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tae-cup · 1 year

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Caskets and Gold Roses | Bury Me

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Summary: “All of my past, I tried to erase it, but now I see, would I even change it? Might share a face and share a last name, but we are not the same.” - Conan Gray (Family Line) Genre: Mafia!AU, Arranged Marriage, Angst, Fluff Warnings: Violence, Swearing Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 5.9K A/N: It’s my birthday, so here’s my birthday gift to you :) Other: Masterlist ; Series Masterlist

Your father had always beaten you at chess. The complexities of the game were not hard to memorize, it was more so that he thought faster and farther ahead. He’d taught you chess and though you tried your best to succeed and show him that the student can outwit the master, he remained the champion. Every weekend and every break, you challenge him to a chess match. Without fail, he would win. It was never the same, either. The moves cycled. One moment, he opened with the queen’s gambit and the next he was returning with the sicilian defense. There was no counter, in your mind, to his ability to outwit you at every turn.

Waking up in a dark room in your old house was not on your yearly bucket list. Well, actually, the list had been quite short and none of it had been fulfilled since the marriage. The list included basic things like freedom and peace in your life. You sniffed the air and, to your dismay, you were met with the all too familiar odor of the basement. To be clear, it was the deep bowels of the basement, hidden behind a bookshelf.

While you were contemplating the logistics of dragging your unconscious, completely deadweight, body down three flights of stairs, another thought hit you. Oh yeah. This was where the nasty tortures went down. So, the rationalization of your situation promptly disappeared. All evidence of sanity seemed to go down the drain as you found yourself squinting in the dim lighting. The hum of the lightbulb was starting to grate on your ears and the worst part was definitely the smell.

The smell was a mix of mildew and blood—two things that made sense for, well, obvious reasons. You blinked a couple more times and took a few deep breaths. With a couple flexes of the wrists, it didn’t take long to realize the full gravity of your position. You were strapped to a chair, your wrists and ankles tied uncomfortably tight. Now it was time to start really panicking. You didn’t exactly have expertise in escaping cuffs or chains, afterall, you had spent your time at the Min house reading books and lounging in bed. The chair was stained a wine red. It was too dark to see clearly but too light to be in complete darkness. It felt like going insane.

“This looks promising.” You muttered before trying to wriggle your wrists again. There wasn’t much give on the ropes.

“Settling in?” A familiar figure stepped into the room. Your heart began to beat at pace that betrayed all calm you showed on your face. It was funny that even after all this time, the presence of this man still scared you. After seeing him stand over those three bodies in the kitchen on that fateful day, your outlook of him had changed. He had become a twisted monster in your mind; bathed in gray light in a kitchen overcome with shadow.

“I’ve seen worse.” You answered nonchalantly, but even Yoongi killing that man point blank had to have been better than this. Your death was going to be long and drawn out, you just knew it. However, it was hard to focus on that part as Mr. Seong began to circle the chair like a shark on the hunt.

“Oh, you’ve seen worse, but have you felt it?” He chuckled. Your face must have paled considerably because he laughed even harder. “Don’t worry, dear, humor your dear old dad.” The man finished his circle and stood in front of you. He towered over you, the armrests groaned as he leaned on them. “Not a hair on you will be touched until the Min’s contact us. Then, the games begin.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to find the words to say, but he left the room as swiftly as he came. You eyeballed the camera in the corner of the room. There was a table behind you full of devices you didn’t want to know about. Then the buzzing light went out.

Sitting in the dark, you realized that maybe the dim lighting wasn’t so bad afterall.

It wasn’t long after you left that Yoongi realized his errors. Of course you had been scared, of course. He was so accustomed to the physical violence, the threats, of his childhood that he forgot your childhood had been different. Your childhood had been psychological torture. Everyday felt like something bad was going to happen, but you had to endure it. He, on the other hand, got a good knock to the face if something went wrong. What he thought were normal sounds in a house—screams, to be exact—came across quite differently to an unsuspecting bystander.

So he stood, for a moment, taking in the sight of you leaving, replaying it in his head over and over. In that memory, now engrained in his brain, you were everything he truly had left and you were running from him. He pulled a hand through his hair and then huffed in annoyance with himself. He made decisions every day, he risked lives with the flick of his hand, but he never had to understand anyone before. Yoongi barely knew himself, much less a woman who burst into his life like a hurricane. Yes, what a beautifully twisted storm you were.

And he loved storms. He loved when it rained, but you made it pour. Finally, there had been someone in his life who was an equal, and he never doubted that. The man just…didn’t quite understand what to do with this new dynamic. He desperately wanted to get closer while drawing away from you. You were all he had and he swore to himself that he wanted none of it.

So why was worry creeping down his back? Why were his hands clenching and his jaw tight? He paced, then. Yoongi went from left to right in his office. The place smelled like his father.

“Taehyung, I need to think.” He announced at the remaining guard. The man just tilted his head in response.

“But you don’t need to.” Taehyung said simply. His eyes were narrowed in a challenge. Taehyung was probably the only man who could look at Yoongi like that. The younger man was his oldest companion.

“You’re right.” Yoongi admitted, another thing he’d never do with underlings. He didn’t need to think twice about running after you. No, he just needed a plan. “I just want to try to keep this…clean.”

That made Taehyung snort before answering, “when have you ever been concerned about that?”

When Yoongi didn’t answer right away, Taehyung’s features softened from a jest to an understanding gaze.

“I see.” Taehyung murmured. “You’ve grown soft.”

“I am not soft.” Yoongi argued, only to be met with Taehyung’s shrug.

“Being soft isn’t always terrible, especially with people you love.”

Love? Once again, the word was catching him off guard. It always seemed to fumble out of his mouth with no form. He never had much practice saying it out loud and so it sounded foreign when it left his lips.

I had no choice but to love you. He’d felt these words for months. In the beginning, it would have been spoken with a hushed tone or an angered huff. Now, the words were sincere. When he closed his eyes, he could see your face. Your eyes had been tearing up again, still red from sobbing on his shirt.

He looked down. The spots were almost dry. It felt like by the time they were gone, you would be gone with them.

The phone rang, alarming both Taehyung and himself. Yoongi had never turned to look at the phone so fast. But oftentimes, when the phone rang at the dead of night, it was never a good call. It was especially heart wrenching as he made his way over because of the lack of…you. Now he felt stupid letting you just run away. He understood, in the moment, that you needed space, but his men had yet to find you anywhere on the grounds. When they turned up with nothing for the second time, he had felt his heart sink, not only because of the possibility of you getting captured, but also because he had failed to create a single safe space for you in the past almost year.

Fuck. Things really weren’t going well, both in his head and physically. He felt sick to his stomach as he picked up the phone.

“Min family.” Yoongi answered gruffly in an attempt to mask his worry.

There was a low laugh on the other end of the line. The man on the other side had heaving breaths and the phone crackled with every chuckle. Yoongi could almost smell the man’s rotten stench.

“Who is it?” He demanded with increasing confusion.

“We have your girl.” The man certainly wasn’t Mr. Seong, as he spoke with a crudeness that didn’t befit the other mafia’s leader.

He looked up at Taehyung, who remained stoic. There was something in his eyes, though, that made Yoongi concerned. Taehyung’s jaw was clenched, a sign of anxiety. It was not a good situation when Taehyung was anxious.

“What do you wish to do? If you kill her, that is no skin off my neck.” Yoongi played it off, but hell would see flames if you died.

“Three quarters of your current territory and all the property you have.” A new voice had taken the phone, this time he most certainly recognized it. Mr. Seong. “We must meet in person to sign the papers,” it was an all too familiar sentence, “come alone, unarmed, and we will make the trade.”

What would be better? Losing you or losing everything his father had built? His mind retraced his childhood steps. It went up the stairs, past the open windows and billowing curtains, and into the library. There, he would always find his father reading.

Then, he was there. He time slowing and the world piecing itself together in a new light. The library. His father, sitting, with a book in hand, on one of the lavish, green, armchairs. The velvet seemed too soft for the rough calluses of his father’s hands.

“Yoongi.” His father beckoned. “Come here.”

And he did. He did like a lost dog.

“You’ve left me.” Yoongi announced, of all the meaningful things he could say. “You left me and now I don’t know what to do.”

He didn’t feel fear, because he knew consciously that this place, where his father stood alive, was not real. It was a figment of his imagination while he worked in overdrive to think of a solution.

“You will figure it out.” Mr. Min hummed and Yoongi refrained from a scowl. “You know what I always said?”

“We’re Mins. It always ends the way we wish.” Yoongi murmured. The words echoed.

“But in that saying, it doesn’t quite mean we throw our hands up in the air and hope, does it?” Mr. Min wondered as he stood. While he paced, a smile grew on his face. Yoongi was slowly realizing what he needed to do, truly. Mr. Min had a look of satisfaction. He’d raised his son well, in his mirror image, almost.

“What do you do when there’s a problem as dire as this one?” Yoongi had begun to mirror his father, pacing with no end.

Mr. Min halted and slammed the book down on the wooden table beside the armchair.

“You think outside of the box, son.”

And it was like a lightbulb went on.

“I’ve got an idea.”

“You’re all the same, you know.” You said loudly, as if that would stop the man before you. Mr. Seong’s hands were so familiar to you; every line, every curve. Those hands, that were now polishing various sharp objects, had picked you up when you were learning to walk. They were the same hands that held you steady and angrily opened doors you slammed.

“Tell me more.” He mused, as if you were sitting across the dining table. You used to jabber on for hours unless he shushed you. He often shushed you. It took every ounce of your willpower to hold back the giddy kid inside. The kid was screaming: he wants to know what you have to say! Finally! He wants to listen to you! He wants to be there for you.

But your consciousness knew this was simply untrue. The cruel way he so carefully rubbed the oil over each instrument made you more than aware of your situation. You were in a damp room. You were underground where you’d never see the sun again. It seemed pretty straightforward.

“Come closer.” You said steadily, maintaining your composure. You were doing your best to make this wooden chair look like a throne.

He eyed you suspiciously, but placed the scythe-like knife down on the table. It hit the wood with a harsh bang. Slowly, he approached the throne.

“You were never going to let me go, were you?” You questioned, much more the executioner than Mr. Seong. Your eyes searched his, taunting him. Go on. Show your defiance.

But Mr. Seong had played this game before. He’d taught you it, after all. Just like playing chess, he made the safest move; one that wouldn’t give away too much, but answered your question well-enough.

“I always had my eye on you.” He stated, as if it were normal.

“If you were concerned about my well-being, that’s great and all, but I doubt you really thought Yoo-Mr. Min would treat me poorly.” You cursed yourself for slipping up. Oh, right. Yoongi. Things had really been soured. You didn’t expect him to come. You had just run away from your own confession, after all.

Even thinking about him, the gummy smile and the languid hands, made your heart quicken. That was not a good sign. Based on the smile your father had donned, it seemed that he noticed these facts as well.

“You never loved mom.” You continued your rampage, throwing every possible insult to throw him off. You wanted to get under his skin before he knew he was under yours. This comment seemed to hit home, though, as you saw his gaze waver for a fraction of a second. It wasn’t much, but for someone who was trained through trauma to read the smallest of cues, it was enough.

“That is simply untrue.” He announced, as if that would do anything.

“Hey, don’t take it too seriously from me, I’m the one sitting in the basement.” You tried to appeal to his funnier side, but that man was gone. All that was left of your father was the mere shape of him. Okay, back to the harsh facts, then.

“You just like controlling women. All these ‘mafia’ men do. You’re all the same.” You said with disgust. He seemed to shrug that one off, because it was a known fact anyway. And yet you didn’t feel that with Yoongi. This man really had you soft.

“Your manipulation tactics don’t work on me, darling. I taught you some of them after all.”

“You didn’t teach me shit.” You cussed. You felt yourself slipping. Who was this beast coming out? Your inner being, the spirit locked away through deals and deception, had turned into a ravaging beast. What the hell did it matter anyway? You had resigned yourself to this fate. You might as well make the most of it.

“Like father like daughter.” Mr. Seong shrugged. Your shoulders shuddered in laughter and you threw your head back with a wheezing gasp.

“You’re right.” You chuckled, your head lawling back to look at him through the strands of hair that had fallen. The room felt slick, damp, and maybe it was because of your heavy breaths. The way your chest rose and fell created a sickly mist. “I’m just like you, on the inside. I’m all fucked up and there’s nothing, nothing, I could have done. I’m just like you because I am you. I’m your little shitty DNA experiment.”

“That’s not true.” He said softly, with a fatherly warmth that no longer interested you. He grabbed a pair of pliers and knelt in front of you. Your eyes followed his movements and you knew where this was going next. You flexed your fingers uncomfortably. “You’re so much more than my DNA. You’re my daughter through and through.”

The first clamp. The first twist and pull. The first scream made a guttural exit from your throat. Checkmate.

He was getting anxious as he waited. Yoongi wasn’t one to be concerned about any one thing, but time was truly of the essence. Yoongi wasn’t anxious, but he wasn’t all too patient either. He thought it must have been a rookie mistake to allow him into the exact house the hostage was kept at. However, Mr. Seong wasn’t known to be an idiot. There was something else at work here and Yoongi was itching to get to the bottom of it. The living room couch was comfortable and Yoongi was anything but.

“Mr. Min.” A maid answered the door. Yoongi glanced up at the ceiling of your house. So this was your childhood home? It seemed like a normal family home. The kitchen in front of him, a doorway next to that. Behind him, a panoramic view of Seoul and the quiet footsteps of Snakes in the grass.

“Right this way.” The maid chirped. She was pretty; tightly wound blonde hair in a bun and a soft pink cupids bow for lips. Yoongi was having trouble discerning if she was with the enemy or a simple housemaid caught in the middle.

He steadily walked towards the dark hallway to his right. At the end of the hallway was an ominous dark oak, towering, door. He almost scoffed at the display of insecurity. One that needs such an atrociously overpowering door must be truly self conscious inside.

The door opened with a low groan and he stepped inside. The man did his best not to pat his pockets or subconsciously reach towards the hidden gun in his belt.

“Please, sit.” Mr. Seong, the man with all the power, supposedly. Yoongi narrowed his eyes. He’d always been a bit better at the charisma part of the business than his father, but his father had been a stronger fighter. That’s what people respond to, in this business. His father’s words echoed softly. Pain and more pain. Not feathery words. His father had spat that phrase so venomously that Yoongi suffered its symptoms all these years later. The statement only rung further true when his eyes caught the knife that Mr. Seong was cleaning.

It was short and small, certainly precise. That wasn’t too concerning. Yoongi was sure he could take the man in a fight with a knife that small. What made his heart quicken was the white cloth that was being used as a cleaning rag. It was covered in blood. And Yoongi knew fresh blood when he saw it. The silver glinted off the mirror to the right of the man.

The sight almost made him sick. The thoughts almost ran him ragged, but he realized, with a sly smile, that Mr. Seong wanted him to see it.

The Snakes leader sat down slowly. In order for his plan to work, he needed to sell the act. He felt like an actor, waiting to hear the magical word to bring him into character. Oh, he was surely buzzing with contempt.

“I’m surprised you agreed to meet me in person.” Mr. Seong began. The clock ticked steadily.

Action.

“You didn’t give me much a choice, now, did you?” Yoongi grinned as if to say he was a defeated adversary.

“You didn’t negotiate. I’m shocked my rival for years would agree to lay down and die.”

“I thought we should bargain in person. A sort of last ditch effort now that you’ve got my hands a bit…tied.”

“I knew it.” Mr. Seong had a real shit-eating grin on his face. “You love her.”

“Love is a strong word.” Yoongi continued apathetically. “I more so need to show that you can’t mess with my kin and leave scot free.”

“Oh I’m sure you do. Well, I’m glad we can end this little rivalry of ours without too much blood.”

The papers were produced with ease. It felt like an all too familiar scene. But where were you? Yoongi glanced to his side. The gaping hole of space unfilled reminded him of his mission. It was any time now that his men should be finding you. He could see it now.

The men, breaking in, rescuing you, then retreating. Him, falling back and retaliating with the full force of the Snakes, razing the home to the ground. Oh yes, it would be perfect, and as there hadn’t been a peep outside the office door, he assumed it was going according to plan.

“I can’t say I’m glad. How about we negotiate?” Yoongi said, refusing to pick up the pen that was being adamantly pushed towards him.

“Negotiate? At this stage? Why, it would be a waste to have to print all of these again.”

“You’re about to become a billionaire either way, Mr. Seong. Reprinting a few measly papers to seal the deal shouldn’t be a concern.” Yoongi tilted his head slightly as if to say what gives?

“I will give you that, Mr. Min.”

It didn’t feel right to be called that name. It still felt like his father’s name. He glanced up at the ceiling. He felt like he was still standing in his father’s shadow, the gigantic mess that he was left when his father passed. But with this little stunt, if he could pull it off, he could step into the light. A new era of the Snakes could dawn.

“I will give you half of my land and half of my owned properties.” Yoongi smiled. “I would still be hobbled and you would have more than enough with your current stocks combined.”

“Two thirds.” Mr. Seong countered lowly. “Of everything.”

Yoongi shook his head back and forth with a frown. “Greedy greedy little man.”

“We are both businessmen, you know the deal.”

“I consider myself more man than business. But you?” Yoongi stood and began to pace in measured steps. “I think you are more business than…anything else. More than a man, more than a husband,” He stopped and gave Mr. Seong a blank stare, “more than a father.”

Mr. Seong slapped his hand on the table and stood up furiously. His cheeks were growing red and Yoongi knew he was starting to win. Mr. Seong pointed an accusatory finger.

“Just what do you think you’re playing at, Min?” He demanded, his voice barely below a shout.

“Sir, I’m just trying to figure out what your true end goal is? I gave you a quite beneficial deal.” Yoongi’s eyes widened with mock realization. “But it’s not about the deal, is it? Or how much money you’ll get. It’s about pride, for you, now, right? You want to show everyone that you’re better than them, that you were able to best the great Min family. But you know, deep down, that you are a coward.” Yoongi walked towards the man and planted his hands on the other side of the desk. “You took the shameful road. Truly. Kidnapping? Disgusting.”

Where was Taehyung? They should have found you by now and he was getting tired of stalling. Yoongi didn’t want to get to the point where his real emotions were involved, but he was at the tipping point. This man was truly abhorrent. He found himself looking at his reflection in the mirror next to Mr. Seong. The person staring back didn’t look like him.

“Shameful? You want to talk about shameful?” Mr. Seong growled. He opened his mouth to continue, when there was a dull thud of a noise.

The noise shut up Mr. Seong and it caught Yoongi’s attention quickly. The house was so quiet now that they had stopped talking and it was making his ears ring. Still, he heard the thud. It came from behind a bookshelf. As he began to analyze the bookshelf, he began to realize that the shelf seemed to protrude more than the others and that the books in it didn’t look quite right. He turned back to look at Mr. Seong and the man was sheet white.

No. It couldn’t be.

A secret door. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He really was looking like an idiot. Still, he had to salvage this somehow. He backed away from the desk, trying his best to fight off a surprised expression, and tugged his suit vest back into place. Yoongi began to nonchalantly browse the shelves. The odd book shelf was to his right and coming up as he idly brushed his fingers along the spines.

“Not a speck of dust.” He mused. “You must have been excited to host me.”

“Yes, quite.” Mr. Seong said, but his voice was ghostly and his breath shuddered. His secret was close to being found out. Yoongi had to make sure his hypothesis was correct before making any brash moves, because otherwise he’d be putting the lives of his men in danger.

He had reached the bookshelf with the odd protrusion. He tried his best to look as he did with all the other shelves, letting his hands brush the spines. Ah. So he’d really been tricked. Yoongi hated admitting defeat. Still, he must act like nothing was the matter. He needed to think fast.

“I’ll do two thirds.” The man announced. “It’s done.”

“A last minute change of heart? How unusual.”

“Would you like it or not?”

“I will take your word. It shall be done.” Mr. Seong grumbled and eyed the back of Yoongi’s neck as he turned to print the new copies.

Yoongi positioned himself subtly, allowing himself to see Mr. Seong in the mirror. The older man was now fumbling to get the printer running. He looked like a normal old man.

“The spines of these books are so plastic-y.” Yoongi said matter-of-factly. This made Mr. Seong halt in his tracks. “It’s almost as if they’re fake.”

Mr. Seong’s eyebrows furrowed and he started to turn around when he heard the click of a gun.

“Mr. Seong, you are truly scum.” Yoongi stated as he held the pistol to the man’s back. He’d never miss at this range.

“Oh, you little–”

A siren blared, bathing the room in red light.

Five Minutes Earlier

Taehyung couldn’t remember how he got into the business of picking locks. He didn’t really want to recall either. It must have been something to do with his sordid past or the various car escapades. He enjoyed taking things that weren’t his, to say the least. Now, he had the most intriguing prize to fetch. You had never struck him as particularly odd, but he did note that there was a sadness about you. Even when you smiled and called him Josh, he still sensed something…missing.

There was a hole where your heart should be. That’s what he’d decided. And Taehyung wasn’t the kind of guy who could put it back in its place, after all, he only ever took things away. He always made holes with no intention of going back to find replacements. Yoongi was different in that way.

Since they were kids, Yoongi had always put things back where they needed to be. If the playroom was messy, Yoongi would help the maids put everything back. Taehyung had only sought to steal what he wanted and indulge in his every desire when he played with Yoongi. There were plenty of guys like Taehyung now.

“Hey, bossman.” A new recruit whispered as she put a hand over the housemaid’s mouth. “You found anything?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung knelt by the laundry room’s door. “There’s a trap door.” His fine fingers, made for the most delicate of activities, found the slight seam. “Alright. Let’s save our darling Min.”

The trap door swung open, pulling a wire with it. The alarms were off in an instant.

“Shit!” Taehyung staggered back. “Vanessa!” He turned to see a bullet lace her skull. He had no time to react as another pierced two fingers in his outstretched hand.

Bang!

Smoke from a gun.

Yoongi walked behind the desk and shoved the body off the chair.

“What a rival you were.” He said plainly. Then he turned to the bookshelves and walked over. Cracking his knuckles, he pried open the door. It swung out slowly and moved like honey. “You were right, father,” He glanced over his shoulder at the body on the ground. “Pain and more pain.”

The red light blinked on and off, illuminating the room in alternating blood and darkness. He stared down into the abyss. There were stairs, but he didn’t know how far they went or if they truly would lead him the right way.

There was only one way to find out.

The steps were damp and there was a pungent smell that grew worse as he went further. It was iron and sweat. There. The previously dull thump was now a muffled scream as he reach the bottom of the stairs. With his gun drawn, he leaned against the concrete wall. The stairs had branched into two small corridors. There were two cells on each side of the hallways. He peered over his shoulder. The fluorescent lights of the hallway buzzed.

There was no one here. Maybe Mr. Seong had assumed no one would find this corridor and that guards were unnecessary.

“Help!” You screamed until your vocal chords were scratched and raw. You didn’t know what state you were in or how you had mustered the strength to even scream. But you had heard a feint alarm.

When the cell door opened, you almost winced. The pitch black room was purged with light. You didn’t know if you should cry from exhaustion, hope, or fear.

A figure stood in the doorway, but it was a familiar shape and a familiar voice that greeted you.

“Yoongi?”

“What did they do to you?” Yoongi rushed over and you could feel the air shifting to something deadly, despite your glee at seeing him.

“A real number.” You whispered. Your voice was gone. You didn’t have any more strength left in your body. Pulling nails sounded like heaven at this point.

You knew you were safe now. You didn’t look at his gentle hands undoing the cuffs and chains or the way his breath came short and panicked. You looked at his face and you absorbed the concentrated quirk of his eyebrow and the way his lips pressed together.

“You,” You began with a croak.

“It’s okay you don’t need to–”

You held up a hand. “I–” You gathered all your will power. “I must, because I might not make it out of here.”

“No, you’ve got all the time in the world.”

“You have always been safety for me.” You whispered. “Your touch, that very first day…” You felt your eyes glazing over, but you fought back the dizzying fog in your mind. You fought back from letting your head fall limp. “...in that one touch, you taught me that a hand does not always mean violence. You taught me that your hands will always be safe… If I die, bury me.”

“Stop talking like that.” He said seriously, his face was fallen into deep shadow. His eyes grim as he hoisted you into his arms. “You will make it out of this alive. Save the monologue for years from now. Save it for when we’re old and wrinkled. Hell, never tell me.”

“Just listen!” You wheezed and your chest ached. “If I die, take the time to bury me, please.”

“If those are your last words, I don’t want to hear them.”

You found yourself smiling despite his harsh declaration.

Opening your eyes felt like a dream. With the morning sun streaming through the billowing white curtains, it all felt like a dream. You didn’t dare move. You didn’t want to break the illusion. Your eyes searched the room. It was everything you remembered, every detail, right down to the missing vase. You were focused on one thing in particular, though, a new addition to the room.

“Why are you asleep in a chair?” You coughed and tried sitting up, wincing. Yoongi was up in an instant. He had looked so peaceful while sleeping, but his new expression was of concern, worry. You looked down at yourself. Had you ever seen so many bandages at once? Well, not on a person. Your arms to your legs.

“Are you feeling alright?” Yoongi whispered. “I was really worried. You were…saying some scary stuff.”

“I remember.” You announced. You were done being reasonable. You were injured, pretty terribly, if the bandages meant anything. But it was the fear lingering in Yoongi’s gaze that unsettled you. “I’m alive, why are you concerned?”

“I–” He stopped short. “I guess because, I care for you.” He gently took your hand and it didn’t hurt as much as when you moved on your own. “And I admire you.”

That was what made you perk up.

“I admire that you are so strong in the face of adversity. You were terrified, I saw it when you first moved in, yet you still found your way to the kitchen and asked for a bandaid.”

You smiled at the memory. You were so naive, so confused about your father’s motives.

“I…I admire you too.” You placed your other hand over his. “And I think I just might love you, but I don’t know yet.”

“Is it enough to stave off the divorce papers?”

His gummy smile and the boyish gleam in his eyes made you laugh. It was instant regret as your lungs begged for mercy, but it was worth it.

“Yeah, I think I’ll stick with you for at least a few more months.”

“Good, because my only other option is Taehyung for company and he won’t stop moaning about his fingers.”

“What happened to his fingers?” You asked, bewildered.

“Ah, two got shot off, but no worries. He’ll live.”

“That sounds like a big deal! Actually, I’ll call over Taehyung and let him know his feelings are valid right now.”

“No, no!” Yoongi laughed and it was such a genuine ring that your heart quickened. After you were both done chuckling, a cool breeze blew the curtains once more.

“What happened to the Seong clan?” You asked, looking out the window.

“Burned to the ground. The few stragglers we’ve dumped onto our allied gangs who need an extra man.”

“I see.” You whispered. Then you turned to him and lightly gripped his shoulder. “We’ll be okay, right?”

He took a breath and allowed himself a glance into the brilliant blue sky. Then, he turned to you and pressed his forehead to yours. You reached up and gently cupped his cheek. He tilted his head and his lips met yours. It was a soft kiss, innocent and in love, all the things you wished could just describe your relationship with Yoongi. Maybe in another time or universe. Maybe you two could simply just be innocent and in love. Until then…

“Yeah, I think we’ll be okay.” He breathed.

“I think so too.”

Fin

taglist: @scuzmunkie @iliketowrite-2 @drunkzseok @zae007live @iwanttohitmyself @borahebangtan @sumzysworld @honeybubblepopp @thedungeonpythoness @sugathy

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biaswreckme · 3 years

Text

no restraints | jjk

answer to this request: Can you do a soft idol jungkook request of his girlfriend tracing his arm tattoos as they catch up after a day apart? The recent run bts episode wrecked me

Pairing: Jungkook/Reader (established relationship)

Member: Jungkook

Genre: fluff

Triggers/Warnings: tattoos, shirtless jungkook cuddles

Length: 972 words

Beta reader: thanks so much to @taegularities @hoebii and @heejinnien for reading and catching things that i missed and making this so much better ♥

It has been a long day, but waiting for the evening to finally arrive has definitely been worth everything. You get home at different hours; you usually get to the apartment early, your work finishing at a regular time, and Jungkook comes whenever they are done with rehearsals, recording, performing, filming, or whatever the band is scheduled to do that day. More often than not, he gets home very late at night, exhausted, on the verge of falling asleep but holding on just enough to have a conversation with you, asking about your day, saying he loves you. You try to put as much effort as he does, getting a bath ready for him, cooking his favorite meals when you have enough time, asking about his work, holding onto him tightly, and caressing him softly until he falls asleep.

Today, Jungkook arrives earlier than usual, but he has the same tired look in his eyes. They were just going over some choreography and planning some new songs, but you can see how much rehearsing and not being able to perform is affecting him. You thank your past self from a couple of hours ago for having the forethought of buying some ice cream on the way home and making enough dinner for two. After an overall quiet meal – the comfortable silence of two people who are in love and do not need to fill every second with meaningless conversation to try to get each other’s attention – and a warm bath for him, you two are now in bed. Jungkook does not bother putting on a shirt, the need for skinship with you talking louder than the slight chill in the air.

The only light in the room is coming from the lamps on the bedside tables, one on each side of the bed – his usually stays off, as he falls asleep before you and sometimes you like to stay up reading, one hand in your book and the other touching his hair. The heater is on and you are under the covers, bare legs entangled, his arms around you, his chest to your back. You feel him press his nose against the sensitive skin of your neck and goosebumps cover your skin as he smells you, humming and nuzzling more into you, his arms hugging you even closer to him.

There is a long stretch of peaceful silence that neither of you is making the effort to break, and you have learned that sometimes having you within his embrace is all he needs to recharge, to unwind any unwanted thoughts that might perturb his mind in these difficult times. So you wait until he is ready to speak, knowing the signs too well, maybe even better than you know yourself.

Your eyes glance to his bare arms and you let your palm ever so softly touch the inked skin, lifting it, so your fingers can start tracing his tattoos. Your touch is almost ticklish, the very tips of your fingers stroking the crisscrossed words etched into his skin, and you hear – and feel – him sigh.

“I saw the new episode today, the one with chef Baek Jong-won,” you start, feeling the moment appropriate for a break in the quietness. “I’m so happy you don’t have to hide them anymore.” Your fingers move to the colored eye, slowly tracing its shape, the colored ink contrasting on his light soft skin.

He nods against your neck, a soft smile gracing his lips as they press on your skin. “I’m glad too. I always felt bad for the editors. It’s so much work to blur them in pictures and every single video that comes out.”

He has expressed this worry to you before, knowing that growing into his own personality and expressing his artistic creativity on his own body could have a cost to other people around him – and himself. You love how much he has grown, how much he has changed, more comfortable with himself and becoming the man he is. Your pride for him is overwhelming sometimes, the emotion taking over your body even now as you turn around in his embrace, looking into his eyes. You shift your body backward just a fraction so you can have his arms between your bodies, one of your hands still on his forearm while you raise the other enough to caress his hair. Your fingers comb his blonde strands, a little softer now that you helped him treat it with some hydrating conditioner a few times since they bleached his hair this light. You love the duality in him, how he can look so tough on stage and so soft and wide-eyed in his vulnerable moments with you.

“I��m so proud of the man you’ve become, Jungkook.” The feeling overtakes you, the need to express it verbally to reassure him growing stronger as you see him look at you with a little uncertainty. “People will see that too, Army will see that too, and they’ll love you for it.” You trace the four-letter word on his fingers and press your lips to his. “Now tell me all about what you guys have been planning. I’m your girlfriend, but I’m still Army and I want my exclusive access information,” you say and laugh against his lips.

The mood in the room is much lighter now, his demeanor more relaxed as he tells you some of the plans for the following months. He cannot tell you everything; this would ruin some of the surprises. But you can feel in the way his body is cuddling yours that he is not as anxious anymore, some of his worries about this new part of him being shown to the world fading away with each soft touch of your fingertips on his black ink.

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shuadotcom · 3 years

Text

Letting You Go | KSJ

꙰ Summary: When returning home from vacation, the only person you want to see is Seokjin. When he isn’t at the airport to greet you, you decide to go to him. What you find breaks your heart. ꙰ Pairing: Seokjin x Female!Reader ꙰ Genre: Angst, idolverse ꙰ Rating: PG13 ꙰ Warnings: Profanity ꙰ Word Count: 2.1k ꙰ Project: @thebtswritersclub‘s February “dishonest love” project ꙰ A/N: Very big thank you to the lovely Noor @papillonsgf & Rid @taegularities for beta reading this for me and giving me their suggestions and commentary!! I appreciate you both so much!! 💗💗

You should know something is wrong as soon as you step into the terminal without seeing his broad shoulders hovering inches above the crowd waiting for you. You pull your phone from your backpack and check your messages, hoping to see one with a dozen exclamation points and sad faces accompanying an apology about being late. Instead, there are two new messages from Hoseok and Taehyung, asking when you would be landing back in Seoul.

You reply and tell them both that you’re already here and that you’ll stop by their dorm after dropping your luggage off at home. You scan the crowd once more before dragging your large suitcase behind you to get a taxi.

Two hours later, with your luggage sitting in the living room to unpack later, you’re leaving your apartment after a quick shower. You change into a blush pink sundress that Seokjin always compliments, saying he loves how the pastel color looks against your skin tone. On your feet are a pair of white heeled sandals he had bought you because he said he liked how they make your legs look.

The sun is hot as it beats down on you, making you start to sweat. You pick up the pace while cursing the unforgivable late summer heat. You arrive at the building soon after and greet the security guard at the desk. You’ve been here enough times that he recognizes you and always gives you a huge smile and loud greeting when you arrive. Once off of the elevator and in front of the apartment, it only takes two knocks before the door is thrown open, and you’re engulfed in a hug.

"Noona, you're back!" Jungkook pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Kook." You laugh and ruffle the younger man’s hair. Given his height, you have to stand on your tippy-toes, even in heels. You slip off said shoes and stick your feet into a pair of pink slippers by the door. Seokjin has often told you to leave a pair of your own there since you were at their place so much.

"Do I hear who I think I hear?!" Hoseok's voice reaches the living room, and you see his dark head of hair appear from the hallway as he runs over to pick you up and spin you.

"Hobi put me down. I’m too heavy!"

"Nope! And just because you said that, I'm going to keep holding you!" He tightens his grip on your waist and continues to twirl with you, making you let out a string of giggles.

"Hobi, put her down before she gets dizzy!" Hoseok sighs yet stops at Namjoon’s words. He’s next to pull you into a hug, followed by Jimin and Taehyung, who come barreling out of one of the other rooms. Yoongi is the last who’s been in the kitchen the whole time.

"I started making lunch for you since Taehyung and Hoseok said you'd be coming over." Yoongi grins at you, causing you to do the same.

"Aww, thank you, Yoongi! You guys are way too nice to me."

"Hey, stop. You're our friend, and we like having you around," Taehyung says, pulling you down to sit next to him on the couch.

"So, how was your trip? Was it nice to be back home?" Namjoon asks as he takes a seat on the couch next to you. Hoseok and Jungkook squeeze in next to him, squishing you against Taehyung.

"It was great. I enjoyed seeing my family again." You went on to tell them about your family reunion and how much had changed in your four years away from your home country. You left Korea in late June, only anticipating staying until early July, but you had gotten so caught up in being home again that you extended your trip to the whole summer.

As much as you love talking to your best friends about your family, you can’t help but gaze down the hallway. Everyone you have wanted to see has come and greeted you except for the person you wanted to see the most.

Once you finish your story, Yoongi announces that lunch is done, and he brings the large pot of noodles to the middle of the dining room table. Before anyone seats themselves, you finally ask the question that’s been gnawing away at you.

"So, where's Seokjin?" The question causes silence to overtake the room. The guys all share a look before glancing at you. Jimin is the one who speaks up first.

"He's out right now. He had a, uh, meeting."

"Oh. That's probably why he didn't pick me up from the airport. I texted him last night, and he said he would, but he probably forgot." More glances are exchanged. Before anyone else can say anything, the front door is opened, and the voice you’d waited to hear in person sounds throughout the apartment.

"I'm home!" You feel a smile break out across your face, but you don’t care about how goofy you probably look. You stand from the couch, intending to meet Seokjin when he rounds the corner into the living room.

“Hey, Y/n, wait.” With Seokjin being the only thing on your mind, you shake off the hand that Namjoon places on your shoulder and barely hear him from beside you.

"Seokjin, I'm back, and I..." Your sentence trails off as you see him enter the room, hand-in-hand with a petite Korean girl.

"Oh, Y/n, you're here!" Seokjin flashes you a large, bright grin, not noticing how your own smile has slipped away. He lets go of the girl's hand and crosses the room to sweep you into a hug that you only meekly return. "When did you get here?"

"Um, about half an hour ago." If he has any recollection of the conversation you had last night where he said he would meet you at the airport, he doesn’t let on.

"Well, I'm happy you're back! I'd like you to meet someone. The guys already met her last month, but Y/n, this is my girlfriend, Juhee. Juhee, this is my best friend, Y/n." The dark-haired girl bows to you, and you return the gesture even though you don’t want to.

Seokjin then goes on to talk about how they met, not that you’re listening. The only sound you hear is your heart beating too loudly and the blood rushing through your ears. Your stomach begins the acrobatic act that it always does when Seokjin is in the room, but it’s much different this time. Your hands are sweaty, and your body is shaking as you feel the hot, painful sting of tears in your eyes. Taehyung’s hand has slipped into yours at some point, trying to give you comforting squeezes.

"Right, Y/n?" Seokjin is speaking to you, which breaks you out of your stupor.

"What?"

"I said, we've been friends for almost three years, right?" You nod, too afraid to speak. Your throat is dry as a rush of dizziness makes your head spin.

You eye the girl that’s smiling and nodding next to Seokjin. She’s the same height as you, but that's where the similarities stop. Her hair is jet black and pin-straight, probably naturally that way. Her skin is clear and pale, and she’s the type of thin that you’d never be, no matter how hard you exercised. She’s everything you’re not and probably more.

You have to leave before you break down completely.

Without another word, you rush past Seokjin and leave the apartment as quickly as possible. Without any responses to the men calling your name behind you, you’re out of the door and all but running down the hall to the elevator.

“Fucking come on!” you hiss, fingers jabbing the call button with enough force to break it. Your vision is blurring, and your throat feels tight, feeling yourself about to cry.

Finally, the elevator dings, and the doors open, but before you can step in, you feel a warm hand on your upper arm, turning you around.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Seokjin’s close and looking at you with concern. His eyes immediately widen in panic at the sight of the tears streaming down your cheeks. "Y/n, why-"

"Do you love me?" you blurt out. He looks taken back at the outburst.

"Wh-what?"

"I said do you love me?"

"Of course. You're one of my closest fr-"

"As more than a friend?" His mouth opens and closes a few times, his grip on your arm tightening slightly.

"Y/n, I have a girlfriend now." Again, that word, coming from his mouth and not talking about you, shatters your heart all over again and pushes more tears from you.

"I thought...I thought you were in love with me..." You watch his eyebrows furrow before his mouth goes slack. "Oh, I get it. You're allowed to flirt with me and buy me things and hold my hand and call me 'baby,’ but that doesn't make me your girlfriend." You yank your arm from his hold. It feels as though your heart is going to beat out of your chest by this point. "You can fall asleep on the phone with me, and you can fuck me whenever you're horny, but I'm not good enough to date?" Seokjin glances over his shoulder, probably making sure no one has overheard your loud tone.

"Y/n, I-"

"So what were we, Seokjin? Friends with benefits?" You’re met with silence. "I've been in love with you for two years, Seokjin! Two years! I’d feel like the luckiest girl on the fucking planet when you’d pull me into your lap or brush my hair out of my face or kiss my cheek. I fall for you more and more every day! Every time you touch me or compliment me or even smile at me, I feel like I’m going to explode because I’m full of so much happiness and love for you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else except you, Kim Seokjin, but you obviously never felt the same. I was just someone to pretend with until you got a real girlfriend, right?" On top of the pain in your chest, you’re also bubbling with anger at this point.

"Y/n, it's not like that. I care about you so much, I really do. I just...I never saw you as someone who could be my girlfriend."

"Why? Why her and not me?"

“Y/n-”

“Is it because she’s prettier than me? Am I too ugly to be your girlfriend?”

"Come on, no! You're amazing, and I think you're beautiful."

"Then why don't you love me, Seokjin?!"

"I don't know! I just don't know, okay?! But it doesn't matter because I'm with Juhee now, and I really like her!" You swallow the lump in your throat. That's all you needed to hear.

You turn on your heels and press the elevator button again. This time when the doors open, you step in without being stopped by Seokjin. It isn’t until the doors start to close that his hand shoots out and stops them. "Y/n, please don't hate me." You avoid looking at him, and you push his hand away.

"I don’t hate you, Seokjin." This is true. Your outburst has erased all traces of anger in you. All you feel now is a hollow emptiness in your gut. "Just don't talk to me for a while, okay?" You hit the button to close the doors, and this time, your eyes are on his face the whole time. You take in all of his features once more before the doors close and the elevator starts to move.

Once you’re alone, the real sobs you’ve been holding in slip out in the form of a shrill scream. More hot tears run down your face as you lean back against the wall, wrapping your arms around yourself as some form of comfort.

It isn’t until the elevator stops at the lobby that you realize you’re still wearing your slippers. There is no way you’re going back upstairs for your shoes, so you leave the building in the pink, opened-toed house shoes and start your walk home. Seeing how Seokjin has bought you those sandals, it is probably better that they stay anyway. You think of it as a small piece of him you’re leaving behind.

Picking up the pace, you’re intent on going home and getting rid of everything he has ever bought for you or given you as a gift. You make a note to get rid of the dress you’re wearing as soon as you get inside. The sooner you can get all thoughts of Kim Seokjin out of your head, the quicker you hope to be able to heal the painful, gaping hole in your chest.

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kerikaaria · 3 years

Text

If I Never Met You: Chapter 41

(Taehyung X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader

Genre: (PG13) Angst, but lots of fluff

WC: 3.6k

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist

Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42

You had never seen Jin so angry. The look on his face was almost enough to make you feel absolutely terrified, even if you knew that anger wasn’t directed at you.

There was no getting past being honest with Jin after he already heard so much. So Yoongi had grabbed his arm and hurriedly dragged him into the stairwell before attempting to calm him down and explain what he had heard.

But there was apparently no calming him down.

“And you guys felt like this wasn’t important information to share?” Seokjin asked.

“We thought it was better if less people knew about it,” Taehyung replied. “There’s nothing we can do at this point, and Bang PD already told noona that he’s going to let her finish healing without anything else being asked of her.”

“That doesn’t make it any less wrong,” Seokjin agitatedly replied. “Are you just letting it slide? Not going to do anything about it?”

“If you heard about that, then didn’t you hear what I told noona?” Yoongi asked, meeting Jin’s intensity.

“I heard Y/n saying about the article’s release being intentional and done behind her back,” Jin answered. “I wasn’t close enough to make out anything before that. But frankly, I don’t care what you said, Yoongi. Something should be done about it!”

“First of all, would you just- please calm down,” Yoongi said, attempting to do the same for himself. “Don’t go waking the whole building. And you should care about what I said before that. What do you want us to do, hyung? Barge into Bang’s office, tell him how much of an injustice it was, and demand he compensate her?”

“Sure, that sounds like a great start,” Jin said, still obviously very agitated, but his voice at a reasonable volume.

“Okay, then what?” Yoongi asked. “Do you think he’s going to just admit it? Do you think there is no chance whatsoever of it affecting noona’s job? Or our own? Do you really want to risk everything you’ve worked for for years, and risk making noona losing her job, make her have to move back home? While she’s still healing?”

“He can’t just do stuff like that, though!” Jin replied incredulously.

“He’s a businessman, Jin,” you said. “He saw an opportunity to better your guys’ image and popularity and he took it.”

Your friend turned to you and furrowed his brows. “You’re not telling me right now that you’re okay with him just- just using you like that, are you?”

“Of course I’m not!” you whisper yelled, making the boys around you flinch. “It is constantly bothering me. He called me earlier today, and I felt so awkward I had no idea how to talk to him. He apologized for asking me to go to the airport to pick you guys up, but I wanted so badly for him to come clean and apologize about the article instead. I can’t tell you how much I want to just wheel right into his office and demand that he tell me what he did and why he did it, even if I already know. I want to hear it straight from his mouth, and I want him to tell me he knows he did something wrong and say he’ll never do it again. But it’s not going to happen, Jin. It’s just not.”

Letting all of the anger you’ve felt over the situation out in your rant made you feel breathless. The others remained quiet for a moment, probably unsure of how to respond to something like that.

“Yoongi is right,” you said. “It’s wrong, and he shouldn’t have done it. I’m getting more attention than I ever asked for and it’s nerve-wracking being this much in the public eye. But what good will it do to ask for an apology? It will make him aware that I know what he did, and probably wonder who else knows. I have no idea if I’d get fired, if he’ll do something to make sure that I can’t tell anyone. And I’m scared of how it could affect you guys. I needed to talk to Tae and Yoongi today because I just had a lot of emotions and wanted to confront him, but knew it wasn’t a good idea and they helped reason that with me.”

Jin chewed on the inside of his cheek while he calmed himself down. “I’m still not okay with this.”

“Neither am I,” you admitted. “But what else can we do, really? Other than hope that he decides to come clean about it on his own.”

“Hyung, please promise you won’t do anything,” Tae pleaded in a small voice. “I really wish I could too, believe me. But I just don’t think this is one of those things we can fight.”

Seokjin didn’t look any of you in the eyes while he said, “Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m sorry for exploding like that, I just-” he sighed, unable to finish his sentence.

“I know, hyung,” Yoongi said, placing a hand on Jin’s shoulder. “I felt the same when I found out. I understand.”

“Now I get why he’s acting so apologetic, though,” Seokjin said. “When he gave us permission to take a long break to take you out of the house, he just seemed odd. I couldn’t place what it was, but it was almost like he felt guilty. Which I guess could be explained by the airport, but it felt like more than that.”

“I mean, being attacked by a couple of sasaengs does make one afraid to leave the house when they’re so defenseless,” you said, laughing a little. “If I could stand on my feet and run away, that’s one thing, but I’m literally at others’ mercy like this.”

“That’s why you have us to protect you,” Tae said, smiling widely at you.

You smiled back, feeling more at ease now that you were all on the same page.

“Alright, let’s get back before someone else gets curious and eavesdrops,” Yoongi said, sending Jin a teasing look.

It was Jin who took you back to your apartment, helping you into bed. Nobody really argued when he silently decided he’d do it, figuring it would help him feel better to help you in the ways that he at least knew he could.

“I seriously can’t wait until you can start walking again,” he said as he helped you gather your covers and tuck in. “Not that it’s a burden to help you, but just because I know how frustrating it is for you.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, you and me both.”

Jin suddenly looked serious as he sat on the edge of your bed. “Y/n, you know you can always come to me for anything, right? If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

You smiled at him. “I know Jin. I promise I will. If I need to talk or just need some company or something, you’re the first person I’d go to.”

“You really are like family, you know?” he said. “It’s not just me. But you really are like a sister to me. So I want to be a good brother to you.”

“You are, Jin. I treasure your friendship. And I love being a part of this family. I would never trade any of you guys for anything.”

“Even if it meant you’d instantly be rich?”

“Absolutely,” you didn’t hesitate to answer. “I’d pick living a poor and hard life if it meant that I had the seven of you with me. I’d even be willing to be stuck in a wheelchair for life.”

Jin laughed quietly. “Well, we’re for sure going to try to not let any of that happen. But thank you, I’m sure we all feel the same.”

He gave your hand a squeeze as he leaned in to kiss your forehead before getting up and you one last ‘good night’ while he left.

You really did have such a wonderful family here.

By now it had been about two months since your injury. It could take up to six for your legs to fully heal, and with you staying entirely off your feet the hope was that you’d heal more quickly than that.

Two days after that night in the stairwell, Mrs. Kim attended your doctor appointment with you. She was really sweet and you couldn’t have been more grateful for her wanting to keep you company during this short time. It was especially a relief having someone with you when you visited the doctor. Not that you were scared of hospitals or anything, but you often had trouble remembering to ask questions and just nodded along to what the doctor told you. So someone else being there who could remember to do so was a huge help.

After an x-ray of your legs to see how the bones were healing, your doctor informed you that the healing process was going well. It would still be a little while before he recommended anything like walking, but they were at least healed enough that putting some weight on them shouldn’t have been bothersome.

To test it out, he asked you to place your feet on the floor and put a small amount of pressure on them and told you to immediately stop if you felt any pain. You found that it didn’t really hurt with just a bit of weight, but it did feel weird to do so for the first time in so long.

With the confirmation that it didn’t cause any pain, he told you that you were able to assist when people helped you in and out of your chair now. They still had to hold the majority of your weight, but walking lightly to help make it easier on them was no problem.

It was small progress, but it made you feel happy and excited, nonetheless.

After the doctor appointment, you decided you wanted to go back to the office first and let Bang and hopefully the boys know the news.

You felt nervous since this would be your first time seeing him in person since you learned about the article, at least if he was available to see you. But you felt it was important that he knew any progress in your condition and it wasn’t like you could avoid him forever. You had to see him at some point, so might as well rip the band-aid off now.

Your boss ended up not being at his office, and a quick message to Sejin let you know that the boys were practicing choreography for the concert so you headed toward the practice room in the meantime. You waited outside with Mrs. Kim, watching through the window as they practiced for Boyz With Fun. The choreography for the song was more lighthearted and didn’t need to be precise since the song was mostly for fun, but it was still very high energy.

When the song ended and didn’t restart right away, Taehyung’s mother knocked lightly on the door, not wanting to intrude without permission. It was Hoseok who came to open it, smiling brightly despite looking exhausted. “Hello eomeoni, noona. What are you guys doing here?”

“We wanted to stop and say hi,” you said. “We just came from my doctor appointment.”

“Oh, that’s right! That was today!” Hoseok sounded excited. “You can come in. We’re due for a break anyway.”

He opened the door wide, holding it while you wheeled through after Tae’s mom.

“You had your appointment today?” Namjoon asked from his spot on the floor through ragged breaths. “How’d it go?”

“My legs are healing well,” you said with a smile. “He said I can put a little bit of pressure on my feet now.”

“Really?!” Jimin asked, sitting up straight after having been laying flat on the floor.

You nodded. “No walking or anything yet, but he said I can put some weight on them to help when you guys are moving me in and out of the chair.”

“That’s great!” Tae said, smiling widely as your eyes met his. “That’s huge progress. That means your bones are healing really well.”

You smiled softly, feeling your heart skip a beat. It felt silly, but everyone seemed so enthusiastic and made it seem like it was such a big deal when it was really only just a small amount of progress.

That, and how are you supposed to not feel affected when Taehyung was staring at you like that.

“Yes, the doctor said she’s healing really well,” Mrs. Kim said. “He said she’s healing faster than they expected, almost as fast as they hoped she would. He expects it to be no more than two months, if that, until she’s able to start getting back on her feet.”

“And then you’ll be able to resume being our manager,” Jungkook said.

“Well, after I can walk again, yeah,” you said. “I can already feel how weak my legs are. They’re going to need a good amount of physical therapy before I can walk entirely unassisted.”

“But that’s still so much closer than it could have been,” Namjoon smartly added. “With how bad that fracture was, the doctor said it could have taken up to six months. But since you’ve been really good about resting your legs, I guess that helps a whole lot, huh?”

You nodded. “That’s what he said. He said he could tell that I’d been following his instructions to not put any pressure or weight on them.”

“How much longer are you boys practicing?” Mrs. Kim asked.

“Probably another hour,” Hoseok said. “We have a few things to refine, but we made a deal that if we can do the choreography with no mistakes for five runs in a row then we can go home early. I think we can do it.”

“Well, I guess I’d better go get dinner ready then, hm?” she responded. “I want to make something a little special today since we got the good news from the doctor.”

“It’s really no big deal, eomeoni,” you insisted.

“Nonsense! Every step is progress, and that’s something to celebrate.”

“I still need to let Bang know,” you said. “I might need to just call or text him to tell him.”

You could see Jin’s head turning to you out of the corner of your eye at the mention of your boss’ name. “We can tell him for you if you want,” he said.

“It’s fine.” You smiled in his direction. “I can talk to him.”

Jin took a moment to think before nodding, clearly understanding what you meant. You were okay with talking to him despite the fact that you still hadn’t quite gotten over what happened.

“Do you want to stay, noona?” Taehyung asked hesitantly. “I know you used to like to watch us practice. You could stay and go home with us?”

You turned toward his mother, about to ask her what she thought before she beat you to answering.

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” she said, smiling. “You have been wanting to get out of the house more anyway. Do you want to stay?”

“That would be nice,” you didn’t hesitate to answer. Seeing Tae’s boxy smile break out on his face at your response most certainly didn’t make your heart skip again. Not at all.

“Alright, I’ll see you back at your apartment in a little while then,” Mrs. Kim said before turning toward the door. “Take good care of her, boys!”

When she left, you wheeled yourself to the front of the room, as close to the corner as you could so you wouldn’t be in the way of their reflection.

“Do you want to sit on the floor?” Taehyung asked. “We can use our jackets to make a little seat for you, it might be more comfortable than your chair.”

You thought about it for a moment, realizing that that would help keep you more out of the way for them since your chair could be folded up as well. “If it’s not too much trouble, then sure. It’ll keep me from blocking your guys’ reflection, too.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it like that!” he backtracked, flailing his hands around a bit.

“Whatever is more comfortable for you is more important,” Namjoon chimed in. “You’re not in the way, not at all. But if you’d prefer to sit on the floor, then it’s no trouble for us.”

You smiled at their thoughtfulness. “I know that’s not why you asked, Tae. It’s okay, it was just my own concern. But yeah, if you don’t mind I would definitely like to spend some time out of this chair.’”

“Absolutely,” Jin answered, smiling reassuringly. Everyone jumped into action, grabbing their spare jackets to pile into the corner.

You wheeled yourself away so they could work and turned to look at what they were doing. A smile slowly spread across your face as you watched them quietly discuss how to set everything out so that it was the smoothest and most comfortable they could make it.

It made your heart swell, the amount of thought and care they put into such a small task. You really didn’t know what you would do without them.

After almost everyone sat on the little pile of clothes, testing to make sure that it was comfortable enough (It was only supposed to be Jimin, but then a few of the others decided they wanted to make sure themselves, which of course made you laugh), they dispersed and you approached the makeshift seat. You locked your wheels, Taehyung approaching to help you get out. Scooching forward as usual, you internally reminded yourself that it was okay to put some weight on your feet to help him out. Especially since you were being moved to the floor, it would require a bit more maneuvering than the usual chair-to-bed or vice versa.

But when Taehyung reached out for you, he wasn’t standing in front of you and with both arms reaching underneath your arms. He instead was a little to the side, one arm wrapping around your shoulders as the other looped underneath your knees. Just as you were opening your mouth to ask what he was doing, he lifted you with ease, hands reflexively linking behind his neck to keep yourself steady.

Before you could even blink you were being held princess style, which most definitely wasn’t the standard way of picking someone up out of a wheelchair. You had to resist the urge to tuck your face into his chest to hide your embarrassment, brain working well enough to notice that that would only make things worse.

“What are you doing?” you finally managed to ask as he knelt down next to the clothing pile to set you down. “Why’d you pick me up like that?”

“It was easier,” he answered. “Less shuffling and easier to get you sitting down.”

It felt like forever before you were finally sitting on the floor, even though it must have must have been no more than ten seconds. Once he pulled away you found yourself feeling simultaneously relieved and disappointed at the loss of his warmth.

Looking up at the others, you caught the knowing smirk and raised eyebrows on Jin’s face. You felt a sudden urge to smack the expression off of him, but of course you couldn’t exactly get up and walk.

“Comfy?” Hoseok asked, giving some of the material around you another fluff for good measure.

“Yes, it’s nice and soft. Thank you,” you said.

“Good,” he responded. “Alright, let’s get her chair folded up and get back to practice, guys!”

It was really nice to watch them practice again. It felt so normal, you could almost forget that your injury ever happened and like you were still working with your boys almost every day.

At one point, when they had just a moment in between runs through the choreography, Jimin captured a selfie of the two of you. He sent it to Sejin with what he wanted to caption it with to get it approved before saving to post on Twitter later.

It ended up being closer to two hours, rather than the one that Hobi projected, before they were perfect enough to head home early. Luckily, you weren’t picked up so intimately this time as you were helped back into your chair by Yoongi. He said he wanted to let you practice and get used to letting your feet rest on the floor and help do some of the work.

You appreciated your heart being saved from anymore palpitations today.

Even on the walk home, you felt so refreshed at even the smallest return to normalcy that you didn’t care about Jungkook wanting to push your chair for you when you’d usually insist on wheeling yourself.

Mrs. Kim’s delicious homemade dinner filled with laughter and the company of your closest friends warmed your heart even more, so by the time you got around to texting your boss if he was available and calling him when he responded, you didn’t feel even the slightest pit in your stomach as you had the previous day.

You still had quite a while to go, but everyone was right. You were making progress and despite how small, it was reason enough to be excited and celebrate. It was enough to help keep you going as you waited for the day that you could walk again, at least for now. Nothing was perfect and there were certainly more things that you needed to personally work through, but it was the little steps to be celebrated that would help you climb your way there.

After laying down for the night, you got the notification that BTS tweeted. You clicked to see a sweet but short message about how you heard good news from the doctor today, and how excited they were to have you cheering on their practice.

You fell asleep with a smile on your face and dreamt of your head pressed against a warm chest while strong arms carried you.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope @misohime @netflix-batman-sleep @smallbaby-cat @leitholdwithlove @ramyagovindraj @rjsmochii @overtherainbow35 @leesalts @whobuiltthemoon @bethebitchuare @shookysxga @jeneate101

Send me a message or ask if you want tagged! And also feel free to leave comments or send asks to just talk to me!

Also, if you’d like to donate to my Ko-fi, feel free! Absolutely no pressure though :)

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#BTS fanfic #BTS x reader #thebtswritersclub #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #bangtansilverclub #btscreatorscorner #If I Never Met You #IINMY #Manager!reader #Idol!au #taehyung #v #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #v x reader #kim taehyung x reader

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armysantiny · 3 years

Text

태형 (Taehyung)

[21:45]

Pairing: Taehyung x male reader

Genre: fluff, timestamp

Includes: non idol au, established relationship, domestic fluff, reader falling asleep at his desk, ‘honey bear’, movies,

Word count: 339

Warning: n/a

Rating: PG

Tagging: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @ultkpopnetwork, @kpopficsnetwork, @k-dinernet, @lovesick-net, @kpopcontentcreatorsclub, @bangtanarmynet, @btscreatorscorner, @castlebangtan, @bangtansilverclub, @purplearmynet

An: For the Love Fools event! This is adorable I-

Living with Taehyung came with a lot of surprises, and many of which y/n enjoyed getting accustomed to. The older male was never a morning person, yet found himself chuckling when Taehyung would drag him out of bed at 11 am to go and get breakfast - or more accurately, brunch - outside, his sing-song voice rambling about anything and everything he wanted to do that day to his hyung.

It was when Taehyung would pout and tug on y/n’s arm that y/n couldn’t hide his smile, wrapping his arm around the Deagu boy and pressing a light kiss to his forehead as the couple watched movies at night. Blankets covering the pair and both holding a mug of hot chocolate in their hands, their love for each other playing out in the little looks sent, hands intertwined and their heads leaning against each other’s. Words seldom needed; it was...it was nice.

It had just gone 1 am and Taehyung had finally returned from his art studio, entering his apartment and removing his jacket and shoes. Most of the lights were either dimmed or switched off, apart from y/n study. Already imagining how long his y/n hyung must have spent on his book made the younger smile, pride dressing his features. His hard-working hyung.

“Hyung?” Taehyung asked, his words masked through his giggles when he realised y/n had fallen asleep at his desk, “Y/n hyung~ you need to sleep in bed.” He hummed, shaking y/n’s shoulder ever so gently. Rubbing his eyes, y/n looked to his boyfriend, then to his computer and grinned. Gosh he loved his honey bear.

“Mmm~ I do, don’t I?” Y/n agreed, the need for sleep evident as he simply let Taehyung pull him into their bedroom. Getting under the covers and falling back asleep almost immediately, y/n was more or less out like a light. Joining his hyung in bed, Taehyung wrapped his arms around the sleeping male and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Good night hyung. You worked hard today~”

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tae-cup · 2 years

Text

A White Dress | Bury Me

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Summary: “Someone who loves you wouldn’t do this” - Conan Gray (Family Line) Genre: Mafia!AU, Arranged Marriage, Angst, Fluff Warnings: Violence, Swearing Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 4.7k A/N: Woot woot new fic <3 I will get to working on the other series as well. Thank you for your patience! Other: Masterlist ; Series Masterlist

Previous (teaser) | Next

It was like the life had been slapped out your body. The color drained from your cheeks and the world grew dark. The sky outside was gray and overcast. The clouds rolling by reflected the twisting of your stomach.

“Are you kidding me?” You whispered as the papers were slid to you. The cold marble under your feet–marble you had run over for years–felt foreign and stiff. Foreign, like the words in front of you. Stiff, like your father’s face as he stared blankly through you. You stood, slamming your right hand onto the table, “You promised me.”

Your voice was filled with nothing but venom and disgust. The words seeped through your lips and into the air like poison as the man in front of you winced. Old, broken, promises.

“This is for the good of everyone. I’ve made a deal, honey.” Your father gave a lame excuse, his words falling off at the end. He knew he was betraying your trust and he knew the consequences.

“And what deal is that, huh? You sign away my ring finger and then I’ll be what? A slave to a master? A woman scorned?” You made a fake gasping sound. “Or did you do it knowing you would get power? Is this all I’m worth?” You held up your left hand, free of a wedding ring. “My hand in marriage?”

“Now, now,” Chin Seong, the man you called father, held up his hands as if he were being attacked. “I know you are still hung up on a false promise from six years ago, but we have been able to reason with the Min family.”

“The Min…family?” Your blood ran impossibly colder. “No.” You slammed your other hand on the desk now. You stared into his eyes, long and hard. “You’re serious.” And now you knew he had doomed you.

The Min family was known for being relentlessly cruel. They killed whenever they could and left no one alive. Men, women, children. No one was safe. Maybe that’s why they were so successful.

“No one can ‘reason’ with the Min family.” You seethed, “I’m not in the business, I don’t even want to be involved, but even I know that.” You turned around and started for the door, your hands clenching and unclenching.

“You will be allowed to continue your studies, fully paid for by the Min family, and in terms of boundaries, I have trusted their son to decide what is best for your safety.”

While the part about your studies had made you halt, the whole idea about ‘safety’ being decided for you certainly made you turn.

“Right, so you mean that he will decide where I’m allowed to go and with who? That doesn’t sound controlling at all.” You found yourself laughing at this predicament. This was certainly not normal.

And your father finally showed signs of cracking. The corner of his lip began to twitch and his gaze hardened. When he spoke, his voice was low and rumbling.

“The deal has been done, honey.” The tone did have you shaking inside. You had only heard this tone when members of the business were in trouble. “And you really think that you wouldn’t be a target if you left this house to live your own life? Perhaps it’s my fault for dooming you, but you will never be able to escape the family name.”

There was a pit in your stomach and it was sinking deeper. Suddenly, the invisible chains on your life had become all too visible. You walked back over and sat down in the plush leather chair. The seat creaked and you wondered how much blood had been spilled in this office.

Now, you considered yourself somewhat reasonable. You could understand every side to a story and perhaps too much so. Maybe it was just in your nature or maybe you had just learned to settle for far too long.

“I see.” You thought over his words. It was making more sense now. You never should have believed that you would be free, but there was still hope. Suddenly, your eyes were opened. The hope lay in a man you didn’t even know. They lay in a stroke of a pen and a dream to be free. It wouldn’t surprise you that your father would leak your location if you refused. He wasn’t the kind to take no for an answer and he would craft a perfectly made revenge scheme. He was a man who hunted his own blood if it made his wallet thicker. You hated him.

You leaned back in the chair. You weren’t a small child anymore. You took a deep breath and picked up the pen. “I hate you, and I hope you live to regret this.”

But you would play the part, you knew what needed to be done. Reasonable. You were quite reasonable.

Your father was dressed as if he were going to a funeral; all black with a golden rose pin on his jacket. The car rumbled down the road, far from the city, in a neighborhood hidden from eye. It was a neighborhood belonging to the Min family.

The insignia of your family was a golden rose. Its meaning had been taught to you from a young age. The golden rose was a sort of rest in peace, a sayonara, representative of a funeral. It meant a person was worth the effort of a funeral; for two men to sweat and dig a 6 foot hole and for six men to lower the casket into the ground. You think this morbid idea was what made you stray away from the family business. You always had other more creative pursuits, and your mother had encouraged it.

The car came to a slow stop outside a mansion with a hilltop view of the neighborhood and the city in the distance. Your father got out and gestured roughly for you to follow. You were dressed in white, although it was no wedding dress. Your father had explained there was no time for a wedding, things were getting tense between his gang and the others nearby.

Faces peaked out of windows to watch the scene. Your mother, ever the silent mouse, sat next to you with her hands placed softly on her lap. You weren’t sure who you despised more; the man who sold you, or the woman who let it happen.

Mom! The desperate word echoed through your brain. As you stepped out of the car, your mother went to follow. However, the tall man you called a father held up his hand.

“Stay in the car.” He ordered.

“Mom?” Even through all this, you still begged for your mom like a kid searching for safety. You reached out and brushed her fingertips as your father yanked you back by your free hand. You didn’t think you’d ever forget her wide eyes. You were sure you were both thinking the same thing.

Will this be the last time I see her?

You approached the door, your heart pounded mercilessly. As much as you tried to halt the pounding in your chest, as much as you tried to stay composed, you found yourself heaving deep breaths. And when your father offered his hand to hold, you held on and didn’t let go. You felt small again, standing in front of these tall, menacing, dark oak doors. The doorbell rang a thunderous noise across the neighborhood and stormed through the valley like a battlecry.

“What are you thinking of?” Your father asked. His voice sounded kind, like the few times he’d been a true father to you. You couldn’t believe you were clinging to him, but he was the last familiar person you could hold onto. Your mother pounded muffled sobs against the black car door.

“My last words to mother.” You stated lamely.

“What were those?”

“The same ones I will give to you.”

He hesitated for a moment and then turned to you. Before he could speak, his mouth opening and the words beginning, the door opened. You leaned up to his ear and whispered, “I hope you rot.”

Your father always had an unsettling smile. You knew it to be intimidating because of the way people always shifted uncomfortably when he flashed it. Whether it was his genuine smile or a carefully crafted one, you couldn’t be too sure. What you did know what that he was no father in your eyes.

The door opened to reveal two men and a servant. The maid had turned the handle to let you in and she gave a brief bow in your direction before leaving in a hurry. Her feet echoed down the marble floors. The stone was a cold gray, just like in your home. Well, what used to be your home. You pressed your mouth into a thin line as you surveyed the two left.

The man in front, supposedly Mr. Min, stepped forward and before greeting you, he gave Mr. Seong a firm handshake. They gripped each other’s hands, long and hard, as if in a battle for dominance. Then they parted ways. Mr. Min had an easy smile. It was the kind of smile that was welcoming, and if you were dumber you would have opened up to him. But you weren’t stupid. You weren’t going to fall for any tricks.

“Mr. Seong, good to see you in such high spirits.” Mr. Min flashed you a wink, as if you were in on a joke.

“I’m incredibly happy.” Your father managed in the least happy voice he could muster. You couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Ms. Seong.” Mr. Min now turned to you.

“Mrs. Min now.” Your father interrupted and Mr. Min shot him a pointed glare. You had never seen a man able to quiet your father so fast.

“Ms. Seong, for now.” Mr. Min amended, but he eyed Mr. Seong with great caution. “My son,” He stepped aside and a man, only slightly shorter than Mr. Min, made his way forward.

His posture was straight and his eyes were intelligently dark. His hands were long and languid, those of a pianist. Those hands grasped yours and he brought them to his lips for a quick kiss. His lips were warm against your skin, unlike the cold chill you had been feeling for days.

“Mr. Min.” You placed a gracious smile on your face and dipped your head in recognition. Your father observed you and nodded with approval when you caught his eye.

“Please, call me Yoongi.” Mr. Min Jr., Yoongi, stepped back to a respectful distance. He refrained to point out that you were to be wed in just a few hours, your names in official ink. Your past contract simply stated that you would follow the pre-arranged rules. This next document was the one binding you for life.

“Yoongi.” You hummed and the name rolled so easily off your tongue. You almost wanted to say it again, it came and went so fast out of your mouth, but you stopped yourself from doing so.

“I believe we have some arrangements to finish?” Mr. Min turned and you took that as the sign to follow. You got the sense that Mr. Min didn’t need to tell people to do things, he communicated well enough with his body language.

Your father seemed to get the message as well and you both followed Mr. Min down the long hallway from the foyer. The house was grandiose. The main foyer held a chandelier, draping down and encircled by two connecting stairs. To the left and right were dining tables and living rooms in abundance and if you continued straight, like you were now, you entered a long hallway.

The hallway felt cavernous with each echoing footstep. Doors shot out to the left and right, some leading to smaller and darker hallways, before you reached the end. Natural sunlight drifted through the wall of windows. The windows revealed an elaborate garden, with caretakers milling around in the flowerbeds.

Mr. Min took a left and there sat an imposing door. Lacquered, black, wood stood tall, the top edge of the doorframe reaching to the high ceiling. He turned the handle, which was an ornately carved snake head.

Inside the office were walls of cherry wood and bookshelves with intricate designs carved into them. The books were all neatly sorted and the ground underfoot turned to a plush carpet. The carpet was black and that made you shiver. Black always hid blood the best.

“Please, have a seat.” Mr. Min said, ever the kind host. You glanced to your father, who was only a couple steps behind you. Next to you was Yoongi and he silently stared into the distance. He didn’t seem too happy about this arrangement either.

Once you had all been seated, like school children at the teacher’s desk, Mr. Min reached underneath. Your father tensed.

“Calm down, I’m just grabbing the papers.” Mr. Min said smoothly and Yoongi’s eyes slid to carefully watch Mr. Seong.

The papers. White, pristine with black ink printed to seal your fate. Yoongi picked up the pen; he knew his duty. He so easily signed his name, you would have assumed he was in love if it weren’t for the nervous tapping of his foot. Your first instinct was to try and comfort him, but then you remembered the situation and turned away.

You could feel everyone’s piercing stares. You picked up the pen, but you couldn’t make your hand move any further. Mr. Min’s crossed hands on the desk were tensed. This isn’t right. Your gut screamed. Do it. Make your father proud of you for once. A small voice whispered.

A firm hand gripped your shoulder as you took in a deep breath. Mr. Seong’s voice was deadly, yet his words were those of a loving father.

“You’ll be happy here. Safe.” He said. You didn’t want to be safe. You wanted to be free.

Your hands were shaking. God, why couldn’t you just stop shaking? Trembling like a leaf in the wind. Suddenly, you felt a hesitant, but warm, hand on your other shoulder. It counteracted the force of Mr. Seong’s. Yoongi’s hand on your shoulder was almost caring, comforting.

Suddenly the choice became clear. You could either refuse and feel the full gale force winds of your father, or you could hide in a false sense of security, in a man you just met–who somehow seemed infinitely kinder than your father.

“Okay.” You finally breathed. A brush stroke of ink and you were signed away.

You threw a vase across the room. It shattered against the wall with a noise you wish you could scream. Your father had left, not bidding you another word. You supposed your weren’t his problem anymore. The room they had given you was generously large and sadly sharing a wall with Yoongi. You heard a knock at the door.

“Hey, if you want to throw things around, no problem, do what you need to do, but, uh, can you do it against the other wall?” His voice was muffled through the door.

“Sorry.” You called back and you heard him trudge back towards his room. Maybe you were testing his limits too far already. It was your father’s fault. You never promised you wouldn’t be a menace in private, just that you would play a part in public.

You stormed towards the bathroom. It was too big for you, honestly. Your makeup barely took up any counter space and the mirror took up a whole wall. Your hands swept the jars and products off the counter. The bathroom felt safe, enclosed, and it didn’t share a wall with anyone.

So you let yourself cry out in rage, despair. The products clinked harmlessly onto the ground. Then, you took a deep breath. Closing your eyes, you slowly stood straighter. Everything felt blurry, but when you made eye contact with yourself in the mirror, your vision was sharp. You focused in on the mascara running down your cheeks.

Taking a hand to your face, you swiped your fingertips against the product and stared at it on your hand.

“You’ve screwed yourself.” You whispered, talking to your reflection. You curled your hand into a fist and pushed up against the counter. You leaned in close, your eyes staring with a dead gaze.

“You’ve really messed up this time.” You muttered and you found yourself nodding, as if in agreement.

Slowly, you began to pick up everything. You had to take control of what you could. You grasped the jars and brushes, putting them in their rightful places on the counter. You went to your room and spent hours painstakingly picking each shard of broken ceramic off the ground. You were lucky it smashed into the one marble area in the room; near the fireplace.

“Ow.” You hissed. The last piece had taken you by surprise and sliced into your palm. It wasn’t deep by any means, but it was enough to draw a thin line of blood. You carefully closed your hand around the wound and deposited the piece in the trash.

When you left your room, you took a glance at Yoongi’s door. It was closed. You assumed he was in there, after all, you never heard him leave.

Stumbling down the stairs, you entered the kitchen. There was no one in sight, but when you started rummaging through the cabinets you heard an achem. Turning, you were met with the sight of Yoongi, your husband, staring blankly at you fumbling around the kitchen. It almost made you jump. You had to admit he was handsome, with a strong jaw and hair that fell just right. Before you gawked any more, you shook your head.

“What?” You countered his noise.

“What are you looking for?” He had changed. There was something less welcoming about his presence now. He stood tall and intimidating, walking over to you and prying open your fingertips.

“Are you clumsy or stupid?” He asked seriously and opened the one drawer you hadn’t looked at yet.

Inside, you saw a roll of bandages and a stack of bandaids. He took a cotton swap and dipped it in an ointment. You hissed a little as he pressed it into your skin, but his rough hands were gentle.

“I like to say a mixture of both.” You chuckled and Yoongi cracked a smile. After that, his face remained stoic until he had properly applied a Dora the Explorer bandaid.

“There.” He patted your hand and turned away. You felt like you were being dismissed.

“Wait!” You said quickly and it seemed you surprised him, because he turned around with haste.

“Yes? Do you need something?”

“Well, my father mentioned something about you deciding the boundaries for my ‘safety’ and I wanted to request that I have no boundaries.”

His eyes gave away nothing. “Hm, an interesting proposition. Sadly, I don’t think it would be wise for you to have free rein all over the city, but I think we can certainly come to an agreement. Let’s talk more about this at a later date. I’m sure you’re tired.”

You watched him walked back up the stairs. When he reached the top, you called out one last time. “Sorry about the broken vase.”

He eyed you. “Don’t worry about it. I did my own breaking of vases when I first found out about our arrangement.”

Disgust. But not with Yoongi, no, the man had an intimidating aura but little to show for it. He treated you gently, in the few moments you had interacted since you moved in. The man was a recluse. He hid away in his office and popped in to have meetings with his father every now and then. You rarely saw him.

So you had taken to wandering around the grounds. A guard always had a watchful eye on you. Yoongi hadn’t touched you or ‘bed’ you as the guards would tease when they didn’t think you could hear.

You didn’t know if you wanted Yoongi near you, but it did get lonely sometimes. You had cut all contact with your parents and the man called a husband was never around. You saw him, but that didn’t mean much. Painting, piano–they had a lovely grand piano–and preparing for your upcoming school year–which had been sadly restricted to online only by the Mins–kept you busy.

You rubbed the skin between your eyes with dismay. It had been a month and you still couldn’t get the word ‘husband’ through your brain, much less say it out loud. You really needed some company, but you were at a lack of options. There was ‘husband’, a seemingly emotionless block of wood, and then there were the guards, who refused to look at you.

“What’s your name?” You turned to look at the guard on your balcony. He was staring out into the garden.

Your balcony was just high enough to peek over the floral fencing to the twinkling city in the distance.It was sunset and the dripping sun washed a golden hue over your room. You preferred natural light and a light breeze, so all the windows and doors were open. Your bed sat across from your desk, pressed against the wall and draped in satin. It was luxurious and you were well aware that Yoongi went out of his way to make sure you were comfortable. But you weren’t entirely sure if it was Yoongi or his father.

“Can you answer me?” You inquired and the guard stared stoically into the distance. You scooted back from your chair and walked over to the balcony. Casually, you leaned against the stone railing near the guard and heaved a huge sigh. The man was handsome, with a cutting jawline and lips set in a line.

“We are not permitted to keep conversation with you, Mrs. Min.”

“Call me Ms. Seong.” You waved your hand nonchalantly. You didn’t realize how easily the name came out. Seong. It was supposed to be forgotten, gone from your mind.

You were a Min, but you didn’t feel like a Min, and Yoongi certainly didn’t try and make you welcome. You were sure he saw other women, and for some reason that bugged you. Sure, you weren’t romantically, or even in a friendly way, involved, but you still felt contractually obligated to be faithful.

You had an image in your head, of Yoongi’s perfect woman. It wasn’t you. She looked nothing like you, in fact. She was classically beautiful; full lips and a thin waist. You were jealous of this woman–whom you had delusionally made up. While thinking of all this, you found yourself eyeing the rose garden. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the yard in an eerie dusk shadow, you darted from the balcony. The guard noticed you then.

“Where are you going?” He asked, He had been bugging you for a while, being personally assigned to you by Yoongi.

“The rose garden.” You stated.

“It’s not safe to be out and about once the sun has set, even in your own yard.” He warned.

With a grin, you patted his shoulder. “That’s why I have you, friend.” You thought a moment. “I’m going to call you Josh.”

You wandered down the stairs, all the way to the entrance to the yard, when you realized you forgot your shoes. Oh well, a little dirt never hurt anyone. Hesitantly, you stepped onto the dirt path, half expecting a bullet to shoot straight through your head. That’s how everyone had made it seem. Well, you didn’t really know if that was how it was done. However, the fear of that happening from a gang who participated in murders like it certainly didn’t help you sleep at night.

You walked softly and slowly into the garden. You had just reached the crimson red roses when you heard a footstep behind you.

“Josh, you are so creepy following me around without saying a word.” You groaned and turned around. You were met face to face with Yoongi.

The man still wore a suit of black with a green snake pinned to the collar. Your eyes darted to the entrance to the house and saw Josh standing watching guard.

“Who’s Josh?” Yoongi asked, confusion in his voice.

“The guard.” You sighed and turned back to the roses. You wanted to admire how beautifully cultivated the color of the roses were, not deal with your husband-not-husband.

He seemed unamused by your Josh comment and you’d let it slide. The name wasn’t for everyone.

“Are you dissatisfied with the guard? I could find you a perhaps more…talkative one?” Yoongi stated, but when you turned back to look at him, there was a twinkle in his eye.

This man either trusted you far too much or was playing an awful prank on you. It had been forever since you’d had anyone want to tend to your needs. And it had been forever since you had been wanted.

“No, no.” You waved a hand dismissively and from the raised eyebrow you could see that not many people spoke to him like this. Like…a human. “I like Josh’s stoic nature, it’s really mind blowing.”

“He’s good at his job.” The corner of his lips quirked upwards.

“And what about you? Are you good at your job?” Stupid. You were stupid for bringing up work and you could tell by the way the light left his eyes. But what else was there to talk about? The man always seemed to be working.

He let out a breath and rocked back on his heels.

“I’m far too good at what I do.” He glanced down at your feet. “Where are your shoes?”

“A little dirt never hurt me.” You kicked the ground to prove your point.

He had definitely married an odd one. Seriously, what did he expect out of an arranged marriage? He had always considered your father of a strange temperament and could he expect anything less of you? Seeing you dressed in a white night gown, completely a coincidence, his next question stuck at the tip of his tongue.

Now, Yoongi was a man of few words, but he did pride himself on being observant. Before his mother had vanished, leaving him with his father, he was often told about the happiest day of her life. She would go on and on about marrying his father, how romantic and sweet he was. Yoongi couldn’t imagine a wedding. Hell, he hadn’t even thought about getting married until the papers were put in front of him.

He felt like a school kid, so he pushed the feeling away and took on a less timid stance.

“I never did ask if you wanted a wedding.” He said lowly.

His words made you stop in your viewing of the roses and you looked out past him, towards the moon.

“I suppose there was no time and we were never and will never be in love. What does it matter?” You muttered. This new information seemed to truly throw Yoongi off guard, confusion painting his expression before being smoothed over.

“If it matters to you, then we should.” He stated simply.

Yoongi never thought he’d get married, but he did care for others. Now you were a part of the family and he was determined to treat you as such. If only it didn’t feel like, on some level, you were scared of him. Maybe it was the natural way you stood or played with your hair. Maybe it was natural for you to rock nervously on your heels. He wasn’t one to know. Maybe if he had met you at a different time in a different place with a different situation, he might have fallen in love.

“I had always imagined it to be with someone I love, Yoongi.” You said coldly. And if you ever loved Yoongi? Well, you would be admitting defeat. Your father would have been right and you hated him being right more than you could ever love Yoongi.

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tae-cup · 2 years

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Skyline Stars | Bury Me

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Summary: “I can run but I can’t hide from my family line.” - Conan Gray (Family Line) Genre: Mafia!AU, Arranged Marriage, Angst, Fluff Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Death/murder (in this chapter) Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 5.1k A/N: thank you for all the support for this series <3 I had to rewrite and reorganize this chapter like 5 times so I’m sorry if a part seems discombobulated. I really did look over it like 10 times to make sure it makes sense, but please have mercy and ask any questions if you’re confused (crying inside) Other: Masterlist ; Series Masterlist

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BANG! BANG! BANG!

You threw open the door. The echo of the gunshots rung through your head as you entered your home. 13. You were only 13.

“Dad?” You whispered and you heard a groan. The lights were out, the house was dark and creaking with secrets. Your mother was still in the car, sorting out her purse. Groceries were long discarded on the floor. As you stepped into the kitchen, the cold morning light seeping through every window, you found a scream trapped in your throat.

Three men were lying on the ground. They were lined neatly in a row, the streaks of blood staining the floor where they had been dragged. Their faces blurred together for you. You didn’t know a man could bleed so much. You heard a scraping sound. Sitting on the couch, staring intently at the men on the living room carpet, was your father. He was sharpening a knife. His eyes flicked to you and then back to the men as if he’d seen right through you, as if you weren’t even there. It felt too bright for such a grim scene.

“Honey!” Your mother’s sweet voice rang out as she kicked the door to the car shut outside. “Don’t leave the groceries in the doorway.”

You felt like the world was spinning. You couldn’t breathe, everything was twirling until you felt so light-headed that you stumbled towards the counter. Your hand slapped into a sticky substance and you didn’t need to see the red dripping from your fingertips to know what it was. You rocked on your heels. Your feet squished against the drenched carpet. The metallic smell was in the air.

“Dear,” Your father beckoned you in. “Come help me carve these rats.”

Your mother’s shrill scream split the air.

Hurt flashing across Yoongi’s face gave you an unpleasant feeling that was unexpected and quite unwelcome. Now it seemed being disgruntled was the least of your worries in this situation. You supposed he deserved some more Grace, as he was also thrust into this situation. It probably wasn’t his choice either. You were sure it was a decision made between your fathers.

“I apologize.” He murmured. “I was not suggesting you try and fall in love with me.” He paused. “Many have tried and failed.” Yoongi’s expression was somewhat troubled. “I assumed a wedding might be something that interested you and I have no problems with it.” When you didn’t reply, too busy dissociating into the middle distance, he cleared his throat. “I wanted to let you know that my father is hosting a group of other families to celebrate our marriage later this week. It’s best if we prepare in advance.”

The mention of a party definitely snapped your attention back to the man. “Prepare?”

He let a smile tug at his lips, but there was a sadness in his eyes. Who knew? Maybe he was also sentimental about not being able to truly love his wife either.

“They expect us to be a couple. We should have some stories or gestures prepared to prove it.”

“Everyone knows we’re arranged, what’s the point?”

“To show any outsiders that this business isn’t as cruel as they think it is. My father also plans to do some business during this party and our marriage is a good cover to deter cops from trying to infiltrate.”

You didn’t really care about the specifics. “Yeah, okay.” A chill breeze blew through the garden and goosebumps raised on your arms. Yoongi’s eyes flicked to you, barefoot in the garden, and he wordlessly handed you his suit jacket. It was large, comfortable, with a silken lining.

“There’s no need.” You muttered as you pulled the coat tighter. Yoongi seemed to find your protest quite funny. Well, you could see it in his eyes. The slight twitch of his lips.

“You’re shaking.” He said easily and turned on his heel. “It’s best we head inside now.”

“We?”

He turned with a raised eyebrow. “If you would like to stay outside all night, be my guest.”

The man kept walking inside and you watched him go. Soon, he had disappeared around a corner and was lost from sight. You shifted from side to side. The warmth of his jacket didn’t keep out the cold seeping into your heart. God, this man was so strangely kind, yet he didn’t seem to enjoy actually being around you. You could tell he probably had a sense of humor somewhere in there, but he was hard to read.

“Blah blah blah, I care about your safety, they said. It would be fine they said.” You grumbled after a few moments. You stomped back into the house where Josh took your lead.

Roses, carved into flesh. Your father painstakingly crafted his art into the dead men as you watched. Your mother tried to cover your eyes, but it was far too late.

“Come on. I must have raised you too soft if you’re scared of a little blood.”

“She’s a child.” Your mother hissed. You had always thought your mother was on your side, that she cared about your childhood.

As you woke up from a deep sleep, drenched in sweat, you realized she stood by when this happened. Maybe it was because you didn’t have the cover of being a child now; however much you still felt like one.

Bang! Bang! Bang! But it was a different bang. It was the pounding of the front door. It was so loud it echoed through the quiet house. It was only 2 A.M. and your heart was beating wildly.

“What the hell?” You murmured and slid out of bed. You combed your hair and threw on a coat before opening your door. There was hushed cursing and feet pounding up and down the hall with great speed. Yoongi was exiting his room, dressed the same as he was just last week in the garden. You wondered if he ever slept. His eyes went to you and then he adjusted his jacket and ran downstairs. The way he looked at you had you more scared than any loud noise downstairs.

He had the shaking of fear in his feet and hands, but a merciless darkness in his eyes. He looked like he could kill someone. When he ran downstairs, he had flashed you a ‘stay’ hand signal. But you weren’t going to buy that.

You crept downstairs after him. Downstairs, the voices were louder, more urgent. You stayed behind the corner to the kitchen, but peeked out. You had to clamp a hand over your mouth. Mr. Min was laying on the kitchen table. He was bleeding.

The red liquid rolled down the glass table and onto the tile below.

“You couldn’t have moved him somewhere more private? He’s bleeding all over the tile.” Yoongi’s unusually cruel voice told off the underlings. When you took another look, this time focusing on Yoongi, he seemed almost mad. It looked like he couldn’t quite understand what was happening. His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked thoroughly disturbed. He put two fingers to his father’s neck.

You had seen a dead body before, and despite the shallow rise and fall of Mr. Min’s chest, he looked just like death. His skin was gray, pale, lifeless. You watched as they tried to fix him; sewing and praying and cleaning.

It was no use, but you and Yoongi were the only ones that could see it. After they had finished the stitching, Yoongi felt his father’s pulse again.

A soft curse under his breath. He looked down, breathing in hard. His eyes squeezed shut and when he opened them again, he looked to the crowd in the kitchen.

“Who did this?” He demanded calmly.

“We don’t know, sir, but we found their gun. It was a complete stranger it seemed, but they ran away when we chased him.”

“He simply….ran away?” Yoongi asked furiously. “Give me the gun.” He held out his hand and it was placed delicately in his palm, as if handing a scepter to a king. He glanced at the handle for a half second, but you caught it.

You froze at his next actions. “Who failed to catch the man?” His voice echoed in the cold kitchen.

A hand shakily rose.

Bang!

Yoongi wiped the dust off his suit, but just left red streaks on the lapel. “There was no room for mistakes here, yet humans always find a way to fuck it up, huh?” His laugh was dry and he slammed the gun down on the table. He eyed the other men in the room. “Clean this up. My wife comes down to eat in the morning and she should be spared the sight.”

You left quickly, your steps soundless against the floor.

When the night sky clouded over, the city skyline became a cacophony of a million burning stars in the distance. Each one fought for its own chance to shine as the tiny speck of the Min mansion barely made a peep. All was quiet, hushed and muted. You were shivering with knowledge.

“Am I intruding?” A familiarly unfamiliar voice grumbled. You remained standing on your balcony. It had been a few nights since your odd encounter in the garden with Yoongi. He had seemed almost caring in that moment, but ever since you had just felt a cold aloofness to his being.

“Yes, but I’ll allow it.” It was nice to talk to someone, plus, Yoongi only really went places when he had business to attend to. You were curious what possible business he had with you. You would be lying if a part of you didn’t tremble, knowing that he had shot someone on the floor below.

“I wanted to let you know of…an issue.”

“An issue?” You leaned toward him slightly.

He cleared his throat and when his voice cracked you knew something was wrong.

“My father is dead.” He said it with a monotone drawl, but his eyes gave way to a glistening ocean. “I will be taking over the business.”

You hesitated for a moment before grasping his shoulders softly, like he did for you when you first arrived. You put aside your own feelings about being married to the new boss—funny how you always did that.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” It was odd to see someone grieve a family member. You were unsure you could ever grieve over your father or mother. After all, what kind of monsters would do this to you? But you saw it in his eyes and the shaking of his hands, the way his arms were stiff and his chest heaving.

He reached up and placed his hand over yours on his shoulder. “There is no need for sorrow.” Which you found a silly notion as he was clearly suffering, “But there is a need for revenge.”

The way his voice darkened made you shiver. He gently removed your hand from his shoulder and held it.

“I hate to say it, but you are my only family left.”

You didn’t have the heart to say that you didn’t feel like anyone’s family. You paused and looked at his eyes, glued to the wall behind you. He was looking through you, as if he couldn’t believe it either. He had no siblings, no cousins that weren’t enemies or dead.

You squeezed his hand and looked down, trying to think about what to do. You went with your first instinct, because of fucking course. “Would you like…a hug?” You offered softly and he didn’t respond for a moment. Then, as if the world was in slow motion, he wrapped his arms around your waist in a soul-crushing hug.

You could feel a tear on your shirt, but you didn’t mention it. You cautiously returned, gently grasping his back and making soothing circles with your hand. He sighed into your neck and the moment was so intimate you were unsure of your true feelings toward him. On one hand, he had done some terrible things, but on the other, he had only ever been nice to you and his morals were much higher than anyone you knew in your past life.

“A golden rose.” He stated and pulled away from you. His tone was back to business, cold, dead. “I noted it on the handle. I am sure it must mean something, but I’m not sure.”

Besides being shocked at his moment of vulnerability with you, you could feel your heart sinking. A golden rose. No. You didn’t believe it. Your family would never pull something this stupid, right? It was like the ground had fallen beneath you and you were tumbling into the abyss. As if the ground wasn’t already cracking under the weight of your new life. It couldn’t be true. This man had to be working alone. He just had to be. Because if he wasn’t….Yoongi’s father dying was your fault by proxy.

“Is something wrong?” He tilted his head and his eyes narrowed as you struggled for the right words. His hands held you at a distance now, resting comfortably on your shoulders.

You were violently snapped out of your thoughts. Maybe if you ignored the symbol engraved in your mind, you could ignore your guilt. He dropped his arms and interlocked his fingers in front of him.

“Nothing, it’s just odd.” You shrugged, trying to play nonchalant. You were glad for the dimming light that hid your burning face. Your heart pounded the beat of someone terribly guilty, with both fluttering butterflies and the stomping of a herd of deer chased by a predator.

A couple days of holding this secret inside and you felt like you were about to burst. You were on the verge of rageful tears. Life was so cruel and unfair. You couldn’t help but let your heart go out to Yoongi. He had just gotten married to a strange woman, that woman being you, and then his father died. How much worse could it get? The aura surrounding the two of you certainly effected the whole household. The servant girls were quieter as they cleaned and the guards were stiff and terse.

You could sense his growing tension. It lingered in the halls and followed him like a looming trail of dread. You hadn’t spoken since that evening on your balcony. He was so withdrawn, tending to the left over work his father had left him. You wanted to reach out, but every time the thought crossed your mind, you decided against it.

Why would he want your help? Besides the one time he had come to you, he hadn’t sought you out again. You hoped he didn’t think you saw him as weak, because you didn’t. You saw him as incredibly broken inside, left with just a stranger as his family. You placed your head to the side as the maid continued to prep you.

Across from you sat your reflection in the vanity. Powders and elaborate makeup was being prepared. The Min’s family insignia was a snake, so, fittingly, you were dressed in a dark green wardrobe. From head to toe you were bejeweled and made to look every part the doting, but powerful, wife. Your hair held an emerald pin and around your neck was a thin gold chain with a green stone snake pendant.

Your dress was layers of silk dripping over your shoulders and hips, framing your body perfectly. The dress pinched in just the right ways and flared out at the right spots. It dragged behind you in silken splendor, a cool river on marble ground. Your face was painted in a deep green eyeshadow and matte, crimson red, lipstick. Slipping on golden heels, you leaned against the vanity. You looked the part, now only if you could act like it.

“Thank you.” You nodded to the woman, whose nimble fingers had painted your lips and delicate touch had pulled and twisted your hair. You were grateful for her, because you wouldn’t have looked half as beautiful without her help.

You heard a knock at your door. Taking a deep breath, you walked over and opened the ornately carved door. Yoongi stood outside. He was adjusting his cufflinks, but the door opening made him look up. Recognition lit up in his eyes. The most magnificent smile reached his lips.

“You look,” He started and searched for the words. “You look beautiful.”

You looked down at your dress. “I apologize, it is not quite funeral wear, but it is all they gave me.”

He hummed and nodded. “It’s alright, we are supposed to present a powerful front now that I have to take power.”

You were starting to dislike where this was headed. You were due to start your studies in just a few months and it was sounding like you were getting more involved than you liked. He held out his hand. It was strange. You didn’t hate Yoongi and you were sure he didn’t hate you either.

But he didn’t love you and it blew your mind that you were able to stand being married to someone without love involved. A part of you wished it was love, especially when he looked at you like that and offered his hand like that. Sadly, you refused to let yourself get attached to a relationship that could never be.

“May I? It’s not far to the party.” He offered. You stared blankly at his hand. You had just seen it covered in his father’s blood a few days ago. You pushed past the thought.

“You may.” You whispered and took his hand. Despite your confident strides, you felt timid, like a school kid holding their crush’s hand. It was stupid, you didn’t even love the man. You barely knew him. But there was something in that gummy smile he gave you when he saw your dress that made your heart go warm.

Deep down, you were a people pleaser and you liked to see people happy. Yoongi had been pushing away his grief in the past few days. Seeing just a glimmer of joy in his face made you unspeakably pleased.

The party had become more of a funeral and induction ceremony for yoongi to assume power. It still masqueraded as a marriage celebration. However, in the state you dragged yourself around in day by day, you were sure to snap at a few guests.

The Min family, well, really it was just you and Yoongi with the name now, had rented out a museum to host the party. It was a grand entrance. The ballroom steps were made of carved marble and golden railings. The door was tall enough to fit three men standing on each other and they still wouldn’t reach the top of the frame. You supposed it was in fashion to arrive somewhat late to your own party; it was a grand entrance for sure.

The acoustics of the room meant that every voice pierced the air sharply, every laugh taken just a little too loud. It had your ears and eyes flinching unceremoniously. Yoongi grabbed your hand, this time without asking, but you could understand. Everyone’s eyes had turned towards you, murmurs falling silent.

“Hello, everyone. My lovely wife and I would like to extend our humble thanks to everyone who could attend and our sincerest well wishes to all that couldn’t. Please, enjoy a night of merriment as we celebrate our union.” Yoongi announced as if he’d been born to take the stage in this way.

You had forgotten about his hand holding yours, but as you descended the steps you noticed how tightly he was holding on. He was gripping your hand like you had just caught him off a cliff. You hesitated to squeeze back.

The party resumed. First, with a soft murmur and then everyone was celebrating again. The alcohol flowed freely, but you refused any service. You weren’t the kind to get drunk and you didn’t trust anyone in the room.

“I am sorry to hear about your father’s passing.” Mr. Seong sidled up next to Yoongi. He eyed the connected hands, but Yoongi didn’t drop it.

“Yes, well, I can’t say for certain it was his time to go.” Yoongi stiffened. “I don’t believe there is ever a right time to go.”

“I agree, Mr. Min.” Mr. Seong clinked glasses with your unenthusiastic husband.

You stared your father in the eye. He was missing his usual gold rose pin. I know what you did. Your mind screamed. I know how you did it.

When his eyes met yours, he flashed his usual, unsettling, smile. Then he glanced down at his lapel, where the pin was missing, and he seemed to understand what you were saying. His eyes were dark.

“First of all, congratulations on your union.” Mr. Seong started and both you and Yoongi stiffened. “And second of all, I had some business with your father that is a bit unfinished. I hope we can sort it out.”

There were always people trying to take advantage of others’ poor circumstances. With Yoongi in a bad place mentally and having to quickly take the reins of the complex social world of the mafia business, you knew what game Mr. Seong was playing at. You knew because he had used this tactic multiple times on smaller mafias. Mr. Seong was a gambler with words and circumstances, you just never knew he’d make his own miracles if necessary.

“Right, I’m sure he did.” Yoongi replied charismatically. “Everyone in this room had unfinished business with my father.”

“It’s about….our specific circumstances, though.”

Yoongi shifted and then shot you a kind smile. Patting your hand, he unwound himself from you and walked toward a backroom area. He was gone and you were alone in a room full of people gunning for your head.

As you stood at the food table, unsure of what to do or who to talk to, you came to a realization. You and Yoongi understood each other on some level. Having been thrown into this situation, and then having the people responsible for it disappear, you really only had each other to confide in.

You fiddled around with the arrangements and picked some cheese off a platter. People stared and stared, but no one approached you. It was like you had a force field built around you. Maybe it was just the title of being a Min. You looked at your bodyguard. He was definitely brooding.

“Josh, what did you want to do outside of this?”

No response, the usual.

“Josh, have you ever thought about death?”

No response.

“Josh, what’s your favorite color?”

You were ready for another blank stare, but he instead cleared his throat.

“Black.”

“That’s boring. That’s like the absence of color.” You frowned and leaned unhappily, and probably not very dignified, against a pillar. Somehow your comment about his favorite color seemed to offend him. He scoffed and crossed his arms.

“It’s a great color. It goes with everything.” He retorted, his jaw muscles going to work. His voice was low and almost melodic.

“Uh huh?” You felt almost giddy. Finally, some conversation, someone to talk to. “So does every neutral tone.”

“Who are you? Picasso?”

“Yeah I kind of go for that vibe. Picasso at least experimented with color.” You teased him. Your lips hurt, it had been so long since you’d genuinely smiled.

“What’s happening here?” Yoongi cleared his throat. You shot up straight and looked over to Josh. He was staring blankly ahead, as per usual.

“Oh nothing.” You covered, not wanting to get the man in trouble.

“Hm.” Yoongi didn’t buy it, but he looked at the man. “Taehyung, go get the car. We’re leaving.”

Tae…hyung? You found yourself short circuiting. Well, it was kind of his fault for not telling you his name and then responding to Josh. A part of you had hoped you had just accidentally guessed correctly.

Something had changed, when Yoongi came back from that meeting. Every ounce of the man you thought you knew seemed to have disappeared. Whether it was grief or something that happened in that room, you weren’t sure.

He wouldn’t speak to you. In the past, he had attempted a little small talk before falling quiet. Now, he sat, not even facing the window, but staring into the seatback of the person driving. You couldn’t tell if he was in thought, tired, or angry. He was probably all three.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, against your better judgment. When your father got like this, he would explode his anger onto whoever was closest. Then a minute later he’d act like the loving father you thought you knew. So, you cringed when Yoongi inhaled sharply.

“Your father thinks I’m stupid.” In the quiet of the car bumping down the road, you could hear him loudly. You could see him puzzling for words. His mind was working, jumping leaps and bounds.

“How so?” You asked smoothly.

“I apologize for speaking wrongly about your family in such a way.” He replied, but his eyes slid to worry out the window instead. You had compassion, you weren’t a robot. So you did what your instincts were telling you to do. This man wasn’t some scary boss in your eyes, right now he was just a grieving son.

You placed a tentative hand on his. “I’m a Min now, fear not what I think of my father. I am sure we are in more agreement than disagreement.”

He looked taken aback. He glanced down at your hand, one he had grabbed so roughly earlier, and gently took it in between his, enveloping them in his comfort.

“I am glad we can agree. I feel as though we can understand each other. Perhaps we can make a partnership work.” He mused.

“I would not go so far as to say a partnership.” You interjected. “But I am a human and I have empathy for a grieving man. Think nothing of it.” You tried to shrug it off, dismiss him, but his openness took you aback.

He then looked you carefully in the eye, his face dipping in and out of shadow on the highway. “He wanted to make a deal quite obviously in his favor. He wants to catch me out. He threatened to break off our engagement.”

“He thinks you care for me.” You chuckled softly.

“And I don’t?”

Your eyes widened as his response. Now it made sense. His soft gestures, his soothing voice that was so harsh when you weren’t around. Had he grown soft for his make believe wife? Your stomach flipped uneasily. It was hard not to like the man, even find him attractive, but you just couldn’t. This was so much more than just a love story between you and an arranged husband. This was a mind game with you and your father.

“I-“ you struggled to find the words. Oh, to dash his hopes completely or allow them? You could barely figure out your own feelings over his actions. You were done being reasonable, it was time to be truthful. You found yourself laughing and you retracted your hand. A frown donned his lips. “You can’t be serious.”

When his mouth didn’t move, you leaned back and looked out your window sadly. You knew that having a weakness was a bad idea. He wasn’t just endangering himself, he was endangering you. “It can’t happen, Yoongi. Maybe my father was right. You are stupid.”

“Please, let me explain—” he stood in the foyer, your steps quick ahead of him. You rubbed your arms, unsure if there was really a chill or your very bones were cold.

“I have offered you every kindness in my body. Isn’t that enough for you? What else do you want from me? Why don’t you understand that I can’t be any more involved with you?” You hated that you were tearing up. It wasn’t fair. He got to stand there, dry eyed and watching. Then there you were, dressed like a snake, but falling apart like a flower. But you were strong, as strong as a bullet from a gold rose, so you gathered yourself. Your petals, your fallen thorns.

“I don’t know what I want, Yoongi. I don’t understand what you want. You’re baffling, truly. Do you care for me or for your work?” You didn’t know what to believe anymore. Everything you had in mind for your future had melted away with a single diamond on your finger.

He looked at the ground and then rubbed his jaw nervously. “I don’t know either.” He whispered. “I went into this believing I would marry you and then never think of you again, truly.”

“That is a real vote of confidence.” You choked, but found yourself laughing lightly. How ridiculous. Were you really any better than bickering school children?

“But,” he interrupted and you hushed. “I am the last of my bloodline, and you are now my only family member, if only by name, as I said before.”

It made sense before, but you understood it now; how he had made an effort to talk to you, seek you out. In some way, he was your only family left too. But he wasn’t a chosen family, he was another member of force and blood.

“You know nothing about me.” You sighed, waving him off to start walking up the stairs. As you reached the halfway point, dragging your trail of silk behind you, he called out.

“Just give me time, please.” His eyes were on the wall, but when you turned to look at him in surprise, his eyes met yours. It had been a while since someone begged for your time, your attention. “I know I don’t know you. And I’ve come to the realization that maybe if we had more time to talk before all of this,” he gestured between the two of you. “Then maybe we could’ve come to an understanding.”

Your stomach churned and you paused. Did he really care about you or did he care about your status as his closest family now? The city twinkled of unknown freedom in the distance. A skyline of dying stars through window pane. Turning back around, you drummed your fingers on the railing. “I will give it a month. Then I want a divorce and you will agree.”

A half hearted nod was all you needed to proceed up the stairs. A month for him to prove that you could function like a couple. A month for you to push him away, because if you got romantically involved with him, well, you’d be screwed.

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tae-cup · 2 years

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Ruins | Bury Me

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Summary: “I’m so good at telling lies / that came from my mother’s side.” - Conan Gray (Family Line) Genre: Mafia!AU, Arranged Marriage, Angst, Fluff Warnings: Violence, Swearing Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 4.1k A/N: y’all i’m so sorry this took so long. I’m working on college apps and man o man this might be my last update in a while just because of that Other: Masterlist ; Series Masterlist

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“You were wee high,” your father had motioned to about his waist. “When I found you playing by the river.”

He moved from his place by the door and sat down in his luxurious leather chair. The man across from you felt foreign, and you somehow felt smaller than a mouse.

“You proclaimed that there were mermaids in the river and you wanted to swim.” Your father hummed unhappily. “I had to drag you away.”

Your back was rigid and stiff, the feeling of the wood was not enough to support an overwhelming tide of emotion. You had glanced down to the papers on his desk. It was a quick movement, because for some reason you felt as if he’d pounce the second you got distracted. You hadn’t been sure what game he was playing when you first sat down. The stack of papers was unusually tall.

“Why must you regale me with meaningless stories?” You snapped.

“Humor your dear old dad for one more moment before you leave.” There was something heavier in his tone. Maybe he really was sad to see you leave to start your life?

You calmly looked him in the eye. “You are making no sense, father.”

“I wanted to sit you down so I can apologize.”

“For what?” What ever could a hardened criminal like your father have to apologize for? You had never even heard him say the word ‘sorry’ to your mother, much less to you. Maybe it was a few mumbles here and there, but he had never made a grandiose apology. Something in the way he was towering above you right now, in the way he was imposing himself, made you think that maybe this was more than a simple apology. An apology for an unstoppable train.

“I would like to apologize for ripping you away from the river once more.”

“What?” Your words were barely above a whisper as the gears in your brain tried to turn, but they were blocked at every exit with the hidden understanding of what was truly happening.

Papers were shoved in front of you.

You couldn’t describe your feelings towards Yoongi as fear, per say. The feeling was a queasy, uneasy, sinking feeling. The part with fear could only come from the knowledge that you’d be killed if they found out about what your father did.

You recalled an old news story. The mysterious “snakes”, as the Min family was called by unknowing newspapers, had killed a family of four; all because the father stole from them. There was no doubt in your mind that Yoongi would serve the same punishment to your father. A life for a life. Three lives for a life. You shivered. When you looked at him, from across a dining room table, you could see the darkness in his eyes that he tried to hide. Or maybe it was just your imagination, just like how those promises years ago felt like a fever dream.

Promise me. I never want to be a part of your life, your business, or your plans. Don’t even look at me once I leave.

That’s what you had told your father all those years ago. Now you were here, in this place, in this living room with fine furs and drapes.

“I think it’s time we talk about-” He gestured between himself and you. You refused to meet his eyes, instead focusing on the fine oil painting behind him. It was of two people embracing, the woman’s hand on his arm.

“There is nothing to talk about,” You said, “My father betrayed me and that’s that.” Yoongi’s eyes trailed yours, finding the point where you looked into the distance. The painting was swirled with green and yellow hues. The man stared with such conviction and pure intent down at his lover.

“A Huguenot on St. Bartholomew’s Day,” He stated, his voice calm and tentative. Your eyes finally met his. “Millais.”

“I didn’t take you for an art lover.” You hummed questioningly.

“I have always loved that painting.” He replied and you found your eyebrows lifting.

“Quite mysterious.”

“I apologize.”

You scoffed at his formalities. “Quit apologizing.”

His smile lifted, so carefully and with such hesitancy that you began to wonder just what was behind those eyes. Yoongi was a mystery to you, really. It was like he wanted you, but was scared to make any moves, especially since your proposition. Time was running out on his clock and it felt like he’d barely made any effort. Did you want it to work out though? A part of you screamed to leave, get out, try and make a break for it as soon as possible. After all, you could always just avoid him for this month.

“I’ll go first.” He cleared his throat. “My father never asked me how I was doing.” Yoongi stated as he put his knife and fork down. “He never told me that he loved me, but he did do things for me.” A swift motion and his napkin was neatly folded on his plate.

“He gave me a pat on the shoulder and an appreciative head nod when I did something good. He only seemed to speak criticism, yet he showed love in his actions.”

You couldn’t help but see the same man of your father in Yoongi’s father. Although, your father never showed love in any sort of manner. He was…a bit of a tough love kind of father.

“Did we have the same father?” You found yourself saying, trying not to laugh at the similarities, despite Yoongi’s more serious expression. This did elicit a surprised response on his face, which you took great pride in claiming. Hah! Got you. Yet, the mental celebration in itself was a cause for concern. It meant you were getting attached to his little anecdotes and goofy reactions. It meant that you were in serious trouble.

“I guess we did.” He smiled and his lips pulled into the most adorable gummy smile. He was a charmer, for sure, but you still had trouble feeling comfortable in front of him. The way he softened his stone walls for you was unfathomable. In your past, every effort you had made to connect had been met with resilience. With a dry mouth, you realized that this was how you were treating Yoongi.

A child raised by a monster will always, inevitably, become one, right? That’s what you believed. Were you a monster? Maybe emotionally stunted, but you weren’t a monster were you? Your heart plummeted. Oh right, you basically helped cover up his father’s murder. Did blood run thicker than water? You hated to think that you aided your father in any way. What choice did you have? You didn’t want to die. His face, would that be the last thing you saw?

As the days trudged on, you were beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, you and your father were one in the same. It wasn’t that you were blood thirsty and cruel like your father, or that you were particularly lacking in emotion. If anyone had asked you what you admired most about your father, you would have said his ability to keep a secret.

More importantly, his ability to keep a lie. There were certain things you were sure he would take to his grave, secrets no one would ever know. Maybe you could take this secret to the grave, but honestly? Yoongi would probably figure out who did it, and you would follow suit on the chopping block. You had really dug yourself into a hole.

You should have just told him when you first realized. A voice in your head scolded. But we were scared. We didn’t know it could get any worse. Another voice whispered.

“Holy fuck. What am I doing with my life.” You whispered into the mirror. You leaned against the counter, staring yourself in the face. “Come on! Just say it, Just. Say. It.” You hissed at yourself, dragging your hands unhappily down your face.

You slapped the counter with annoyance; annoyance with yourself. You were so fucking stupid. You would have shown loyalty to your new family, your new husband, if you had just confessed. The little voice said in a low rumble.

You are going to get yourself killed. The stronger voice warned.

“Shut up! Shut up.” You murmured and shook your head. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Like the bloody sun, your body felt on fire. This place felt too cold. You wanted to burn it down.

“Miss, are you okay?” A maid knocked on the door. With all this freezing marble, the voice felt like a sharp knife piercing your skull. You were bleeding knowledge like an overflowing sink. Why did this secret bring you so much pain? If you didn’t care at all about Yoongi, it wouldn’t matter.

But you did. His smile and the way he so unknowingly made you laugh. Family? You didn’t need a family. Yet you felt like you needed him, his voice, his presence, just to help guide you through this unknown life. His hand on your shoulder, like that would make everything alright. You clung to him like he would make everything alright.

“No. He’s not the answer.” You exhaled. “I can’t do this anymore. What am I doing here?”

Another knock. “Miss?”

“Go away!” You barked. “I need to think.” You said to yourself with a deadly tone.

The maid’s shoes clicked down the hallway.

Suddenly it felt like you were ten, listening to your mother’s heels clicking down the hall as you pretended to sleep. She would stop outside your door every time. You had no idea why she pressed herself to close to the door, why she paused for so long.

“Fuck.” You released yourself from the knuckle white grip on the counter and walked back into the bedroom. The manor was so still at night. It felt wrong. You were so used to screaming and fighting, to bottles smashing and tears falling. It was making you shiver.

Even under the covers, you couldn’t rest. It all felt too cold, too foreign. Yoongi’s door was nearby. You could always just tell him. Get it all over with. What was it worth, staying like this?

Everything told you stop, but you still left the safety of your room. The closer you got to his door, the more and more sure your footsteps fell.

“I hate that I’m doing this.” You muttered as you stood outside his imposing doorway. Time to pay penance.

“Doing what?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and not in the good way, no you were pretty sure you had a minor heart attack. You turned around to see him standing. His eyes scanned your appearance, a little disheveled, and his head tilted in confusion.

“What are you doing here?” He inquired curiously.

“I–” You started and then stopped before figuring out what to say. Just spit it out. But no, you were a coward. A coward for your own life. “–do you have any more blankets?”

“Are you cold?” He hummed and scooted past you to the door. He didn’t even hesitate as he unlocked his door and gestured for you to follow.

Inside was more colorful than you expected. His room was a dark forest green with bronze accents. His bed posts were silver and draped in gold. The Min family crest rested above the bed. A snake, it’s fangs poised and ready to strike. The tension felt stiff as he rummaged through his drawers. You took the time to wander around his room, your hands brushing metal trophies and green tapestries. Decadence at its finest.

Yoongi finally pulled out a dark green blanket that would certainly clash with your lightly colored room. His entire room felt dark and brooding, a little too dark for your taste, but you supposed that’s why he gave you a brighter room.

He handed you the blanket and started to walk towards the door. You took that as your cue to leave, but you hesitated at the door. The man stared with a mixture of confusion and careful observation.

“Could the man have been a complete stranger with no affiliation or motive?” Yoongi whispered. “Or perhaps they were closer than they appeared. We’ll find them. Take what we need.” He smiled.

You stiffened, but tried to play it off as a shiver. He took the blanket from your hands and placed it carefully around your shoulders.

“We’ll be doing an internal investigation soon.” The man continued.

You could barely breathe. This was it. You were about to be killed. His eyes felt colorless and endlessly dark in this imposing light. Finally he let his lips pull into a tight smile.

“But I wouldn’t be concerned, wife. You’ll be interviewed for protocol’s sake but really, no stress.” He said soothingly, yet your heart was thumping wildly. “I just wanted to let you know, in case you hear anything.”

“Of course.” You dipped your head. Then you slowly turned around and walked back to your room. You could feel his eyes on your back, but you were focused on slow and measured steps as you tried not to give away your panic.

“Goodnight.” He called to your back.

“Goodnight!” You responded, trying to hide the shake. You heard the soft footfalls of his steps and his door shutting. You took off running.

You had begun to hear things at night. Footsteps thundering down the halls. Shouting and a bang every now and then. You were at home. Josh, no, Taehyung stood by the door at night now. He often shot you a little smile, but you didn’t often have the energy to return it.

“Your father and my father had a lot in common. It’s not wonder they put us two together.” You tried to make conversation, anything to keep the subject off of the upcoming investigation.

He seemed almost startled as he looked up from his desk. His head had been buried in papers, his pen scratching against the grain. You had decided to pop in and have a chat. You found yourself pausing by his door and wanting to say something. Anything. Anything to get your mind off your conscience.

“I think we have a lot in common too.” Yoongi responded, his eyes refocused on his work.

“What makes you say that?”

The pen stopped. He sat back slowly, the leather of the chair stretching as he leaned. His hand went to his lips as he considered the question.

“Hm, well, for one, you and I had terrible fathers.”

You snorted. “Not by choice.” That earned a smile which brought you an unspoken happiness.

“I dislike violence, I assume you do too.”

“That’s true.”

“But we have grown so accustomed to the violence in our homes as we grew that what we consider mellow, others might find atrocious.”

You fell quiet and let him speak.

“Do you ever feel so angry that you won’t ever get the chance to grow up normal? Your childhood has passed and so much of it was out of your control. Now you are where you are and that’s that. There is no chance to go back and change everything. That is just the unfortunate situation we were raised in.”

You felt your throat close up. No one had ever been so frank with you. And no one had ever been able to understand your life, but he could.

“Yes.” You responded. You entered his office and sat slowly in the chair across from him. His eyes followed you the whole time. “Sometimes, I get filled with rage. And it scares me.” You admitted quietly. His attention was fully on you and you could tell he was truly trying to understand you. You hadn’t felt that in a long time. “I get so angry I want to throw something. I want to react like my father. But,” Your hands folded into fists in your lap. “I just remind myself that I didn’t make myself a monster, he did.” You took another shaking breath and stared him in the eyes. “How could they do that…to a child?”

His eyes saddened, his mouth becoming an uncomfortable frown. He hesitantly reached across the table and you reach over, letting him hold your hand.

“I can’t answer that.” Yoongi said, his voice a soothing scratch. “But I can say that you’re not a monster. At least not in my eyes. I don’t think you will ever be.”

You stood and pulled your hands away. What were you thinking? Coming here, having this conversation with him.

“I hope so.” You didn’t know if he heard you, but he seemed satisfied with your conversation, a smile on his face as he returned to his work. How could you break his heart with your knowledge?

You were sweating now. The green blanket was long discarded on the ground by the time they came to get you. It was all too much. The shouting from those held in captivity, the people murmuring about gold roses. You felt like a rose about to be plucked and all your thorns had been torn off. You felt raw, exposed.

Yoongi walked at a pleasant pace behind you, keeping an eye on your hands. Your blood pressure was rising like the swell of a wave. The place they brought you was a basement, a part of the mansion you hadn’t seen before. It was hidden, a trapdoor under the office rug. The stairway was cramped, painfully dark, and every sound was amplified.

You’re going to die down here. Yet your soul felt hollowed out, like none of it mattered. It was like you were already a ghost. You didn’t want to die. Suddenly your inner voice was screaming. I don’t want to die! I don’t want to– You clutched the sides of your head and the party stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi quickly hurried to your aid and you accepted his warmth, just like you had in the past. It was instinctual. He opened his arms and you leaned in.

“I’m scared! I don’t want to do this!” You cried and it felt so wrong, yet so relieving to let yourself sob in his arms.

“It’ll be okay.” He hummed. “You just have to answer some questions. It’ll be short.”

“I can’t.” You suddenly pulled away. Your world was spinning, but the words were leaving your mouth before you could answer. “My father did this.” You choked. “My father killed your father. The rose is my family crest.” You moved towards the entrance, edging away as his arms fell limp to his side.

“You knew?”

“I’m so sorry, Yoongi. I just–I wanted to tell you but–I didn’t want to die!” You felt like a mess as you inched up the stairs. He remained standing at the bottom, his feet planted and his face crestfallen.

“You should have just told me. I-I wouldn’t have killed you! That was something my father would do, but not me. I…had a feeling you knew, but I wanted you to come clean. I wanted to…to show you that I wouldn’t hurt you so that you would just say it. I--” His voice cracked slightly and the guards nearby looked away out of respect. “I wanted closure too.”

Now you were the frozen one.

“I didn’t want it to come to this. I…I really tried to get to know you.”

“I didn’t ask you to try to know me.” You hissed.

“That isn’t fair! I wouldn’t have held it against you! I just wanted to-to–” You had never heard him raise his voice and it made the hair on the back of your neck stand tall.

“To what? Win my affection? I have no other choice but to love you, Yoongi!” You found yourself breaking apart. Because maybe you did have a choice, and your heart chose wrong.

“Love…me?” He found himself fumbling with the words and you’d never seen that before either.

You felt like a caged animal. Your instincts followed suit. And when a caged animal has the chance to escape, they take it.

Through the halls, your feet pounding against marble. Cool and slick with sweat. You passed pillars and busts of the Min family. You raced by the dining room, the marvelous windows of stained glass and the gold tinted metals.

“Wait!” His voice was thundering.

Out the door. You didn’t look back, couldn’t. You were focused on breathing and trying not to trip. You made it to the bottom of the street when you realized you didn’t know where you were going.

The wind whistled in your ears and your hair ruffled unhappily. Silence. Where were the men chasing you? You found yourself muttering under your breath, your lips forming words but sound barely escaping.

“To the river to the river.” you whispered. “Just keep moving.”

The river always soothed you. It was like a constant in your ever-changing life, which in itself was a bit of an oxymoron. The river always changed, but it changed with you, not against you. The dirt was always a nutrient soil teeming with clovers. The lights of the city in the distance reflected off the smooth stream of water. The toss and turn of the water lapped over new rocks every few seconds, the glistening surface of freedom.

“I knew I could find you here.” Mr. Seong said behind you, stepping from the shadows. You knew you had felt a pair of eyes on you. Your eyes refused to meet his and every bone in your body tensed as you sat against the rough rock bed. You didn’t care anymore. You were too tired, too pained in the twisting of your heart, to move.

You heard him sit next to you. His long legs stretching next to yours reminded you of another time. He used to pull you into his arms, between his legs, and wrap you in a hug as he rocked from side to side. Why did you still grasp onto what was kind and warm when he had been so cold since? Maybe because your inner child knew he was capable of loving you like he used to, he just chose not to. Maybe that broke your heart more than any betrayal.

“A father is supposed to be his daughter’s superhero. A man to look up to.” He mused. “I have not been the best father to you.”

Redemption. God, you wanted to allow him in again. To let him be the father he wasn’t able to be before. You wanted to tell him and then you wanted to let him go. He was dead to you. You tilted your head to look at the moon. It was so bright, not a cloud in the sky. The stars were out, but the pollution hid most in a sort of orange and gray hue.

“You are no father to me.” You found yourself biting out, because you had grown past that younger child, begging for love. No, you didn’t need it, and you didn’t need a father.

“Come on, honey, give your father a hug.” He opened his arms and you turned away, standing from the rocks with a decisive crunch.

“No. How did you even find me?” You hissed as you brushed off the dirt, still refusing a single glance in his direction.

He stood as well and you had forgotten what a big presence he was. He felt like he towered over you, like he took up all the space in this open air. Your safe space, invaded.

“I always know where to find you, honey.” He tsked like you had lost a big game, as if you were dumber than he thought.

“Get away from me.” You turned to face him fully. His features were made of pity. You wanted to kill him for that. It was when the other steps, the unnatural and distinctly human rustle, fell behind you. All the fight left your body.

“No.” Your eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t go against the Min family any more than you already have, would you?”

Mr. Seong stepped carefully over the rocks and reached for your face, which you quickly stepped away from. His fingertips just graced your jawline before he took a step back.

“Oh darling, you were always a Seong and you will remain one until you die.” He chuckled lowly. His eyes snapped to the men behind you. “Take her.”

A crack, a piece of cloth, and you felt the world tumbling away from beneath you. Your world was crumbling. You were already nothing but ruins anyway.

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tae-cup · 2 years

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Sollicitus | Mare Altius Quam

Pairing: Yoonmin x Reader

Summary: After several months adrift in space, alone, your ship is pulled onto the planet of Marmoris.

Genre: Alien!au, Angst, Fluff, Poly!au (is that a thing?)

Warnings: Religious Themes (Not human), Violence

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 5.5k Words

A/N: how’s everyone doing? Long time no see :) I apologize for the wait! I have a story plan, but I was actually thinking about how to execute this chapter in the least confusing way, as it delves more into Marmoris’ history.

Other:

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

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As you drifted off to sleep, you felt yourself floating. Darkness clouded your vision as the world sank away. You hoped it would be a peaceful sleep, but Marmoris had other plans for you.

A dark abyss. You were floating in the cool waters of Marmoris. It was an ocean that felt so familiar, yet so foreign. A brief, fleeting, memory of sand and fresh salt-tinged air encapsulated your mind. But the cold waters of this planet you now occupied seeped through. The colors of this water were darker, more potent, as if primed with energy.

A woman, with milky blue skin swam from the deep. Her faint outline was glowing with an aggressive presence. She looked unlike anyone you had seen in modern day Acatalepsy. She had a crudely crafted spear in one hand and her webbed feet were elongated as she swam right past you. Braided into her hair was an ornate set of corals and shells of creatures unknown to you. She let out several clicks from her mouth. Behind her, an army of men and women followed. As you were dragged along their current, you felt a pair of eyes on you, and you could tell because you had felt invisible until the hairs on your neck stood up.

A younger woman was in the crowd, blending in, but your eyes were drawn to her. For some reason, she had a glowing golden light emanating from her very skin. But no one seemed to notice, and she herself did not seem to have a care in the world. Everyone’s eyes were dead set on a glow in the distance.

“What are you doing here?” A voice, one that contained a mixture of many voices, said behind you.

You whirled around in the dark ocean. It was the same young woman, although her eyes were a soft glow and her hair held a crown of glistening gold spikes. She tilted her head, the previously faint glow burning brighter. Your wide eyes gave way to the pounding of your heart, but you were somehow acutely aware that you weren’t meant to see any of this. “I…I don’t know why I’m here, to be completely honest.”

“Hm.” She observed you. “A human?”

You nodded uncertainly.

“You don’t look so human in this story, young one.” It felt as if many voices were pushing through to say the same words; barely understandable but terrifying nonetheless.

The woman smiled and showed off her pointed teeth. When you looked down, you could see yourself glowing with a faint white outline and to your shock, your arms were covered with markings, thin webbing between your fingers and toes.

“What-” You started, dumbfounded, but her icy grip turned you back towards the story unfolding. The glowing light in the distance was no longer distant. It was now right in front of you, and it was no simple ‘glowing light.’ No, it was an ancient city of Acatalepsy.

“Just watch.” Her voice, a single, feminine tone, whispered in your ear.

And so you watched. You watched as the beings from the deep swam and easily marched into the cave of Acatalepsy. The buildings were not grand, in fact, even the palace was short and barely bigger than a normal Acatalepsian building of the present.

“Vitska.” The woman leading the charge barked to the glowing one.

Vitska, the golden glowing woman, stepped forward.

“Go, find the king.” The woman’s raspy voice clicked and screeched through the air, yet you were able to understand them perfectly, as if you were a born Marmorian. The woman handed Vitska a polished pearl sword. “Bring him to me and I will separate his head from his neck with great care.”

“I will, my liege.” Vitska grasped the sword and marched towards the palace. Her simple clothing was made to move and flow in the ocean. Now, the delicately woven shells and leaves dragged against her glistening wet skin.

A man sat on the throne. His feet were bare, but he wore a similar skirt to Vitska. His chest was uncovered, showcasing a set of gills and markings most similar to those you had seen on modern day Acatalepsians. Most notably, his skin was illuminated by a faint blue glow. As she entered the room, her face seemed to drain of color. This could not be the man that did this to her people. It just couldn’t be. She blinked a few times and you wondered if she could see the aura around the man.

“Sortkol!” Vitska shouted, but her clicks and shrills seemed to be music to the man’s ears. He slowly rose and walked toward her. Not you.

“Vitska, you know this is not the way.” Sortkol clicked. Then, as if seeing his light blue glow that emanated from his body for the first time, her eyes truly widened. She knew that this was not her enemy at all. Still, she held her ground.

“It became the way when you banished my people to the deep.” But as Vitska charged towards him, the ground shook. When the ground shook, the whole battlefield seemed to go silent. Both Sortkol and Vitska looked around cautiously. The woman with the shell crown ascended the steps towards the palace, seemingly going to fetch her prize. Behind her, Acatalepsy was drowning.

Vitska grabbed Sortkol’s arm.

“We must run.” Vitska announced. “I do not know who you are, or why Marmoris wants you alive, but we must go.”

Sortkol needed no other explanation. Marmorian’s trust in the sea, in the planet, far outweighed any trust in the people around them. As the two disappeared from sight, the scene melted into a ripple of water in an endless abyss.

“You wonder why I saved the man I sought to kill?” Vitska asked, now sitting cross-legged in front of you. She appeared to be in the same state as the vision now. The golden glow was muted and her eyes were white as if she were a bottom dweller once more.

“It makes no sense.” You whispered.

“You humans are quite stubborn, hm? You set your mind to something and you cannot fathom going against orders, especially ones that come from inside, right?” She clicked unhappily. You could imagine her with a cup of tea right now and the image would be perfect.

Vitska shook her head in a deep sigh. “My dear, you are not the only one to be plagued with visions from our planet.”

“Plagued?”

“Sleep well, dear. Do not fear the past, fear the present.”

You woke in a cold sweat. When you closed your eyes, Vitska’s glowing ones were imprinted in the back of your eyelids. The feeling of being submerged made your ears pop uncomfortably. You rose slowly, swinging your legs over the bedside and gingerly stepping onto the freezing floor. A glow caught your attention. You walked over toward the vanity.

Staring at your reflection, you felt panic rising in your throat. You were glowing. Your skin was glowing with a slight white hue. You could hold your arm up to the words written on the side of the vanity and read them in the darkness of the room. Were you going crazy? You blinked a couple times and the glow faded away. With a shaky sigh, you made your way out of the room to start the day.

Living on Marmoris could not be described as even close to the torture you felt drifting alone in space. Arguably, you had more mobility in the vacuum of space, but on Marmoris you had company. Not everyone knew your language, but you didn’t think they should. You mostly tried to blend in, ignore the fuzzy feelings in your stomach, and search for ways to get off the planet, hopefully home. You just didn’t belong on Marmoris, as much as the planet seemed to want you to stay.

A few weeks had gone by and your daily routine consisted of: waking up, eating with the members of the high council, and exploring the city. Of course, not all members of the council were there at once. Most had duties and some you didn’t see for days on end. For instance, Hoseok liked to connect with the more rural farmers, so he was often gone for a few days a week to check on them. His campaign to bring the farmers’ voices to the table had shaped the culture surrounding food in Acatalepsy.

As you rounded the corner to the dining room, a week after your strange dream, you were halted in place. In front of you sat two men, Jimin and Yoongi. But each was glowing a faint hue. Jimin shined in gold and Yoongi in blue. Did you mention it to them? Something told you that you shouldn’t. Maybe it was your suspicions left over from the dream or your guilty conscience telling you that you had made enough trouble already. You sat down to eat and easily slurped down the kelp soups and chomped into the strange fish. The food didn’t taste so foreign to you anymore.

It was another quiet morning in Acatalepsy and one by one the members of the high council filed in and out. The dining hall was soon deserted with just you and Taehyung left over. Taehyung finished his soup and instead of simply standing to leave, he stood and took a chair across from you.

“Tell me your story.” He said simply, but his intentions were unclear to you. After being safely housed in Acatalepsy for the past several weeks, there was nothing that should have led you to believe any ill intention. However, his sunny smile had never convinced you that he was a trustworthy character.

“It’s a long one. Our…passenger ship,” You winced internally at the lie, “lost power inexplicably and then everyone killed each other, leaving…me.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“That must have been tough.”

“Yeah that’s one way to put it. But I’m here now and that’s all that matters.”

“I suppose it does.” His eyes narrowed skeptically and he stood officially from the table.

From around the corner, Yoongi, Jimin, and Jungkook stood talking. Originally, it had been to address Hoseok’s travels to the rural factions of Acatalepsy, but now it had turned to their new visitor. Yoongi leaned against the wall, cast in shadow, while the other two stood across from each other. The older man had his arms cross as the youngest spoke softly.

“It is strange how this human seems to coax so much information out of us, yet we know little about her.” Jungkook pointed out, his brows furrowing with suspicion.

“Well, I did read once that Humans have a peculiar problem with showing their emotions efficiently. They like to wait until half their lifetimes to show any true part of themselves.” Jimin chided softly.

“Hm, isn’t she around middle of her age?” Jungkook scoffed.

“Isha.” Yoongi glanced to the side and then fixed Jungkook with a hard stare. “She is still in the first quarter of her lifespan. She does not look like the pictures of middle aged Humans, yet.”

“My bad, I didn’t know that I needed to know every little thing about such an invasive species like Humans. I suppose it was only a matter of time, huh?” Jungkook spat with vigor as he turned away slightly.

“She is not an invasive creature!” Jimin clicked unhappily.

“Well, she isn’t a guest either.” Jungkook finished with a low rumble. “It’s about time we stopped treating her like one.”

“Itskol!” A new one, muttered by Yoongi. It was something reminiscent of the human word Asshole. “You are being insufferable.” The eldest man frowned. “She is lost and confused. She has no way off this planet and back home and we have no way to help her.”

“You seem awfully compassionate for someone who hates Vita. You have come to care recklessly for the creature.” Jimin suddenly added and Yoongi’s eyes flashed a sense of betrayal that ran deeper than just a simple comment.

“If you confront the creature know that I warned you against it, Jungkook.” Yoongi said lowly. “Your fallout will be more shocking than my hatred of Duende.”

Jungkook was a vigilant guard, and that wasn’t just because of his strength. No, the man was certainly stronger than most, but it was his keen awareness of others around him that raised him above his peers. He was well-trained to sense intent before action, but with the arrival of a human…well his world was upside down.

You were a logistical nightmare for him. He couldn’t stand it. It was hard enough keeping track of the all too eager younger children roaming the streets, but now he had a very curious human in the mix. And this was a creature who most certainly couldn’t survive a rogue encounter with any deep sea creatures.

Your curiosity struck him, yes, but it was the way you carried yourself that had him on edge. Jungkook found similarities in the way you walked and the short, clipped, sentences you spoke, with a general or commander under his watch. You reminded him of himself. There was a darkness behind your eyes that spoke of an experience far from being on a ‘simple passenger ship.’

He was on watch for one of the most treasured markets of Acatalepsy. It was started by Hoseok about 100 years or so before when he was a simple fledgling Marmorian. Hoseok had already shown an affinity to agriculture and working with the local farmers at the ripe young age of 130. It was typical for an Acatalepsian to do a work study after school. Hoseok, contrary to the Acatalepsians who wanted to follow Sortitio in the pursuit of public health, like Jin, wanted to help in the rural areas.

While Hoseok floated happily among the people, pointing out fresh hyacintho fin and viridi tructa, your stiff form stuck out. Despite slipping through the crowd with ease, you still couldn’t blend in. He wasn’t sure if that was due to the nature of humans or a consequence of training all too familiar to him. See, he was starting to figure you out, but what concerned him more was that he was starting to understand you.

If what he believed was true, then he should have every right to be suspicious of you. It just didn’t make sense that you hadn’t figured out a way off this planet by now. As he looked out at the bustling life of his people, his mouth went dry. If your military came and razed this city to the ground, it would be his fault. It would be his fault for bringing you in without another thought.

But in the end, his life didn’t truly matter–he was only to be used as a shield for Acatalepsy’s survival. He had no problem sacrificing and putting himself in danger, but he did have a problem with putting others in danger. As time went on, the others got less suspicious, but Jungkook…no, he only got more so.

“She never relaxes.” Jungkook pointed out softly as he observed the marketplace. The man standing next to him shifted uncomfortably.

“I had noticed that.” Namjoon mused, but his voice had a more introspective tone filled with wonder, less suspicion.

“Well, does that not concern you?”

“Perhaps only for her own health.” Namjoon thought for a moment and then dipped his head. “She is still very much away from home and struggling.”

“Struggling?” Jungkook repeated incredulously. “We give her everything. Food, water, a place to sleep, and insight into our culture.”

“And yet it’s still all very new for her.”

“I disagree with you, Namjoon.” Jungkook finally put his foot on the ground, a move that surprised the elder councilman. “I disagree with your decision that ‘no one is looking for her’.” He mimicked the older man’s voice, which visibly displeased Namjoon.

“You have a lot to learn, fledgling.”

“You are being an Isha.”

Before Namjoon could retort, the younger had stormed away, presumably to retire to his quarters for the day. Jimin had now appeared at the market, having to gently push away people seeking his clarity. Echoes of will my mother survive? To give me strength, holy one filled the perimeter around him. He was so young to have such a heavy burden. Meanwhile, Yoongi lingered menacingly in the back. Unlike Jimin, people gave the second in command a wide berth.

You were simply enjoying the marketplace. The delicately crafted shell necklaces and seaweed parchment stood out to you. Skirts, roughly hewn but made with purpose, reminded you of your dream. The woman with glowing golden eyes pressed into the back of your mind.

Your eyes lingered on a red fluorescent ring. You felt a presence and heard footsteps that were only discernible to a trained ear like yours. Unlike past times on Earth, however, you weren’t fearful of the presence. It was familiar, like a soothing current of water and the smell of salt unique to Marmoris.

“Would you be interested in learning some of our history?” Yoongi asked.

You turned to the man, resisting a smile. Yoongi and you were quite alike, you thought. Both of you felt like outsiders, in more ways than one, and Yoongi was even disliked for his differing opinions on Duende.

“History?” You had yet to tell any of them about your dream. It was like there was a voice in your head whispering don’t do it. Save it. I will tell you when the time is right. And you were sure it was just in your head, but it felt like a voice whispering in your ear; an eerily feminine voice with glowing golden eyes, “I would love to learn more.” You responded finally and Yoongi shot you a pleased smile.

You assumed it had been a while since someone foreign needed to learn about their history. And not just foreign, but of another world entirely.

“Follow me.” Yoongi guided softly and when he touched your hand to lead you away front he marketplace, a familiar jolting sensation passed between your fingertips. Yoongi’s mouth instantly went dry. This was a familiarly unfamiliar situation; one he’d heard of and had described to him multiple times, but one he’d never experienced. It seemed impossible that Duende could exist in a creature not of Marmoris.

First Jimin, now Yoongi. It made no sense to you what this pleasantly surprising feeling was. The sensation was similar to warm water washing over your body, stretching from your fingertips to your heart. In contrast, Jimin’s had felt like a warm buzz of energy. As if you were being embraced by a cup of coffee. Both weren’t unwanted, but their effects had been different.

“Strange.” Yoongi mumbled, acknowledging the feeling, but like Jimin, he did not address it further with you. Fine. Two could play at that game.

“What is?” You asked, playing dumb, as he walked towards an older building at the end of the marketplace street.

“Nothing.” He brushed off your question.

The building was made of stone sunken into the walls of the cave. It was the first building you had seen up close that looked to be carved out of the cave. Yoongi watched you touch the cool stone.

“You know, lots of people say we shouldn’t take advantage of the cave by carving into it like this.” Yoongi chuckled a little. “But they don’t realize that this was already here.”

He went up to the dimpled surface of the rock and pressed his hand to it. He leaned in close and pressed his cheek against it. He whispered a few words, his eyes fluttering closed and he breathed into the pores of the cave’s stone. A stone door slid open to his left.

You felt your mouth hang open awkwardly. “You just….whispered into a stone wall and it opened?” You gawked as he walked into the space.

“You have to accept the history of this place. It is a sacred tome to Vita and Sorititio. It is where the lovers reunited in death; a symbol of history that is perhaps not as glorious as the words of our elders.”

You nodded to his words. You were not a stranger to glorified history. You had been taught that the planets Humans were conquering were simply being ‘saved’ from themselves and that your species had to right their planet. But your species had reshaped each planet to home humans, driving away the original inhabitants. Humans had considered Marmoris impossible to colonize, though, the planet being all water, of course.

“Come on.” Yoongi motioned for you to follow as he stepped into the dark space that opened.

You took a step towards the door, but the door suddenly slid closed. You saw Yoongi’s eyes widen in surprise and his yell was cut off. You pressed a hand to the place where the door just was. It was seamlessly in place again. The stone was slightly warm. You couldn’t hear Yoongi. It was like he had been swallowed by an abyss.

“Yoongi?” You shouted against the stone, but there was no answer. Embrace our history and we will show you the way. The voice was deafeningly loud in your ears. Your eyes widened. The voice boomed from behind you, but when you turned around there was no one. Show us you are ready.

The sound had you falling to your knees and you braced yourself on the wall. From afar, Jimin watched you. He knew a Duende event when he saw it, for he himself heard these voices as well. It was always best to leave a person undisturbed when these events occurred. But he could imagine you were confused. He found his fist clenched, his mind subconsciously praying for your wellbeing; to have strength.

You rested your forehead against the wall and pressed both hands to it as well. You thought back to your dream, which was now striking you as quite real; a reflection of a bloody history buried no so long ago. The way Vitska looked at Sortkol with such fear, the way she spoke to you in many voices–soldiers long passed. And it struck you just how wondrously, and deeply, hidden their true past was.

“I’m ready.” You whispered to the stone. “I’m ready to learn all of your history.”

You felt a warm sensation in your heart, as if it were beating out of your chest. Then the warmth moved down your right arm and transferred to the stone. The heat spread to your right and a door appeared, glistening white. In the doorway, you saw a glowing figure beckoning you in.

“You wish to learn our history? I will show you our history.” Vitska announced, her voice booming through the cavern, yet everyone in the marketplace seemed unaware of your plight.

You stepped through the door.

Yoongi was nowhere in sight and the glow had faded to a pitch black as you made your way into the museum. A case stood to your left, Vitska’s old battle skirt displayed and behind it was a ghostly image of her charging into battle with the skirt’s rings flying desperately around her. It flickered between the war torn city and a younger Vitska, a child really, with a weapon twice her size.

She sliced into rock, but the image flickered again and showed her slicing into a Marmorian. The image moved in slow motion and you absorbed her facial expression. It was one of determination and grief.

“I do not know why my mother wanted to retake Acatalepsy, but I was raised to capture the king since birth.” Vitska’s ghostly body had disappeared and now you only tracked her through her steps lighting up in front of you in the darkness. “I cannot say I loved Sortkol, but a certain amount of trauma does bond a person to another, hm?”

“Vitska, what happened to you two when you fled?” You questioned her softly as you took in more ghostly images of battle and bloodshed. The blue blood of bleeding Marmorians was somehow more disconcerting than the red blood that leaked from human wounds.

“Us?” Vitska suddenly appeared to your right and in the blank void of this sacred site, you could barely see her face. “Well, we swam the deep until we came across the beating heart of Marmoris.” She paused and you stopped walking as another image appeared. A young Vitska and Sortkol stared in amazement at a glowing light in the distance.

“It is a hundred miles below you right now.” She whispered. “This is where we returned when we died,”

“And it is where we will rest now.” A deeper voice rung across the dim space.

A man with shifting marks across his body appeared. His arm wrapped around Vitska’s waist and you instantly knew him to be Sortkol. In the hollow scene behind them, two glowing lights raced through an ancient Acatalepsy amidst the fighting. The city was drowning, water from a restless planet sloshing through the caves.

Then suddenly, the fighting stopped. Everyone was looking up as the glowing lights, one gold and one blue, raced through the streets and exploded in an echo that reverberated around the cavern. Two figures in glowing light appeared over where you were standing in the present. One exploded in golden light and new algae formed, covering the cave in a luscious greenery. The other slammed a hammer to the ground, shaking the stalactites from the ceiling.

Marmorians from everywhere in the city slowly sank to the ground, pressing their foreheads into the stone. The figures, pleased, disappeared into dust.

“Marmoris’ beating heart was dying.” Vitska guided you to a glowing circle, “And we gave our lives to replenish it’s life. The time is coming for a new life source. I wonder who it will be.” She mused. “I know you have been missing home, so I will give you strength.”

You touched the circle and the world exploded. Lights, colors, sounds, and people you had never seen before filled your head. Smiles, celebration, glittering crystals. Kisses on cheeks and weddings. The beach. The rough waves, sand, and people shouting.

People. People without stripes and swirls, people who looked like you of every color and size. A warm sun and cold, gray, rain with cities towering into the clouds and small cottages in the countryside. Laughter. You realized suddenly, that Vitska had given you a gift incomprehensible to anyone but you.

Home.

You opened your eyes and a sob tore out of your throat. The woman watched you and you were glad that when you met her eyes they were not pitiful.

“Stand, young one.” She commanded and you felt compelled to do so. “I am sorry.”

And those words had you clutching your chest. How you longed for the warmth of the sun, and for a moment you had it.

“Please.” You whispered and she knew what you wanted. She gently grasped your hands and you felt her as if she was real. She pulled your hands away from your heart, where you were desperately saving the last bit of the sun’s warmth.

“I cannot give you any more or you will become corrupt. Use this as strength and drive.” She pressed a hand to the wall and a door slid open, revealing the marketplace through a swirling picture. “Go.”

“I can’t.” You whispered. And for the first time since you arrived, you found yourself stuck in place, unable to move from a fading glowing circle.

“You must.” and her hands pushed you towards the door until you were face to face with the swirling image. You could see Yoongi staring into the doorway with concern, but his looked past you, as if you were see-through.

“I will see you soon, young one.” Vitska said and her voice reminded you of your mother’s.

You took a step through the image and when you stepped back onto Acatalepsian’s pavement, you felt your legs wobble. Yoongi was quick to catch your arm as the door shut.

“I was so worried, what happened in there?” Yoongi breathed, but you just shook your head. Some things were better left unsaid. You wouldn’t even know where to begin.

“I can’t-I can’t explain it.” You choked and you cleared your throat, straightening. The city seemed to thrum under your feet, a beat you hadn’t noticed before. The thrumming helped you get your bearings.

Yoongi took in your words and seemed to understand what you meant.

“Let’s get you to rest.” He prompted, but you waved him off.

“No, no. I can’t sleep.” You didn’t want to see Vitska again.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asked, but you had started to walk away from him. He watched you go with uncertain eyes.

You shoved your way through the crowd, in a daze. How had the sun felt so real? Oh, how home was so far away yet so close. You could almost grasp those library books, feel the smile as you laughed with a group of friends. The sand between your toes. You curled your toes. No sand.

As you turned down an alleyway you hadn’t discovered, you heard heavy footsteps behind you. The heavy footed nature of a soldier. God, you just wanted to be alone to mourn your home. You could now understand Vitska’s grief stricken face as she battled for Acatalepsy.

“So you were simply adrift in space?” Jungkook chirped behind you.

You turned, too cross with Marmorians to try and keep up a careful facade. “Mhm.” You hummed with dissatisfaction.

“No other motives to your mission?” His eyes darkened and you felt your heart sink. Even as you tried to keep up your lie, you could tell at that moment that he had you figured out.

“what makes you assume I had a mission? I was aboard a passenger ship.”

“Definitely.” He chuckled, but his fingers curled and flexed uncomfortably.

Your eyes drifted to his hands and then to his arms, tensed and ready. Was he scared of you? It made no sense. Unless….he thought you had called reinforcements.

“How did you figure it out?” You stated, trying to be light hearted about it.

“I know the tactics.” He stated simply. “You don’t want to be perceived as a threat in a foreign planet where you are outnumbered.” He shrugged a little.

“But how do you recognize military from another species and planet?” You asked incredulously.

“A well-trained soldier can always recognize another of its kind.” His expression softened and his eyes trailed your tensed fists. He didn’t want to escalate anything in a place so close to the public and without the other councilmen knowing, so he backed away slowly.

You watched him as he slinked back into the crowd, but even once he was gone you could feel a piercing stare.

“What are you doing awake? I thought humans need a, uh, certain amount of sleep.” Namjoon drifted towards you. You sat, thinking, at a well that led into the abyss of Marmoris below. The glowing algae glistened like a thousand stars. The feeling of home that Vitska gave you had long since passed.

“We do, but I am suffering from a bit of insomnia.” You said nonchalantly.

Namjoon blinked and tilted his head. “I see.”

“I wish this was easier.” You mumbled and Namjoon stepped closer. He gave a questioning look and you waved him over to sit.

“I know you will probably reject my advice, seeing as I am of another species,” He started.

“Go ahead.”

“Sometimes one has to be okay with finding a home within themselves, in situations where they do not know the way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hope you do not mind hearing a bit of my boring story,”

“I do not.”

“Well, in the crowning ceremony of a High King, they must undergo a trial set by the head Duende. This has passed down for generations. You must spend three nights in the deep and if you come back alive, you are claimed the rightful king.” Namjoon mused and you found yourself truly acknowledging the man in front of you. “My father was quite sick. He had the Languorem before we knew much about it. When he died,” He muttered a quick prayer, “My brother was thrust into the ceremony with little preparation. It is safe to say he never returned.”

“And you have no idea where he went?”

“It is hard to say, but I spent many years praying to Vita to take care of his soul.”

You were surprised when Vitska’s voice whispered in your ear. Through all these stories you had heard of people praying for Vita, you only now heard her voice responding to their pleas. It was a faint whisper that seemed to get louder.

You reached over and held his hands. “I am sure he is well taken care of, wherever he is.”

Vitska’s words rung in your ears. I have taken care of many souls, but none as gentle as his brother’s.

taglist: @rosesolitaire @feral-daisy @uppiespuppies @xxsunny-side-upxx @justanotherstarlightmonger

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biaswreckme · 3 years

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sweet spot | jhs

Answer to this request: [...] I would be curious if you'd like to write a fluffy-smutty drabble with Hoseok? Maybe that fem. Reader is inexperienced and she wants to make her first few experiences with Hobi and it leads to a soft but passionate make out session with Clothed Sex/Dry Humping and Hobi comes "accidentally" right in his pants? But both talk about this incident and the Reader takes it as a compliment?

Pairing: Hoseok/Reader (established relationship)

Member: Hoseok

Genre: smut, fluff

Triggers/Warnings: smut, dry humping, clothed sex, coming in pants

Length: 1124 words

You talked about this before, and Hoseok was understanding. The subject came up on a day you were alone with him at the dorm, making out on the couch when you first felt his hardness pressed against you. You froze and panicked a little, not ready for this to happen yet. He sensed your hesitation and asked what was wrong, and so the conversation about you being inexperienced when it came to sexual matters emerged, but you confessed that you wanted to try things with him, just not all at once. When you said that, his mouth opened into that big wide smile of his, and he said he would be happy to take things slow and follow your rhythm. Since then, you have been more open to him touching your body, you touching his, whatever the moment dictated – which has not been often enough, in your opinion. They have been busy, but finally, oh-so-finally today Hoseok was free to spend some time with you.

And again, another day alone at the dorm is a rare occurrence that you two want to enjoy. So right now you two are in the living room, and what started with the invitation to watch some Netflix turned to what was happening, and you can’t help but think Netflix and chill, huh?. The series you are watching is long forgotten on the television, the low volume coming from the machine almost white noise in the ambient mixed with the sound from the rain coming from outside. With the lights dimmed, it is the perfect ambiance to explore a bit further.

You feel his hands on your legs, softly pulling you towards him. You let your body follow his intentions, coming to sit atop his legs, with your legs spread on each side of his body. Your lips are almost in perfect height now, and you look at him fondly before coming in for another kiss. His hands caress your legs, going up and down your thighs, still very much innocently, no rush, no pressure for anything to happen. You pause to suck softly on his top lip, licking his mole, making light pressure with your teeth, and you hear his low moan. You repeat the action, needing to get more of this reaction from him, and he moans again, a little louder this time, and his hands tighten on your thighs. He pulls you towards him even more and scoots down on the couch just enough so you are sitting directly on his crotch, and you can feel him. He pauses and looks at you, seeking confirmation. You sigh and adjust yourself, getting more comfortable, smiling at him. You nod and hold his hands, taking them from your thighs to your hips.

“Show me what to do, Hobi.”

His lips curve into a smile and, still looking at you, staring into your eyes, he puts some pressure on his hands, moving your hips slightly forwards and backward. You feel his hardness under you, and you open your mouth into a silent moan when the movement backward makes him press deliciously where you need him the most, a bolt of pleasure passing through your body. It does not take long until your hips are moving to their own volition, no more help needed from Hoseok, and his hands are free to roam your body, caressing your back, pressing you against him into an open-mouthed kiss, then lowering his lips to your neck. Both of your hands are around his neck, but when you feel his tongue on your sensitive skin, one of your hands instinctively tangles itself into his soft locks – and praise his stylists for letting him grow his hair out again.

And then one of his hands is in your own hair, just holding it at first, but when you start moving your hips slightly faster, his fingers tighten, pulling your hair, and the sensation seems to go straight between your legs. Your underwear is getting a little uncomfortable with the wetness as you can feel how excited you are. For a moment it makes you wonder if Hoseok can feel it too through your clothes, it seems there is so much, but it feels so good you do not want to stop. You hear the moans coming out of your mouth and you can’t believe you are emitting those sounds, but you are unable to keep them in. Hoseok’s grip on your body gets stronger, and the way his fingers are clenched into your hair increases the pleasurable sensation, an almost foreign sensation due to the intensity building in the deep of your belly and the tips of your toes. You feel it slowly starting to spread and you try to lower your hips into his erection, even more, his breath getting quicker and his moans more frequent, and you are barely able to hear him muttering like that come on, his eyes half-closed, his head thrown back. You keep going, chasing the edge of the sensation that is just right there when you feel him tremble under you, a loud whine in his voice.

“Fuck, I can’t believe this,” he starts but is interrupted by his own moan when you do not stop your hips from moving.

Your arms go around his body as your orgasm washes over your entire body, blinding and deafening you for a brief moment before your hips start to falter. The pleasure is intense, more than anything you have ever felt before on your own, and you catch yourself panting into his embrace, your clothes slightly sticking to your body with the effort.

“I’m sorry,” embarrassment filling his sweet voice.

“Why? Did I do something wrong?” you sit back, getting off his lap and onto the couch again, worried at his apology.

“No, no,” he is quick to reassure you, “you did everything so perfect and I… couldn’t control myself? I can’t remember the last time I came into my pants and that quickly, it’s like I’m a horny teenager all over again.” His hands go to his face and he shakes his head.

“Oh,” you reply in understanding, “oh. It’s okay, Hobi.” You kiss him softly. “It’s kind of flattering, to be honest… that I… could make you feel like that.” It is your turn to cover your face in embarrassment.

He chuckles and kisses your embarrassment away, his own fading along with yours.

“You always make me feel like that, for the record. I can’t wait to explore more with of, of you. I love you, Y/n.”

You kiss him deeply in return, trying to convey your love for him in the action, and you end it by pecking his top heart-shaped lip, saying “I love you too.”

#bts smut #hoseok smut #btscreatorscorner #bangtansilverclub #thebtswritersclub #jung hoseok #j hope #j hope smut #j-hope smut #j-hope #hoseok fanfic #hoseok imagine #jung hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #j hope fanfic #jeong hoseok #jeong hoseok smut #my work

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tae-cup · 3 years

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A Subtle Landing | Mare Altius Quam

Pairing: Yoonmin x Reader

Summary: After several months adrift in space, alone, your ship is pulled onto the planet of Marmoris.

Genre: Alien!au, Angst, Fluff, Poly!au (is that a thing?)

Warnings: Religious Themes (Not human), Violence in future

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 6k Words

A/N: how’s everyone doing? I might go back and edit this more later. But here it is!

Other:

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

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The vastness of space was dark and oppressive, but you couldn’t long for it more at this moment. The spaceship rattled around you, metal slowly stripping away on the outer layers as you plummeted towards the dark blue planet below. You had no telling if this was a water planet or the dark blue mass was made of solids. It had all happened so quickly. You were drifting along, like you had been for the past several months, when your ship began falling towards this planet.

You pushed a strand of hair out of your eyes, ignoring the sweat and grime that coated your face. You had tried to kickstart the engine with no luck and you cursed yourself for not checking up on it sooner. The lights of the console flashed red and orange, colors that were not good to see. Your training was kicking in, however, and you almost thanked them for brainwashing you into a mindless soldier because your body began moving on instinct.

You strapped yourself in, making sure to fasten the belts tighter than normal, then you reached for your breathing pack and pushed it onto your face, inhaling deeply. You had to conserve oxygen so you tried your best to steady your breathing. As you hurdled closer to the planet, you could see the glint of water and you wanted to sigh with relief. Perhaps the landing wouldn’t be as rough.

But alas, all landings are rough when you’re falling at god knows how fast towards a planet of water. You would almost find it beautiful if your heart wasn’t racing. You hadn’t survived for seven months on your own just to end it like this. So you strapped in and waited for the inevitable.

Jungkook froze, the light in his forehead flickering on and off. The dull glow of it beneath his skin flashed against the cold darkness. His senses were on high alert. Something wasn’t right, he just felt it.

The duende that flowed through his blood let him know of another presence, another life force, but who? He scented the water, moving his arms around to get a better smell. Nothing.

The young man slowly swam forward more, the current bringing him closer to the source of the disturbance. His webbed feet and hands propelled him into the darkness. Jungkook was used to the vastness of the ocean. Sure, to some who never dared venture outside of the city, it was an oppressive being, but he had always found a home in the intimidating.

He continued on his way, gliding through the water with practiced grace, he found himself coming across an awful smell. It was acrid, burning, and something just wasn’t right. He should turn around and report his findings, he should get backup, but does he? No.

Jungkook had never been one to think things through too carefully. The man made his way forward. The remnants of a spaceship, distinctly human, were sinking into the dark depths. Jungkook hesitantly flashed the light on his forehead once more before deciding that whatever it was, was not a threat.

When he swam forward, he saw the silhouette of a girl, her hair floating around her, a breathing mask positioned firmly on her face. It was like she had understood she was to crash. He grimaced, assessing the situation.

She was clearly knocked out and helpless. Jungkook didn’t remember much from his studies on other species, but he did distinctly remember that humans couldn’t breathe in water.

Now, his kind weren’t vicious people, they were actually quite peaceful, but the man had been trained to assess the danger of every situation, it was his sacred duty. His hesitancy to take care of this creature was worrying. She was intelligent life, he couldn’t just kill her and leave. It didn’t sit right in his stomach.

Jungkook carefully clutched her into his arms and started to head back to the city. Meanwhile, in his head he was berating himself wondering if this was the right choice or if he just led a predator into the prey’s nest.

It smelled like the sea. It smelled like home. You could almost convince yourself that if you opened your eyes, you would see the glistening blue of the Earth’s oceans. Sadly, it had been years since you’d seen that and a long time since you’d even hoped to see them again. You inhaled deeply, curling into the sheets more. The numbness of your side began to grow uncomfortable, alerting you to something being off.

The first thing you noticed was the clean and crisp sheets surrounding you. On your ship, you had been sleeping in the same threadbare sheets since the beginning. That was the first indicator that something was wrong.

You scrunched up your nose, sniffing the air. Once again, the smell of the sea hit you. Except, this time you slowly sat up, cracking open your eyelids. You took in your surroundings, your brain working at a snail’s pace.

Then, your eyes flew open and you rubbed at your eyes frantically. You were in a lavish room, a canopy of drapes and silken sheets. The room was of a rough coral material, odd for a room. Why was that my first thought? You frowned. Where the hell am I? You could feel yourself panicking, so you let your training kick in.

Your mouth slid into a tight line as you turned to survey the surroundings. Observe and analyze your situation. What do you see? Your eyes flicked from one object to another. You took note of the thick paned glass windows, the way it was pitch black outside, the way the lights flickered unsteadily. You focused on the lights. Were they really lights? You carefully stepped out of the soft sheets.

As your feet touched the ground, you inhaled sharply at the coldness. You weren’t actually sure what material it was. It could be marble, but it was so much colder. It was like walking on ice.

You shivered, unsure of if you should continue to explore. Yes, you were curious by nature, but you could also take a cue. Whoever put you here hadn’t planned on torturing you, since you weren’t handcuffed. Try the door.

You walked forward, trying the doorknob. To your surprise, it was unlocked. You peaked your head out. The entire place was dark, only illuminated by lanterns lining the hallways on either side. You swung your head from side to side. No one in sight.

Still, you needed to play this smart. You closed your eyes, knitting your eyebrows together. The last thing you remembered was hurtling towards a dark blue water planet and you were a) not breathing water and b) still alive. So where were you and what the hell happened?

The place, wherever you were, was silent when you opened your eyes and still very much empty. While you wanted to explore, you had a feeling you would get more answers if you waited for whoever brought you here to come back.

You quietly closed the door and sat back down on the bed. It wasn’t too bad. Worst case scenario, you could be being tortured. Still, you had little fear for your life. There were so many indicators that whoever did this had no intention of harming you; from the lavish bed to the nicely sized room. Also, there was some sort of food on a plate on the desk, but you weren’t sure what it was.

The desk itself was a work of art. It was golden with twisting coral designs. Dried kelp patterns were imprinted in the desk legs.

The food was something that was striped and blue, the meat was a deep shade of purple. It wasn’t entirely appetizing and you weren’t sure if your stomach would be able to handle the food here. What you could tell, was that you certainly weren’t anywhere you should be.

Now, you were far from...calm, but you could at least have a level head about your situation. It was easier to pull up this front, even if you were only being strong for yourself now; no longer a crew of people, an army of soldiers, or your friends. Now, you were alone and it wasn’t like you were unused to it.

There was a knock on the door, causing your head to whip up from your curious searching of the desk.

“Come in.” You said, trying to keep your voice level. Now it was time to see what you were up against.

The door slowly creaked open, the light orange painted material glinting against the dim overhead light. Who, more like what, stepped through the door had not been what you were expecting. You almost dropped the cool facade.

The man, you suspected it to be a man at least, was nothing like you’d ever seen before. The most notable features were the swirls of black ink under his skin. They curled all the way up to his neck where the tapered off just below the jawline.

His hair was a stiff black and on his arms were little slits, almost like gills. His eyes were a faded white, the color of a light hazel peering out from underneath. There was clearly a protective film over his eyes and when he blinked, something slid over his eyes from the right to the left, like in alligators.

You were, rightfully, taken aback. Your breath caught in your throat. He was unique looking, definitely not human, and yet you found him to be oddly attractive. You cleared your throat awkwardly, unsure of what to say to this creature, man, thing. He tilted his head, intrigued.

“Who are you?” You asked. “Where am I? How did I get here?”

His mouth twitched into a smile, something that was oddly human. It was a familiar gesture that set you at ease. Besides the physical difference, which you could put aside for later, though you filed that under a long list of questions, you could see that perhaps you weren’t so different.

“Well, aren’t you curious?” He said coyly, his hands interlocking with each other.

“Obviously.” You said.

There was a long pause. It had been a while since you’d spoken to anyone, really. You were out of practice. You shifted nervously under his intense stare.

“I guess I should cut to the chase then.” He gestured for you to sit so you pulled out the chair at the desk and sat quickly. He seemed pleased by this action and continued on.

“My name is-” He made a series of guttural sounds that resonated through his throat and made your ears vibrate. “But in your language, I suppose you can call me Yoongi. I’m the second in command here and you are on the beautiful planet of Marmoris.”

Marmoris. You wracked your brain, the word reminding you of an old lesson buried deep down. All you could recall was your teacher briefly mentioning them to be low intelligence creatures, and yet the man standing before you was far from stupid. Just in the way he carried himself, you could tell he was an intelligent man, fish, thing.

“And as to how you got here, well,” Yoongi leaned against the wall, crossing his arms slowly. “That’s what I wanted to find out.”

You nodded, absorbing his words. You looked to the floor, realizing you needed to verbalize your responses. For once, your thoughts were your own and no one else could read them. When you’re on your own for a while, your thoughts seem so loud as they’re your only company. Now they were once again a secret to you and you alone. You planned on keeping it that way.

The past months of being adrift alone in space had worn down your memory. Everything blurred together and your exact recall was fuzzy. All you could clearly remember was waking up to an alert, strapping in, putting on a breather, and preparing for impact. You could vividly see and hear the flashing of orange and red, the alarms going off a mile a minute.

“All I remember is being adrift and suddenly being pulled towards this planet.” You said quietly. Your voice felt hoarse from a lack of use.

He nodded thoughtfully. “Jimin would probably come up with a whole explanation about destiny and stuff.” Yoongi mused to himself. Then his expression hardened. “But I don’t believe in that kind of thing, so I guess we’ll just have to figure out some other explanation.”

The man looked you over, his eyes trailing your body, yet, it didn’t feel invasive. It was a simple observant gaze that didn’t make you feel scrutinized like so many other gazes you’d had before.

“Those robes will do for now.” He clapped his hands together, startling you from your thoughts. He gazed at you carefully, a little intrigued and a little cautious of your smallest reactions.

“What are they...doing for?” You asked, mentally kicking yourself for the awful phrasing once more.

“You’re a funny one, miss…?”

“Y/N.” You dipped your head. He gave you a nod of acknowledgement back and went to the door.

“We’ll be meeting with the entire Inner Circle to discuss what to do with you, Y/N.” He explained. “But don’t worry, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but we’re not dangerous creatures.”

“Actually, quite the opposite.” You blurted, making him raise an eyebrow. “I mean, in class we learned that you guys are kind of...dumb.” The last part came out quietly, your voice dipping lower with each word.

To your surprise, he laughed lightly. Then he patted your shoulder. “Good, that’s the point.”

While you wanted to get more answers than that, you followed him without another word.

“Now I’m going to tell you right now, this might be overwhelming and hard to take in-”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it.” And you were. You were trained to expect the unexpected. You just needed to sit back, observe, and analyze, then you act.

“Good.” He said shortly and led you down a series of twisting hallways.

You tried to keep up with him, but he took rather long strides. He stepped lightly, like a dancer. You were heavy footed, sturdy.

You admired the decorations. Chandeliers of a shell-like material swung from the ceiling and the sea lanterns littered the floor like someone overdid it at a seance. You sped up slightly, falling into step beside him

He raised an eyebrow and you weren’t sure if you just broke some unspoken rule about standing next to superiors, but then again, how were you supposed to know? You noted that when you went into darker spots in the hallways, his marks on his arms glowed faintly. You weren’t sure if it was a trick of the light, but your heart was pounding at the unfamiliar surroundings and you were too afraid to ask.

You glanced out the dark windows. It looked like there was a glowing sky, but that didn’t make sense because every sign you had noted told you that you were underground somewhere. Then you remembered, just as you arrived upon two high, arching doors, that Marmoris is completely underwater. So how the hell were you breathing?

You entered after Yoongi shot you a sympathetic smile. You found yourself in a large room, a dome of pillars and arches arcing high above you. In the center was an elevated and curved desk, much like the supreme court back at home, where seven seats were. Each seat was occupied except one near the center, which you guessed was Yoongi’s seat. The figures loomed over you, watching your every move.

“And who are you?” A voice rang out from the center. The lights flickered lighter and you could see his face.

The man was young, maybe around your age. Displayed proudly on his arms and neck were black ink markings, like Yoongi’s, but his were straight lines wrapping around his delicately framed neck.

“Y/N, sir.” You stood stiffly, replacing his image with your commander.

“Y/N, hm?” The man stood. “I’m Namjoon, the leader and center of this planet. Please state your reasons for arriving upon this holy body of water.”

You refused to scoff. “I would hardly call crashing into the water an arrival.”

“A subtle landing, perhaps.” A sweeter voice piped up. The man sat next to Namjoon on his left. “I’m Jimin, High Duende, though that won’t mean much to you.” Jimin scrunched up his nose.

Yoongi sighed and took his place next to Namjoon, leaving you alone under the eyes of the seven men.

“Enough of your Duende crap, it doesn’t exist.” Yoongi groaned.

“Just because you refuse to acknowledge it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, Yoongi. If that were the case, you wouldn’t exist, and yet here we are.” Jimin chirped before shutting his mouth and turning back to you.

“I didn’t arrive for any purpose.” You repeated. “I crashed and I really...don’t know where else to go.”

“Hm, so you are seeking refuge on Marmoris?” A deeper voice said. You turned your attention to the man sitting next to Jimin. “I’m Taehyung, head of relations. We don’t get many visitors.”

He had a way of speaking that hit you as...fake. It wasn’t like it wasn’t exactly...genuine, it was just that there was some weird forced aspect to it. You brushed it off because, well, you were always on high alert so you could be misreading things. You nodded slowly. Taehyung had matching swirling patterns with Yoongi.

“I’ve been sending out SOS signals for the past several months.” You explained yourself. “I’ve been alone for a while so, if I’m allowed, I would love to be sheltered here while I recuperate.” You explained, but in all honesty, alien or not, these were the first interactions you’d had in months. Months on your own felt like years. You were starved for interaction.

“I see.” Namjoon thought it over. “Jungkook?”

“Yes?” The figure at the end of the table piped up. His pattern was of jagged lines that reminded you of a zebra or lion fish. They, too, stopped right below the jawline.

“I trust you didn’t deem her a threat?” Namjoon asked.

“Why are you asking me?” Jungkook lifted an eyebrow.

“As head of protection, I trust that you know right from wrong in terms of safety of the people.” Namjoon said.

“Well, I mean, she was unconscious!” Jungkook protested. “And anyway, she’s been nothing but cooperative so far.” He pointed out. “In my opinion, we give her temporary shelter for three months and then see what happens from there.”

Namjoon nodded at the man’s suggestion. Then he looked to the others. “Jin? Hoseok?”

Jin had the same lines on his body as Jungkook and Hoseok shared markings with Namjoon.

“I say we give it a shot. Marmorians are 100x stronger than humans.” Jin said. “I think we could take on one measly human.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but decided against it.

“I say that we try it out as well, but we escort her everywhere.” Hoseok added.

“We’re busy people, Hoseok.” Jimin argued.

Namjoon held up a hand, silencing the two. “I think we’re in agreement that we provide temporary shelter. You can learn more about our culture if you have us give you a tour and-”

You nodded, oddly at ease with the situation. At this point, you were either having a fever dream and slowly dying, or this was real and you were in a state of shock. Usually your fight or flight instincts would have kicked in. Where did all those years of training go?

If there was anything you remembered, it was keeping a strong face. So you did just that, fixing your features into a pleasantly neutral tone.

Yoongi watched your face, the way you carefully masked your emotions. You were a very intriguing creature indeed…and there was something else, some strange pull as if there were a current above water that subconsciously tugged him towards you. He disliked it.

“I know this must be really confusing and overwhelming, so let’s let her get some rest.” Yoongi cut in.

Your eyes shot to him, narrowing slightly. You had rested for a long time. Now you wanted answers and you wanted to get out and see what this place was like.

“Uh, yeah, no thank you.” You said quickly, instantly regretting it. The seven men fell silent, exchanging an unreadable look.

“See!” Taehyung jumped up suddenly after having a silent conversation with Namjoon. “I’ll show you around!”

You watched his over enthusiasm and sighed. You couldn’t turn him down, but honestly you were already on edge and this man made you slightly nervous. Something just wasn’t right and it was making your heart quicken.

“Tae, I’ll do it.” Yoongi said, pushing out his chair and rising. He patted off his pristine robes and looked to Namjoon. “We’ll be back before dark.”

The other man nodded at him. “Have fun, Yoongs. I rarely see you have any nowadays.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Taehyung was quiet, watching you with a slightly saddened gaze. When he saw you watching him, he pulled his lips into a tight smile. Again, it struck you as...off.

Then he went around and grasped your hand. “Let’s get going, yeah?”

You nodded to his words, ready to leave the intimidating atmosphere. Jimin sat, his eyes narrowed, and silently watched you leave. He huffed and crossed his arms, looking away once you were out the door.

The city was in two halves. An upper half, above water, and a lower half, below water. The sky was nowhere in sight, instead the high and arching walls of the underwater cave glistened with glowing stalactites. Your eyes focused and unfocused, trying to get used to the colorfully dim lighting.

Following Yoongi, you exited the building you had been in and turned to survey it. Tall spirals of a coral like substance reached the cavernous ceiling. You had many questions.

People, fish creatures much like the others you had met, walked around you. They surveyed you without any hesitation. You were an animal in a zoo. Were you the predator or the prey? You were trapped either way.

Yoongi spoke with a few people around, seeming rather relaxed around you. He had a grumpy disposition, but his face still lit up when talking with the locals. Their language was a mixture of deep, guttural, groans, and high pitched clicks. Even on land, as you had deemed this cave, you could feel the vibration of the clicks. The city was alive.

“So glad to have a fresh face around here.” Yoongi smiled, walking up to you once more and leading you through the streets.

“You seem pretty relaxed.”

“You’re a human, Y/N. I’m much much stronger than you.”

“I see.” You hummed. You automatically swept your eyes around, subconsciously plotting escape routes or places to hide. “Can I ask a question?”

“Of course.” He said, distracted as he stopped and surveyed a cut of, what looked to be, fish meat.

Well, it was some sort of sea creature’s meat, you were sure of it, but the meat itself was a deep purple as if it were the inside of a purple sweet potato.

“What do the markings mean?” You asked.

“The markings?” He tilted his head, confused.

“On your, uh, arms.” You held up your own arm awkwardly and his eyes lit up in understanding.

“Ah, yeah, these.” He nodded. “This is how we are classified in our society. They appear when you’re around 50 years of age, so pretty young, and” You bit back your question regarding his age comment, “and there are three types you can be.” He explained.

“Genus is the most common. They’re defined by swirling patterns up their body. Geni, the plural form, have a natural disposition to sharing and positivity. It’s good to have a society made of mostly Geni.” He said. “I’m a genus. They’re not known for being too smart, but there are always exceptions. I find it stupid that people can let these marking define them, but that’s another conversation for later. Next we have Fortis.” He bought the meat and the keeper gave him a bag. You were busy drinking in this new information. You almost wanted to take notes.

“Fortis are naturally predisposed to be stronger than the rest. They’re the ones with the scary spikes all over.” He chuckled. “But they are a useful force.”

“Are you at war often?”

“No.” Yoongi scratched his head. “Thankfully we never have to use them, but they’re there, you know?”

“Yeah.” You said softly. You had spent years waiting to be of use and when the time finally came, you had wished you were back on Earth.

“What about that guy.” You pointed to a man in smooth deep blue robes. He held himself with grace. Everyone seemed to bow before him.

“Ah, Captiosi, or captiosus, I guess you could call him. They’re real” he made a guttural noise and you knew it wasn’t exactly a nice word to describe someone as, “basically. Like I said, people let these traits define them but these are just traits you have an aptitude for, it doesn’t mean anything in the end, really.” He shrugged.

The man in the blue robes had thick rings that circled his arms and neck. “That guy’s part of the high council actually. I hate him.”

“How do you know?”

“The deep blue robes. They’re for councilmen only. Too bad, the council sucks.” He raised his voice so that the councilman heard him.

Without another word, the man swept over to you and Yoongi, causing Yoongi’s scowl to deepen.

“Yoongi.” The man smiled.

“High Councilman.” Yoongi gritted out in response, donning a forced smile.

“Please just call me Kilikmum, Yoongi. We’re good friends after all, having worked together for the past hundred years.”

“I will refer to you as High Councilman, your official title, and you shall call me Second, my official title, as intended. Besides, the other seven wear out my name so much, the title so rarely gets used.” Yoongi pleasantly clasped his hands together and Kilikmum simply laughed in response.

There was something about these creatures. Something so human. It put you at ease. Laughter. That was a human characteristic, was it not? And smiling. How would they know smiling was good?

“I see how it is, Yoongi. I respectfully disagree, however I will honor your wishes. May Vita be with you all.” The councilman bowed and continued on his way. His long robes dragged behind him and everyone stepped out of the way like he was a god.

“Now that my daily interaction with a high councilman is over, I can enjoy my day.” Yoongi said, taking your shoulders and shoving you through the growing crowd like a battering ram. “It’s rush hour. Everyone will be flooding in for dinner.”

“Dinner? I’m exhausted.” You protested.

“Exhausted? Oh, your poor tiny human body must be simply aching.” He pouted, then his expression hardened. “I don’t care, I’m on orders by Namjoon to show you as much of this fine city as I can.”

“And what is ‘this fine city’?”

“Acatalepsy. We’re proud Acatalepsians here.”

“You don’t call yourself Marmorians?”

“Do you call yourself Humans when asked where you’re from?”

“Touche.”

You let him push you through the crowd. After all, it wasn’t like you had any idea where you were going. You felt like a freak show. It was an uncomfortable feeling. You hated it.

“How’d you learn so much, uh, english?” You asked.

“We have many language courses in our schools. English is a mandatory one.”

“Why?”

“Well, our native language is actually meant for the water, for communicating underwater easily without drawing attention. It’s easier to communicate in english above water because it doesn’t hurt our vocal chords so much. As you can tell, though,” He paused and pressed his hand against a wall. You followed his lead and you could feel the vibrations. “People still use Marmorian to speak on a daily basis. It’s interchangeable.”

He slowed down and you were in the outer streets. The city was lit up. A hazy rose pink and crystal blue light emanated from the buildings.

“I met Namjoon when we were young. He helped out a lot when my parents uh, nevermind.”

“You can tell me.” your curiosity peaked.

“I don’t want to get into it.” He said, his defenses up immediately. You pressed your lips together, nodding. “Anyway, when the old king was...sick...we had to step in and get a coronation ready. Namjoon was chosen by the gods or whatever that means. Jimin could probably explain it better.” He stopped, frowning at the mention of the other. “I hate very few Acatalepsians, but that Marmorian is one of them.”

“Jimin?”

“I hate him.”

“Why?”

“When you get some time alone with him, you’ll see. He’s insufferable. Aren’t you glad you’re with me?”

“I don’t even know what this Jimin guy is like-” You started.

“Shhh.” He looked around. “If you give him a chance, he’ll weasel into your brain.”

“Wha-”

“Shhhh!!!” He then looked around. A group clad in blue robes passed by. “Councilmen. We’d get banished for speaking out of turn.”

“Is that true?” You whispered furiously.

“No! But socially, yes.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Wow, question after question. You realize I gave permission for one question, right?”

“You don’t seem to have any issue opening your mouth over and over for that one question.” You hissed.

“You must be fun at parties, as the humans say?”

“I will have you know I’m excellent at parties.”

“That’s what someone who never goes to parties says.”

“Shut up!”

Yoongi chuckled. “Anyway, I actually have some seawork to do so I’ve gotta dash. I told Namjoon I didn’t really have a lot of time, but you looked sad and scared of Taehyung so I volunteered.”

“I did not!”

“Uh huh! You looked like a lost little fish.” He said, pulling on a crude imitation of you. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go so have the rest of the day to yourself.”

“Don’t I have to be supervised at all times?”

“What Namjoon doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

Yoongi had abandoned you in a world you knew nothing about. He had left you and you wanted to slap him. You trudged through the streets, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. People just seemed pleasantly surprised or curious, but none looked at you with mal intent. At least you hoped not. As the others had impressed upon you several times, Marmorians were 100x stronger than you.

You missed the sunlight. You missed the way it felt on your face, the warmth it brought to your skin. The golden rays of light you had taken for granted now seemed so far away. This was a different kind of despair. As much as you were enthused and excited for a change of pace and chance to explore this new planet, you recalled that humans weren’t meant to be without sunlight for extended periods of time.

If anything, this would be your demise. Already, your internal clock was haywire. You had no idea what time it was, when you should eat, and you were just exhausted. Granted, you had crash landed a little while ago, but there was something about being in a constant state of darkness that had your skin crawling.

The only source of light you found as you wandered the gardens to the side of the palace was glowing algae. It looked to be a farm of sorts. Rows of glowing pink, green, blue, and purple algae lined rocks in a careful formation. In the distance, you saw two shadowy figures discussing these rows and arguing back and forth over a piece of kelp in their hands. You realized it must be their sort of paper here and you watched in fascination as they methodically and quickly punched holes into it in a certain order.

You noticed that they were speaking to each other in that odd mix of clicks and tones. Then they switched to a language you understood.

“The algae just isn’t growing well.” Hoseok murmured.

“It could be a sign of The Languorem.” Jin responded and the other visibly bristled.

“Well, if that’s how Vita wishes....” Hoseok trailed off.

“You and I both know this is a matter of Sortitio.”

“You doctors and your faith in Sortitio. It’s foolish. Vita is the only one who has any power.”

“You’re so wrong, Hoseok. Apologies, but you’re very very wrong.”

“This stuff is for Jimin, it doesn’t matter. What matters is the crops are dying.” Hoseok tsked and punched in a few more holes. He was using a metal rod that resembled a flute. It twisted down into a menacing point with different notches along the way.

“Ah, Y/N!” Jin lit up, noticing you lurking near the edges. Even through your shoes, you could feel the squishy moss that lay over the ground. “Come over!”

Hoseok looked up with a sunny smile and you couldn’t help but return it. You carefully made your way over. They moved with such natural grace it made you envious. You had always been heavy footed and stable in stance. Jin tilted his head pointedly at you and made a noise. Hoseok sighed and patted Jin, half slapping his arm.

“I’m pretty busy, but since you’re here, I’ll tell you a bit about the plants.” The head of agriculture said, shooting a look over to Jin.

“Alright.” You slid next to him, quite literally.

“So,” He delicately wrapped the kelp sheet around the metal rod. “This is our algae farm. Algae is a side dish often served. It has a lot of flavor. Here, I’ll show you something special.” He ushered you towards a separate greenhouse. It was noticeably cooler, your breath showing white. There was a vibrant red glow. Before you were rows of vivacious red algae.

“Red algae is the rarest and most difficult to grow.” He explained. “They need a very controlled temperature-”

There was something in the way he spoke that showed his love of agriculture, gardening. It was admirable. In the noticeably darker environment you could see Hoseok’s markings glowing a slight blue tinge.

“You must really like this.” You said mindlessly. You yourself had yet to find anything you loved, like really loved.

“I love it.” He said breathlessly. “It’s just so interesting, the chemistry and everything.”

“Yeah I can see that.” You smiled slightly and then he cleared his throat.

“Sorry, I actually have to go check up on the next farm. I’ve spent too much time here so I’ve gotta-”

“Yeah yeah, of course!” You nodded. “Go.”

“Thanks, so sorry to leave you.” He said quickly, slipping out of the house. Jin took his place not a moment later.

“You enjoying yourself? It seems everyone just wants to leave our guest.” Jin sighed, disappointed. “Well, I guess people are really busy lately.”

“It’s okay. I’m just taking everything in.”

There was a long pause. Then he shifted, the weight of him dipping into the ground.

“So what would you like to know?”

You turned to him, confused. Everyone you’d met had just dodged your questions, except for the classification lesson from Yoongi. It was so quiet, every noise was amplified. The rush of the city felt so far away.

“Everything.” You whispered.

Taglist: @rosesolitaire @feral-daisy

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heejinnien · 3 years

Text

p.jimin | lie

word count: 2.1k words

pairing: jimin x reader

synopsis: there is a thin dichotomy between reality and delusion.

genre: horror, angst

warnings: implied major character death, prison, vivid description of gore, reference to murder, implied/subtle sexual innuendo

author’s note: this is the second piece for the wings anthology! this is another horror fic, and i didn’t realize it was over 2k words ksjfjgsdf. the keep reading cut is at the beginning like my last few works since this fic gets right into it

link to wings anthology

cross posted to ao3 here

Beneath the silhouette of your eyelids, you see red.

Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s blood, painting the white walls of your imagination and coating your nose with the tangy smell of copper and iron. It coats your hands, too, a dark, angry shade of crimson that makes your stomach lurch. No matter how hard you scrub at yourself, the fluid remains.

Among the throes of your panic, it takes a moment for you to realize that there is someone else in the room with you. Instinctively, you know who it is, heart pounding. He is facing away from you, laid on his side, and you take a tentative step in his direction.

“Jimin?” When he doesn’t respond, panic seizes you. You scramble as fast as you can in his direction, the discomfort of your hands stained scarlett long forgotten. When you reach him, you drop to your knees so fast that the impact sends a jarring impulse through your body. You quickly roll him so that he is facing you, and let out a guttural scream.

Where Jimin’s throat should be, there is a visceral, gaping hole. Blood pours out of the wound, coating your arms and knees with the thick, vermilion shade. Jimin’s eyes are open and glassy, wide and unseeing. You shake his shoulders furiously despite the crimson ichor spraying everywhere, splattering your face and chest, grief spreading through your veins like an icy current.

“Jimin,” you sob, your strength giving out until you collapse, body hunched over that of your lovers.

You wake up with your heart pounding in your throat, furiously scrubbing at your hands. You quickly reach for the lamp on your bedside table, yanking the chain hanging down so hard you almost pull the lamp off. In the lamp’s waxy lighting, you examine your hands, turning them over and searching signs of blood.

Beside you, you feel the bed shift, and strong arms wrap themselves around you. Jimin gently strokes your hair, covering your trembling hands with one of his own.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers. He stays like this until your breathing evens and your racing heart can slow to a strolling pace. “It was that dream again, wasn’t it?”

You nod, letting out a shaky breath. You revel in the warmth that Jimin’s presence provides, blanketing you in a cloak of reassurance. You wish you could stay like this forever, wrapped within the warmth of your love.

Cold seeps under the edge of your comforter, sending a shiver to wrack through your body. A cocktail of unease and wrongness fills your stomach, and Jimin’s arms tighten around you.

“Hey, everything will be okay,” he murmurs.

“I know,” you whisper, unable to describe the feelings inside you.

“Go back to sleep,” Jimin says, gently shifting himself so that you are lying beside each other once more. He leans forward, gently kissing your lips. What should feel right instead feels so wrong, his lips ice cold against yours. “I’ll be here to protect you from the nightmares.”

It’s not me who needs protecting, you think, closing your eyes and letting darkness devour you.

When you open your eyes, Jimin is gone. You blink blearily, rubbing your eyes to clear the haze that settled upon them in your sleep. You had slept dreamlessly, feeling more fatigued than before. Your fingers seek out Jimin’s side of the bed, reaching for him before you can even form a coherent thought, but they are met with cold air.

“Jimin?”

You sit up, and that’s when you realize that you’re not in your bed.

Instead, you’re resting upon a thin cot sitting low upon the ground. A thin, cotton blanket covers you, and metal bars and grey, concrete walls greet you. Panic fills you, and you quickly throw off the mediocre blanket, rushing to the bars and pressing yourself against them, looking for anyone who can answer your questions.

“Hello?” You yell, banging your fist against the metal bars in the hopes that someone will hear you. “Is anyone there?”

“Shut up.” You leap back in shock as a man rounds the corner, standing on the opposite side of the bars. He is wearing a blue, button down shirt and black pants, and around his waist is a black belt.

It’s a cop, you think, relief flooding you. He’ll be able to answer your questions.

“I’m sorry, but, there must be some mistake,” you say quickly. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

The man laughs, a harsh, grating sound. “Sure, and I’m supposed to be on Mars.”

He turns, muttering under his breath about deranged criminals. Desperation seizes you, and you lunge forward, reaching your hand through the bars in an attempt to stop the man from leaving.

“Please, I’m not supposed to be here.” You grab the man’s sleeve, ignoring his shout. “I’m sure my husband is wondering where I am — ”

Before you can finish, the man is grabbing your wrist, twisting it painfully. You let out a yell as he yanks it, causing you to lurch forward and slam into the bars painfully. He leans forward, hissing angrily.

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of delusion you’re under, but you’re in prison, just in case you haven’t figured that out already. You’re here for murder, and if I were you, I would be really careful about my next moves. Never touch me again.”

The man releases your wrist angrily, throwing it towards you and causing your hand to smack violently against the metal bars. You let out a hiss as he turns, stalking away.

The pain quickly fades to the back of your mind as you ponder the guard’s words. You rub absentmindedly at your quickly reddening hand. Murder? You aren’t capable of that. You need to find Jimin, he’ll tell you what’s going on.

You retreat into your cell, pacing anxiously. You need to find someone who will believe you, you think, so that you can sort this whole mistake out.

You don’t have to wait long. Another man wearing a similar outfit to the first slams on the bars of your cell moments later. You jump, freezing and staring at him. The man laughs, inserting keys into the lock on your cell door.

“Who are you?” You demand, voice shaky.

The man laughs, picking up on the tremor in your voice and giving you a cocky smile. “My name is Hoseok. I’m sure you’ll get really familiar with it.” He winks, and disgust fills you. You step back as he swings the door to your cell open, cocking an eyebrow at your actions. “Don’t make me come in there after you, sweetheart.”

You dread having him drag you out of the cell more than you do being near him, so you slowly walk through the cell’s door. Your curious gaze darts all around, taking in the rows of cells around you and the long hallway. You are so preoccupied you don’t notice Hoseok’s actions until you hear a clicking sound, and the cold weight of handcuffs around your wrists.

You whirl, glaring at Hoseok, and he does his best to give you an innocent shrug. “Standard protocol,” he says in defense. “Don’t want another repeat of earlier, do we?”

You flush at his reference to the guard earlier, and he chuckles, taking one of your arms and guiding you down the hall. While most of the cells around you are empty, a few are occupied, and several curious occupants stare at you as you pass. You walk faster, eager to escape their stares, and Hoseok matches your pace, bemused.

You turn right, and he guides you down a nearby hallway, pausing in front of another barred door. He releases his grip on you long enough to fumble with his keys and unlock the door, pushing it open with his hip and pulling you through after him.

On the other side of the door is a small room. A table rests in the center, and seated at it is a kind looking man. Hoseok leads you to the table, pushing you unceremoniously into a chair and chaining your handcuffs to the table. He leaves promptly after, the slamming of the door signaling his disappearance.

There is a slight pause, and the man stares at you, silently assessing you. You shift uncomfortably, the chain binding you to the table clinking, the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

“Y/N,” the man finally says, resting his hands on a manilla envelope in front of him. “I’m Dr. Kim, but you can call me Namjoon.” He gives you a gentle smile. “I’m here to assess whether you are menally competent to stand trial.”

Alarm rings within your head. “Trial for what? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Namjoon remains silent, staring at you as if assessing whether or not you are lying. Finally, he speaks slowly, as if choosing his words carefully.

“What’s your last memory, Y/N?” He asks, staring at you in a cautious way that makes your skin prickle. You wrack your brain, attempting to formulate an answer.

“I was coming home from work.” Namjoon nods, and you continue. “I had just got home, and I was kicking my shoe off when I heard voices in the kitchen. I investigated, and I saw Jimin with another woman.”

You swallow, throat dry, as you remember the intense flash of anger you had felt. You’re not sure why, and you assume there must have been a reason you felt angry. While you speak, Namjoon slowly opens the manilla file, reaching inside and placing papers from within facedown on the table. When you pause, Namjoon stares at you again, silently assessing.

“What were Jimin and the women doing?” He asks, voice probing.

“I, I’m not sure — ” You stutter, brows furrowing. The memory is hazy, and you close your eyes, chasing after it.

“He had his back to me,” you say slowly, piecing together the memory. “And she — ”

Your eyes fly open as the memory comes rushing back to you. Namjoon stares at you, face unreadable, and you force yourself to continue.

“They were making out,” you whisper softly, staring at the table in front of you in denial.

In the table’s reflection, Namjoon nods, every action clinical and professional. “Did that make you angry enough to murder him?”

“What?” You snap your head up, indignation filling you. “Of course not.”

Namjoon hums, noncommittal. He reaches for the first paper he had set down, flipping it over and sliding it towards you. You reach for it, picking it up

And promptly dropping it, horror filling you.

In the photograph, your husband lies on the kitchen floor, in full color resolution, dead. Where Jimin’s throat should be, there is a visceral, gaping hole. Blood pours out of the wound, coating your arms and knees with the thick, vermilion shade. Jimin’s eyes are open and glassy, wide and unseeing.

“No,” you say, shaking your head adamantly and squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the press of reality. “It can’t be.”

You hear a rustling sound, and you know Namjoon has slid another photograph towards you. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter, and you hear Namjoon sigh.

“Open your eyes, Y/N,” he says. His tone is commanding, forceful, and against your will you open your eyes.

You are met with another bloody photograph. This one is of a woman. The woman you had seen with Jimin. Like Jimin, her throat has been torn out. Unlike Jimin, there is a similar hole where her heart should be. Her eyes are wide in horror, and blood stains her hair.

“You did this, Y/N,” Namjoon says simply. His voice is quiet, but it’s as if he spoke in a yell, his words piercing you.

“No,” you say, vehemently. “I couldn’t have.”

“Yes, you did,” Namjoon says, forcing you to accept the terrible truth. “You murdered your husband when you saw him having an affair, and then you murdered the woman you saw him with. The police found you with the knife still in your hands.”

“I — ”

You let out an inhuman wail and lunge towards Namjoon. You are stopped abruptly by the chain handcuffing you down, and Namjoon watches you with pity filled eyes as guards quickly rush into the room, grabbing your shoulders and forcing you back as you scream, the sound one of heartbreak and anguish as the reality of your actions crashes down upon you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Namjoon whispers, a tear sliding down his cheek from your pure anguish as you are dragged from the room.

taglist: @chubsjmin

#lie #btscreatorscorner #purplearmynet #bangtanarmynet #bangtansilverclub #jimin x reader #park jimin #bts jimin #jimin #bts jimin x reader #bts fic #bts #bts x reader #angst #horror #wings anthology #bts wings #bts wings anthology

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heejinnien · 3 years

Note

ara, you rainbow-infused space unicorn, would you do an angsty drabble with number 10 and jimin, please? :3

word count: 784 words

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: angst

warnings: a character has cancer, the ending is kind of sad skfjhsg

author’s note: to duda, my lovely, hardworking boomer. i have no idea how long a typical drabble is, but i feel like this is on the longer side for them. it might make you sad.

send me a drabble request

He doesn’t tell you at first.

For the first two months after the christening of your relationship, you and Jimin continue on with your lives as you had before. The spring semester begins, and with it comes a mountain of assignments. Between your and Jimin’s schedules, you often don’t find time to meet, so when Jimin brushes his fatigue off on frequent rehearsal for his upcoming showcase, you don’t dwell too much on it.

Foolishly, you believe that your curse has been lifted, and Jimin’s power really is enough to save him. He would have affected him by now, you think, when months have passed and there is no noticeable change in your boyfriend.

You’re in the middle of your astrophysics lecture when you receive the call.

Jimin is in the hospital.

Jimin is dying.

He had been diagnosed with a form of heart cancer a little over a month ago, a form that is so rare, the doctors are not quite sure if it’s curable. The disease is fast acting, they say, and has been attacking Jimin’s respiratory system. He only has so much time left.

It’s all your fault.

You knew the consequences of falling in love, and yet you foolishly allowed you to believe that you could somehow cheat the gods, and your destiny. That it would be okay.

Jimin had collapsed during the middle of his dance practice. He had quickly been rushed to the hospital where you find him now, unconscious. He looks so frail, cheeks hollow and sunken, so different from the man you knew a month ago. The sight is the first chip in your heart.

You throw your bag aside and collapse by the bedside, the impact jarring your knees as you grab onto Jimin’s hand. He is still unconscious, the steady beeping of the heart monitor your only companion. You lift Jimin’s hand, pressing it against your cheek. It’s so cold against yours, so limp and lifeless, the chip in your heart cracks.

You clasp one of your hands over your mouth, a sob forming inside you, pressing against you. A tear silently rolls down your cheek, and the world spins as the realization of everything comes crashing down.

You feel a tug from where Jimin’s hand is connected with yours, and your head snaps up. A familiar smile greets you, small and worn.

“Y/N,” Jimin rasps, attempting to push himself up. His hand slips and he falls back down, coughing. The sound is jarring, and each one cracks your heart just a little more. You wait until the coughing has subsided to speak, voice quiet.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you trusted me.” Your voice cracks, and you hastily wipe at your eyes. Guilt, anger, and desperation twist inside you, each emotion raw and aching.

Even when your parents passed and you had no one left, you had been able to get through it.

You’re not sure if you’ll be able to forgive yourself if Jimin dies because of you.

The weight of what you had done feels like you’re being crushed, suffocated, and you’ll never be able to breathe again.

“Y/N, it’s not your fault.” Jimin says softly, sensing your thoughts. He reaches towards you, grabbing your free hand from where it lies beside him gently until both of them are in his grasp. His grip is tender, eyes so full of love and care that the maelstrom of guilt within you becomes vicious, tearing at you inside like pieces of broken glass. With each cut, you feel yourself breaking further and further.

“We knew what would happen, Jimin,” you sob. “This is all my fault.”

“No, it’s not. We were both taking risks,” Jimin consoles soothingly. His words only make the tears flow harder, and you yank your hands from his, ignoring the hurt that flashes in his eyes. You think of the people he will be leaving behind if he dies. His parents, his brother. His classmates. His friends.

You.

That’s when you make up your mind.

You push yourself to your feet shakily.

“What are you doing?” An edge creeps into Jimin’s voice as you reach for the bag you had thrown on the floor haphazardly. He reaches for you again, but you step backwards, out of his reach.

“I’m sorry, Jimin,” you whisper, turning. “I can’t let anyone else die because of me.”

And with that, you turn.

Each step you take further shatters your head. You hear Jimin calling your name, begging, pleading, but you refuse to turn around.

If it’s to save his life, you’ll stop loving him.

If it’s to save his life, you are willing to break into a million pieces.

He doesn’t tell you at first.

You’re in the middle of your astrophysics lecture when you receive the call.

Jimin is in the hospital.

Jimin is dying.

It’s all your fault.

You knew the consequences of falling in love, and yet you foolishly allowed you to believe that you could somehow cheat the gods, and your destiny. That it would be okay.

You feel a tug from where Jimin’s hand is connected with yours, and your head snaps up. A familiar smile greets you, small and worn.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you trusted me.” Your voice cracks, and you hastily wipe at your eyes. Guilt, anger, and desperation twist inside you, each emotion raw and aching.

Even when your parents passed and you had no one left, you had been able to get through it.

You’re not sure if you’ll be able to forgive yourself if Jimin dies because of you.

The weight of what you had done feels like you’re being crushed, suffocated, and you’ll never be able to breathe again.

“We knew what would happen, Jimin,” you sob. “This is all my fault.”

You.

That’s when you make up your mind.

You push yourself to your feet shakily.

“What are you doing?” An edge creeps into Jimin’s voice as you reach for the bag you had thrown on the floor haphazardly. He reaches for you again, but you step backwards, out of his reach.

“I’m sorry, Jimin,” you whisper, turning. “I can’t let anyone else die because of me.”

And with that, you turn.

Each step you take further shatters your heart. You hear Jimin calling your name, begging, pleading, but you refuse to turn around.

If it’s to save his life, you’ll stop loving him.

If it’s to save his life, you are willing to break into a million pieces.

#drabbles #bangtanarmynet #newskynet #bangtansilverclub #btscreatorscorner #blackswannet #jimin drabble #jimin x reader #angst #pjm #bts #bts jimin

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