re not writing a horror story and hence discard this discovery for later use. All you see and hear right now is the rain in the Canadian plains and not the traffic outside. For you, the desk is a rock, the papers littered with notes, plot points, character names, and vapid "use-this-not-this" notes make the ground. 

You reach to your left, grasping around thin air, not daring to even look away. Writing was magic and often involved time travel - you looked away for one second, and the next thing you know it’s been three months and instead of half a book, you have three pages. 

To your great misery, no matter which corner of the desk you shove your greedy, clutching hand, it simply grasps no cup of coffee. Dejected, you can only sigh to yourself. The ghost must have taken it. 

And yet mere minutes pass and you can smell the wafting scent of a good cup of coffee. At this point, you could swear that it produces a cartoon-like effect, wisping around you enticing tendrils that flow up your nose, reducing your brain to mush. Blindly, you stretch your fingers, grasp the cup, and drink. For a two year old that sort of thing would be quite the achievement. Shame you’re not two…Physically at least. Yoongi always laughed that your mind was two years old. Starkly recalling the fact that there was such a thing as Min Yoongi and your boyfriend, both of whom created a circle in a Venn diagram, you at last drag your eyes away from the cursor and with a crick in the neck, find him standing in the doorway, sporting a tender, almost imperceptible smile. 

“Ow,” you groan, putting a palm to soothe the aching muscles. “You’re home early this evening. Been here long?”

“Give or take two days,” he laughs and does so even louder when your eyes bug out of your forehead. Blinking repeatedly you realize the day and that, just as a fact in passing, Yoongi’s vacation started two days ago. 

“No!” you gasp. “No, I went to sleep and all!”

“And didn’t notice me in the slightest,” he forces out in between lingering pauses of laughter. “You kept muttering about being haunted.”

“No!” you hide in the palm of your hands, mortified. “You were the ghost?”

“The fact that your first assumption is a literal undead specter and not your boyfriend taking care of you is highly upsetting,” he shook his head pitifully. You rise to your feet, throwing your arms around his neck. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I was…somewhere else.”

“No worries,” he pats your back, twirling a strand of your hair when you part. “I know what it’s like. You’re ready to join the world of human society or are you with the cursed villagers still?”

“I’m with my boyfriend. Promise,” you kiss his cheek, quickly darting to close the laptop, just not before making sure for the thousandth time that it was all properly saved.

“Good,” he hums. “As amusing as it is to watch you be so absorbed, I’d like to cash in my boyfriend privileges.”

“What unfair deal will you stick me with?” you bemoan and he snakes an arm around your waist. 

“Just a light massage. I’ve got some kinks to work out.”

“In all meanings of the word,” you mutter underneath your nose but he hears it and squeezes your waist tighter with a cocky smile.

JIN: “You don’t have to come. I’m alright coming home and celebrating with you. Privately," with a steady hand, you lay the final touches on your makeup and peer at him through the reflection of the mirror. Other than a form-fitting suit, Jin was wearing a deeply conflicted expression and to him, it didn't matter how many times you assured him of the opposite - he felt like a bad partner.

"You've always supported me," he muttered. "Came to greet me even when people were rude to you."

"You know, I don't care for most people," you shrugged, sliding a small bag onto the crook of your elbow. "So it doesn't much matter."

"Okay, psycho," he tries to humor, either you or himself who knows but either way, it falls flatter than wanted. As he's leaning against the wall, you press a kiss to his cheek, wiping the faint smudge of the gloss away from his skin.

"Whatever you decide, I won't take offense," you remarked in a low voice.

"But it's your night!"

"And my night never started or ended with strangers."

You shudder when the cold night seized your body, quickly rushing towards the car. Glimpsing at the clockface, you draw a huge sigh of relief. Unexpectedly, you were still on schedule. God knows why, but for some reason, you had the bizarre habit of being late to your own novel reveal.

"To the arts center, boss?" the driver inquires politely and you cast him a soft, welcoming smile.

"Exactly."

You give one last glimpse towards the apartment building before the car speeds away into the relative quiet of a Thursday evening.

For a writer, your speech was rather unimaginative, simple, and straight to the point. Thank you all for coming, enjoy the cocktails, enjoy the conversation and let the work speak for itself. At the end of the whole ordeal which was publishing a book, you were dry on words and preferred the ones that mattered, ones caught in the pages of two thick covers. You gift gracious smiles to all those who approach you, even the reporters who manage to irritate every single ounce of your nervous system. Good grief, how did Jin manage this day and night, you sighed, no wonder the man treated gatherings as a plague. As you stand to the side, successfully enjoying some peace of mind, a bouquet of plump flowers swims into your eyesight.

"Good evening, beautiful," Jin exhales smoothly, biting down on a cheeky grin. "You wouldn't mind if I kidnap you for a moment?"

Beaming, you cross your arms around his waist.

"I'm all yours," you purr. "After all that's what the story was about."

Jin's ears gain some notable blush despite the valiant efforts to remain unbothered.

"They killed their kidnapper," he objected demurely but that made your smile all the wider.

"They were a stronger person than I am."

HOSEOK: "You should publish," he belts out of the blue, forcing you to raise your gaze up from the paper and focus on the other side of the bed, where he sat, phone discarded in his lap and eyes boring into yours almost fearfully.

"What, why?" you laugh before picking up the sentence where you left it off.

"You write all the time. It's like you're addicted to it," he shrugs, presumably just so, baring no other intentions, though he was also using that "soft" voice, the one he wields whenever he wanted to change your mind. "You have entire books, completed, ready to go. Collecting dust."

"Writing is my hobby, similar to how some people knit, nothing more to it," brushing him off, you try to force your mind to retain two completely different trains of thought. One - why was Hobi using his "soft" voice and the second one - the amount of mud generated in a 19th-century backstreet alley. A completely normal thing to ponder about when in bed with an unfairly attractive man. Okay, maybe he wasn't too delusional about the addiction. With a sigh, you push the scribbled notebook away.

"I just enjoy writing. I'm afraid that if you want to publish anything that I compose, it would have to be posthumous," you scrunch your face in mocking sorrow. "You can be the grieving widow, shining a light on your partner's life's work."

His eyes glint unkindly in the muted bedroom light.

"That's not even remotely funny, ______________," he scolds. "But don't you want to...express yourself? Show your talent to the world?"

Tucking your feet under covers and pressing against the warmth of his chest, you give it a sweeping thought but remain just as indifferent.

"Showmanship is your thing," you mutter, feeling the slight tickle of his fingers brushing against your hip. "I put everything on these pages. I repaint my own life, sometimes the life that I want, or think I wanted..." at this, you trail off, thinking of the multitudes of worlds, finished and unfinished, modern and ancient, everything from the horrifying deep of the unknown to the soft passing of loving Tuesdays.

"I don't feel comfortable sharing them just yet," you conclude with a sigh. "Maybe one day, just...not right now."

"You share them with me," Hoseok notes tenderly and you smile at his obliviousness.

"Well, obviously, I share them with you," you say and the space between his eyebrows wrinkles in confusion. You lay in silence, drumming your fingers against his chest, at times of lingering pauses feeling the steady beat of his heart.

"What are you thinking about?" he hums, tightening his embrace.

"19th-century mud."

He snorts.

JIMIN: At this point, you began to regret ever giving him the manuscript. It's 2 in the morning and your head thrums with lack of sleep but the side of Jimin's bed still remains brightly lit as his feet occasionally kick at the duvet. Glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he nibbles at the skin of his fingers, eyes breezing through the pages. Any moment now he'll start sweating.

"Stop that," you admonish him gently, pushing the hand away from his mouth. Dazed, he stares at you.

"Is it morning already?" he asks, croaking almost.

"If it would be morning, I'd kill you," you groan, plucking the book from his hands.

"Hey, I was reading that!"

"And now you're not," you retort casually, flinging your proverbial baby in the nondescript corner of the room, wrapping yourself like a liana around Jimin's squirming figure.

"Just one more chapter," he pleads.

"No."

With a defeated sigh, he slumps in your arms, only stretching briefly to flick off the light in what could only be described as a petulantly displeased manner. Darkness envelopes you whole.

"You worked hard on this story," he grumbles. "Shouldn't you treat it with more care?"

You don't give in to his attempts on provoking you, on dragging the night longer, instead, you simply let your eyes fall shut.

"That story is in my head and currently that head is turning into granola from lack of sleep so if you want to be a good fanboy, let me sleep."

"Fine," he huffs before whispering, now far timider. "You will sign a copy for me, right? When it's officially out?"

If not for you holding him down, he'd be twirling his thumbs.

"Babe, when the time comes, I'll sign your ass," you promise only partly joking. "Just, please, shut up and go to sleep."

"This needs to be taken out, I don't like this, and what the hell is this plot point all about?"

Rolling your eyes, the drone of your editor becomes a vague chatter, a creek gurgling somewhere in the wild that puts you in a state of removed consciousness. All the more startling was the phone call buzzing against your thigh. Jumping out of the seat, you glance at the screen and exit the room despite the tantrum unfolding behind you.

Jimin didn't usually call mid-day, too ensnared in his own duties, and looking at the screen now, you find you don't like this new development as your mind jubilantly assumed the worst.

"Hi," you greet him anxiously. "Is everything okay?"

Only sobs could be heard from the other line. Immediately, your hands grow cold and your knees buck.

"Jimin! What happened?!"

At last, through a vicious array of snot and breathy pants, he cries out.

"I'm dating a murderer!"

For a second you stand bewildered, temporarily lagging behind. Nonetheless, when it all catches up to you, creating a large, sensible pattern, you curse, drawing a heavy sigh of relief. He must have finished reading the story.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

But he keeps crying further and even knowing it was far from being anything serious, your heart clenches at the sound of it.

"It's alright," you try to comfort him. "Put the manuscript down and go for a walk - wait!" you glance at the watch around your wrist. Jimin's present. "Shouldn't you be rehearsing?"

"I told them I'm not feeling good and took a day off to finish reading," he wails and you can feel the telltale sign of an oncoming headache. "Only for you to kill them in the end!" Through the endless weeping, you can only discern a few phrases of "favorite characters" and "cruelty".

"Change the ending!" he demands and for a second you remove the phone away from your ear, grimace at his antics before diving back into the conversation. Nonsense of a conversation.

"I'm not going to do that," numbly, you reply. "That's how the story goes. They die watching a sunrise."

"And you killed the dog too!"

"Yes," resigned completely, you nod along despite him not being able to see it. "I killed the dog too. You'll have to make peace with it."

For a lingering moment, there hangs only silence, before he sniffles, thoroughly dejected.

"Your heart knows no mercy," he accuses, then adds, begrudgingly sincere. "Love you."

"Love you more," you smile and then shake your head when he ends the call.

TAEHYUNG: It was barely any secret, Taehyung wanted attention. Hell, ask him and he'll say so but this was not attention per se. He was not watched out of loving thought but of clinical intent. Uncannily, he felt too much like a lab rat in the middle of his apartment, pouring milk into cereal. Warily lifting his gaze, he meets your deadset, cold eyes and flinches.

"Good morning?" he utters. You keep staring at him for a moment, before gathering your notebook and leaving the kitchen without so much as a word. Or a vowel even. Lifting a spoon of cereal to his mouth Taehyung wondered - had he done something wrong? You don't necessarily shy away from his touch or remain silent should he ask something, despite the answers being a tad absent-minded so he shrugs it away. Odd moon phases perhaps. But days pass and he feels a shudder rack his spine, freezing him mid-way with a bottle of water.

Leaning against the table, your eyes are set on him, observing his movements down to the most minuscule detail, wearing a face with zero expression. He puts down the bottle and awkwardly shuffles out of the room. When the evening settles he finds you slumbering unsightly on the sofa, hair in the face, mouth open, and notebook precariously perched upon your lap, with the pen rolled away. As any good boyfriend, he takes a picture to aggravate you with later and moves in to stir you awake, only for his gaze to catch sight of various names scribbled on the pages of the notebook. Delicately he wrenches it free and reads, recalling that for the past few weeks you seemed to be glued to this thing. To his bewilderment, he begins to piece together a string of plot, and listing back to the beginning he realizes this was your very own story.

When you wake, back a knotted mess, the sound of giggling could be faintly heard from the kitchen. Rubbing at your tired eyes, you find Taehyung sitting by the table, and with no small amount of horror you recognize your writing pad clutched between his grimy fingers.

"Give that back," you cry out, snatching it away from him in an instant, even hiding it behind your back, hoping that out of sight out of mind was real. Though he tries to remain serious, his lips flutter with unshed laughter.

"I know it's bad. You don't have to rub it in," you grumble and he rushes to capture your face between his palms, irritatingly still laughing.

"It's not bad!" he assures, gaze softening at the sight of your anguish. "I just think it's so cute you based your main character on me."

You blink.

"You and Kaz have nothing in common."

He cocks an eyebrow, drawling an arid:

"Really?"

"You don't! Two completely different people."

"Brown, floppy hair," he lifts up one of his curls. "Brown eyes, likes jazz music."

"Lots of people like jazz music," you mumble underneath your nose and he tucks you into a hug.

"Sure, baby," he laughs, graciously ignoring your bristling. "I can't wait to read more."

You slumped in his arms, cheek lifting in a small smile. He just couldn't resist.

"Of me, obviously."

JUNGKOOK: "How fast do you think a person bleeds out after being shot?"

The question is posed so unconcernedly that it takes a while for Jungkook to register its meaning. When he does, the hand caressing your bare leg, laying in his lap, freezes. Even your eyes were still glued to the movie and he ponders whether you realized the question was even spoken out loud and not locked behind the confines of your mind.

"I don't know," he shrugs. "Depends where on the body, I think."

You hum and the conversation stops there.

"How much would it hurt to have this jammed into the eye?" you question once again out loud, holding a metal straw over the breakfast he cooked for you. Just as before, your face gains some level of absence and Jungkook quickly grasps it means you were not really here.

"A lot," he responds, suspecting and increasingly concerned about the possibility of you having intrusive thoughts. Yet when he voices this, you brush it aside, laughing that it was just a passing idea. Wary, he believes you, afraid of otherwise.

But then you mumble a name in your sleep. And it's not his name. Steam rising to his face, he can feel his blood boiling as you keep moaning someone else's name. At last his patience breaks. Roughly shaking you awake, he tongues at his cheek.

"What?" groggily, you mutter, desperately trying to process the situation. "What happened?"

"You were muttering in your sleep," hearing it now, Jungkook understands that it might sound just a little silly but obstinately, he keeps at it. "A name. Not mine."

However, instead of cursing him out or being annoyed, your gaze drops to the duvet, flustered.

"_________, the truth," he orders sternly. "Please."

You bite on your lip but ultimately crumple under his piercing stare and head hung low from shame, paddle towards the desk. Confused, he watches you open up your laptop and show him a document.

"Misfortunately, Yours," it read. "Chapter One. Drastic Consequences to a Hurried Decision Making."

"Oh, thank God," he gasps, dropping back on the bed as relief floods his system. "Thank you, ancestors."

"I don't see how they're a part of this," you grouse but it remains unheard.

For some reason, Jungkook doesn't stop thinking of that night as he pours through the entire neighborhood, in vain hopes of trying to find you. Deep snow has descended upon the world, coating everything in mountains of white obstruction. Obstruction which at this moment Jungkook desperately wanted to get rid of. Perhaps had he cheered more for you, helped you edit better...perhaps the outcome would have been different. Maybe the blow wouldn't have hit you this hard.

With freezing fingers, you numbly re-read, the last passage of the book review column, printed in the national newspaper.

"Misfortunately Yours" is nothing but pulpy, self-inflated scribble of an inexperienced pen person, writing out their fantasies on a page when it should be contained to archives of the dark internet. Offering to us, readers, nothing but ambiance, it lacks everything from characterization to a solid backstory or really anything to grip the audience's interest. 1 of 5 stars."

Well, that's that then.

"_____________! ____________!" a desperate voice calls from the distance and apathetically you meet it's familiar owner. Jungkook's jacket is unbuttoned and one end of his scarf is dragging against the shoveled snow. "Oh, baby!"

At the sound of his coos, the sting of repressed tears gnaws at your eyes.

"You're freezing," he exclaims, wrapping a scarf around your neck whilst wrenching you away from the bench. You really were cold.

"It's going to be okay," Jungkook whispers against the shell of your ear, rubbing his palms against your shoulders - warming you up. "It's going to be okay. Just don't give up. No one can decide whether you're a writer or not. That's entirely up to you."

On the way home, you toss the newspaper into the trash, without looking back.

© soraviii/soraviie 2022-2023

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