wifeofkimtaehyungofbts

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Chapter 8

Pairing: Jimin x Y/N

Synopsis: How do you help someone with their emotions if you don’t feel emotions? When your brother’s best friend dies in a tragic car accident and he spirals downwards in depression, you devote yourself to helping him out of his misery. But when his other best friend becomes suicidal following the loss, it isn’t merely about helping them. It’s about saving them.

Word count: 1300+

Previous / Next

*****

The soft click of our apartment door follows me as I make my way through the dark living room towards my haven.

The mere thought of falling against the plush mattress and snuggling into my silk pillows hazes my senses, a wave of drowsiness pulling me under fast and deep.

I drag my feet to my bedroom, wondering how long it would be before Jungkook returns. I miss my brother a little more every day. Before the accident, he doted on me, caring and affectionate in a way that made the absence of our parents feel almost non-existent. Since the accident, however, he’s been a different person. My once attentive brother is now ignorant and negligent. The other day, I had to not only do his laundry but also stock the refrigerator. He used to ask me how my day went and would pick me up after work on most days. But I walked myself home two days ago after he “forgot” to pick me up and had instead come home straight to movies and video games.

Rubbing my chest above my heart to ease the ache of missing my brother, I reach for the door handle to my room. A sudden tumble of items startles me, the noise echoing in the empty apartment.

Swiveling my head in the direction of the noise, I tip toe towards Jimin’s room. Soft grunts and whispers fill the darkness, bizarre visions crossing my mind.

What if he brought someone over? Would he though? Bring a woman to my brother’s apartment when he is away? Then again, maybe this is the usual and Jungkook has no issue with it. What the hell am I doing approaching the scene of action???

I stand a few inches in front of his door, listening.

Silence.

A few grunts.

Silence.

“I told you to be quiet.”

As soon as the sentence is spoken, the door opens abruptly. I freeze in my spot as I look up at our guest’s bloodshot eyes.

The soft brown has dulled, a deep red inking the whites.

His tired brown bores into my curious gaze. Never blinking, merely staring. Feeling uncomfortable under his unwavering stare, I look behind him. The lights are off in the room and there is no other movement. Did she jump through the window?

“Umm…,” I break the stiff silence, realizing the urgency to explain why I was standing outside his room while he was probably getting hot and heavy in there. “I heard something. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Cocking an elegant eyebrow at me, he sidesteps me, closing the door behind him with a rough thud and walking past me without a word.

My throat tightens as I tolerate more of his coldness. As if living with my brother who’s been nothing short of rude to me these days wasn’t enough, now I got to put up with another.

No.

I refuse to let either of them overpower me. This is my house too. In fact, it’s been my home for a long while now and I refuse to allow anyone to make me feel uncomfortable in my own space.

“You know, there’s something called being polite,” I say, staring at his retreating back.

He stops at the threshold to the living room but doesn’t turn around.

“Hmm?” he simply says.

The lack of response and refusal to acknowledge my presence was pissing me off. I’ve just had a long day at work and had several uber drivers cancel on me tonight. I stood in the chilly breeze for more than forty minutes till I gave up searching for an uber and stopped a taxi on the road. My appetite is shrinking a little bit more everyday and if that isn’t bad enough, my sleep cycle has gone for a six too. I can no longer stay up past 9pm and I have difficulty waking up in the mornings. Work I could’ve finished in two hours or so overnight pile up, which I have to squeeze in and finish during work the next day before my team leader shows up. And if he sees me rushing to complete it, he gives me an earful about irresponsibility and lack of punctuality. The last thing I want on my plate is to handle my brother’s and his friend’s attitudes.

I walk towards him, standing before him as I look him dead in the eyes.

“I said, there’s something called being polite. Ever heard about it?” I say, anger increasing the volume of my voice.

He simply stares at me, nonchalance written all over his features.

Why does he look at me like I’m a thorn in his side? He doesn’t even know me! I’m barely even around the guy to irritate him!

“You seem to have forgotten that you’re crashing our place, not the other way around. So how about be a little nice to your hosts?” I suggest, crossing my hands in front of my chest.

“Sure,” he drawls, scoffing.

A glint of arrogance sets his eyes alive, a newfound excitement adorning his features.

A couple of beats pass before I speak. “Look,” I sigh. “My brother’s told me to look over you when he isn’t here. That’s why I concern myself with you, because trust me, I otherwise wouldn’t care if you dropped dead in front of me.”

A sudden wave of undecipherable emotion flashes across his face. One second he’s looking down at me like I am insignificant and the next, he’s grabbing me by the throat.

The sudden motion shocks me speechless.

“What…?” I croak.

“Don’t you ever, and I mean ever, use that word around me again,” he snarls in my face.

He must notice the genuine confusion on my face, because he clarifies, “It must mean nothing to you for someone to drop dead in front of you, but let me tell you something. It. Fricking. Sucks.”

“I- I’m… so-… orry,” I whisper, staring into his dark eyes.

When did they become so dark?

“Oh, are you now?” he snickers, tightening his hand around my throat. “Your brother told me about you. That you have difficulties articulating emotions. That you could possibly be suffering from alexithymia. But you know what I think?”

Tears blur my vision at the thought of my brother discussing my personal business with his friends. Close or not, he knows how sensitive this topic is to me. I’ve struggled for years with my condition, not having a name for it, not knowing the severity of it. To have it thrown at my face by people who know absolutely nothing about me is hurtful.

“I think,” he continued. “I think you’re just a bitch.”

If words could physically slice open my chest, it would be the ones he just spoke.

“You are ignorant of other people’s feelings and hide behind the excuse of oh I cannot understand feelings, I’m sorry. But are you? Are you really sorry?”

It was difficult for me to think let alone act with his grip tightening around my neck with each word.

“Because if you’re really sorry, you’d do something about your condition. But no, you’re keeping it so you can use it as a pitiful excuse for your even more pitiful personality.”

His words were like punch after punch to my chest, the force of each stronger than the one before.

He releases me like he’s disgusted to be holding me.

“I’d really appreciate it if you stayed the hell away from me,” he said, brushing past me into the living room.

Hot tears run down my cheeks, dripping to the cold floor. Massaging my neck, I recalled his words over and over again.

You’re just a bitch.

Are you really sorry?

Do something about your condition.

As much as I wanted to call the authorities on him and scream at my brother to kick the abusive jerk out of our apartment, I couldn’t deny the truth ringing in his words.

Holding my palm beneath my face, I catch the dripping tears.

One. Two. Three, four. Five. Six, seven.

I’m crying, so why am I not feeling sad? I know I’m sad, but I don’t feel it.

Why?

#bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts #BTS jimin #park jimin #bts park jimin #bts jimin x reader #bts jimin x y/n #park jimin fanfic #BTS jungkook #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #bts kim taetae #BTS v #Steadfast

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

first music show win with i need u in 2015

first mma daesang win in 2016

first billboard no.1 with dynamite in 2020

first concert "the red bullet" in 2014

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

This scene reminded me of something I had tucked away in a corner of my mind, hidden safely from my mischievous conscious.

Growing up, I used to wonder what happens after we leave this world. Do we really go to Heaven or scale down the pole to the fires of Hell? Or do we just disappear? Our energy, our being, our soul... do they just vanish?

The law of conservation of energy states that energy cannot be created nor destroyed. In line with this, its safe to assume we cannot simply disappear. Our energy must go somewhere.

So I concluded that we probably wake up in our favourite place to our favourite people. They'll tell us they've been waiting for us and to hurry up, we gotta go.

"Where?" I'd ask.

"You'll see," they'll say.

And I'll close my eyes, breathing in my mother's favourite perfume and listening to my father grumble about corrupt politics with my older sister as I lean against my younger one, drifting off to sleep.

Peaceful, endless, absolute sleep.

#bts #yet to come

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

"Breathe. I got you. We’ll get through this. Just breathe for me."

He will protect you from your bad days and bring you happiness

Pairing: Chubby Librarian Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: Written on my phone.

Deep blue eyes, plush pink lips, large, warm hands.

His hands cradle your face, keeping you where he so desperately needs you, soft praise whirls around you like a warm summer breeze, each word accompanies one, two sweet kisses that seem to nourish you, cherish you as they skin into your skin. No part of you left untouched. No part of you left vulnerable.

Bucky gathers all you, everything you would normally hide, keep to yourself, listening to that piercing voice saying don’t be a burden, don’t be too much. He sees you, his deep blue eyes piercing through your armor, stripping away your defensives.

“You’re not,” he promises, pressing a warm and sweet kiss on your lips, the taste of cherry vanilla whiskey on his tongue. “You’re not too much for me, I’ll take everything you want to give, all of you, Petal.”

He takes all the sharp broken bits, the fragile needy pieces worn down by the world, your frantically beating heart chipping around the borders, so foolish and sweet and yearning for love. His love. Bucky gives it to you, all of him, his heart, his soul, his laughter at three am when you’re cuddled under one too many blankets, enchanting you with his deep, smooth voice as he reads from his favorite book.

Parts of him seep around your rough, ragged guarded edges, furling around you in hazy waves until he’s engrained in you. Holding you together until you’re able to do it yourself, vowing that you’ll never have to do it alone,his hands on yours, carrying the weight of the world for you. Always for you. Because you’re worth it. Because he can’t fathom doing anything less. 

Those bad days. The ones that seem to knock you off your feet-leaving you stunned and winded-suddenly aren’t so bad, don’t hurt as much. Don’t leave you gasping for air. Don’t leave you spiraling. Not with him, pressing his forehead on yours, so close his eyelashes brush over yours. Breathe. I got you. We’ll get through this. Just breathe for me.

You do. Inhaling him, fresh rain and smoked cedar, tracing your fingers over his palms, smooth and dry, smudges of blue ink in the crevices of his fingertips.

“I got you, I’ll always have you. Today, tomorrow. I got you. Let go and I’ll take care of everything,” whispered sincerely into the curve of your shoulder, his long arms wrapped around your waist, your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart surrounding you, his hands promising to protect you.

It’s a leap of faith-letting someone in. And he knows, he knows how hard it is, how brave you are for entrusting him with your heart. It makes him love you even more, makes him want to be more, be more for you until you don’t need anything else. Until everything else becomes a want, things that used to take precedence in your mind-hurtful opinions, fear of failure, loneliness-are no longer significant because Bucky is there to combat everything, everyone on your behalf.

He feeds off your happiness, wanting more and more. He’s greedy. Unabashedly so. He told you once, when it was you and him in the library as he was taking the books he stashed for you out of the hiding place under his desk. Was it wrong to tell people that the shipment was delayed? Maybe. Was it worth it to see your eyes light up, to have the chance to lean across the counter and kiss you until he was breathless, to have the taste of your smile on his lips? Yes.

Bucky knows he won’t be able to fight every battle, to have all answers, to know the right words. But he’ll try. If you let him, he swears he’ll try for you. He’ll learn what makes you happy, sad, angry and everything in between so he can give you good things, make you happy. If you let him, Bucky will be the man you need, the one person you can always depend on.

And you’ll get all of him.

Deep blue eyes, plush pink lips, large, warm hands. 

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Guess who’s back?

Elo peeps! I am back with a new chapter of #Angels 😁

I am finally getting around to updating my fan fictions and hopefully I can upload another chapter soon!

Thank you for reading my works 💕

#bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #BTS v #bts kim taetae #kim taheyung #bts v x reader #bts v x y/n #taehyung fan fiction #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #Angels

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Chapter 15

>> Pairing: Taehyung x Y/N, Taehyung x reader

>> Words: 1,299

>> Notes: I’m going to upload a new chapter whenever possible. Please bear with my hectic schedule! You may leave asks and let me know what you think of my writing (:

Synopsis: You run into a rather strange man one night. He seems terrified, as if fighting battles only he can see. He seems detached from the world, talking only to a voice inside his head. Oh, another strange fact: he keeps talking about angels. You discover later that you were the angel he was praying to.

>> Previous / Next

***

Did you see that?

Why would he do that?

Young kids these days...

Loud whispers fill my ears as I frantically run from store to store in the bright linoleum floored shopping mall searching for the guy in a white shirt and grey jogging pants.

Where could he be?

The mall is huge, with endless space and a number of corners to run off to. He could be anywhere, or not in the mall at all.

Could he have run back to the apartment?

As observed in his impulsive actions, it is a plausible assumption.

Making my way to the escalator leading to the exit, I glance around one more time. My gaze fixes on a man leaning against the wall just around the corner of a shoe store. He seems to be breathing heavily, his hands grabbing his hair roughly.

I almost sprain my ankle as I jump off the escalator and run towards him. The closer I get to the man, the faster my heart beats.

I grab his sleeve as I reach him, demanding his attention.

Big brown eyes stare into mine with horror, thin lips quivering in fright. He looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Why did you run off?” I ask, my voice high with frustration.

He doesn’t speak, his eyes frantically darting across my face.

His harsh breaths fill the space between us and his eyes lose focus. I suddenly notice the bags under his softening eyes, the healing lip split and sunken cheeks. How come I didn’t notice these before?

Releasing a deep breath, I look at him tenderly.

“Listen, I don’t know why you did what you did, but let’s just go home.”

He nods faintly, unsure of his choices. I wrap my hand around his bigger hand as I lead him out the mall into the cold air, continuing to my apartment hand in hand.

***

I place a hot cup of chocolate milk on the coffee table, smiling gently at the guy seated on the floor with his long legs spread before him.

“Do you know my friend?” I approach the subject cautiously.

He doesn’t speak at first and I almost give up the conversation when his booming voice erupts from somewhere deep in his throat, laced with a sadness I cannot understand.

“Kind of.”

Surprised by his answer, I inquire more.

“How?”

He sighs before continuing. “We went to the same high school. He was good friends with Jimin-ah.”

“Jimin-ah?” I ask, the name not striking a memory.

“He was my best friend,” he says, a noticeable sadness edging his words.

“Was...,” I don’t directly address my curiosity.

“He’s dead,” he dead pans.

A gasp leaves my mouth, unable to hold back my shock.

I can understand why Jungkook nor he ever brought it up. It was too personal and irrelevant to mention to someone you just met at work or ended up staying with for a few days.

However, what piqued my curiosity was the fact that Jungkook didn’t recognise the guy in my apartment although he claims they were school friends.

Maybe he has the wrong guy?

“Where did you school?” I ask, prying for more information than necessary. Afterall, the guy will be leaving in a few days, to wherever he came from and I’ll never see him again.

Strangely, the thought leaves a bitter taste on my tongue, almost as if having him around is what I prefer.

As dangerous as it is bringing home a stranger off the streets- literally- especially for a girl living by herself in the apartment with her only family, Kim Leah, on vacation with her phone switched off, I looked forward to spending more time with this mysterious stranger. There is still so much enigma surrounding his soft brown eyes and overgrown locks of hair falling haphazardly over his forehead.

“In Daegu.”

“Wow! That’s far!” I remark.

Wondering how he got from Daegu to Seoul and ended up homeless on the streets baffles me, raising questions and red flags which I push to the back of my head like every stupid horror movie character right before they are killed off in the most obvious way.

His long fingers wrap around the mug, lifting it off the low table and up to his lips. I watch him blow the steam before taking a small sip. He rolls the chocolate in his mouth before breaking into a breathtakingly beautiful boxy grin.

The skin around his eyes crinkle, his brown bangs bouncing above his crescent, smiling eyes. There’s something so pure and innocent in the way he smiles, as if he is the embodiment of the word kind in a cruel world. The sight of this smiling man takes my breath away.

“Do you like hot chocolate?” I ask, feeling my cheeks warm as I watch him.

He nods enthusiastically, grinning between sips. I watch him with sparkles in my eyes, feeling all sorts of warm and soft for this stranger.

He tilts his head to the side, staring at me while he continues to sip.

“Do you not like hot chocolate?” he asks.

“I am more of a coffee person,” I say, adjusting my hair in a bun.

He scrunches his nose in disgust, making his dislike for coffee known. Cute.

I burst into laughter as he watches me with curiosity.

Setting the mug down, he stares at the dark liquid, licking his lips before drowning the brief silence with an unexpected question.

“Does it feel nice?” he asks.

I stare at him quizzically, raising an eyebrow

“To laugh like that... to be that…. happy... does it feel nice?” he asks, his voice laced with a foreign emotion I cannot comprehend.

My mouth opens but closes again, unable to find an answer.

“W- Why’d you ask?”

“It’s been a while since I felt nice,” he says sadly.

My heart cracks as I take in the sight of the man before me, his frame hunched and the corners of his lips dipping low.

I fight the sudden urge to wrap my arms around him, letting him lay his head against my chest as I soothe his worries, letting him know that he can share his burdens with me if it eases some of the weight.

Instead, I seek an answer for the question plaguing my mind since I brought him over.

“What’s your name?”

He looks up quickly, his eyes large before he gulps loudly.

Fearing I made him uncomfortable, I reiterate my question.

“I was just curious because you know, it’s the first thing people learn about each other.”

Nodding in agreement, he takes a big gulp of the now cold chocolate before answering.

“Taehyung.”

“Taehyung...” I roll the name in my mouth. “Nice to meet you Taehyung” I smile.

A few beats of silence pass before I speak up. “Aren’t you going to ask for mine?”

“I already know” he says, his eyes sparkling.

“What? How?” I ask questioningly.

“Because I named you” he says, breaking into his adorable boxy grin.

“What?” I ask incredulously.

To say I’m confused would be an understatement.

“Daffodil” he reveals proudly.

“Daffodil? But why daffodil?”

“Because,” he smiles gently, his eyes softening. “I like Daffodils, it reminds me of home.”

My heart picks up pace as I start feeling light headed, unsure why my body is reacting this way.

He smiles before standing up and walking towards the kitchen, carrying the mug in both hands as if it was something precious.

I stare at his retreating back, the white shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders as I suddenly realize I want to know more about him. His last name, favourite colour and how crowded his hometown is.

And about Jimin-ah and why he holds the memory of him not just fondly, but sadly.

***

Tag list: @tae-n-u

#bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #BTS v #bts v x reader #bts v x y/n #bts kim taetae #kim taehyung #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x y/n #bts taehyung #taehyung fan fiction #BTS jungkook #BTS jimin #jeon jungkook #park jimin #bts vkook #bts vmin #Angels

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Chapter 7

Pairing: Jimin x Y/N

Synopsis: How do you help someone with their emotions if you don’t feel emotions? When your brother’s best friend dies in a tragic car accident and he spirals downwards in depression, you devote yourself to helping him out of his misery. But when his other best friend becomes suicidal following the loss, it isn’t merely about helping them. It’s about saving them.

Word count: 1400+

Previous / Next

*****

Splash. Splash.

The cold water hits the sides of the bowl as I run to Jungkook, who is sitting on the bed beside the quiet, laying form of Jimin.

Every now and then, Jimin would shudder and murmur softly. Jungkook has been on alert for the past hour since Jimin passed out.

“I have to make a call,” my brother tells me as I soak a towel in the water. “Stay by his side.”

Licking my lips in nervousness, I look over at Jimin’s peaceful form. Assuring my panicking brother that I will take care of his friend while he’s on the call, I take a seat at the edge of the bed.

A deep shade of blue paints Jimin’s toe nails, his feet icy cold. I gently place the back of my hand on his cheek and shudder at the coldness.

Why is he so cold?

Not too long ago he was burning up and now he almost feels dead.

If not for his occasional murmurs and shudders one would assume the boy has left this world.

I contemplate running to the pharmacy for hot packs, worrying of the consequences if Jimin is too cold for too long.

My thoughts are interrupted by my brother’s impatient voice booming in the living room.

“Isn’t that YOUR job?” Jungkook shouts. Walking over to the door of his bedroom, I peek into the living room.

Jungkook was pacing the living room with an agitated look on his face. His left hand was gripping hard at the hair on the side of his head, the piercing above his right eye catching the living room light.

“He’s being taking the medicine as you advised,” Jungkook said before his voice cracked. “But he’s not getting any better.”

The sound of my brother’s voice cracking tore at my heart. I just wanted to wrap my arms around him and assure him his only best friend will be alright. But I didn’t know how.

How to assure him, how to promise him hope, how to be there for him.

Struggling with my own demons and identity crisis, I don’t remember the last time I felt emotions. I know I’m “happy” living with my brother and I feel “sad” every year my father’s death anniversary comes around.

But knowing isn’t enough, emotions must be felt. And I don’t know how to feel.

“Well you’re not the one here! It’s easy for you to say!” Jungkook barks before hanging up.

Shaking his head, he starts walking towards his bedroom, stopping when he spots me watching him.

Staring at me for a few seconds longer, he pushes past me into the room.

“I thought I told you to stay by his side,” he says coldly.

“I did. I came out to check on you when I heard you frustrated,” I respond timidly.

“Well I didn’t ask you to,” Jungkook glared at me. “I asked you to watch over Jimin.”

Flinching at his cold and stern tone, I look down at my entwined hands.

“Just go.”

I look up at my brother in shock. Did he just ask me to get out of the room?

“There’s leftover lunch in the fridge. Have some and get some sleep,” he said, his voice softening.

Oh, so he didn’t ask me to get out.

With his moods lately, it’s hard to predict his actions and thought processes. I understand his change in behaviour; his best friend died and the other is a walking corpse. Jungkook seems to find no happiness in anything he’s doing lately, not even in his hobbies. It’s eating him alive, the haunting memories of a friendship that was cruelly taken away from him.

I leave the room after saying good night to my brother, heading to the kitchen. Pulling out the leftovers from the fridge and putting them in the microwave, I take a seat at the kitchen island and sigh into my hands.

I contemplate going to work the next day, wondering whether it was okay to leave Jungkook to take care of Jimin all by himself.

Bzz!

I hear my phone vibrate from the living room. Walking over to the couch I left it on, I pick it up to see my Boss’s name flashing on the screen. Praying it isn’t work he’s expecting me to send across overnight, I open his message.

Y/N, tomorrow meeting at 11am. Important!

I sigh, the universe making a decision for me about going to work tomorrow.

Browsing social media, I eat away at the food that has lost its taste after being in the fridge for hours.

**

“Excuse me,” I say repeatedly as I walk past people dressed neatly in pencil skirts and printed shirts. I make my way to the conference hall, where today’s meeting will be held. I take a seat next to Haneul, a dedicated employee from the call centre.

Exchanging greetings and a few polite words with him, we settle comfortably into our seats when the Boss strides in.

Taking his seat, he clears his throat.

“I’ll keep this very short,” he starts.

“Firstly, I want to introduce all of you to our newest recruit,” he points at the broad man seated across from me, dressed in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“Kim Namjoon.”

Dimples blossom on his cheeks as he stands up smiling before bowing. Soft claps break out in the hall until the tall brunette takes his seat.

Namjoon has been earning stares since his first day at the company, which is very understandable now that I get a better look at him. Tall with a dimpled smile, Namjoon radiated of intelligence and sophistication.

Two days ago, loud applauds were heard from the hall he was delivering a speech in, followed by people of high rankings gushing over his skills. Later that day, the Boss himself walked over to Namjoon’s desk and patted him on the back.

I watch in pleasant awe as his shy demeanour contrasted the broad chest pushing against his shirt. It was fair to say that Namjoon was a charming, attractive young man.

I wonder if he’s single?

A faint blush grazes my cheeks as I shake myself from my embarrassing thoughts.

Just then, he looks directly at me. My breath hitches and I feel fuzzy as I try to send a smile his way. Namjoon, however, was entirely unfazed, smiling at me warmly.

I look away too quickly, earning a curious look from Haneul who witnessed the interaction. Hiding behind my blush, I focus on our Boss for the next 35 minutes before the meeting is concluded.

**

“I hope all of you noted what I’ve said today,” our Boss, a sturdy man with whitening hair said, straightening in his seat. “I will not tolerate incompetent performances.”

With that, he walked out. After a few chatters here and there everyone made their way back to their departments. Just as I reached the hard, wooden door someone called out to me.

“Y/N!”

I spun around, making eye contact with the handsome new recruit.

“Namjoon” I breeze out between a smile.

“I wanted to tell you this sooner, but I didn’t get a chance,” he scratches the back of his head.

“Hmm?” I politely wait for him to continue.

“Red looks beautiful on you,” he says, shyly looking me in the eyes.

I stare down at my white sleeveless blouse underneath my red blazer tucked into high waist red pants.

Unable to hide my flattered self, I smile awkwardly as I thank him for the compliment.

Namjoon beams at me before continuing in his God-gifted deep voice, “Will you be having lunch at the office?”

Taking a while to process that he’s most probably implying he wants to take me out for lunch, I shake my head.

“I wasn’t feeling too hungry. Thought I’d grab a snack or something instead,” I shrug.

A look of disapproval dons Namjoon’s handsome features as he pouts.

“You work the longest shift in your department. You can’t go without food,” he shakes his head at me.

I scratch the back of my neck failing to come up with an excuse before Namjoon speaks up again.

“I’m going to try this new restaurant. It’s just down the street. Let’s go.”

Blinking at his offer, I stammer an “okay.”

My eyes on his broad back and heels clicking on the tiled floor of our company, I follow the new recruit closely, earning stares as he passes by throngs of people and into the breezy outside of a warm spring day.

**

The rich aroma of medium cooked steak fills my nose while the yellow lights of the restaurant cast shadows behind Namjoon.

He’s sitting across from me at a round table towards the corner of the newly opened restaurant. Customers pile in, scanning the menu offering a wide range of meals from Indian rice and curry to roasted pasta with cheese to burgers and fries. The clanking of kitchen utensils can be heard from somewhere inside the building, while soft music fills the bustling space.

Namjoon looks over at me, waiting for me to begin eating.

I poke my fork into the juicy steak and cut a small piece.

Conscious under his stare, I slowly chew the food careful not to drool from the sides of my mouth.

My eyes grow wide in shock as I register the taste. “This is so good!” I exclaim excitedly.

Namjoon laughs. “The main chef is an Indian migrant. I’ve heard South Asian spices are the best.”

“The food proves it,” I say as I continue to munch.

Namjoon starts eating, reflecting my expressions of loving the food.

We eat in a comfortable silence before Namjoon calls the waiter over to order wine.

“We can’t go back to work drunk,” I reminded him.

“Don’t worry! It’s just a neat finishing to the meal,” he smiled assuredly.

I smiled back warmly as we took in the brick walls of the restaurant interior with the long, red curtains draped over the windows. Sunlight was breaking in through the long windows, lighting up the space with soft shades of yellow.

“Do you live by yourself?” Namjoon breaks the silence.

“No, I live with my brother,” I say, smiling fondly as I remember Jungkook.

My mind quickly shifts to images of an unconscious Jimin on my brother’s bed. Worry hangs tight on my mind as I wonder how he’s doing and how Jungkook is managing it all by himself.

“I’m sorry, did I make you feel uncomfortable?” Namjoon asks, worry etched on his features.

Realizing my thoughts were expressed on my face, I shake my head before smiling.

“I’m fine, I was just wondering whether he was managing all the house work and having all his meals on time on his day off today.”

Softness flooded Namjoon’s face as he listened to me. “You two must be very close.”

“He’s the only family I got, after my father passed away,” I say sadly.

Namjoon expresses his sincere sympathies as the waiter pours us two glasses of beet-red wine.

I accept his sympathies and sip on the expensive wine while Namjoon effortlessly swipes his card at the cashier after insisting it was his treat.

**

“The lunch was really nice,” I tell Namjoon as we enter the tall, white building of the company.  We contentedly engage in conversation as we walk towards the enormous elevator.

Namjoon fondly tells me about his pet dog while gushing about his hometown, Ilsan. He moved to Seoul with a spirit full of ambition as soon as he was done with school. With impressive grades that were included in the top 1% of the country and an astonishing IQ, he easily scored his first job at one of the biggest media companies in the city. Six years later, he resigned, blaming it on the hectic work schedule and unrealistic expectations the higher management had of him. Namjoon applied to the present company after taking a gap year, during when he travelled across the globe. The break had helped him “figure himself out”.

“I’ll show you pictures I’ve taken on my travels when we’re both free,” he promises me.

“I would love that!” I say excitedly.

Laughing at my excitement as he mutters “cute” under his breath, the doors of the elevator open at its first stop.

“I’ll see you around Y/N,” Namjoon says before letting his long legs carry him away.

I hum as the elevator carries me up, hoping I get to see Namjoon more often.

#bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts #bts fan fiction #bts fan fic #BTS jimin #park jimin #bts jimin x reader #bts jimin x y/n #bts park jimin #park jimin x reader #park jimin x y/n #BTS jungkook #jeon jungkook #BTS v #kim taehyung #bts kim taetae #Steadfast

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Hello , how is wife of Kim Taehyung :D ? Hope u are enjoying yourself .✌️✌️✌️🌷🌷wish u a great day

Awsh you are the sweetest! 🥺

I've been really busy with work. Since we are working from home, the load is more. Which meaaaans more stress 😪

Hope you've had a great week and continue to have good days 🌸

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Please show some looove!

https://ko-fi.com/post/Angels-L4L75H1CH 

#bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts #bts taehyung #bts tae x reader #BTS v #bts v x reader #bts v x y/n #BTS jimin #BTS jungkook #bts fanfiction #Angels

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Hello guys!

Just wanted to take a moment to say that I’m going through quiet a lot these days and thought of opening a ko-fi account.

Please show some support!

https://ko-fi.com/deedee_05

Thank you so much! 

#bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts #BTS jimin #BTS jungkook #bts taehyung #Angels #Steadfast

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Hello writer ! ๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑ I am new in tumblr . Sorry if this not the correct way of requesting . But i want to ask do you take requests ? If yes , will please take mine ? 🥺If no , still thank you ! 💜

My request is on scenario . In which tae and this soulmate have age gap of 13 years. His soulmate had love at first sight and she was 13 since she was in love with him . 😭💞( When she turned 18 ) Tae saw her first time in a concert . He fall for her . He started to ignore his feels because of the gap between them . But at the end he still couldn't . He tried to find her contacts and information about her . ( then find each other , go on date , they insecure because of the age gape , but till end tae doesn't want to leave her ) can please do a scenario like this ? 🤗

Thank you !

Have a nice day ! 💜

Hello!

Thank you so much for requesting a story 😊 but at the moment, I'm not taking any requests since I'm working on my #taehyung fan fiction 🥺

I'm terribly sorry but you can find many extremely talented writers who would be willing to take up your request 😊😊

Take care of yourself, you sweet soul 💜

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Chapter 14

>> Pairing: Taehyung x Y/N, Taehyung x reader

>> Words: 2,404

>> Notes: I’m going to upload a new chapter whenever possible. Please bear with my hectic schedule! You may leave asks and let me know what you think of my writing (:

Synopsis: You run into a rather strange man one night. He seems terrified, as if fighting battles only he can see. He seems detached from the world, talking only to a voice inside his head. Oh, another strange fact: he keeps talking about angels. You discover later that you were the angel he was praying to.

>> Previous / Next

***

“Ouch!”

I groan in pain as blood spills out of the tiny wound on my finger. I’m seated on the floor besides my bed, sewing my best friend the handkerchief she’s being begging me. Lost in thought, I accidentally almost sewed the material to my finger.

The quiet man seated on the floor across from me looked up startled at my “ouch".

Worry hung on his handsome features; his mouth tugged downwards in a frown.

My heart warmed at his obvious worry.

“It’s alright" I assure him with a small smile.

He looks at my finger a bit longer before he goes back to his painting.

The cold Wednesday morning left traces of slight snow on the windows. I woke up to the sound of running water, momentarily forgetting I now share my space with someone besides my best friend. Dragging myself out of bed, I headed to the kitchen to prepare coffee while I waited for the stranger in the bathroom to finish up his business.

The smell of coffee filled the kitchen, relaxing my soul. I wonder how much longer he'll stay, I think to myself as the coffee brews. A week has passed since I brought him home. I had no problem with him staying over; he was a quiet presence, never bothering and minding his own business. He washed himself and cleaned up his messes. He hasn’t tried any funny moves on me either. I had no complaints with my new roommate. Kim Leah won’t be back for another 3 weeks. She might even over stay at her parent’s because she simply loves her family. Who wouldn’t when you are your parents’ treasure and they love you beyond the simple meaning of the word?

“Can I have some warm clothes?”

I yelp as the booming voice behind me tears the silence in the kitchen. I turn around to face the owner of the voice. He stands at the kitchen doorway with the towel wrapped around his slim waist and the flimsy shirt I gave him a few days ago hugging his frame loosely.

The material was not thick enough to protect him from the cold and I wouldn’t want him catching a cold while he was here. I walk past him to my bedroom and start digging my wardrobe looking for something thicker for him to wear. Since Kim Leah and I barely brought our guy friends over let alone let them stay the night, we barely had any men's clothing.

Remembering the enormous hoodies my uncle gave me when I visited my sisters last December, I pushed aside my clothes searching for the black and brown ones.

“Bingo!” I cheerfully say as I pull out the 2 hoodies along with another yellow one.

“You can have all 3” I say, walking towards him.

He takes the items from my outstretched hands and nodding a soft “thank you", walks to the bathroom.

As I waited outside for my turn, I wondered whether he had his necessities like underwear and razors.

I smile at the idea of taking him shopping, hoping to show him around the city.

***

“Your best friend... does she study art?” he asked, his long fingers tracing the spines of Kim Leah's drawing books.

“Yes. She loves the subject" I say, searching the drawers for my needle and roll of thread.

“Hmm" he hums to himself as his eyes scan the bottles of ink and paint sitting on the table.

He has started communicating. The conversations are light and brief. But at least he is talking, I think to myself in contentment.

I didn’t mind his silence, assuming he might feel out of sorts and awkward staying over at a stranger’s house. I assumed he must not be from around here either. I was curious about his home- if he had one- and his life before I saw him on the hard concrete outside of McDonald’s.

Thinking I’d cross lines inquiring about his past, I kept my curiosity to myself and enjoyed the small talk he offered every now and then.

“Do you like art?” I asked him, catching his eyes on me when I turn around from the set of drawers sitting on the floor with my roll of thread and needle in hand.

He nodded, a smile adorning his face. Such a warm smile. He needs to smile more often, I think to myself as I admire the man standing in front of me.

“You can draw or paint something. Kim Leah has spare art books and paper. She wouldn’t mind you using her paint and brushes”

“Kim... Leah" he memorizes her name.

I feel a dull jab in my heart when he doesn’t ask for my name. Is he really not interested in knowing me?

Walking to the bedroom to begin sewing my best friend the handkerchief she’s been begging me to, I ignore the urge to ask him his name.

If he isn’t interested in knowing about me, I shouldn’t ask him to reveal himself to me either.

I turn around to see him rummaging through the drawers, brushes and paper in his arms, his bangs bouncing on his forehead as his eyes light up the more paint he finds.

Cute.

***

“Do you like shopping?” Setting down the needle and neatly folding the completed handkerchief with embroidered flowers, I look over at him working intently on his art.

I walk over to him and peer at his work from above.

“Oh" is all I can say as I take in the rather odd work of art. Despite the bright colours he carried with him, he’s used black, brown and dark green to paint something that looks like a human face. It wasn’t like a Picasso drawing, but the oddly placed nose and deformed lips on the weirdly shaped head reminded me of the drawings I found intriguing when I was an elementary school student.

He looks up at me through his lashes, his eyes growing visibly wide when we make eye contact. He blinks rapidly and I take it as my cue to step back.

Maybe the proximity is overwhelming for him.

“Umm" I begin awkwardly. “Do you want to go shopping after you are done?”

He simply looks at me, not uttering a response.

“I have to buy a few items. Plus, you could buy yourself some clothes since I don’t have men's clothing"

He nods and goes back to roughly stroking on his art paper.

As I walk to the bathroom to wash my face and apply my lotion before stepping out into the cracking cold, I miss the way he tightly grips his paint brush, with enough strength to break it in half.

***

Walking through the crowded aisles of one of the busiest shopping malls, I squeeze between two women much taller than I as I make my way to the men's clothing store on this floor.

The two women do a double take at my new roommate as he walks between them, his hands in the pockets of the jogging pants I let him borrow. My friend Hoseok left it at our apartment after spending the whole day with Kim Leah and I on the beach. He had changed at our place after getting soaked in the salty waves and forgotten to take it when leaving. Kim Leah had it washed and put away to return it later. Unfortunately, neither of us- including Hoseok- remembered about it.

A white shirt I used to wear when I had absolutely nothing as it is huge and covers me up like an igloo hung on his thin but firm shoulders. He looked like a fuck boy who didn’t care about the clothes he wore because he knew he could pull off anything. Which seems to be the case here. Not the fuck boy part, but the latter part. Walking deeper into the store, I wondered what he is as a boyfriend.

“You can pick anything you like" I say, winking at him. “It’s all on me and there’s no limit"

He looks at me in shock, probably wondering where all the money is coming from. I’m not a heavy buyer. In fact, I only buy when what I have is unusable. Besides sending my mother money and buying groceries for my uncle, I barely spend my earnings. Since I paid in full for the next semester, all my university payments are cleared till the end of the year. Which means a lot of my money remains in my bank account. Might as well put it to good use by buying this guy some clothes.

He eyes the racks with ties and shelves with shoes. He walks lightly on his feet towards several printed shirts and started picking at floral prints and all sorts of others. I watch his back as he compared shirts and pulled at pants. He tries on shoes and places them neatly back on the shelf. My heart warms watching him smile at himself in the mirror after trying on a new item.

I give him a thumbs up whenever he looks over at me with another shirt on.

“Y/N?”

I spin on my heel and face the tall, built guy earning double takes as he walked over to me.

“Jungkook"

“Fancy finding you here" he raises his brows in surprise at me. “In a men’s store" he adds.

“Ah well" I scratch my head and smile awkwardly at him. “I came here for my friend. He really needed some shopping"

At the mention of friend, Jungkook looks over my shoulder at the guy busily walking around the store. I turn around and look at my roommate, to find him looking at us, extremely still and terrified.

I stare at him questioningly. Maybe he isn’t used to new people?

Turning around to Jungkook to introduce them to each other, I’m met with the same stillness and terror mirrored on his face.

Jungkook seems to gain composure as he looked over at me with a wide smile on his face. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, Y/N?”

“Oh no no no" I said defensively. “He's just a friend”

Jungkook walks over to him with his arm stretched before him.

“Hi-"

Everything happened too fast to act. My mysterious roommate lunged at Jungkook, his fingers wrapping around Jungkook’s neck. Jungkook stumbles backwards, knocking against a rack sending it crashing loudly to the floor. The store lady screamed and several security guards rushed to the scene.

I stay rooted to my spot, shell shocked.

Jungkook staggers towards me, rubbing his neck that had turned red.

“Y/N what the hell!” he looks at me in confusion.

“I- I-" I couldn’t form words. I looked on helplessly as security guards twice his size had my roommate pinned to the floor. He squirmed in their rough hold, his cheek pressed against the linoleum floor.

“Okay that’s enough” Jungkook says firmly as he walks over to the guards, pulling one up from kneeling beside the angry guy pinned on the floor.

“It was just a misunderstanding. You can let him go now" Jungkook says, his voice thick and stern.

The guards look up at Jungkook and release their grip on the guy pressed to the floor. He gets up wobbly at the knees.

I watch the guards walk away to calm the store lady who was now crying mascara down her cheeks. Jungkook extends an arm for him to take, which he looks at for a long time before swatting it away.

What the hell is wrong with him?

I’ve never seen him so angry, let alone rude.

Is this who he really is? All this time it had just been him and I. He never had a reason to act out. Have I misread him all along? Is this the kind of person he is?

A shock of fear ran through me, realizing I might not know the guy standing in the store with Jungkook at all.

“So, what’s your name?” Jungkook smiled gently at the guy who had his chin tucked all the way into his chest.

When there was no answer, Jungkook looked over at me. He lifted an eyebrow to urge me to answer.

That’s when it hit me.

I don’t know.

“I don’t know” I whisper.

“Hmm?” Jungkook didn’t catch what I said.

“I don’t know his name" I whisper a little louder this time.

“What?” Jungkook looks at me baffled. “You don’t know your friend's name?”

How do I possibly explain to him, or anyone for that matter, that I don’t know the name of the guy who has been sleeping and eating for a whole week within the same four walls as I? How do I explain that I picked him up from the side of the street and brought him home without informing the police? People would think I’m crazy. Hell, I think I am crazy!

I look down avoiding Jungkook’s confused doe eyes. I count to 10 under my breath hoping he would just walk away.

Instead, Jungkook walks towards me and lifts my face to his, cupping my cheeks.

“Look, I don’t know what the hell is going on. But I hope you know what you are doing and I pray it isn’t anything dangerous” he whispers kindly.

I swallow thickly, warming under his touch. I nod slowly, processing his words.

Dangerous.

Was he lying though? The mysterious guy whose head was hanging so low it might just snap at the neck strangled Jungkook, a complete stranger to him. Jungkook wasn’t even rude to him. He merely walked over to introduce himself.

Confusion became anger the more I thought about what happened. I shake off Jungkook’s hands and walk over to my roommate.

“Apologise” I say loudly.

The guy snaps his head up at my voice. He reads my face and swallows when he sees the anger blazing in my eyes.

“You have to apologise to my friend” I say again.

A wave of unfamiliar emotion crosses his features. It was somewhere between anger and pain and betrayal. I cannot for the life of me understand why he felt anger or pain or betrayal. Next thing I knew, he spun on his heel and dashed out of the store and disappeared into the thongs of people hustling throughout the mall.

“What is his deal?” Jungkook asked shaking his head.

I wish I knew.

***

Tag list: @tae-n-u​

#bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fan fic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fiction #BTS v #bts v x reader #bts v x y/n #bts kim taetae #kim taehyung #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x y/n #BTS jungkook #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #BTS jimin #park jimin #bts vkook #bts vmin #Angels

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Chapter 13

>> Pairing: Taehyung x Y/N, Taehyung x reader

>> Words: 1,820

>> Notes: I’m going to upload a new chapter whenever possible. Please bear with my hectic schedule! You may leave asks and let me know what you think of my writing (:

Synopsis: You run into a rather strange man one night. He seems terrified, as if fighting battles only he can see. He seems detached from the world, talking only to a voice inside his head. Oh, another strange fact: he keeps talking about angels. You discover later that you were the angel he was praying to.

>> Previous / Next

**

My mother is a woman of many colours.

Some days she’s a happy shade of yellow, her long hair flowing down her back, her thin rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of her perfect nose. She'd pat my head and place a kiss on my forehead before whispering the surprise she had planned for my younger siblings. I’d watch her eyes sparkle with mirth and she'd walk, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, towards her youngest children playing outside.

Some days she’s a deep crimson. Her eyes would be bloodshot, maybe because of all the alcohol she’s been consuming or lack of sleep. She’d be furious, fuming her way through the hallways, stomping hard on her feet. I’d ask my sisters to hide in the wooden cupboard under the stairs. We’d hear her angry footsteps, searching for us all over the house. And when she doesn’t find us, she’d throw one of her popular tantrums. She’ll start throwing whatever was within her reach. She especially liked to throw glass. We’d hear the sound of glass shattering against the peeling walls. She’d then scrape at the walls, peeling off whatever was left of the ugly floral wallpaper. While peeling, she’d howl at the top of her lungs. It was then that my sisters would start crying, leading my mother to us. She would then grab me by my hair and throw me across the room. She would then reach for one of my younger siblings and I would lunge at her. The neighbourhood dog’s barking only added to the chaos. My siblings would start screaming. I was never able to pry the monster off of them.

That’s right. Monster. If you ask me to describe my mother in one word, I’d say monster.

On very rare days when the sun was shining brightly outside and kids cycled themselves to school, my mother was a dull shade of blue. She’d sit by the window in her room, blankly staring into nothingness. It was on these days that her hair was neatly pulled back in a braid, a peacock hair pin just above her left ear. I’ve seen in the photographs hidden under her mattress a handsome young man with his arm around my mother’s shoulders. He was always staring at her so fondly in all of the pictures. She would be plucking flowers with a basket hanging on her arm. She would be cooking something in a kitchen I’ve never visited or standing on a bridge posing for the picture. Different settings, but the same fond smile and the same woman in love.

The photograph that piqued my interest the most was one with my mother on a hospital bed cradling a new born baby in her arms. She was smiling, the brightest smile I’ve ever seen her wear. She wore the same peacock hair pin right above her left ear. Behind the photograph in cursive handwriting, I could barely read at the age of 11, was a warm message written by a man who dearly loved my mother.

The happiest day of my life, it read. Congratulations! I always knew you’d make a great mother. Here’s to sharing more of our lives together. I hope you like the gift.

The message ends with a badly drawn smiley face.

Ever since I read the message, I’ve been curious about the author. I remember once asking my mother only for her to go crazy on me. She locked me in my room and let me starve the entire day and only let me out when I promised I won’t ask about it again.

I would watch her for hours from the door frame. She would blankly stare at the sky outside. The blue of the sky would mirror the blue in her heart. Some days she would start crying and go on for hours. Other days she gently stroked her hair pin, silence heavy not only in the room but in her soul as well. On these rare days, I believe my mother was more human than monster.

Growing up, I tried to forgive her thinking she’s been through so much. The losses and misfortunes she suffered in life permanently stained her. I’d imagine her waking up some mornings trying to get her life together, to be the great mother the man she loved was so sure she’d be. I’d imagine her surviving day after day with a broken heart and crying herself to sleep night after night.

I wouldn’t say I love her, but I don’t harbour any ill feelings or feelings of hatred towards her either. It is more like you do you and I’ll do me. I was able to escape and free my siblings from her a few years ago and we are all in better places now.

Well not all of us.

I twist the corroding metal door knob to the house I lived in for most my life. A pungent stench invaded my nostrils as I walked down the narrow hallway to my mother’s room. I didn’t need to be home to know she wouldn’t be anywhere else but in her room. She stopped cooking the day after my father’s funeral. She stopped knitting, gardening and baking. She even stopped reading, her favourite hobby. Everybody thought it was just a phase, her way of processing the grief. But almost a decade after my father died, she still hasn’t stirred a cup of tea.

Knock knock.

No answer.

Knock knock.

I hear the creaking of a bed, the sound of sheets being thrown on the floor.

Footsteps.

And then silence.

My mother never has visitors. She has no living family and she’s refused to meet anybody from my father’s side 3 months after his passing. She didn’t even once call my uncle who took in my sisters.

The door opens slowly, and I suck in my breath. It’s been more than a year since I last visited her.

Is her hair longer now?

Does she have it in a braid or are her curls let down after a shower?

Has she gained weight since the last time I saw her or has she skipped meals?

Standing in the darkness of her room, my mother stares at me blankly.

Her cheeks sunk in and thick lips pulled in a thin line, her glassy stare making me uncomfortable. The air between us thickens and I let out the breath I’ve been holding.

“Mother"

She doesn’t react. She simply stands still, her hand still gripping the door knob.

“I was in the area" I lied. “I dropped by to check on you"

“I never wanted you to" she says plainly.

Her voice has become rough. I wonder whether she can sing lullabies as sweetly as she did anymore.

Scratching the back of my neck, I clear my throat. “I know you don’t want to communicate with the outside world. But I just wanted to know if you were eating well. I’ve been sending you money for your food and medication but never heard from you”

Its true. Ever since I started working, I’ve never missed a month of sending her money. I always sent a fixed amount, making sure she could afford her medication and had enough to put food on her plate at least twice a day. She’s never responded and I had to assume she received it because my high school friend from the bank would call me every once a month telling me that she stopped by to withdraw cash.

“Its none of your business what I do with the money you send" she said.

“Excuse me?” I ask in disbelief.

She shakes her head, and I notice the huge bald spot on the side of her head. Did she attempt to shave her head and messed it up?

“Listen child. If you want to keep sending me money, sure. If you want to stop sending me money, sure. I can survive on my own without your care" she shrugs.

I suck in a breath and exhale through my teeth. Anger rushed through my body. The audacity.

“Listen mother" I mimic her phrase, emphasising on the word “mother”. “I’m not sending you money out of “love" or “care”. I send so that you aren’t going to burden the neighbours when you die in here and rot away"

Do I regret saying such things to the woman who gave birth to me? Yes.

But does it even hurt her the way it should coming from her own daughter? No.

Why? Because she’s just a shell of a human who once loved and cared so deeply. She has no more love or care to give and she refuses to receive any either.

“You need to leave" she says firmly.

“You need to get your shit together" I say.

A wave of emotion wash over her wrinkling features. I am unable to identify whether it is sadness or anger or annoyance. It’s been too long since she expressed any for me to identify. It was unfamiliar enough to see emotion on her at all.

We stand there in the silence just staring at each other.

There are times I’ve wished I had the chance to time travel and meet the woman my father fell in love with. The woman who sang in the shower and held her umbrella to stray dogs as she stood in the rain for the traffic lights to turn green. The woman that was more yellow than a deep crimson. The woman who loved life than despised it.

But that woman is no more. She died along with my father and somewhere along the way, the dying woman full of hurt and anger standing in front of me was born.

In a quick second, she slammed the door shut in my face. Her strength shocked me.

I shake my head as I contemplate to knock on her door again.

Do I want to talk with her anymore? No.

Is there even anything for us to talk about? No.

I sigh heavily and make my way to the front door. I stop in my tracks as I pass the kitchen. Several unwashed dishes are placed in the sink. At least she’s eating.

I step out to fresh air and blooming dandelions.

Just as I reach out for one, the wind blows it away.

As I watch it fly, I silently wish.

***

I arrive at the bus stand just in time. I get into the red bus, the same bus I travelled in many times a day when I worked several part-time jobs in the area.

Those were some tough days, I think to myself shaking my head.

I sit at the very back of the uncrowded bus. Resting my head against the window, I aimlessly stare at the passing landscape as my heart squeezes in worry for the woman who lived alone in her shell.

**

Tag list: @tae-n-u​

#bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bulletproof boy scouts #BTS v #bts v x reader #bts v x y/n #kim taehyung #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x y/n #BTS jimin #park jimin #bts park jimin #BTS jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x y/n #bts fanfiction #bts fan fic #taehyung fan fiction #Angels

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Hello beautiful people!

I'm working on the next chapter of Angels and you will most probably get to read it somewhere around next week 🤭

Just wanted to leave this here 🙃

#angels #kim taehyung #bts fanfiction #bts taehyung #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bts v #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x reader #bts fan fiction

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Chapter 6

Pairing: Jimin x Y/N

Synopsis: How do you help someone with their emotions if you don’t feel emotions? When your brother’s best friend dies in a tragic car accident and he spirals downwards in depression, you devote yourself to helping him out of his misery. But when his other best friend becomes suicidal following the loss, it isn’t merely about helping them. It’s about saving them.

Word count: 1400+

Previous / Next

*****

Hard.

The only word that can explain my situation.

Sleeping is hard.

Pretending to be okay is hard.

Breathing is hard.

Staying alive is very hard.

Every passing morning I wake up, I wish I didn’t. Waking up to an eerily quiet apartment, walking down the over crowded streets feeling alone and pulling through the day with all the energy I have is mentally and physically exhausting.

My therapist was kind, too kind for my liking. A young, dynamic woman interested in helping those who came to her. She suggested a lot of changes to my lifestyle that would help me move on.

I appreciate her efforts, but she did not see the bigger problem. It wasn’t that I was unable to move on, I refused to move on.

I was afraid of getting comfortable in a world without him.

The idea of waking up one morning, brewing myself bitter coffee that he hated, hustling through work and going for a walk in the park on a Tuesday evening with a smile on my face pretending like I’m alive and kicking made me sick. The day he died, I did too. The only difference between my dead best friend and I is that his body died too, whereas mine survived.

It survived when I tried to cut myself open, the pain on my skin barely felt against the pain in my head.

Watching the thick blood gushing out through the wounds I��ve inflicted on myself using the shiny kitchen knife was less horrifying than watching his wooden casket lowered to the ground.

My body survived the multiple drug intake that would’ve killed anyone else. Feeling my face hit the cold bathroom floor before the lights in my head went out as I blacked out was less scary than going to bed that night knowing every tomorrow then onwards would be a day away from our last day together.

I don’t know how long I was unconscious on the floor as the drugs attempted to slowly took my life before Jungkook found me in my apartment. I don’t even know how the guy let himself in. He probably used the spare key Taehyung let him borrow.

Taehyung.

The name pierces my chest. My mouth feels dry, my cheeks sunken in. If pain was a taste, it would be all-too-familiar for my hallucinating tongue.

I hate him for leaving us. But I hate myself for putting him in a situation where we lost him. I hate myself for being the first one to wake up in the toppled car that day. I hate myself for looking over at him and helplessly watching him draw his last breath. I hate myself for crying while my best friends were bleeding to death in the burning car.

By a miracle Jungkook and I survived. Neither of us sustained any injuries to the head, fortunately. Jungkook fractured his left arm and broke a few ribs. I broke a few ribs and fractured my right leg. With the help of a cast and rest, we both recovered in 3 weeks.

The doctors kept telling us we were lucky ones, to heal from such wounds in such a short period of time. They told us we were lucky enough to have survived such a crash.

The car had collided with an oncoming truck carrying wood and rolled 18 meters before coming to a stop.

It had been crushed from the side he was seated on. Paramedics said the car door had to be removed from his body. His insides were like water, his guts shapeless.

The blunt force of metal crashing against him had cracked his skull, causing internal bleeding. Doctors said he died a very painful death and I asked them why.

Why did Taehyung suffer that way? Why did Taehyung go through so much of pain?

The guy who plays with children on the street, the guy who helps the blind man cross the street to the bakery around the block every weekend, the guy who rescues stray cats and dogs and takes them to the vet, spending on their treatment with his own pocket money before taking them to adoption centres. The guy with the golden heart.

Why him?

The world is full of shitty people; murderers, rapists, abusers. They roam the face of the planet with blood on their hands and sin in her souls and Taehyung was taken away painfully?

I open my eyes to wake up from the thinking, to end the painful conversation I always have with myself.

Opening my eyes slowly, I take in the silent room. A slit of sunlight tears through the dark, not enough to illuminate the room.

It was very kind of Jungkook to take me in and as much as I love the guy, I wouldn’t say I am entirely comfortable sharing his space.

I want to be alone, to remember and regret.

The whole accident... I didn’t have enough time to process it with the funeral happening too soon and my mind poisoning me with guilt.

I keep telling myself there was absolutely nothing I could’ve done to save him, he died before help arrived. Had he survived by any miracle, he would live a miserable life; a half dead vegetable rotting away on bed till his body gets too old to live. We all know Taehyung would’ve hated that.

But thinking of all the things we could’ve done differently, like other ways we could’ve spent that day instead of drunk driving, sends a cold jab through my windpipe, not allowing me to breathe setting my lungs on fire.

I get out of bed, pushing away the dark sheets that cannot engulf me in enough warmth. I trace my fingers along the wall looking for the light switch.

Finding it I switch it on.

Blinding white light fills the room, my eyes squinting against the amount of sudden light.

It all happens too quick.

The light.

The dull silence of the room.

It all takes me back to the hospital room.

Bright white light. Too bright for me to fully open my eyes and take in the people silently rushing around me.

The only sound the beeping of my heart monitor.

My ears pick up inaudible voices. Someone with a deep voice. Someone with a raspy voice. A female voice.

“He was dead when they got there”

“..... they had to remove parts of the car from him. The entire door was jammed into his side”

A few gasps echo in the room.

“...... internal bleeding [inaudible] painful last moments”

More murmuring.

“He’s stable I just checked”

He, who?

Dead?

Stable?

Breathing was hard. I need air.

The beeping got louder, scarier.

Words were thrown across the room.

“Patient is crashing!”

“Get the doctor!”

“Oh my God his vitals are dropping”

Taehyung.

Jungkook.

Where are they?

I was screaming but no one seemed to hear.

The insides of my head were throbbing, my lungs begging for air and fear wetting my eyes.

I need them.

My friends.

Someone please tell them I’m calling for them.

I’m scared.

I feel heavy and light at the same time. I can taste bile in my mouth. I have a nasty gut feeling.

Why are people panicking around me?

I should be the one panicking! I’m all alone chained onto a bed that’s not mine with tubes inserted through multiple cuts in my body and I don’t see any of my friends next to me!

“Charge at 200 volts!”

“Push the tray this way!”

“Ask Henry to immediately get his ass in here!”

Static. The sound of a walkie talkie being turned on.

“Henry you are required in the theatre. It’s an emergency!”

Shut up shut up shut up somebody please make them shut up!

The voices make my ears bleed. My brain hurts trying to process what they are shouting to each other.

Taehyung! I scream.

Where’s my voice?

Why did no sound come out?

The light is too bright. I can’t open my eyes.

Jungkook! Taehyung!

Where are you?!

“Jimin hyung!”

Jungkook?

“Jimin hyung look at me!”

Why are you shouting Jungkook?

I feel someone roughly grabbing my arms. Pulling me down. Sitting me down on the wooden floor. My bottom shivers when it comes in contact with the cold floor.

“Hyung! Look at me”

Why do you sound so desperate Jungkook?

Where are the doctors and nurses who were here just a minute ago?

“Hyung, hyung! Just look at me”

Jungkook’s weak cries turn my face towards him. I blink as I take in his broken expression.

Why does Jungkook look so sad?

I look around the room.

I don’t see the hospital bed. Where is my heart monitor?

A girl with a horrified expression pasted on her pretty face looms over me.

I look at my friend confusingly.

“Jungkook, where’s Taehyung?”

I watched as a light go out in Jungkook’s eyes.

Where is Taehyung?

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Chapter 5

Pairing: Jimin x Y/N

Synopsis: How do you help someone with their emotions if you don’t feel emotions? When your brother’s best friend dies in a tragic car accident and he spirals downwards in depression, you devote yourself to helping him out of his misery. But when his other best friend becomes suicidal following the loss, it isn’t merely about helping them. It’s about saving them.

Word count: 1400+

Previous / Next

*****

I stare at the endless string of words displayed on my laptop screen. My eyes were starting to strain and I felt a headache soon approaching.

I shut the machine off promising myself I’ll get to it after dinner.

Oh shoot, dinner!

With all the pending office work I brought home that’s due in a few days, dinner did not cross my mind. On any other day, I’d tell Jungkook to get something for himself on the way home if he wants to and I’d skip dinner because I’m too busy to throw something together. But now that we’ve got a guest living with us, I doubt Jungkook would be too pleased with not preparing dinner.

My brother headed out to Jimin’s with the guy to collect some items. I’m sure the boys will return any time soon.

I flinch in pain as I reach for my phone, my wrist aching after the 4 hours of typing I’ve been doing since lunch.

I ring Jungkook once, twice, thrice.

No answer.

Jungkook has a habit of ordering food and uncountable times we’ve had to throw most of it away because I wouldn’t know he’d be ordering so I’d prepare food. Which is why I’ve now made a mental note to always check with him when he goes out.

Frustrated at Jungkook not picking up, I head out to the kitchen to check what’s there to cook.

Since it’s just my brother and I, we don’t do heavy grocery shopping. Most of what’s in the refrigerator are canned items and a few necessary vegetables. During semester breaks, Jungkook would stock the refrigerator with all kinds of vegetables, fish and meat because he would be preparing meals till his university reopens.

However, after the recent incident, despite Jungkook being home, he did not do any grocery shopping. Which I understand. I get that he’s not in the right state of mind. In fact, I’ve never seen him so out of his mind. Taehyung must’ve really meant a great deal to him.

A flashback of Taehyung’s goofy smile comes to mind. I smile at the memory. I may not have known the guy personally, but he was a lovely boy. Full of charms and life. Now buried 6 feet under the soil.

I shudder at the thought as I reach the brightly lit kitchen.

I stop in my tracks when I see the guy rummaging through the refrigerator.

“Jimin?”

He turns around at the sound of his name and blinks rapidly as he takes in my presence.

“I thought you went with Jungkook to get some stuff from your place” I raise an eyebrow questioningly.

My brother’s friend continues to stare at me. I feel uncomfortable under his stare, feeling overly self-conscious and nervous.

Tearing my eyes from his pretty face, I take a seat at the kitchen table.

To avoid looking up and making awkward eye contact, I start picking out the apples from the basket placed at the centre of the table only to put them back in.

Silence hangs heavy in the air, the weight exerting an unusual amount of social pressure on me.

“Jungkook was gone before I woke up” his voice tears the silence.

“Oh” was all I could say.

Jimin continued to rummage through the refrigerator while silence settled within the kitchen walls once again.

I watch as his slim body disappears behind the big refrigerator door, his ash blonde hair striking against the silver of the door. He gently kicks the door shut, his arms full of canned items and vegetables. I blink as I take in the amount of food he’s carrying, not knowing we had so much. When was the last time Jungkook or I went grocery shopping?

Jimin walked towards the kitchen counter, turning his back to me. He chopped away at the vegetables as he put the canned fish and meat to heat on the stove. His movements were so smooth, his limbs stretching across the kitchen grabbing at bottles of oil and spices. The kitchen smelt of rich food, although he was preparing a simple dish.

This is what a real cook can do.

“I assume you used to cook for yourself when you lived at the apartment?” I ask, curious about his history of skill.

“Tae and I ate out often but you could say I cooked for us whenever I felt like it” he answers without turning around.

So Taehyung and Jimin lived together. That probably explains why Jungkook went over to collect his items by himself. He didn’t want Jimin walking through the halls that Taehyung once ran in. He didn’t want Jimin walking into the bedroom to see the bed Taehyung would never be sleeping in anymore.

“I hope you don’t mind your food spicy” Jimin’s melodic voice cuts through my thoughts.

“Oh no, I can handle spice” I smile.

“Good” is all he says as he continues mixing the food and pulling out plates.

“Let me help” I make my way to the cupboards, already deciding which plates to take out tonight.

Jungkook and I love furniture and kitchen ware shopping. We go all out buying cups and plates, bowls and pans of all shapes, colours and sizes. For just two people who barely have guests over, we own a lot of kitchen ware.

I pick out the yellow plates and round glasses with blue polka dots. Jimin’s saucy fish and meat would look good against the yellow and the blueberry fruit juice he has placed on the counter compliments the blue polka dots on the glass.

Grabbing a hand towel, I wipe the surface of the kitchen table before neatly placing the items. Busying myself with setting up the table helped me not stare at the ash blonde guy in the apartment. It feels odd, sharing my space with someone new. Especially someone I don’t know too well.

I’ve never had friends over and Jungkook has always made it a point to not bring his guy friends over. The only guests we ever have are our relatives around the new year and our downstairs neighbour who occasionally hops by with home baked pies and cookies.

Despite my nervousness at having Jimin over, the guy’s presence feels oddly comforting. As if he’s been living with us all along.

“So, how long will you be staying over Jimin?” I ask, looking up at the guy who’s rolling the sleeves of his black shirt as he prepares to wash the pots and pans he’s used.

“How fast do you want me gone?” he turns on the faucet and pours dish washing liquid over the items clanging against each other in the kitchen sink.

“I don’t have an issue with you staying over, if that’s what you think” I say defensively. Did I sound like I wanted him gone soon?

He starts washing without responding so I attempt small talk again.

“I tried calling Jungkook, but he wouldn’t pick up and-”

“If this is your attempt at small talk, stop. I’m not interested” Jimin’s cold statement cuts me short.

It’s not that he used a rude tone or had a cold look in his eyes. He was busy washing items as he said it, his voice low and melodic.

But a cold wind brushed over my heart at his words. I am not a people’s pleaser, never was. Nobody’s validation ever interested me. I was never one to feel lonely for not knowing a lot of people at a party or for not having anybody to share my lunch with during office breaks. I especially did not concern myself with people in my brother’s life.

So why did Jimin’s disinterest affect me so much?

The sharp ringing of the doorbell tore me away from my worries and I ran to get the door.

Jungkook stood on the other side of the door, his arms full of bags. I reached for two of the bags, which Jungkook lets me take to his room while he makes his way to Jimin’s.

As I place the bags on Jungkook’s neatly kept bed, I hear the boys conversing.

“Were you able to find the items? Tae would always rummage through my drawers and never put back any of the items he pulled out” Jimin’s sad laugh floated in the air.

“Yeah hyung, I got everything you wanted” my brother said, ignoring Jimin’s comment about his dead friend.

Taehyung was not mentioned again as the two boys continued to talk about what Jungkook brought back from Jimin’s house.

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