Character Who Was Never Taught To Speak The Language Of Softness.

Character who was never taught to speak the language of softness.

They were only taught the language of blood and fire.

Still, they love. They express that love the only way they know how.

there is no smile i love more ♡

why built like a boyfie when you cant be my boyfie 😔😔😔

camera roll; kim mingyu

⋆ ★ pictures you've taken of your boyfriend, mingyu

more of the camera roll series

masterlist

ੈ♡.*

SIGN ME UP FOR THIS!!!!!! super excited for this<3

PART I: BARE YOUR SOUL

PART II: BARE YOUR HEART

ROOMMATE AU/SOULMATE AU

I finally figured out my titles! Thank you to all who helped me brainstorm and a big shout out to @sumzysworld for the winning suggestion. You guys are the best. This fic has fully taken on a mind of its own. I really can’t wait to share it with you all! I even made a banner! It’s a lot more understated than my usual style, but it really fits the tone of the fic and I’m very happy with it!

coming soon…

READ A TINY TEASER HERE

AND HERE

AND HERE

i was on a break for god knows how many months but omg this story STILL holds a special place in my heart! like literally. I re-read all of the chapters just now and i feel so so good. I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS STORY AND OFC @wildestdreamsblog i love you man! keep up the great work!!!

Latibule Season 2: I

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: In the spirit of Christmas hehe

Masterlist, Prologue

He didn’t believe that you were gone no matter what anyone said.

Everyone was saying the same thing. You were gone and there was nothing anyone could do to bring you back. However, Min Yoongi didn’t like their answer and anyone who said that you had already passed on from this earth was met with his wrath that was communicated through his fists and weapons. No one could even tell him that he now couldn’t physically follow where you were. In his twisted mind, he thought that he could follow you because you never left this earth. Of course, he could follow. You did promise, after all, that you would never go somewhere where he couldn’t fucking follow. His angel would never lie to him, he thought. But your absence was saying otherwise. Your absence was too loud.

The days following the moment he opened his eyes and learned of your demise were bloody and dark. Everyone was on edge, and the traitors went to hell here on earth. They did wish they had died instead, but death was never quick when it came to them, nor was it painless. Min Yoongi made sure that they felt every ounce of pain he felt when you were taken away from him. His brothers could not even reason with the man. They didn’t know how to handle this Min Yoongi. It was as though he died there with you, and what was left of him was only his darkness. Agustd was already ruthless, but now he was just outright cruel, burning everything and everyone that crossed his path.

No one could even say their piece to him-well, all except Kim Seokjin. Despite Jin choosing the less violent life and despite him spending his days treating people in the hospital, no one could deny the power he naturally excluded. It was the power that was inherent to him when he was unfortunate enough to be born to a father that was the previous mafia king. Kim Seokjin may possessed the face of an angel, but he was the most dangerous of them all. It was just that he had a patience of a saint, and everyone fret the day someone snapped his patience. He was a dangerous, eccentric man. And he was a ticking time bomb in comparison to Taehyung who just kept on exploding without an end in sight. Min Yoongi, though, was known to be a reasonable man, his calm nature was never broken. It took losing you to break the calmness in him. The days after he woke up, he was seen back where he was the happiest. Day after day, Yoongi could be found there, leaning against the tree with cigarette in between his lips as he looked at the ruins of your house. The fire took everything from him. It was angry as it smoldered what once was his latibule to the ground, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. Yoongi thought that the world was simply too cruel to him to strip away the only place he had of you. He couldn’t even smell you anymore, couldn’t even go to the place that was full of your presence.

How cruel was it to have you once and never again? How cruel was it for him to finally have found the warmth, to finally have basked in it for a moment too short, only for him to live in a winter forever after you? He would never admit to anyone that each time he closed his eyes, the only thing he saw was the moment you fell as the bullet pierced your skin. So, he had not been sleeping well. If you were here, he thought, you would chase away all the demons in his head. If you were here, you would put your arms around him, rub your hands on his shoulder in a soothing way only you knew how, and you would silently tell him that everything would be okay, that he wasn’t as bad as he thought he was. Yoongi couldn’t do anything. All he did was to go to the place where he found and lost you.

He was always there, Jimin noted. He made this place your temple, mural and shrine. However, never once did he visit where you were finally laid to rest. Never once did he even acknowledge your death. It was like not seeing it would make your death untrue. And so, day after day, hour after hour, the man could be found there as though he was waiting on a miracle, as though if he waited long enough then you would return, as though if he stayed long enough, you would walk back and smile at him, all while calling him a fool for looking too sad.

But you never did.  

And after a whole year, Min Yoongi never uttered your name again.

---

“Y-you’re supposed to be the good one! W-what is the Chief of Police doing here?!”

Yoongi watched in boredom as Jungkook pushed a man to kneel in front of him. The warehouse was quiet, well, save for the screaming of the traitors. The other brothers were busy with torturing the remaining traitors they kept alive. And today, he was faced with the last remaining traitor they had yet to kill. See, this asshole was so below the rank that he didn’t know that the Chief of Police was also the same Agustd, the leader of the mafia.

He was nothing, Yoongi thought. And yet, he was the one who blew up your house. He could almost laugh if he still knew how.  “T-the public will know! I’ll tell them that you’re the d-devil!”

Yoongi blew the smoke on his face emotionlessly, a strand of his dark hair falling on his face. “You’re not an intelligent man, are you?” he asked evenly before pulling the cigarette in between his lips and onto the idiot’s eyelid. He heeded his screams no mind as he removed his jacket with his badge on it. Someone from his right stepped in to carefully fold his jacket. Yoongi folded his sleeves to his elbows and without any warning, punched the man on his face.

The man proved to be an even greater fool as he laughed in false bravado, blood a stark contrast against his crooked teeth, “Is that all you can do? You don’t have it in you to kill. You’re a civil servant!”

“Is that so?” he asked in a conversational tone as he picked up a knife, putting it up over the light to inspect it before turning to the buffoon. “Which hand burned the house?”

“What?”

Yoongi looked at Jungkook and the latter manhandled the man near the table, flatting both his hand on it. “Which hand should I cut?” He walked nearer to them as though he had all the time in the world. “This one,” he stabbed the table, missing the man’s hand by a centimeter. “Or this one?” he repeated the action for the right hand, except that this time he intentionally stabbed the knife through his thumb, severely cutting it. “Oh no,” he said in a deadpanned voice before looking directly at him. “Guess my aim got bad.”

“W-who are y-you?!”

He smiled at him; his eyes remained emotionless. “Hi, I’m Agustd. Nice to meet you. So which hand?”

“N-No! No, please! I’ll give you what you want-“

Yoongi sighed, already losing his patience. “You do have to choose. We won’t stop until you only have one hand. Or do you want me to choose?”

“L-lef-“

Before the traitor could even finish sputtering what Yoongi deemed was bullshit, he buried the hilt of the knife into his hand. He didn’t even blink when he felt resistance from his bones, Yoongi merely kept on pushing, uncaring of the wailing man. He never stopped until he the knife finally touched the surface of the table.

And after that, he stabbed his hand again. He never ceased, not until the hand was completely mutilated. He never stopped, not even when the blood kept sputtering on his face from the man’s open wound, a stark contrast on his pale white complexion. He never stopped even when the man lost consciousness.

“He’s going to die, Yoongi,” Seokjin noted lightly from his seat. From outside looking in, he looked like a perfect image of peace, yet the hold he had on his phone was a telltale sign that he was far from pleased. He was not even phased by the violence around him, his focus merely on the whereabouts of his runaway sunshine. “I do not have the patience required to revive a dying man tonight.”

Yoongi paused, leering at the man who was slipping in and out of consciousness, before heeding his hyung’s statement. He did not want to test Jin’s patience tonight when it was apparent that he was barely holding on to his control.

He didn’t want to kill this man tonight. No. He planned on keeping him alive for years and years to come. He planned to give him hope, only for him to squash it away like he did his. As long as Yoongi shall live, then he shall suffer with him. As long as he was living in this fucked-up nightmare where you weren’t by his side, then so should he lived his very own crafted nightmare.

If he wasn’t happy, then why should anyone be?

---

“That phone looks like it wants to rest,” Jimin observed lightly as he and his hyung visited another crime scene that was definitely not because of them. It was three hours away from Seoul, the travel time giving him headache, similar to what Jimin was giving him. He watched as Yoongi ended the call before glaring at him.

“What about my phone, Jimin?”

“It looks like it wants to retire. Please, for the love of all that’s good, let me buy you a phone.”

“No.” It was the only thing he had of you.

“Whyyyyy do you love that phone so much, hyung? Our enemies would think our business is not doing good that you cannot even buy yourself a phone!”

Yoongi just shrugged his broad shoulders before walking out of the police line and through the busy market. He nodded at the policemen as they acknowledged him. His watchful eyes observed the chipper attitude of the marketgoers, chatting among themselves. He wondered how people could wake up this early and yet looked so alive. He hadn’t felt alive since that night. However, he thought that had you been here, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would. He would wake up at an ungodly hour for you.

He could hear Jimin chatter beside him as they navigated their way out of the busy street when it happened. Until it all turned into a white noise when it happened.

When he saw you.

He halted his brisk walk, his eyes following as you walked away yet again from him.

 For a brief moment, he believed your eyes met. For a brief moment, he felt his heart beat again. Yet, your eyes seemed to hold no recognition for him as it only passed through him. You didn’t even stop. It was as though he was merely a stranger.

On the other hand, he thought that you looked different, but he knew in his dead heart that it was you.

Or was it his mind finally crumbling on him, reveling on his insanity?

He blinked once and you were gone.

Jimin, suffice to say, was shocked as his hyung ran back. He never saw him moved that fast, uncaring of the people who he would runover from his haste. His dark coat trailed behind him as he moved, a touch of desperation evident, compelling Jimin to reluctantly trail after him. Yoongi forcefully cleared a path, parting the crowd with determined strides. His singular focus was on reaching you, leaving his mind devoid of any other thoughts.

It was you, he was sure. It was his angel.

He was almost sure.

But when he reached where he saw you last, you weren’t there.

Jimin was breathless when he finally reached his hyung who was looking around the crowd like a lost child. His hands were on his waist as his desperate eyes searched for…who, exactly?

“What happened, hyu-“

“It was her, Jimin-ah. I saw her.”

He blinked, following his hyung’s shifting gaze. “Who?”

“My angel. She’s alive."

HOW COME I MISSED THIS SERIES!!????

Brushes And Beats chapter 14

pairing: JiminxReader

genre: fluff with a pinch of angst

trope: enemies to lovers

:Did you ever fell in love and planned out a future?:

Y/n's pov

8 years ago,

I just turned 18,

Enrolled in a demanding university program, juggling coursework, exams, and the pressures of a part-time job. Life was a whirlwind of rush and ceaseless responsibilities.

But amidst the everyday chaos and the whirlwind that was life, there was one constant, one center to my ever-spinning world there was— Min Yoongi, my haven in the storm.

Yoongi and I were both lost in the same turbulent tide of life, juggling academia and work, sacrificing sleep for last-minute revisions, him making music and me still trying to figure out warm tones and cool tones and yet, somewhere in that perpetually chaotic dance, we found each other. He became my anchor in the vast, turbulent sea of deadlines and commitments. He was the calm, soothing rhythm that pacified the incessant roar of life, always there, always bolstering me. Yoongi and I became inseparable, supporting each other through our triumphs and failures, celebrating our achievements together and consoling each other during times of defeat.

Here on this rainy afternoon, just us, nestled in the quiet corner of our favorite old, dimly lit coffee shop. The rain gently tapped on the windowpane, strumming a mesmerizing tune that came to underscore our hushed whispers of dreams and love.

His hands, calloused from hours at his part-time job, yet remarkably warm, cradled a steaming mug. "Do you remember that little house on the outskirts of town, the one with the red door and white picket fence?" he asked, a dreamy look in his eyes.

"The one near the cherry blossom park? Yes", I responded, my heart fluttering as Yoongi's smile grew wider.

"That's where we'll live. We'll have kids and maybe a rambunctious little beagle named Whiskers," he mused, the future he described sounded like a sweet lullaby. "Wahh so cheesy," I teased, taking a sip of my latte. But deep down, my heart swelled with warmth at the thought of building a future with Yoongi, a future filled with love and laughter.

When he spoke those words, they echoed in the chambers of my heart resonating with my deepest dreams and desires. He dazzled my thoughts with images of gleeful children, loud laughter echoing through our small yet charming home, the testament of our eternal bond.

Every word Yoongi breathed swirled into an exquisite symphony of dedication, hope, and unwavering love that gracefully composed our shared dreams. An image of our little safe haven, where love wasn't a fleeting emotion but a profound promise. His dreams intertwined perfectly with mine, stringing together a beautiful symphony of hope, love, and dedication. A future I yearned for, a future I saw myself living, breathing in every moment that held Yoongi's essence.

I loved him. More than words could encapsulate, more than actions could demonstrate. I saw my world mirrored in his eyes, my dreams woven intricately with his. Catching my breath felt impossible when he played a melody on his old piano, his fingers dancing on the keys, each note twining around my heart. He was etched into my soul, a vital part of me as essential as breathing. His importance in my life was as profound as the earth needs the sun, irreplaceable, an impetus I relied upon unknowingly but consistently. Every beat my heart echoed extolled his essence, it was a dance of melancholic delight, a ballad of adoration only for him. Simply said, without him, I felt incomplete. Void of life's charm.

My feelings for Yoongi were as profound and intense as the infinite universe itself. He was my world, and his eyes reflected that perfect world we were building together. His love was the melody my heart danced to, jumping at every note, swaying to the rhythm of our shared interstellar symphony. His importance

I saw a world illuminated by his love, our shared aspirations fueling my perseverance. And at that moment, nestled in the rhythmic patter of rain, in the warmth

3 years later,

Our shared dreams have begun to take shape, painting a picture of a future filled with love, laughter, and countless memories. Every day, as I wake up next to Yoongi, I am reminded of the immense love and gratitude I have for him. But, something changed, Yoongi changed over the course of three years. He became distant, his eyes losing the sparkle that once ignited my soul.

Our once harmonious symphony of love now played discordant notes, leaving me confused and longing for the connection we once had. Over the years, as we grew closer and shared our hopes and dreams, our love flourished, creating a bond that seemed unbreakable. However, as time went on, a subtle shift occurred, and our once inseparable hearts grew apart. I found myself grappling with a mix of emotions - hurt, confusion, and a desperate longing to bring back the love we once had.I yearned to understand what had caused this change in Yoongi, to unravel the layers of unspoken words and unexpressed feelings that had built a wall between us.

My heart pounded relentlessly against my rib cage as I walked towards Yoongi in the dimly-lit studio. It was evident that he was engrossed in his work, the tapping of his fingers on the laptop keyboard resonant in the otherwise silent studio. His brows furrowed in concentration as he leaned closer to the screen, uncaring of anything outside the realm of his music.

"Yoongi," I called softly, trying to break through his intense focus. My voice seemed to startle him, causing his fingers to pause and his gaze to dart nervously to me.

"What are you doing here, Y/n?" His words were terse; his tone colder than the room's chilly air. His friendly demeanor seemed to have dissolved, replaced by a harsh demeanour I barely recognised. His icy response lanced my heart.

"I... I brought you dinner," I stuttered out, extending the tiffin box I had brought with me. I forced out a smile, thinly veiled by my shock at his unexpected harshness.

"I didn't ask for it," he scoffed, eyes darting back to his laptop screen, his fingers resuming their rhythmic dance on the keys. His dismissive remark hit me hard, the falling sting painful and suffocating.

"Yoongi, what has gotten..."

"Can't you understand, Y/n? I'm busy!" He snapped, not bothering to look at me, his attention solely focused on his work.

His harsh words, his cold indifference were debilitating. A lump formed in my throat, choking me as I grappled to comprehend his behavior. The caring Yoongi I knew seemed lost, replaced by this stranger whose words felt more frigid than comfort.

Silently, I left the tiffin on a nearby table and exited the room, leaving Yoongi with his work and my heart with a sharp pain that refused to subside. I couldn't shake off the bitter tang of rejection and the unfamiliar iciness from Yoongi's words. This sudden change in Yoongi, it was alien and unsettling. It was a painful contrast to the warm, loving relationship we once shared and cherished. 

we were lost...

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and yet the distance between Yoongi and me only seemed to widen. There was a palpable tension whenever we were in the same room together, our interactions reduced to mere formalities and awkward silences. I found solace in my work as a makeup artist, throwing myself into the bustling world of fashion and beauty to escape the heartache that plagued me every time I saw Yoongi. However there was someone who would keep me distracted, Park Jimin.

As I stepped onto the set, I was immediately pulled into the whirlwind of lights, clothes, and laughter that was a photo shoot. And right in the middle of it all, like the eye of a hurricane, stood Park Jimin, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

"Just keep watching," he assured his fellow bandmates, before launching himself across the set in a comically exaggerated fall. A chorus of laughter rang through the studio, mine being the most resonant of all.

"Jimin, you're like a two-year-old on a sugar high! Calm down!" I scolded, trying to keep a straight face.

He simply shrugged innocently, his giggles infecting everyone around us with merry laughter. During our break, he managed to sneak up behind the photographer and perfectly mimic his serious gaze and exaggerated hand gestures.

"I think we need to capture the... essence of the soul!" Jimin pronounced, in a highfalutin tone, causing another round of chuckles.

Shaking my head, I tried to feign exasperation. "You're impossible."

His grin widened. "But you're still laughing."

Throughout the day, Jimin's playful pranks tested my patience and my work ethic. When I opened my makeup kit to find my high-quality brushes replaced with oversized, novelty powder puffs, I almost lost it.

"Jimin!" I yelled, holding up one of the ridiculous tools.

"Did I do that?" he responded, grinning ear-to-ear, a look of faux guilt in his eyes.

Despite his antics, I couldn't help but be drawn toward this captivating, hilariously entertaining character. Moments of quiet intensity, when he was lost in a song or a dance routine, added richness to his goofball persona and touched my heart in a way I didn't see coming.

Who would have thought that I'd find comfort in this chaos, that his contagious laughter and silly pranks would end up being my haven amidst the storm. And maybe, just maybe, the sudden flutter in my heart whenever he smiled my way was a sign that something was beginning to change.

Maybe coming back wasn't a bad idea...

to be continued...

chapter 13 || chapter 15