Just A Little Sneak Peak Into What Ive Been Writing For The Season! And Yes, It Is Physically Written

Just a little sneak peak into what I’ve been writing for The Season! And yes, it is physically written because that’s how I’ve been spending downtime at my job 🤣

Please he is so cute 😭

namjoon is so cute

Oh damn…that is so cool 😮

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Ink Series - 5/? Part 4: here

-like/reblog ☑, do not repost!-

Oh my god today is my tumblr’s 1st birthday!!! 🎂🎂🎂 Thank you to everyone who’s followed me and my ramblings for this long! Here’s to many more years and many more writings ❤️❤️

AMOMK - Of Maps, Forms, and Other Crazy Ideas

This work was based on the original story A Map of Mrs. Kims (and the drabbles that started it all!) created by @bonvoyagenoona​ and various members of the Tumblr BTS fanfic community! (You can also read it on ao3!). All rights regarding this universe of characters are credited and belong to her.

I originally sent her an ask for this story a while back, and this drabble idea based on it would not leave my head. Thank you again to the wonderful @bonvoyagenoona for letting me play in this universe for a bit! <3 You can also read this particular drabble on A03 here!

“Oh come on, what’s the worst that could happen? If you get selected, you get to go out with some of the hottest bachelors around. Be in the running to be a future Mrs. Kim! Did I mention they’re hot? Super hot brothers?”

You stared pointedly at Ji-a as you bit into another french fry. “Is that all that matters? Looks and status? What about their dreams? Personality? Surely that’s important in this whole application thing too…”

Ji-a laughed and shook her head slightly. “I mean, of course you want a good man to be your husband. But what’s the harm in having a little fun on the way? Besides, my Eomma is desperate for me to finally settle down, and both our families are regulars here – the Kims seem to be some of the nicer rich boys in this crowd.”

Your fries turned colder by the second as you contemplated her scheme. Call it being a romantic, but you wanted your future husband to not only be your soulmate, but also have more brain capacity than a microwaved potato. To have him support your own interests and dreams seemed to be little more than a pipe dream at this point. Hell, even your dating app profile was covered in cobwebs – you thought you saw a tumbleweed roll through your empty inbox the other day. You honestly couldn’t do much worse than a mother’s matchmaking plan. You didn’t have the time or patience for boys who only cared about “the thrill of the chase” or “let’s not put a name on what we have, even though we’ve exclusively been seeing each other for a while now”. If you go along with this application idea, you probably wouldn’t even get ghosted. Probably.

“Plus, it’ll get your mind off of Museum Boy….”

You groaned as your head fell into your hands. “I never should have told you about him…”

“It’s been what? A few months of polite nods and simple smiles?” Ji-a chuckled as she grabbed another fry. “Just ask him out already! I’d even settle for a name at this point!”

Museum Boy was almost a legend among your friend group. For the past month or so you’d see the same young man at the local art museum near your place. It was almost a routine by now – check out the new exhibits, run into Museum Boy at some point on your way to your favorite painting in the Natural World section, give each other a polite nod as a greeting from a distance. Once you were alone again, you would congratulate yourself on not staring at the beautiful man like a creep and keeping your feelings to yourself. No one needed to know your mini crush on Museum Boy. After the first couple of times, you wouldn’t say you actually knew him, but at least just acknowledged each other as fellow patrons of the arts. But you don’t talk to people in an art museum. It’s quiet, made for reflection and appreciation. Or at least that’s how you’ve convinced yourself not to walk up to him yet.

A sudden snap of fingers in front of your face jolted you in your seat.

“You were just thinking about him, weren’t you?” Ji-a sighed. A rush of heat to your face gave her all the answer she needed. “Okay, that’s it. We’re getting those forms.”

She grabbed your wrist, pulling you out of the chair with barely any time for you to grab your purse. You looked back at the abandoned table, half a plate of fries still sitting untouched. Ji-a huffed slightly as she dragged you back to the table, grabbed the plate of fries, then dragged the pair of you inside.

You should have known Ji-a had an ulterior motive when she suddenly invited you to the country club she was practically raised in. You, in your nicest bargain bin sweater and jeans, were now fully inside the ornate lounge surrounded by the city’s elite. Specifically, a beautiful woman and 4 of the most handsome men you had ever seen. Your first mistake was trusting Ji-a at all, who only said you were going there to have some lunch and catch up from your busy work schedule. She left the room as soon as she got her form for Kim Taehyung. That traitor.

Your second mistake was requesting all of them when given the choice of which one to fill out after your introductions. You weren’t expecting physical copies, complete with printed out photos of each boy. It reminded you of your daily tasks as a receptionist – everything neatly organized by name and in their own respective folder. Digitally, it was all fairly anonymous so you could just hedge your bets and hope that someone you clicked Like on would do the same. But in person? You were worried you seemed greedy or didn’t care about them as individuals.

“We should have all of these back online soon, but for now just fill these paper ones out,” Mrs. Kim said with an elegant (but tired) smile. “The website keeps crashing, so we’re just waiting for the new server to take over.”

You nodded respectfully, while trying to figure out just how many people are involved in this entire process. Ji-a mentioned it was like a real-life version of a dating app, but there had to be hundreds of people applying daily for only 3 people in order for an entire server to crash. You were starting to feel like a tiny drop in an ocean, but it honestly tracked with how your dating life was going at the moment.

“Coming to the store without buying anything, huh?” one of the boys joked as you were handed 3 forms. You wanted to die on the spot.

“Seokjin!” Mrs. Kim cried as some of them rolled their eyes.

“We’re not for sale, hyung,” another one quietly declared, nudging Seokjin in the arm.

“Speak for yourself. Name your price,” a third boy replied as he stared directly at you. You knew this one to be Kim Taehyung, based on how Ji-a gazed at him earlier. He seemed to be her type anyways.

“I just wanted to be thorough in my decision…” you mumbled, holding the stack of folders delicately in your arms. Suddenly another form was placed on top, identical to the other ones.

“Here, take this one too,” he said, a hint of dimples showing through his polite smile. A quick glance through the folders showed his name was Kim Namjoon. You thought he looked familiar, but from where? It was bothering you ever since Ji-a dragged you into the lounge. Was he an executive at the financial company you worked for? An old college classmate? It had been about a decade since you graduated university, surely you had forgotten a face or two.

A shorter man next to Namjoon had pulled his lips into a straight line, but didn’t look in your direction. You thought you heard him whisper something along the lines of “stop it.” Looking at the new form, you saw it read the name Min Yoongi. Maybe he was a cousin who got dragged into this idea too.

You took a deep breath as you readjusted the forms in your grasp, trying to take control of the situation as best as you could. You liked forms and lists. They comforted you in a way with how straightforward they were. Forms didn’t yell at you for being a single woman in her early 30s when most of your peers were already married with kids; lists didn’t call you a failure for starting over with an entry level job at your age.

“Do they fill out forms too? It’s only fair that if you all get to learn everything about me from a piece of paper, I get to learn things about you too, right? Like sunsets vs sunrises, favorite type of dates, favorite songs that make you cry, and all that,” you asked, looking right at the group in front of you.

You thought you saw something sparkle in Mrs. Kim’s eyes. “Oh of course, they did fill out some forms too - it’s all on the website and in those folders. But there’s always more questions they can answer. I might have a few more ideas…”

“Eomma! No more lists!” Seokjin whined, but it didn’t seem to be out of malice or purely negative feelings. You smiled as you could see the love this family had for each other.

“Okay, good to know. I’ll just go…fill these out now. Do I just turn these back in to you or mail them in..?” you asked as you shuffled in your spot, adjusting the forms in your hands to make sure nothing dropped.

“There’s an address listed on the business card inside each of the folders that you can mail it to. You don’t have to rush it. Just take your time, think about your decision,” Namjoon responded with a polite smile and nod. Suddenly something clicked in your mind.

“Yes, please really take your time!” Seokjin laughed, but you didn’t quite hear him. You quickly said your goodbyes and turned away, rushing to go anywhere to be alone.

“Happy shopping!” Taehyung called after you as you booked it to the hallway. You lightly pressed your head against the wall, hardly believing what just happened – maybe some deity was messing with you or something. Because you just made your third and possibly biggest mistake of the night.

You had grabbed an application to date and possibly marry Kim Namjoon – aka Museum Boy. Who probably now thought you were a gold digging stalker. Great.

the most fun thing about being a fic author is when you know what’s supposed to happen but when you go to write it you realise that, for the event to be plausible, you need to add another 2k of development and establish like six extra things before you can even get to the scene you need to write, and by ‘most fun’ I mean fuck everything someone take this fucking story away from me I’m on strike