Sunfwen Just Be Blonde The World Needs Sun + Eric Being Bomb Blondies

Sunfwen just be blonde 😭😭😭 The world needs Sun + Eric being bomb blondies 😩✌🏼

Sun just get your hair in the same haircolor as Eric pls, is for science purposes 🤭 Anyways SUN + ERIC SUPREMACIST POWER COUPLE OF THE CENTURY 😩✋🏼

girl i wish i could!!!! and if could and were to match his current hair color i'd wait him get another one bc i'm not dyeing my hair fully blonde 😭😭

pLS WHY YOU MAKE ME SO SOFT LIKE THAT ISTG 😔 MY HEART IS MELTING

My eyes got wattery 😔😭 I HATE HIS ULTRA FINE ASS SO MUCH IT'S ILEGAL TO BE THIS SMOOKING HOT AND COOL AND TALENTED BYE 😭😭😭😭😭

Love did you see Kevin's arms.... like-

Put me in a chokehold daddy???

I'm losing my mind he's so buff 😭😭😭

WAIT THE FOURTH PICTURE WHAT THE FUCK ?????

the BTS fanfic writers on this platform are INSANE

YALL ARE SO TALENTED AND FOR  W H A T

LIKE YOU MANAGE TO TAKE A VAUGE PROMT FROM AN ASK AND TURN IT INTO A WHOLE ASS BOOK??? HOW?!

IM READING THIS ONE FIC RN AND IM JUST A M A Z E D  AT HOW BEAUTIFULLY THIS PERSON (amongst many others that ive read) WRITES? THE DETAIL? HELLO???? GET OFF TUMBLR RN AND GET YOUR ASS PUBLISHED  P L E A S E  YOU GUYS DESERVE IT. YALL HAVE MADE ME CRY ON THE TOILET MORE TIMES THAN I CAN COUNT

yes i read fanfiction on the toilet. sue me.

YOU HAVE ALL MY LOVE

- WOZ

I'm ugly crying, i just cannot do this anymore my heart is so BROKEEEENNN. I'll call my lawyers, you have to pay for all this PAIN 😭😭😭😭

#10 The Getaway Ploy

“It’s a refurbished student housing,” you explain as they trail after you like ducks in a row. Even if they don’t understand what you’re saying, they seem to be clinging to every word. Wherever you look there’s always at least one pair of doe eyes staring expectantly back at you a.k.a. what do you do when you open your doors and find a certain retired boyband for some reason wants to move in

▶ type: ot7 x fem! reader (poly)

▶ word count: 5.6k

▶ series’ masterlist

▶ other works

▶t/w: mentions of parental abuse, mentions of childhood trauma and reader's deep denial over said trauma, angst, Taehyung is insane and has kinks

▶ a/n: The resolution of the Kiss debate. To be honest with you guys, I did think of going on a brief hiatus for a bit because that mental state is yodelling all over the place. But the feedback for the last part was so encouraging I'm now considering weathering it through :) Also *circus music starts* to those 11% who said that if I make the kiss angsty, they'll throw a fit... *runs away, clown shoes squeaking* Also please make sure you've read the previous chapter

"This is bullshit!" Taehyung slams down the newspaper. He didn't even read it, merely bought it for theatrical reasons.

"You all spent some time with her! And what do I have? Nothing! I'm not even in the poll pie chart!"

He pushes into their faces the bright image on his screen of a photo pinned to Rebecca's door.

Apartment 27 First Kiss Debate, opening bid 10. Come back to catch up with new weekly results.

Through the swollen eyes, Hoseok can't make out much of the jumbling colours or the knife extended towards his throat. Yoongi sees and doesn't care, continues to flip pancakes, ignoring the threat of being stabbed.

Taehyung points with the blade at the rest of them garnering exactly zero reaction.

"This will be my day!" he threatens, backs hunched like a deranged cat. "I get to play with her!"

"You've got to know how wrong that sounds," Namjoon chides tiredly from his squatting post on the chair, a real-life version of Rodin's Thinker.

"Yeah, no," Jin objects from the small patched sofa in front of a broken 60's TV. "We all came here to have a good time."

"And you can have a good time," Taehyung narrows his eyes, clutching the knife harder, "away from me and her, far away, the further, the better."

They all freeze when you shuffle out of your lodge room, nose wrinkled in disgust.

"How can it still smell like fish in here?" you ask, greeting them one by one. Jungkook greedily reaches for your hand and sinks it into his hair. You oblige, with the other hand navigating milk delivery to the cereal bowl.

"Your hair is turning out quite curly," you remark with a critical eye and Jungkook preens underneath the attention, even straightening in the chair. Taehyung very casually is sharpening the knife two steps away.

"Molly had similar ears," you smile, brushing locks away from the forehead. Jungkook glances up, and even he himself can feel the way his eyes widen and become overrun with stars. He's making that expression he always makes when he thought there really was no one cooler than his soulmates. He must be looking at you like this all the time for there was no one more impressive than you.

"Would you - would you," he stutters, a nervous tick showing itself much to his embarrassment. Instantaneously, he's thrown back to the rookie days when everything was so new and he could barely a word past his lips. He automatically searches for Jin, who gives him an encouraging smile from the sofa.

"Just slow down," he remembers Jin saying. "Don't force the words to come but let them arrive at the speed they want to."

The memory seems like a thousand lives ago, but Jungkook is as fond of it as ever. He breathes in and out, relaxing in your touch. You'd never mentioned any of his difficulties speaking, he knows you wouldn't do that, so he calms.

"Would you like to spend time with us?" he gazes up, from the corner of his eye, spotting thumbs up from Jin. Still, you grow awkward, and much to Jungkook's chagrin, the soft caresses leave his hair.

"Uh... I'd like to but um..." you stumble, then sigh, looking up at the ceiling in pure, unadulterated exhaustion and fish out a crumpled ball of paper out of your sweatpants pocket.

"Kim Seokjin is the most beautiful, kindest man in the world, and I love him so much, I'd ma- no, sorry that's the wrong paper."

You push it back into the pocket while Namjoon throws an unamused glance. The accused, however, sits with round cheeks, smugly nodding along to every word. You cough and then read again, as King's messenger would delivering a decree upon illiterate village simpletons.

"Everyone present, I must inform you that, today I will be devoting all my attention to its rightful owner - Kim Taehyung. I've meditated upon my wrongdoings, namely not spending enough adequate time with upper mentioned Kim Taehyung and will set to fix my faults, in fact, immediately. Thank you for your attention and piss off Yoongi..." you trail off at the last words, turning to the breakfast man whilst cold-blooded chucking the paper in the bin.

"I didn't mean the last part," you point out and Yoongi's lips quirk in the slightest smile.

"I know," he mumbles and if Namjoon wouldn't be in all of this, he'd gag at the loving sight. Yoongi then leans in and presses a chaste kiss to the side of your temple, fingers ghosting across your back.

The cup in Jungkook's hand explodes. Unfettered Jimin picks out the shards of glass from his hair looking just as if not more murderous than Jungkook. Taehyung is up again with the knife in hand. You glance around at the pack of hyenas and make a quick exit. Yoongi out of self-preservation adjusts his hold on the pan for optimal grip.

"I told you he'd be the first," Hoseok murmured bitterly in between bites of pancakes.

"Damn it if every play cards with you," you huff as annoyingly happy Taehyung bounds after you.

"You're a Jungkook," he smugly tosses out.

"Excuse me?"

Holding out a finger he grabs his phone and after a moment announces victoriously.

"A sore loser!"

You grumble and walk away from him but because these men are in fact 80% leg, you don't get very far away.

"Another game?" he suggests

"Did I not just say I would never play with you? Get in through your head, never ag-!"

You slam your forehead against the small table of the confectionery store shop as Taehyung proudly closes the game with 40 to 1.

"I hate you," you groan but he only glows brightly as the sun.

"So...you're my maid."

"I am no such thing!" you brandish the cake fork to his smug grin but the bastard doesn't even feign fear.

"You lost, you do as I want."

That was the insane term you'd agreed on but at the time you'd underestimated just how quickly Taehyung could learn to play checkers.

"What do you want?"

Immediately you regret asking as his grin widens in malicious intent.

"Call me master."

You want to die. No, you want to kill him first, then yourself - to preserve honour.

"No."

"Or maid," he gestures over himself.

You blanch.

"You don't have a maid costume with you!"

"Oh, I do," he crosses palms underneath his chin and dares to look innocent.

"Namjoon won't - he won't - he's in debt, too."

"Okay...master," you grind your teeth and Taehyung turns straight up insufferable. He breathes something akin to cut off groan satisfaction. This dude was a menace to society.

"Didn't hear you," he leans the side of his face obnoxiously close, nearly crushing the table underneath his weight. His profile is right in front of you, so close your cheeks swelter with his body heat and there's nothing but his cologne invading your every sense.

"Master," your tongue burns from the word and Taehyung falls back into the chair with a highly unnerving blissed-out expression.

"If I spot a boner, I'm out," you warn but he doesn't seem to hear it.

Despite the never-ending teasing and abuse of height difference, being with Taehyung wasn't half bad. Admittedly a goof, he was ultimately a kind, if slightly kinky man who despite the evident desire of wanting to see more of ships and town life abandoned it for desolate beaches and hikes through the forest - a beacon of comfort for your kind of thoroughbred social avoidance. Yesterday it was the last sunny day of the season, a bit of Fortune's smile for Jimin, but even in the grey, it is delightful. Many pictures are once again taken or more accurately tried to be taken, with you dodging out of the shot and Taehyung chasing you down. In between comparing scoured seashells or particularly gnarly pine cones, Taehyung shares pieces of his life. He doesn't even blink twice at the outright proclamation of his previous career and so you do the same. He struggles through the very accurate, unbiased and completely not overdramatized account of the infamous Dumpling Incident when a familiar face catches your eye on the hiking trail.

"Ah ______! ...and you weird stranger," Jin beams against the tree, completely casual. Taehyung's left hand itches suspiciously for something on the side of his backpack.

"Don't I look handsome in the forest," Jin models his face from various angles and if completely honest you'd have to say - yes but then again it was Jin. Even if you'd disagree he would blow you all the way across the ocean from the force of his shouting.

You open your mouth but Taehyung is quick to put his palm over your lips.

"I'm sorry," he sneers with pronounced distaste. "I don't let baby talk...talk to strangers."

You frown and bite into his index finger.

"Ah! _______!" he pulls back but doesn't look outraged, in fact, he seems positively elated. "You no bite here, you bite here," he points at the juncture of his slender neck.

You roll your eyes as the first reaction and something from the way Tae nudges you with his foot indicates he is not happy with the response. No, he wouldn't be so cra-!

Taehyung mutely gestures over himself with a stern wrinkle sitting in between his brows. The maid outfit - the clearest of warnings.

"Yes, Master," you sigh and immediately he bounces on the spot with replenished energy while Jin tears the bark of the pine tree.

"Let's go away from the strange man!"

"Yes, Master," you can only echo soullessly, leaving the scenic hiking trail, so when Namjoon falls out of a tree, secretly listening in, you don't even look back.

You're back in the sandwich shop acquainted with yesterday, solving a crossword while Taehyung stares at you with a mysterious smile. Today's menu - grilled salmon sandwiches. The concept of not having fish while on the wharf was a distant concept for the local cuisine. You just sip on the hot cocoa, looping the final letters of T - H- I - R - S - T to a "refers to the necessity of water; in pop-culture describes an excessive sexual desire" when Taehyung with unbridled ease, asks -

"Would you want to have my kids?"

The cocoa is in your nose and the crossword is ruined. Unblinking, he stretches a helpful napkin your way.

"Did you perhaps mean would I overall want kids?" you laugh nervously.

"No."

Before the conversation, if it could be called that, can continue, Taehyung is promptly kicked out of the chair by a very weighty sneaker. Jungkook takes the seat as if nothing happened, contributing a handful of napkins.

You watch in non-existent worry as Taehyung is dragged away by a very innocent looking Jimin and Yoongi.

"Uh...that," you try to direct Jungkook's attention to unfolding semi-abduction but he is having none of it.

"Lesser men," are all the kind words he grants to them.

You toss a hand in the air, having grown used to the various nonsense they got themselves into.

"Do you- you like Yoongi? The most?" he twiddles with his thumbs shyly. "It's cool if you do, I just - I just need twelve-page...uhh essay? To explain why."

You don't really know from where did Taehyung procure a meter long baguette to propel at Jungkook's head, nevertheless, he did so, effectively knocking him out. Perhaps. You wouldn't know, as Taehyung grabbed you by the hand, shouting something to the poor waitress that the man on the floor will pay and dragging you away.

"Taehyung, this is - this is not appropriate," you manage to stutter out, as Taehyung has pressed all of himself against you and up the wall, tucking you both in the relative hiding of the small museum's alcove.

"I don't know what "appropriate" means," is all he whispers, breath hot against your ear, your vision landing in the square of his chest.

"Clearly," you ironize and he chuckles, the above-mentioned chest rumbling from the quiet laughter.

"Hmm, maybe, we not hidden good."

There's that glint in his eyes again, that suggests he's up to some devilry.

"We're hidden good enough."

But Taehyung only shakes his head, his hair brushing over your forehead as he puts all his weight against your form, so you're practically pinned to the wall.

"No, this," he captures your thighs and hoists you up against his thighs, trembling from the weight as those grubby hands of his wrapping tightly against your waist. "This is much better."

"This is really not appropriate," you uselessly reason, actively disengaging from the situation at hand from the overwhelming input of proximity.

Taehyung looks somewhere down, in the vicinity of your chin, one corner tipping upward into a sharp smirk.

"And whose watching?" he rumbles, leaning down.

"I AM!"

In the entryway of the museum's second floor, ichthyological exhibition, stands Jungkook, panting and vengeful, armed with the damn baguette. Taehyung lets you down, shoving you behind his back, arms stretched out.

"I told you she's mine for the day!" Taehyung growls and you try not to think about the weird sensation at the word "mine".

"We- we did not - agree to this!" Jungkook advances with the baguette.

"Can't you guys just be normal for a day?" you ponder behind the wall known as Kim Taehyung. "Just like for a day?"

You get ignored.

"I'm sorry Miss, do you know those two?" the museum curator asks, watching in astounded horror as Taehyung and Jungkook try to crawl up each other, trading weak blows.

"No," you reply and leave the building.

"_______, why do you think the sky is grey?" Jin asks as you awkwardly sway, trying to walk with his gigantic stature clinging onto you like a mite.

"Why, Jin," you blankly humour him for the fifteenth time.

"Cause all the colours are in your eyes."

Cue high pitched, wiping laugh in your ear.

"Hey, _______."

"What, Jin?"

"How does it feel to be more beautiful than the ocean?"

"Then tell me."

Jin blushes bright red, ears so hot they could signal ships back home as he lets go of you to crumple onto the rock breakwater.

"Feels good, thanks."

You move onto much quieter Hoseok and Yoongi, dodging any loose rocks.

"They're still bothering you?" Yoongi asks, gently holding onto your elbow as Hoseok does the same.

"Yeah. Don't pretend you didn't as well," you throw him an accusatory stare, but he turns his head away.

"I...I want you to rest," he scratches at his ear. "You're no...not sleeping again."

"The only one who hasn't been nagging the hell out of me is Hoseok," you point out and at the mention of his name, he automatically gives a tight-lipped smile but stops because he knows you don't get caught up in his deceits.

It's your turn to look away. There really was no way you could ever lie to Hoseok.

"How do you know?" you whine.

"Monday to Tuesday you slept well, I didn't hear you um...walking in your room. Wednesday you walked for ten minutes but Thursday you walked thirty minutes. Yesterday for an hour."

"Is it me or does it seem a little scary?" you try to joke with Yoongi but now there are lines of deep worry etched on his face.

"Is this true?" he asks. "Your insomnia is back?"

"What's this about insomnia?" Joon suddenly asks hovering above you like a black-haired orb.

"It's nothing, really," you huff, slightly smothered by all the caging. "It's just...well it's easier to show you."

You hand them your phone with the open email.

From: Solveig, HR&A

Subject: NYC convention

Hello, ___________, I know this is last minute, but Erik got sick and he can't go now to the convention. I need someone responsible to fill in (you know won't talk too much, won't drink themselves to death) and you came to mind. Respond ASAP, the flight out is on Monday 19:30.

Cheers,

Solveig, HR&A department manager.

"This is good, right?" Namjoon says above you, placing his chin on your head. "The event can help you network and stuff."

"I hate networking. I didn't think seriously of going, anyway."

"But?" Yoongi urges and you bite on your lip coming to the stop at the front of the water breaker, watching as Jungkook and Taehyung, having quickly made peace, chased each other around.

"For fun's sake, I threw a portfolio together, of my work," you admit and Hoseok nods along.

"The hour walking."

"Yes, that's why I paced around, and I don't know I had this quick flash of like...maybe I could do it, maybe someone could appreciate what I do, but - "

"But?" Namjoon echoes Yoongi.

"It doesn't matter! It will not matter! Do you have the slightest idea how nepotic is this line of work? If you don't have connections, you could design the interior of Taj Mahal and no one will care!"

You sit down, watching the small waves splash against the rocks. They all plop next to you, hair ruffling in the wind. Behind you there come the sounds of Jin and Jungkook struggling to push each other into the water.

"Anna cared, didn't she?" Yoongi gently breaches but you scoff, mirthlessly.

"Anna likes my designs, yes, but more than anything she'd like me to have a threesome with her husband."

Namjoon's jaw clamp shuts.

"Are you sure it's about how impossible it is or is it more about your mother?" he asks blandly and without even fully wanting to, you turn hateful. It didn't matter how many years went by, the hatred and humiliation and resentment didn't lessen even a little.

"Don't ever talk about my mother with me, ever. Do you understand?"

He flinches backwards, astounded by the abrupt fury. Even Hoseok and Yoongi seem startled.

You breathe out an aggressive sigh and force a gentler tone.

"Sorry, about that but this... I don't want to talk about it."

You look onto the sea, letting your mind wander far away, from life and its problems. At times like these comprehending the vast nature of the world, time and space you seemed so small. And perhaps that was a comforting idea. Your pain will fade because you will fade, the mistakes you've made will disappear into time and while you will make no impact, largely you also won't screw up the world. The universe will persevere with you or without you. In the sands of eons, no one will remember you and no one will be able to laugh at you or see your failure. The only person who'd truly know all of you would be only yourself and all the ugly parts and thoughts and memories as such would remain safe in the confine of your skull.

In the distance whale springs from the water, diving up and then disappearing into the depth. You all collectively "ooh" at the sight.

The thing was that you could be someone. You had advantages at birth, other people didn't. Being the daughter of the UN Senior Political Affairs Officer granted the opening of many doors, but the one that mattered the most, the doors to your home, remained closed. You'd rather shut all the doors in the world than to ever vouch for yourself using the name of your mother. Your... well, you guessed that the word the woman, who approved your surname change request, used was your abuser.

The process had been strenuous as the request didn't apply to any terms officially approving the name change but in the end, after intervention with a state-licensed psychiatrist, you managed it in the end. Abandoned your surname, your university, your degree of Political Sciences, abandoned it all to hell, seemingly having nothing but you still could vividly recall that feeling of freedom. Like you were finally able to breathe fresh air for the first time in your life. The physical copy of the surname change was soaked with your tears right at the entry of the Civil Registry that day. Though you didn't like it how was it received -

"Due to parental abuse and diagnosed long-lasting effects of childhood trauma inflicted upon the applicant, the request for the surname change to avoid contact with the legal parent is granted."

- but in the long run, you were just happy to be rid of this stain. In your private thoughts, you assumed the psychiatrist was embellishing it a little bit. Your mother didn't beat you, it's not like you had broken bones every day or she let anyone else touch you, she just wasn't a suitable parent. You weren't abused, you just had a difficult upbringing, many people had it worse and it was nothing to whine over. Right, the psychiatrist was just dramatic, to get the request approved. The words "long-lasting trauma" sounded serious, something that should be treated with, rather than simply saying you didn't bond well with your mother. Some people were not meant to be parents and their kids were not meant to be their kids. It's all there was.

"I just want to have a good day," you mumble, coughing away something lodged in your throat, resting your head on Hoseok's shoulder, observing the distant whale coming back to the surface. "Can we do that?"

They're all silent for a minute, exchanging grave expressions before lightening up to the best of their abilities.

"Of course, we can," Namjoon assures and Yoongi leans in to kiss your temple again but something in the way you stare at the sea like you're decades away in your mind, stops him and he frowns at the rocks instead.

"This turned out so nice," you coo at the picture you've all taken together, squeezed into the small, creaking chair of a local cafe. Surprise, surprise, the menu was 90% fish.

The picture was taken back at the breakwater, with the sea as the background and you all huddled together, specifically the guys huddled around you as some strategic kneeling and leaning had to be done to fit everyone in the shot. It was late evening already and everyone, including you, was drunk. Not the wisest decision probably.

"What the hell is that?" you point at the possibly largest trout you've seen being carried on a platter to table four.

"It's my love for you," Namjoon hiccups with a dimpled goofy smile. Taehyung had tucked himself on your thigh and Jungkook was in his natural position, sniffing your hair and/or neck. You weren't certain. Whenever you got this feeling, that this was certainly not what roommates did, all of this, the touching, the hugging, the slight groping, was not exactly normal behaviour you took a shot or a sip, anything really and lulled the feeling away.

It was all around a merry gathering except for Hoseok who wasn't drinking but looked like he had. He didn't smile or joke at all, resigned to sitting quietly to the side and enduring Yoongi's incredibly sweet professed nothings. After ten minutes you examine as he gently pries away Yoongi from his side, pushes him towards Jin and left the cafe with nary of explanation.

You saw him rifling through the breast pocket and you instinctively knew what that meant.

"You promised me you wouldn't smoke anymore."

Much to Hoseok's fright you appear out of nowhere, startling him into the metal bins, guilty cigarette already tucked between his lips.

He can see that you're well on your way to being unconscious and hangover the next morning but he still obeys the accusing tone and chucks the cigarette away.

"Sorry, I...I can't quit. It's too hard."

You approach him, shivering in the cold and more than anything Hoseok wants to have the courage to hug you, lend you his jacket, hold your hand anything at this point, but he always was a coward, so he resolves to lose the battle with the addiction, rather than giving in the one he had with himself about you. By smoking, he harmed only himself, if he ever concedes the war of restraint, inevitably it will also hurt you. He long ago promised not to hurt you anymore but you have this concerned look in the eye, and you're standing so close he can smell your shampoo and you're so real he could just reach out and touch you. No, no, he will not touch you, unwanted touch hurts, he knew that.

"Why don't you bother me?" you ask.

You're drunk, Hoseok tells himself, you were slurring your words and swaying, this was not the conversation to have whilst not being sober but his restraint is waning. Fast. Eroding like sand in a tsunami.

"You want me...give you trouble?" he laughs, remembering your feeble attempts to wrangle Jin off your back. If anything, he thought you were annoyed by them.

"I want your attention," you pout taking a step forward. Hoseok automatically steps away. He knew you did, to compensate for being invisible, but you would never admit it out loud. Another point for that he should get you inside really quick before anything bad would happen. Before his restraint broke and he'd drown you in all this love he held for you. If only he could tell you how much of his attention you held, how he counted your steps at night when you didn't sleep, how he watched every time how you cursed silently when a coworker of yours send a dumb e-mail. How he sometimes saw you on the street, by accident, observing the way you moved on your own through the world. You had all of his attention but if he showed it to you it would only hurt you in the end. Yes, he would be happy, he would be overjoyed for every single day of his remaining life but what life would it be for you. If they dated you then publically it would have to appear as it would be only one of them, it would impact the relationship as a whole. And if it ever got out you were dating them all - the world would eat you whole. You'd get what he got, stalkers, death threats, pressure. No one would care how hard you worked to live, how kind you were or what you dreamt for, they would build another you, pin the mask to your face and then throw rocks at the image they created.

They were who they were and to love you from the pedestal that the world imposed upon them was selfishness. It was selfish to chase you down, charm you into their arms only to then submerge you into a taunting nightmare once everything would be revealed and pretend that they could fix it all with a kiss or an encouraging word. Hoseok wasn't a master of love, he was bad at it, but he knew that above all love was not supposed to be selfish.

But it's so very hard to not give in when you're right underneath his nose, gaze glossed over but determined.

"Why don't you kiss me?" you ask quizzically and he has to screw his eyes shut. He will lose if you look at him.

"They all did. Tried at least," you continue, breath fanning over his neck. He sinks his nails into his fist, hoping it would help, but it doesn't.

"Not you. Not even a kiss on a foreh-"

Hoseok kisses you. Practically shoves his face into yours. You give a muffled sound in surprise, eyes shooting wide open but you're not pushing away.

"Stop, what are you doing, stop! Right now!" he can hear his own worried voice rattling somewhere but it's lesser than dust in the wind. He can taste your lip balm and the beer you drank and he can smell Namjoon's cologne on you because he had been hogging you all the time during dinner and he can't stop.

How many times did he imagine you instead of strangers? How many times did he theorize how would it feel, falling in love with a dream over and over again? None of it compared because simply you were real. He sinks his fingers in your hair, desperate, pleading, one hand hitting against the brick wall of the cafe where he pins you.

Give in. Give in. Give in. It would be so easy. Stop pretending you don't want this, stop pretending you're not desperate. Hoseok never gave much thought to demons, before this very moment where there is one worming his way through every base instinct he has, shoving away the purity, the caution.

You try to match his energy but just as he suspected you're drowning underneath the weight of what he holds for you. You didn't have the luxury of growing up with them, leaning into the idea of soulmates slowly, you get the finished product, the feverish longing shoved right into your arms with zero preparation.

Still, Hoseok can't stop, his mind is yelling to stop, he's breaking every rule he ever set, but his body does as it wills. He presses into you with sloppy, wet kisses, uncoordinated because you're still strangers and lets his hand roam where it can reach. He traces your chin, your collarbone, your arms, sides, losing himself in you completely.

Even when he registers a waitress coming through the backdoors, witnessing the scene, not caring and chucking the trash in one of the bins, he doesn't stop. He's not in the right state to stop, but then he gets a whiff of the garbage smell and he becomes acutely aware of the surroundings.

Behind an unknown cafe, amongst trash and rats, pressing you against a dirty wall. Stealing a kiss while you were drunk.

Disgusting. Unworthy. Disrespectful.

If you would ever be with him, no money that they had could buy you all a normal life. This is what you would get - booked hotels under fake names, dates in the shabbiest of places where no one expected them to be, sloppy make-outs between piles of trash. Hiding you away like some sort of dirty secret and not openly cherished as you should be.

You deserved more.

You deserved home. You deserved the world and Hoseok couldn't give you that. Simple as that. He could not give you what you needed, could only take what he wanted.

Love was not selfish.

So he pulls away. Practically tears himself off at the speed of light.

You stand veering slightly, out of breath against the wall. Hair a complete mess, lips swollen and flourishing bruise on your neck, he wasn't aware he'd given you one and now he grew even more ashamed. He mauled at your throat like that, maybe you didn't even want it, he hadn't asked.

"I'm sorry," he croaks, trying so hard not to cry. "That was a mistake."

Oh.

Right.

Of course.

It always was.

The hold around your heart is so painful, it crushes all of your insides in a mush. And then the pain disappears, as sudden as a leg cramp when the muscles release and you feel nothing. Nothing at all, just the awful hollow.

"Well, mistakes happen," you say, voice distant. You want to go away, where no one knows you, where you can be alone.

Hoseok observes your expression with a pained grimace.

"Hey, it's not you, it's - "

"You?" comes your counter, slightly derisive and he winces. "I'm going to go back to the lodge."

You waddle away, taking slow steps, one at the time as if you've forgotten how to walk. Hoseok's concern only grows as he watches you detach from the world. It was scary the way all soul left your face and you just grew...still.

"No, really, I..." he tries to amend but you don't want to hear it. You don't want to hear anything at all. And so he's left standing alone at the wharf, surrounded by the sounds of rushing wind and the swaying wind.

"What do you mean you're going to New York?" Yoongi asks quietly, careful not to wake anyone up.

"I mean, I'm taking my chance, what do I have to lose if I go to this convention, right? You wanted me to go."

"Well, yes," Yoongi stammers, anxiously taking in the way you avoid him, his look, his questions, even his presence if it was less than ten steps away. "But you were rather determined not to go just yesterday. It's a bit sudden..."

"I can change my mind," you snap.

He thinks very, very carefully of his next words.

"Are you running away?"

For the first time in the early morning, you stop moving and peer back at him. The kitchen is small but there's so much space between you, Yoongi wonders if he can ever breach it.

"Why would I run away?" you lie. "I'm fine."

Yoongi lets his hand fall away from the chair and stands awkwardly, not knowing what to say, how to comfort you.

You nod to yourself when he stops talking.

"The conference is for three days, but maybe I'll stay longer. I don't know yet how much the HR will pay for it."

Yoongi can only numbly take in what you're saying. He wanted to take you roller skating or go to the caves he saw on the brochure, or play to you the guitar you'd both chosen. All those plans, fond certainty that you could make it through together, all of it - gone in an instant.

You bid him quiet goodbye, not expecting him to be up in the first place, and reach for the handle of the door, dragging your suitcase behind.

That damn red suitcase Yoongi loathes. Every time he lost you, he saw it trailing after you. Like a beacon, it shone your way but he was always in the storm, failing to catch up, stranded as you flew away.

"Just come home," he breaks as you step over the threshold. "I'll wait for you. No matter how long it takes, I'll wait."

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❗️TIME SENSITIVE❗️ 

 Please, with everything that I have in me, I am begging for help for a family of 2 disabled black siblings (my autistic brother & myself with a physical disability) to not go homeless again during this pandemic.

 For those who don’t know, I am a physically disabled black woman and the sole caretaker of my autistic brother. Last year, we lost the home our father worked his entire life for after he passed away. My brother and I were made homeless.

 Since, we’ve been able to rent a home. But with our unique situation of no income, no rental history, no credit… nobody wants us as renters and the only deal we were able to get was to pay our entire YEAR’s worth of rent up front.

gofundme.com

Help 2 Black & Disabled Siblings After Losing Home, organized by Dave Davis

PLEASE READ MOST RECENT UPDATE AT END OF STORY! We have lost the home … Dave Davis needs your support for Help 2 Black & Disabled Siblings

 The last I updated you all, we were waiting on a hearing to determine the status of my brother’s disability case. We have been fighting for his disability for the whole year since we moved across the country, and after it was illegitimately denied TWICE before… the hearing that was set for June 3rd finally came. It was our last hope to get the funds we need to pay our upcoming rent. But when the date came… after waiting tirelessly… we were informed that it was postponed until 3 months from now.

 Three Months.

 Our lease ends at the end of July, we DO NOT have Three Months. The way the disabled are discarded like nothing is unbearable. You have no idea the pain I felt that day… seeing them treat a case that is so important that it stands between us and our home… like just another file. Like it means nothing. And this is what I mean when I say…

 They Do NOT Want Us To Live.

 It would have been our last hope at stable income to be able to pay our rent normally. We do not have any income at this time. Even the art that I was making was taken down by Etsy. Everyday I wake up in agony of not knowing what’s going to happen next.

 Call after call with no leads to any help. I haven’t had any transportation for the entire year since we were first kicked out of the only home we ever knew, and it’s been so unbelievably hard to find any work that I’m capable of without it. 

 I have given my everything.

 And I have gotten nothing back.

 And with all of it, I still sit here with my only sliver of hope to reach out to anyone who might see this.

 For the past several months, I have been trying to work up the courage to ask for help again. The strength to reach out again. If it was just me, I don’t think I could do this. But my brother, who has no way whatsoever of taking care of himself… what is he supposed to do if we lose our home? It has taken everything in me to sit here and write this cry for assistance.. but cry, I must.

 I have done nothing but look for other options. Tirelessly, day in and day out I have reached out to so many of these “resources” who are supposed to help us in times like this and time and time again, I have been shut down. My willpower has been crushed so much it’s not even describable.

 If you can help us, please know that even the lowest amount that you can possibly afford could help us right now. I’m so scared of losing everything again.

 I haven’t been able to rest. Every moment I’m awake just brings me back to the trauma I’ve experienced this year.

 I would just like to say with you all that

 Disabled Black Lives Matter.

 We deserve to feel safe and secure. We deserve a world that cares what happens to us. I know there are people out there who do. So I am asking you, one more time.

gofundme.com

Help 2 Black & Disabled Siblings After Losing Home, organized by Dave Davis

PLEASE READ MOST RECENT UPDATE AT END OF STORY! We have lost the home … Dave Davis needs your support for Help 2 Black & Disabled Siblings

 We need your help.

 Please help us, share our GoFundMe, share our story, donate anything you can at this time. If we can reach our goal we can be safe for AT LEAST another year.

 Help us keep a roof over our heads so that we can KEEP TRYING.

 Thank you 🙏🏽💜