Amor Fabula - Tumblr Posts

Welcome to BTS Writers’ Corner’s first project! In celebration of the establishment of our network as well as the renouned holiday Valentines Day we present Amor Fabula, a collaboration between the various writers of the network~

Project Summary: “Love can be a wonderful thing, but it can also breed chaos. Imagine a world where love is absent; where the feeling itself is restricted, misunderstood, or illegal altogether. Marriage partners are chosen for the sake of increasing the population and enhancing socioeconomic growth. Nothing more. It’s a world where being in love is criminalized and your options are few: accept your fate, hide the truth in your heart, or turn your back on the world.”

@flowerwrites06 presents: Crying Petals

Summary: Story of cotton fields and vanilla kisses as a pair of friends living together for years are hit with a stunning revelation that could strengthen or destroy their relationship.

Released: February 10th | read here

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@thebiasrekkers​ (Eden) presents: Touch in the Dark 

Summary: Min Yoongi comes from the prestigious family of Blue Blood lineage. However, to appear philanthropic in the eyes of the public, they volunteered their son to marry someone from “humble” origins. Two years have passed since he’s been married to his poor, orphan wife. But for the first time in two years, he’s starting to take note of things about her that are causing shifts in his views of her, shaking his heart.

Released: Febuary 11th | read here

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@aroseforyoongi presents: Playing Fiction

Summary: For as long as you can remember, Namjoon has been your best friend. He has been an absolute constant in your life and has never wavered. The problem is that in the world you live in, everyone is matched with someone they are never supposed to love. Despite how much you would love to end up with Namjoon, you understand the gravity of it, and spend your last year together trying to savour the small moments.

Released: February 12th | read here

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@nightowlfandom presents: Follow Me

Summary: On a small island called Nue Island, there is a rule, a ritual, a curse. It is that love is a myth. Romance is a fabrication by the weak willed and foolish. When the odds seem like they’re placed against you, and everything is crashing down. How can you get away, better yet, how can you escape the ultimate fate you’d be faced with and answer the question that’s been on your mind for ages…is love real?

Released date: February 13th | read here

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@thebiasrekkers (Tomi) presents: Way To You

Summary: Taehyung is satisfied with how his life is. Because that’s what he’s supposed to feel. But, a certain incident changes how he feels. And those feelings beging to unlock memories deep within his mind. He begins to question everything -including why he keeps seeing a woman who is not his wife invading his thoughts.

Released: February 14th | read here

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@moccahobi presents: Amor Erratur

Summary: Yoongi’s life was fairly put together. He would go to work organizing the raffles, talk with the one good person at his office, (Y/n), and marry whoever he was paired with. If only pesky feelings didn’t get in the way of it all.

Released: February 15th | read here

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@prisczero presents: Renegade

Summary: *‘The system’ arranged your marriage with Yoongi, but you never truly loved him.*

*But this was the way your life was supposed to be, and you were content.*

*Well, until you end up in a bar where you meet a sweetheart with a badboy exterior. The two of you fall head over heels for each other, and you are torn between your emotions and the rules.*

*Jimin rebels the ‘system’ and shows you what emotional freedom is like.*

Released: February 16th | read here

PART 2 OF THE MASTERLIST WILL BE RELEASED SOON

crying petals — pjm

This original story has been written for the @btswriterscorner​ - Amor Fabula Project in honour of Valentine’s Week! 

Plot: Story of cotton fields and vanilla kisses as a pair of friends living together for years are hit with a stunning revelation that could strengthen or destroy their relationship. 

Rating: G | PG | Mature | Explicit

Genre: roommates!au | angst, smut

Pairing: Model!Jimin x Artist!OC/Reader (Gaia) ft. Lawyer!Seokjin 

Warnings: unrequited love themes (but like not at the same time lol), lots of emotional tension, the relationships can sometimes be complicated to explain but that’s sort of the point, sexual content (unprotected sex—stay safe pleeease, fingering, kitchen sex). 

Links: Guidelines | Masterlist | Request List (reqs closed)

Word Count: 7.5k 

A/N: I’ve been so hyped to write this that I ended up drafting and editing within three days. I hope you enjoy! Also!! my story is literally such a simple, stupid idea but seriously check out the other stories in the Amor Fabula project, there’s some serious intense fics coming your way!! As always reblogging, commenting and replying give life to a writer! 

© by flowerwrites. All rights reserved. No reposting or translating allowed.

Letting herself drown into a pool, throat suffocating with flowers and her mind swirling with uncontrollable jolts of need was never healthy. Even his scent as it lingered in the air, a strange mixture of cotton and vanilla began to haunt her in dreams as well in real life. It wasn’t healthy in the slightest.

Gaia tried to focus on her paintings, long hours spent staining her fingers and filling up canvas. All of them sketches of stupid plump lips and striking eyes that sucked you in. Lured you like a sailor to a siren. So she stopped painting people but then she made cotton plants, vanilla flowers and warm rays of sunshine gleaming down on them. A defeated sigh passed her lips, a curly tress escaping from her loose ponytail and hanging over her head.

“Pretty.” The honey voice startled her for a moment but Gaia became far too good at hiding the way her heart jumped whenever he was near.

Jimin raked his fingers through his golden blond hair and relaxed onto the couch next to her. “I like cotton flowers.” He leaned forward to take a closer look at the work.

“I know.” Gaia smiled faintly. Even as a metaphor, the painting looked so damn obvious.

“Is this my secret gift?”

She scoffed in a mocking tone. “Excuse me, this is for sale.”

Keep reading

Touch In The Dark — MYG

For the @btswriterscorner​ - Amor Fabula Launch Project in celebration of the month of Valentine’s Day!

Plot: Min Yoongi comes from the prestigious family of Blue Blood lineage. However, to appear philanthropic in the eyes of the public, they volunteered their son to marry someone from “humble” origins. Two years have passed since he’s been married to his poor, orphan wife. But for the first time in two years, he’s starting to take note of things about her that are causing shifts in his views of her, shaking his heart.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: dystopian!au/dystopian themes | angst | romance/fluff

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Female OC (Kiara Townsend)

Warnings: Strong language, mentions of suicide, extreme angst, interracial/intercultural relationship, arranged marriage

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 7,936

AN: I never thought I would write a story like this. I think this is the softest I’ve ever written for the boys. I know I only have one piece of lit for the fandom, but I have to say that this project caught me a little off guard. I never thought I would write Yoongi this soft, but it’s a very non-conventional soft. So I hope you all enjoy the world I was able to build from this, hug your loved ones a little close, and know that you are always loved. All reblogs, critiques/reviews, comments and affection are accepted! Happy reading!

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

  ~ k.t. ~

On the day she was told that she’d been chosen as the “Charity Selection” for The Lottery, Kiara tried to kill herself. 

The heavy knocks sounded like thunder inside her tiny, rundown studio apartment. She stared back at her reflection in the bathroom, a handful of sleeping pills clutched in her palm over the porcelain. She’d purchased a full bottle of the prescription strength medication off the black market. It took her months to save up enough money to buy them.

Attempted suicide was a serious offense, punishable by large fines and incarceration for three months, followed by six months of psychiatric evaluation. The global population was already off-kilter with how many people suffered losses from wars, hunger and poverty. Decreasing the numbers in any amount was detrimental to society’s ability to rebuild and stabilize its structure. 

The knocking continued incessantly. Kiara knew if she didn’t answer the door, they would just kick it in and find out what she was up to. Sighing, she put the pills back into the bottle and placed it in the medicine chest behind the smudged mirror.

Twelve paces. That’s how long it took for her to make it from the bathroom to the front door. The ratty sofa doubled as her bed and the thin, pale blue blanket could hardly be considered covers. While Kiara did not get sick often, she could not stay warm during the winter months. Central heating was a luxury she couldn’t afford and space heaters were few and far between. The yellowing paint peeled off the walls and the stainless steel door knobs, once shiny and new, were now dull and gray from years of neglect.

When she opened the door, she was greeted by a man in a three-piece suit and two armed soldiers. He was an official from The Lottery office and he handed her a letter. He congratulated her, telling her how fortunate she was to have been chosen for the “Charity” portion of the Lottery. He explained that everything she needed to know about her future husband was in the envelope and that she could read it on the flight to meet him.

She’d never flown in an airplane before.

Kiara didn’t own much. All of her furniture were either hand-me-downs or things she found on the side of the road. Her clothes, what few she had, could all be stuffed into a single duffel bag. Her friends doted on her, telling her how lucky she was to have been chosen. They all pooled together and bought her a pretty sundress to wear since it was approaching Summer. Kiara promised to contact them whenever she was fully settled.

On the flight over, Kiara took a good look over the files she’d received. 

Yoongi Min. 26. South Korean. Computer programmer. His home was Daegu and he still lived with his family, as per tradition in the country. He was fluent in English, which was a relief. He was definitely handsome - dark auburn hair, pierced ears, and umber eyes that almost appeared a little withdrawn. Or was it sadness?

Was he hurting on the inside too?

At her request, one of the flight attendants gave her a tablet for her to study. She didn’t want to embarrass herself on the first day of meeting him.

If the plane didn’t crash on the way. Kiara could only be so lucky. 

Yoongi wasn’t the one who picked her up from the airport. It was someone from the family’s household staff. He was a kind looking middle-aged man and he helped her load what few belongings she had into the trunk of her car. The drive from Incheon to Daegu was long. The driver, Mr. Song, told her she could take a nap if she liked. But there were so many questions she wanted to ask and she was grateful that he was also fluent in English.

There were things she discovered about Yoongi that she felt she could relate to. He was an avid reader and enjoyed music. He preferred his solitude and when he had the time to spare, he took pictures and tended the garden at his family’s home. There were servants to handle such things as yardwork, but Yoongi insisted on raising seedlings in a greenhouse.

After she arrived at his family’s home, she was welcomed by the rest of the staff. Yoongi, again, did not greet her. His parents did, however. They were not so fluent in English, but they were kind enough to allow one of the maidservants to translate what they were saying to Kiara. She both nodded and shook her head at the appropriate questions. Nothing they asked was outside of a “yes” or “no” response.

“Are you healthy?”

“Are your parents really dead?”

“Were you comfortable on the plane?”

“You’ve never flown on an airplane before, have you?”

And finally, the question that served as Divine Intervention.

“Are you tired?”

The questioning ended when she nodded. It wasn’t that Kiara wanted to avoid her future In-Laws. She really was tired. She refused to nap on the long drive from Incheon to Daegu and the jet lag was starting to rear its ugly head. She could hardly keep her eyes open. After she was escorted to one of the guest rooms, Kiara barely took note of her luggage on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

She fell asleep almost immediately.

When Kiara awoke the next day, she found a handwritten note sitting on the nightstand. Groggy and hungry, she did her best to read the note. Her eyes quickly focused when she realized it was from Yoongi.

Miss Townsend,

I’m glad to see you arrived safely. I know this is a bit of a transition for you, but everything will be fine. I will be out of town on business until the day after tomorrow. Please meet me at City Hall on Wednesday so we can finalize everything.

~ Min Yoongi

Unsure of why, Kiara felt her heart sink. The note seemed so impersonal; business-like. She knew what kind of world they lived in now, but did it really mean that a perpetual wall would exist between them? 

Crumpling the note in her hand, she was grateful to be alone. She didn’t think she’d be able to explain the tears if anyone saw her. Mostly because Kiara, herself, couldn’t understand why she was crying.

~ m.y. ~

The days always began the same.

Yoongi woke up, showered, went downstairs and had his cup of coffee. Two spoonfuls of sugar. No cream. He hated watching television because most channels either rattled on political propaganda or spoke about the “Runners” rebelling against society’s standards for the world. He preferred the soft sounds of jazz peeling from the radio speakers. Sometimes it was purely instrumental. Other times, someone was crooning a song about heartbreak. It was an idea that he didn’t quite understand, but the tones were pleasing to the ears.

He wasn’t a fan of it originally. Yoongi only listened to it because she had it playing while she hung laundry out on the line one warm summer day. “Killing Me Softly” droned from the speakers and he could recall the look on her face when he told her to turn it off immediately. Music containing lyrics had been banned as it was a way for artists to spread their messages of love, freedom, insurrection and justice. 

She didn’t argue with him, but her expression shifted significantly that day.

In their society, love was something that could not be felt because love equaled passion and passion led to impractical thought. Impractical thoughts led to irrational decisions being made. Wars, hatred, violence: they were all ingredients for disaster that nearly wiped out the population of the world.

But mankind couldn’t very well lead itself to extinction. Population growth was necessary, so long as it was monitored and controlled. Maintaining order was paramount in this new age. The Lottery Bill was established across the world - bridging the racial and cultural divide that continued to exist until the United Nations took matters into their own hands.

The class system was determined by lottery. Blue Bloods all the way to Laborers. Everyone had their place and would accept that place. No one would strive to reach above their station as that would disrupt order and breed chaos. To regulate the classes, lotteries were also pulled for marriage. Couples were chosen from like classes to maintain balance in the system. 

But because the world’s government was not cruel, there were families chosen to participate in philanthropic activities. Every year, a small percentage of Laborers were pooled to marry into Blue Blood lineage. It was a way to show the kindness the global governmental body possessed. Most in the Blue Blood class referred to it as “Forced Charity” but they couldn’t argue against the positive impact it had both across the media and in society as a whole.

Min Yoongi’s family was one of the families chosen to participate in the “Forced Charity”. As the only son, he was obligated to be the one to represent their family during The Lottery. 

He didn’t make a fuss. When Yoongi received his Summons in the mail, he went to his district’s City Hall and took the envelope from one of the clerks. He had one week to accept the terms presented in his drawing. Since he was willingly volunteering to marry someone outside of his station, he had one opportunity for a redrawing. But only one.

Yoongi opted out of it.

He was living with his parents still and politely asked that they give him privacy. For five days they tormented him about what his bride was like. It wasn’t out of childish rebellion that he hadn’t given them an answer. It was because he truly didn’t know.

On the sixth day, he finally opened the envelope. 

Inside contained the dossier of his future bride, as well as a single photograph. Everyone who was eligible for The Lottery was required to have their picture taken at their district’s City Hall, regardless of what part of the world they were from. If his bride-to-be had to travel miles to get to him, then that was what had to be done. There would be no objections from either side.

He had no expectations. There was no reason to disagree with the marriage. Yet a part of him hesitated when it was time to call The Lottery office to have them send for her. The same part that looked at her picture and couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking when she was staring back at the camera. Yoongi wondered if he had the same expression on his face when he’d taken his photo.

Kiara Townsend. 26. African-American, German and Scottish. She had no parents and she worked full-time in a textile factory in North America. Her parents were killed during a neighborhood raid of residents who were presumed to have been involved in an underground movement of sorts - advocating free love and speaking out against the societal norms currently in place for the world. 

In the photo, her skin was a golden caramel, hair thick with large curls, and she had prominent brows and a set of full lips. Her eyes, small and hazel in tone, were seemingly endless - like she could see into the very souls of anyone she laid her eyes upon. But there was an emptiness that lingered there in her photo. 

After accepting his lottery choice, she was notified and escorted to his home country of South Korea. In three days, they were married. As a wedding present, his parents bought them their own home - a large estate in the Daegu countryside where they would have privacy. She no longer had to work now that she was married to a Blue Blood. Yoongi worked from home as a computer programmer and only went into town once a month for board meetings.

For the first month, neither of them said a word to each other. It was an unspoken rule that they had their own separate spaces in their home. Yoongi rarely slept and when he did, he slept alone. His wife often slept on the couch and he never bothered her to sleep in her own bed. 

They were like strangers who happened to share the same address.

Four months went by. Yoongi grew more and more numb to his situation. The whole point of marrying someone was to increase the population. Young men and women were fully educated in the concept of sexual intercourse so that there would be no mistakes during the coupling process. No one was truly a virgin when they were age-appropriate for The Lottery. Sex was no longer an act of pleasure in the world. It was a business transaction.

They didn’t have sex. Neither even so much as touched the other.

Six months into their marriage, Yoongi heard Kiara speak for the first time. 

“Can we send the servants home? I want to make dinner tonight.”

The sound of her voice was so soft. He was entranced and nearly forgot to speak. When Yoongi finally found his voice, he replied - realizing that his own tones sounded a little strange to him.

“Alright.”

~ k.t. ~

She hadn’t meant to be silent. There were so many things she wanted to know about her husband. But the very air around him appeared frigid and Kiara knew she didn’t want to bother him. There was a part of her that could sense his loneliness, but she never wanted to push or prod where she wasn’t wanted. The interactions they had between each other were brief, if even at all. 

Kiara didn’t have to want for anything. But was this really a life that she could grow accustomed to? It felt like the more she wanted to grow closer with Yoongi, the further he seemed to appear.

Did he hate her? Or not care about her? When he fussed at her about playing the radio, she wondered if she was simply an eyesore to him.

Wasn’t it better to simply stay out of his way?

The months bled on and while they were finally sharing small bits of conversation here and there, Kiara could sense the gap between them slowly transforming into a chasm. There were times when she caught him looking at her when she was busying herself around the kitchen or even putting away clothes. She was so used to a hard, springy mattress from her pullout bed in her studio that Kiara found it easy to fall asleep on one of the many couches throughout the house.

Their house.

But was it really her house? Could she call it her home?

Eight months into their marriage, she woke up in a bed after having fallen asleep while reading on the sofa. The warm blankets and plush down startled Kiara, causing her to halfway scramble from the bed. The room was unfamiliar to her and she felt slightly trapped. Most people would be elated to wake up in a room with pristine, painted walls, an elegant vanity table, and clean blankets and pillows. It was warm and inviting, something that Kiara saw in the pages of magazines. She never dreamed she would be able to sleep in a room like this. It was part of the reason why she couldn’t bring herself to do it in the first place.

Who could have brought her there? One of the servants, maybe?

Sighing, she took a moment to study the room she was in - the room that was designated as “hers”. It was as unfamiliar to her as the day she first set foot in this country. While Kiara understood the language and continued to learn the customs and culture of South Korea, there was a part of her that still felt strangely out of place. It shouldn’t have been the case, not with The Lottery Bill having been in effect for several years now. 

Only when her raging heartbeat slowed down a measure, did she notice the small note resting on the nightstand. With slightly trembling fingers, Kiara picked up the note and read it.

Stop sleeping on the couch. There’s a perfectly good bed not being put to use. 

You don’t have to make yourself uncomfortable for no reason. 

Haven’t you suffered enough in your life?

~ Yoongi

A warm feeling slowly blanketed her entire body. Kiara pressed the note to her chest as she sat on the edge of the bed. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel. Relief? Understanding? Perhaps. Maybe even a little hopeful.

There was the faint aroma of spices permeating into her room from the gap below the door. Setting the note down, Kiara left her room and made her way out into the hallway. The stairwell was just a few feet away, but she paused in front of Yoongi’s bedroom. Her eyes lingered a little further to the third door at the other end of the hallway - the master bedroom. It seemed that Yoongi opted to stay in a guest bedroom just like hers.

Was that out of concern for her? Did he not want to appear entitled? 

But that didn’t make any sense. He was a Blue Blood. His very lineage was entitlement, wasn’t it?

So then...why?

Her palm slid along the railing of the stairwell, her bare feet gliding over the perfectly polished wooden floor. She could hear a pot boiling as someone chopped methodically in the kitchen. When she reached the entrance, Kiara peeked her head around the corner. She felt like a small child stumbling across their parent in the middle of some adult task.

Yoongi was focused on chopping vegetables for a stew. The meat was already fully cooked in the broth and he appeared to be putting the final touches on what he was doing. Kiara gazed at his exposed forearms in awe - watching the muscles tensing as he worked. Her eye-line shifted, roving over the curve of his shoulders to the juncture of his slender neck. Sweat gathered around his temple and trailed down his jawline and with each movement, she saw his earrings twinking under the kitchen’s amber light fixture.

She couldn’t recall a time when she’d seen a man as beautiful as her husband. 

As if he’d sensed her presence, Yoongi craned his neck to look at her - his arms moving to slide the vegetables off the carving board and into the stew pot. He turned the burner down while setting the chopping board into the sink. Washing his hands, he then wiped them clean with a dish towel as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Did you sleep well?”

Kiara nodded. “I did, thank you.”

“Good.” 

There was a pregnant pause that seemed to stretch towards the edge of forever. Just as Kiara took a step forward, preparing to offer some kind of assistance, did Yoongi finally break the silence.

“I dismissed the servants,” he offered gently, his gaze meeting hers for what she felt like was the very first time since they were married, “it’s not like they really have much to do around here.”

Kiara didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent. Unconsciously, she began wringing her hands together. She very nearly averted her gaze until he spoke again.

“I’ll probably send them back to my parents’ home.” 

Again, her eyes locked with his. His expression stayed neutral and Kiara felt a lump forming in her throat. 

“Would it be okay if it was just the two of us?”

Her eyes widened slightly, unsure of what he was implying. But it was true that the servants didn’t have much to do in their home. Yoongi hardly made a mess and what mess he did make, he often cleaned up after himself. The same could be said of Kiara. If anything, the servants were often shuffling around and attempting to find something to do so they didn’t appear to have idle hands.

Surely they could take care of themselves, right?

Kiara didn’t know what expression to make, so she kept her face from shifting too much. Maybe it was out of need to keep herself just a little more guarded because of the lack of interaction for so long. She couldn’t be sure. But appearing too vulnerable, too open, could be just as much of a mistake as being too closed off.

Taking a breath, she nodded once more.

“If you’re alright with it, then I would like that, too.”

~ m.y. ~

He didn’t shower her with gifts because of an impulsive decision. 

He bought her things because he knew she chose to go without. 

Kiara came from a world that was vastly different than his own. Yoongi could hardly fathom the idea of not having enough clothes in his closet or enough food in his fridge. But she never complained about anything - whether he bought too much or not enough. She graciously accepted everything that was given. 

What was even more puzzling, however, was how a mild feeling of irritation blossomed when Kiara didn’t utilize the things he’d given her immediately. He knew she was grateful and she rarely made a fuss about anything. The one time he ever saw her upset in the entire year they’d been married was when he’d made the comment about the radio.

Hadn’t they reached a compromise?

Biting his lower lip, he found it difficult to focus on his computer work. Everything looked like Egyptian hieroglyphics, which was saying something considering that Yoongi lived, breathed, and dreamed about coding. He became a computer software programmer out of necessity for the ever-advancing world of technology they lived in. Modern society was growing more and more dependent on smart devices, which would have been a shame had he lived in a different world. 

People often missed the world around them when their eyes were glued to a screen.

The latch unhooked from the door, causing him to shift his gaze from the computer monitor. When it slowly opened, he saw Kiara quietly enter - arms cradling a small serving tray. Yoongi leaned back in his chair, threading his fingers through each other as she approached. She set a plate of toast, jam, and fruit on the desk - her motions smooth and practiced. She finally set the cup of steaming hot coffee beside the plate, as well as utensils wrapped in a cloth napkin. 

“You should take a break,” she said, the tray resting against her stomach, “you’ve been working non-stop for about four hours now.”

He set the computer to hibernation mode. “I didn’t realize I’d been here that long.”

“You can leave the tray outside when you’re finished.”

Yoongi watched her turn to leave, his body reacting before his mind could process what he was doing. Before he realized it, he was out of his chair and reaching out to grasp her shoulder - stopping Kiara from leaving him. He felt her muscles tensing and Yoongi pulled his hand back immediately. Slowly, she turned to face him again.

Her hazel eyes appeared to glow from the twilight rays peeling in through the windows of his office.

His heart crashed into his chest with heavy thuds. A lump slowly formed in his throat and he made a vain attempt to swallow oxygen through the closing airways. Yoongi knew he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what that something was. He opened his mouth to speak and, again, no words came out.

All he could do was push the bubble in his throat down into the knot twisting in his chest.

Sensing something was amiss, Kiara set the tray down on the desk. “Are you alright?” 

Yoongi remained silent, studying the crease on her brow as her curls bounced around cheeks and shoulders. She reached her hand up, pressing the flat of her palm on his forehead.

“You’re a little warm, but you don’t seem to have a fever.”

Every representation of logic was screaming at him to pull away - telling him to replace the wall that existed between them for the last year. She hadn’t moved her hand from his skin and Yoongi felt his vision swimming for half a second before refocusing back on her face.

How had he missed the beauty mark at the corner of her left eye?

Taking a step back, he watched her arm continue to hover in the air for a few seconds before settling back at her side. Yoongi saw something pass over her face, but it was so quick that he wasn’t sure he’d seen anything at all.

Kiara brushed some of her curls behind her ear. “I’ll head to the market and pick up a few things. Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll take care of them when I come back.”

Then she turned away from him to head out of his study, leaving him alone without so much as a second glance.

His chest hurt.

Flopping back into his chair, Yoongi carded his fingers through his hair in frustration - hands resting at the back of his neck as he stared blankly at the ceiling.

“...I didn’t even thank her.”

~ k.t. ~

The months were getting colder. Kiara wasn’t a fan of the cold, but she loved seeing the snow in South Korea. Everything was covered in a soft blanket of white. It gave her an excuse to indulge in a savory meal, wrap up in a warm blanket, and read by the fireplace. Yoongi was in Seoul for a business meeting, leaving her alone to her own devices. This was the first winter that she would get to experience without the servants around, fussing over her in case she hadn’t acclimated to the weather.

She took a warm bath, drank from a large glass of wine, and enjoyed the book she’d discovered near the back of the library. Most of the books in Yoongi’s library were reference books and non-fiction. She’d combed through most of them. But nestled in the very back, tucked away in a hidden nook, was a small collection of fictional literature. There were more than a dozen; small in comparison to the rest of his library. But the discovery of it surprised her just the same. In the year she’d been married to Yoongi, he always seemed very “by the book” and she couldn’t forget the comment he made about the music she was listening to while hanging up laundry. Finding something of this caliber was like stumbling across buried treasure.

Kiara was currently flipping through the pages of Animal Farm by George Orwell. She chose it because next to 1984 , it had the most worn out spine. It meant that Yoongi read it the most in comparison to the others in his entire collection.

Upon completing the novel, she could see why.

Politics. Justice. Equality. Inequality. A corrupt system. Broken families. Broken societies. A dream that fizzled away to greed - a dream that would only remain a dream so long as dictators felt that “some were more equal than others”.

There was a small part of Kiara that almost seemed to understand Yoongi a little bit better. He was a thinker and also compassionate. He never asked her to do more than what she needed and he readily provided her with anything she would ever need. It was the sort of life that Kiara wasn’t used to for over twenty years of being part of the Labor Class.

Yet something was still missing…

The sudden slamming of the door startled Kiara, causing her to drop the book into the bathwater. She panicked, knocking over the wine glass as she flailed to pull the book out. The pages instantly soaked - some of them were already falling out from the binding. She released a sob while pulling the plug to drain the water, clambering haphazardly out of the tub. Her heel found the bath rug by the tub and she could only cling helplessly to the pages, gathering up what remained in the bathtub into her trembling hands.

There was a knock at the door and she whirled around to face it.

“Is everything alright in there?”

Yoongi was home early. Looking at the ruined book in her hands, Kiara’s heart sank. 

“I-I’m fine,” she said, leaning down to pick up the wine glass, “I’ll be out in just a moment.”

“Take your time.”

When she heard his footsteps fading away, Kiara sighed as she wrapped a towel around her body. She used a smaller one to clean up the mess on the floor - grabbing a small plastic bowl and filling it with water so she could wash what remained to let it drain out in the center of the bathroom. She let out another sigh, brushing her fingers through her wet curls. It was better to be honest and get it over with, wasn’t it?

Drying herself off, she slid into her pajamas, grabbed the ruined book, and made her way downstairs. Yoongi poured himself a drink in the kitchen, taking note of her presence with a simple nod. He held the glass up and out toward her.

“Drink?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I had some wine earlier.”

“Ah, I see,” he replied gently, replacing the cap on the whiskey bottle. 

There was a small measure of silence that stretched between them and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, her fingers digging into the wet pages of the book currently hidden behind her back.

“Uh, Yoongi?”

He hummed during mid-sip, swallowing and then setting the glass down. “Yes?”

Slowly, she pulled the book around from behind her and held it out to him from across the kitchen island. “I was reading and dropped one of your books in the bath.”

“It’s just a book,” Yoongi said with a shrug.

Kiara bit her lower lip, her hands shaking as she continued to hold the book out to him - waiting for him to take it from her. He looked like he was about to say something, but she noticed his eyes lingering over the cover. When his eyes scanned over it, they widened slightly and it took everything Kiara had not to wince. Her shoulders visibly tensed when he snatched the book from her hands.

Without another word, he left the kitchen. Kiara followed on instinct, her eyes widening when she saw him throwing the book into the open hearth. The flames seemed to fight against the wet pages, but it didn’t take long for the book to burn. 

“I’m sor--”

Yoongi was already moving, his body disappearing down the corridor. Her legs were rooted where she stood and Kiara wanted nothing more than to disappear between the cracks - to dip below the earth and vanish into the ether. She could hear his hurried steps and the breath left her lungs when she saw him carrying an armful of books.

Books from his hidden collection.

He moved faster than her brain could keep up and by the time she realized what was happening, he’d already thrown three more books into the fire.

“Yoongi, wait!” she cried, running toward him and pulling at his shirt sleeve, “Please wait! I said I was sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

Yoongi said nothing. He simply continued to throw the books into the fire. When all of those were devoured by the flames in the fireplace, he turned to head back toward the library. Kiara ran at him, wrapping her arms around his waist to stop him. He took three more steps before stopping completely.

She openly sobbed into his back, soaking his shirt as her fingers dug into his stomach to keep him tethered there.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, clinging to him as if he was a life raft, “I’m sorry…”

She felt the flutter of his beating heart against her face, drumming along her cheeks. It almost seemed manic, but his shoulders finally relaxed as she heard him taking several long, deep breaths. The flames popped and crackled in the fireplace, having had its fill from Yoongi’s literature collection. She knew there were still a few more on the shelf in his hidden nook, but Kiara didn’t think she could handle him destroying the things he clearly seemed to care so much about.

“I haven’t read those books in years,” he murmured gently, “I should have gotten rid of them a long time ago.”

Her hands slid up his chest, curling so that her fingers could slip over the curve of his shoulders. Kiara took a breath, sighing through the scent of his cologne.

“But why?”

“Because they’re dangerous. They provoke dangerous thoughts.” He paused and she lifted her face in time to see his head turning slightly. “It’s why they’ve been banned.”

“They’re precious to you, aren’t they?”

“It’s not worth keeping them if they get you into trouble.”

Taking a step back, she blinked and he turned around to face her. 

“Me?”

Yoongi nodded. “You’re so curious. I should have known that you would stumble across them eventually. But it’s just like with the music. You have to be careful.”

Kiara wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but she knew could tell that he wasn’t upset about her reading his books. He was upset that she had unknowingly placed herself into danger. He was concerned for her well being.

And that meant something to her. More than she would ever admit out loud.

Averting her gaze, she lowered her head slightly. “...I’m sorry.”

“And stop apologizing,” Yoongi said, an edge in his tone, “it frustrates me.”

She felt his hands around her shoulders, gripping them tightly. He looked like he was going to shake her, but thought better of it. Instead, he loosened his hold - letting his hands continue to rest on her shoulders. When she next looked up at him, his brows were furrowed and his pupils seemed to shake. She wasn’t sure what was still bothering him. Kiara wanted to know what she could do to make him feel less agitated.

But as she opened her mouth to speak, she lost all words of comfort as Yoongi leaned down toward her face. She was almost positive that her heart either skipped a beat or stopped altogether at that moment. Everything was so quiet. Kiara felt his breath dancing gently over her face as he pressed his cheek against hers, his lips brushing over her cheek. 

Kiara was afraid to breathe, believing that the moment she did, it would shatter whatever dream-like illusion she was currently experiencing. The second she heard her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, however, was when Yoongi pulled away. Blinking up at him rapidly, she was sure that her cheeks were inflamed and her hand absentmindedly went to touch her cheek as his hands slid away from her shoulders.

“...don’t stay up too late,” he said gently.

And then, just like a mirage, he quietly turned away and made his way toward the stairs. When she heard the door to his bedroom shut, she finally collapse to her knees. Kiara’s breathing came out in rushed waves and she buried her face in her hands, stifling a sob that nearly broke through the silence. She wasn’t sure if she should feel elated or devastated.

What was happening between them now?

~ m.y. ~

It had been three months since he burned his private book collection. The more innocent and bright-eyed side from his youth mourned the loss of the texts. He could always purchase them again if need be. He wasn’t exactly hurting for money. But it was the worn edges of the books, the notes he’d made in the margins, that he could never get back. 

Those would be lost forever. 

It’s probably for the best, he thought, sighing as he cradled his cup of coffee in his hands, the lessons have been learned .

He watched the sun setting slowly over the horizon from his back patio. He reflected back to Kiara’s face when he’d torched his books. She’d called them “precious” and she wasn’t exactly wrong. But she wasn’t completely right either.

There were more important things in life than the words on the pages of books. He wanted to be able to tell her that himself, but Yoongi found he couldn’t. He didn’t think the words he had swirling around his head would be enough to get his message across. 

Or maybe she already understood…

He turned to head back inside, closing the sliding glass door behind him. He peered around the main living area, absentmindedly wondering where his wife was. It was still early. Maybe she was still asleep.

As Yoongi moved toward the kitchen, the distinct sound of typing could be heard down the hallway. Blinking, he set his cup down and slowly trudged down the corridor leading to his office. He slowly turned the knob, opening the door to peek inside.

Kiara was rapidly typing at his desk, her eyes focused but clearly tired. Every few minutes, she would stop to roughly hit the tops of her shoulders, rolling her neck to loosen whatever knots were beginning to form there. His eyes wandered to the desk where there was a large stack of papers. Bundles were separated and stacked in varying directions so that there would be no confusion as to what stack belonged with which grouping. 

His printer whirred to life, shooting out page after page of whatever she’d just finished. When the next bundle was complete, Kiara pulled out a pencil and began to write on pages as she sifted through them.

She hadn’t noticed him yet.

“What are you doing?”

His voice clearly startled her, nearly causing her to drop the entire packet of paper she had in her hands. Yoongi closed the door behind him, approaching the desk and reaching out for the bundle of papers at the very top of the stack. Kiara made a noise of protest, but his eyes scanned the front curiously.

Then his curiosity gave way to surprise.

“This is…” he began, but realized he couldn’t finish as his eyes landed on the next bundle’s cover page.

Animal Farm by George Orwell.

Yoongi rapidly flipped through the pages of 1984 in his hands. It was written, word-for-word, from what he could remember of the book. The most shocking discovery, however, was seeing his own handwriting along the margins of the pages where he’d taken his own personal notes and written rhetorical questions to ask himself as he read. It was almost too much for him to take in.

Lowering the manuscript at his side, he looked up as Kiara stood from his chair. 

“I felt terrible about you destroying them,” she began, holding her hands up, “and don’t worry! I made sure that there aren’t any digital copies on your computer. Every time I finished one, I would print and delete it right away.”

He said nothing. He just continued to look at her; flabbergasted.

“You have photographic memory.” It was a statement of fact, not a question. 

Kiara nodded. 

“You even put all of my notes back.”

Again, she nodded.

His eyes wandered back to the large stack of papers. If it was separated by novels, then there were at least twenty books in the stack. Maybe more. And if she was taking the time to recreate his own scribbles, who knew how long this was actually going to take; how long she’d already been taking?

Is this what she’s been working on for the last month?

The ream of paper slipped from his hand and fluttered to the floor. Kiara gasped, rushing around the desk in a hurry to pick up the discarded pages. He stopped her before she could kneel to the floor, his hand grasping her upper arm to keep her standing. She looked at him with wide eyes and she tried to take a step away from him. But Yoongi held fast, refusing to let her move even an inch away from her. 

“...thank you,” he whispered softly. 

He felt what tension remained in Kiara start to ebb away.

And then she smiled. It was the first time he’d ever seen her smile and it hurt to even look at her. But Yoongi continued to stare at the curve of her lips and the way they turned upward. Her hazel eyes seemed to glitter against the twilight sky pouring in from his office window - the corners crinkling up just a little in response to the smile. He didn’t think it was possible, but Yoongi swore he could hear the sound of his heart breaking and reforming simultaneously. Suddenly, it was difficult for him to breathe, but he tried anyway. It felt like tiny needles were stabbing into the organ beating furiously against his chest, threatening to burst free and fall to the floor.

The logical side of his head, the one screaming at him to run out of the office and as far away from Kiara as humanly possible, was losing against the side that Yoongi didn’t even recognize. Like a time lapse, he watched their life together zip through his mind’s eye - a grainy film projection that continuously focused on every facet of Kiara that he could remember. Everything from big to small - a simple gesture and an even simpler question.

Nothing could compare to the sheer radiance that resulted in her smile.

In that moment, Yoongi knew that he wanted nothing more than to see her smile again. To see it past today and to watch her smile every single day after this one.

He would ask for forgiveness later. He wasn’t about to ask for permission. Not now.

Tugging his arm back, he pulled Kiara close to him. Her chest crashed into his, causing them both to stumble a single step forward and backward respectfully. Her smile disappeared, replaced with confusion. He watched her brows furrow and just as her mouth opened to speak, Yoongi leaned his face in - sealing his lips over hers in a rough kiss.

They both inhaled slowly and he could feel Kiara’s hands grasping at his shoulders. But she didn’t fight him. Instead, he could feel the heavy thud of her own heartbeat attempting to chase the cadence of his. Wrapping his free arm around her waist, he tried to pull her even closer. The smell of her shampoo, her subtle body spray, and how warm and smooth her skin was beneath his touch was almost too much. He feverishly kissed her, nipping and tugging at her full lips which would be swollen from his affection.

Darkness enveloped the sky, plunging them into darkness. The only light in the room came from the computer monitor, reflecting its light against the large bookshelf behind the desk. He pulled away from Kiara’s mouth, his eyes adjusting to the dark quickly as they both took the time to catch their breaths.

“Y-Yoongi,” she stammered, her body trembling slightly in his arms.

“I know what this is.” His voice was low, his breath dancing along her skin as he curled his fingers into the flare of her hip. “This is a problem.”

Even in the dark, he could see Kiara’s worried expression. She wasn’t a fool. She knew what this was just as well as he did. And just like him, she also knew how much of a problem this was.

But it was too late to turn back now.

“I didn’t want to fall in love. I didn’t.” Yoongi lifted one hand up to brush a few of her curls away from her face, resting his palm against her cheek so he could tilt her face further upward. “But then you smiled, and that was the end of everything for me.”

Even as he continued speaking, Yoongi could feel the panic creeping up his throat, threatening to choke the very life out of him. He’d heard of things like this happening in the past, years before he was born. When marriage was a choice made between two people who loved each other. It wasn’t something to be pulled from a Lottery. 

When loving someone was a gift, not a crime. 

A crime or not, Yoongi wanted to know. No. He had to know.

“Do you love me?”

And like he’d struck something buried deep at the core of her, Yoongi watched Kiara’s eyes fill with tears. They streamed down her face endlessly. For a brief second, he believed he’d hurt her feelings; that he’d done something irreparable. 

But then, just like before, Kiara smiled up at him. He felt her hand brushing over his face, her nails lightly scraping over his jawline and resting at the edge of his chin.

“I do,” she replied gently while nodding, “I love you, Min Yoongi.”

Unable to hold himself back, Yoongi kissed her again - their arms entangling themselves with one another. The need to continuously press and touch, to physically express everything they’d collected inside of themselves all this time, was overwhelming. But he couldn’t stop wanting her; wanting the woman he’d come to love little by little every single day and he hadn’t even realized it.

But they couldn’t stay like this forever.

They both pulled away to reclaim the air they’d stolen from one another, catching their breaths momentarily. He could feel Kiara’s ability to hold herself up beginning to wane. Slowly, he lowered them both to the floor - pulling her into his lap so he could cradle her against him. He took comfort in the feel of her arms around his neck, pulling him close so that he could rest his face against the juncture of her neck.

She smelled so good.

“We can’t stay here,” he finally said, his voice muffled in his own ears from the heavy thrumming of her heart, “they’ll find out eventually and we’ll both be thrown into prison.”

Her chest rose and fell as she sighed. “Where will we go?”

“Anywhere.”

“Anywhere?”

Yoongi smiled as he closed his eyes. “Anywhere but here.”

A moment of silence passed and he felt her sigh again, but her heart beat began to settle.

“Will anyone be able to help us?”

“I’m sure we aren’t the first ones to experience this.” Yoongi raised his head up so he could look at her. “And we won’t be the last.”

He watched her canting her head a little. “Is everything going to be alright?”

Yoongi gave a slight shrug, causing Kiara to giggle a little. “Even if it isn't, it doesn’t matter. I love you, Kiara.” Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against hers. “Stay with me. ...please.”

As they looked at each other, Yoongi couldn’t help but drink in everything about her. Kiara’s eyes fluttered before closing and he quickly closed what little distance existed between them. This kiss was less intense, soft and meaningful - pulling and tugging at a want that perpetually nagged at him from the shadows for so long. Kiara shed light on the dark crevice of his heart - a part of him that he’d believed was simply meant to be there and to feel nothing else. To want nothing else.

Yoongi wasn’t sure if he was lucky or not, but he knew that he was thankful. He’d been so hollow for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to feel anything; to yearn for something so much that the desire itself could swallow a person whole. But it was a feeling that made him remember what being alive was supposed to entail; what it truly meant.

Love. 

Her love.

His love.

This love.

Their love.

Touch In The Dark by Admin E (@thebiasrekkers)

Every representation of logic was screaming at him to pull away - telling him to replace the wall that existed between them for the last year. She hadn’t moved her hand from his skin and Yoongi felt his vision swimming for half a second before refocusing back on her face.

How had he missed the beauty mark at the corner of her left eye?

Tumblr | AO3

Way To You

For the @btswriterscorner​ - Amor Fabula Launch Project in celebration of the month of Valentine’s Day! 

Plot: Taehyung is happy with his life because that’s how he’s supposed to feel. He lives his life by routine to the minute. In the new world order, love is a dangerous emotion - and therefore illegal.  That’s perfectly fine - until the lingering ‘dreams’ of a strange woman throw him out of sync. Mostly because that woman isn’t his wife. 

Rating: M // NSFW

Genre: dystopian! au/dystopian themes | angst |  smut | fluff if you squint

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female OC (Tempest Estrellado)

Warnings: Strong language, interracial relationship, mentions of drugs, blood, main character injury, implied smut 

Word Count: 2,886 

AN: This hot mess has 3 parts. Please enjoy and thank you for loving all that we do © thebiasrekkers (Admin T). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Links:

FAQ

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BTS Masterlist

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[ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

--

“Can we stay like this forever?” She always asked him this after. Their bodies drying in a cool summer breeze through an open window. Their limbs tangled and he could feel her breath against the skin of his neck. The gentle rise and fall of her shoulders. Taehyung kept his eyes closed, living within the sounds and sensations around him. His fingers could trace the colony of goosebumps on her skin. He could smell the heat of her so close. The faint sweet, salty mix of their love lingered on his lips turning upward into a dreamy smile. The rumble of his laugh deep and sensual caused her to smile. 

He could always remember her eyes - they were unique. Leonine. A golden-amber concoction, a genetic mutation that added something wild to the already fierce attitude within that petite form. 

His mouth formed her name, but he could never hear it. She tilted her gaze to his face as his fingers slid along her jaw. 

He’d always say something - it was something that he knew he shouldn’t be saying. But, they said it to each other. They said it freely. 

Then there was always pain that seared his mind. 

Then the alarm would ring and it would be forgotten again.

5:30 am. 

Wake up.

5:45 am.

Shower.

6 am.

Coffee. Toast. Protein bar.

6:15 am

Run 4 miles. 

7 am.

Shower again. Protein bar. Protein Shake.

7:15 am.

Lock the door.

7:55 am

Arrive at work. Clock in. 

8 am.

To say that Taehyung was methodical was to point out the obvious. He always showed up minutes early to work, making sure the office was lit and inviting. As inviting as their line of work was, anyway. He stared at a stack of folders on his desk. They never seemed to shrink, these stacks. Names, faces, and pertinent information lined flimsy manila folders.

It was time to gather candidates to increase the population. 

He sipped a cup of coffee as the voices began to filter into the office. Taehyung carried the stack of folders to the meeting room nearby. A presentation loaded as he stood in the corner. 

“Good morning, everyone. We’ve compiled the candidates for this year.” Everyone settled in their seats. 

He talked numbers and statistics for almost 3 hours. 

“Any other questions?” The room was silent as the lights brightened. “Alright, you know what to do.” They all stood with a nod in his direction before they filed out of the room. 

12 pm.

Lunch and coffee in his office. 

5 pm. 

Debriefing with The Council liaison. 

7 pm.

Lock up and head home. 

8 pm. 

Late Dinner.

“Taehyung, dinner is in the oven. I have to report to R&D tonight.” A female voice spoke softly as he walked into his home.

“I suppose it cannot be helped. Do be careful, April. Things have been slightly tense in the riot zone.” He hung up his jacket as his ‘Wife’ slid hers on. She offered a slight smile as she grabbed her badge. 

“Rest well, Taehyung.” A brief touch on his shoulder. Like a dear friend wishing another friend well. 

10 pm.

Sleep. 

“Taehyung! Seriously! You’re slow as molasses.” A voice taunted him, a petite figure outlined in front of him. He could feel himself licking his lips. An eagerness, an urgency to get his hands on her. 

She was teasing him. She knew better than to tease him. He felt heat fire through his veins. The world was so bright and vibrant. There was the crash of water, the air salty like the...sea? 

The ocean - the moon was full. Full like he hadn’t seen it in ages. When was the last time the sky looked like this? 

He called her name and she turned around, her full lips tilted upward in a smile. She reached behind her back tugging at the string of a bikini top. Turning away from him as it fell down her arms. He heard a sound, like an animal nearby. 

He realized it was him. He growled as the sight of skin glowing under the moonlight fueled him further. It was like time sped forward and he saw her face beneath him. Their bodies intertwined, her face scrunched in orgasmic bliss as she purred. He was losing his mind, he could swear he felt her around him. 

The sound of the ocean was like a lullaby as their voices crescendoed and they cried out freely. She dug her fingers into his back and dragged them across his shoulder blades. He roared as he exploded inside of her. 

Time went funny as they lay together, again, on the sands. Her face obscured as she leaned over him. She smiled down at him, saying something. She called him...something. The world began to fizzle as exhaustion washed over him. 

“We could stay like this forever, querido.” 

The pain was stronger this time. 

5:31 am

Turn the alarm off.

Taehyung clawed at the throbbing pain in his skull. He stumbled to the bathroom, reaching for the vitamins April reminded him constantly not to forget. He swallowed them down with a glass of water. 

He winced as the pain throbbed behind his eye. His hands gripped the sink until his knuckles were white. 

It took ten minutes for the pain to subside. 

Taehyung saw the reflection in the mirror and hardly recognized it. There were bags under bloodshot eyes. He splashed cold water on his face. He stripped down to jump into a hot spray of water. He stood there for fifteen minutes letting the water loosen his muscles. 

“What the hell was that?” 

Flashes of dreams kept creeping into his mind, the pain increased each time he tried to access them. 

7:27 am

Hasty breakfast. 

7:58 am

Barely makes it ‘early’. 

8:05 am

Two cups of coffee as he grabs the stack of folders for today’s patients.

“Good morning, everyone. We’ve compiled the candidates for today.” Everyone settled in their seats. 

There was a new face today. It was scary how all heads turned in her direction. She adjusted the glasses on her face as she stood. 

“I’ll be working with your department as the liaison from the Medical Division starting today.” She approached Taehyung with a hand extended. “My name is Tempest Estrellado.”

She looked up at him ...leonine eyes. Taehyung’s brow twitched momentarily as he accepted her hand. “Ms. Estrellado, a pleasure. I look forward to our continued success.” He held her hand for one second more than he should have. “If you please take your seat?” She offered a curt nod before settling in her seat. Tae cleared his throat, clapped for the lights to dim. 

Taehyung paced around the table slowly as he flipped between screens. Numbers, percentages, and her eyes are so bright even in the low light. He shook his head as he found himself staring at the top of her head. 

The peek of collarbone caused his lips to part as two people spoke on some extra bit of information just made available. His thoughts suddenly wandered to the delicate fingers tapping on the keypad of her tablet. 

“Mr. Kim…” Someone calling him had his gaze snapping upward. The young tech from R&D tilted her head. “...your thoughts, sir?” 

“Ah, right. If we run into the same rabid sequences as last year? Protocol as normal unless we get clearance to combine genetic materials. It is still a curious matter for The Council if proper citizens can come from Rebel couplings.” He waved a hand moving toward the front of the room. 

“Any other questions?” The room was silent as the lights brightened. “Alright, you know what to do.” They all stood with a nod in his direction before they filed out of the room.

1 pm 

Lunch.

1:30 pm

“Mr. Kim.” A voice caused him to look up from his desk. 

“Yes, Ms. Estrellado?” He wiped his mouth, cleared his hands and stood. An arm spread to offer her the seat in front of his desk. 

She wore her hair in a ponytail, slicked back. Its length easily the middle of her back. She was petite - even for what he was used to. She was maybe 5’5 outside of the two-inch heels she wore, that is. 

“...so I’m going to need a space to work. I hope you don’t mind?” She arched a brow as he shook his head again. 

“Uh, n-no. That’s not a problem. The office next to me is quite large. I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow, should that suffice?” He maintained his professionalism as she offered that slight smile. 

“Splendid.” She stood offering her hand once more. “I’ll be heading to collect my things - I’ll be here bright and early.” 

They shook hands.

She left his office, and he found himself sagging against his desk. 

The pain ringing like a bell in his ears. 

Promise me, Taehyung. No matter what. Promise. 

He shook his head violently as he settled back at his desk. It seemed like he stared at nothing until his phone rang. 

“This is Mr. Kim.” A receptionist pleasantly announced his Wife calling.

“Taehyung.” April spoke, that pleasant friendly tone, “...are you alright?” His brow furrowed as she asked.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You didn’t eat your protein bar this morning. That’s unlike you.” He could detect the stirring of worry. 

“Ah, I had a bit of a headache this morning.” He sighed quietly.

That worry seemed to turn into something...else. “Did you take your vitamins, Taehyung? You know how important it is for you to take your vitamins.” 

There was something almost cold, ominous in her tone. His brow furrowed deeply as he answered her, making sure the hesitation was absent from his voice. “Of course, April. I took them immediately when I woke up. I was quite fine after a shower. I think I was just alarmed at the one minute tardy. I assure you, I’m fine.”

There was a long, thick silence before she spoke again. Her tone was light and friendly once more. “I’m sure it was jarring, Taehyung. Just let me know if you feel strange, alright?” 

He forced himself to smile, so it filtered through into his voice. “Of course, April. I need to stay late tonight. We have a new colleague who’ll be using the empty office. I’d like to have it ready for her use.”

“Of course, Taeyung. You’re not the only ones busy. I will leave dinner for you. Have a good night, Taehyung.” 

“Of course, April. You do the same.” The line goes dead but he still holds the phone aloft. It’s almost a full minute before he placed the handset onto its base. There was that bothersome echo in the back of his mind again.

It was exhaustion - wasn’t it?

10:37 pm

Nails on a chalkboard. That was the sound of the heavy furniture sliding across the floor. Tae had removed his jacket and dress shirt. His white t-shirt had slightly grayed from cleaning the other office. He worked quietly adjusting the office to spec. There was a certain placement for all of the furniture in the office. They all looked the same, even when facing different directions. 

11: 32 pm

Taehyung grunted as he dropped a box onto the floor. He rotated his shoulder to work out the strange soreness. It was unusual for him to suffer such strains. “Mm, I didn’t have much to eat today.” He sighed. That conversation with April caused his brow to furrow. He glanced at his watch with a deeper sigh. He didn’t understand that sudden change in her demeanor. He didn’t understand why he felt the need to keep up appearances. There had been no reason to be dishonest with her. 

She was his wife. She was also a medical researcher. She would have understood his symptoms, right? April would have offered some kind of solution, right? 

Why am I thinking about this so hard? Taehyung pushed to stand. One more cup of coffee would give him the energy he needed to push through. That’s what he believed. The office was a strange place at night. There were a few occasions that warranted his presence in the office so late. He shouldered into the break room, pulling the fridge open in the darkness. The light seemed eerie as perfectly situated rows of water and milk lined the shelves. There were fruits and vegetables in the drawers. Small bags of freshly cooked proteins. 

He reached for one of each, plus a bottle of water. He waited those few extra minutes to brew a small pot of coffee. His hand scrunched over the tops of the bags holding the food. The other held a hot cup of caffeine against his face. 

1:48 am

Exhausted. 

Taehyung was exhausted and he couldn’t explain why this sensation caused something to spark inside of him. He sprawled on the floor, making sure not to disturb the exact precision of his work. His eyes closed as he paid attention to the thundering in his ears. The tightness in his chest as he fought for more air. 

Why did this interest him so? Why did it seem suddenly...familiar?

“I shouldn’t have had that extra coffee.” His voice was gruff as he drifted into sleep. Just a small nap, just a moment to close his eyes and rest.

The sky was bright, fiery - hot. 

“Taehyung!” She called him her hand extended as he pulled himself up from the ground. “We have to get out of here.” Those leonine eyes were hard and filled with determination. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest. 

The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth causing him to spit. The sound of gunfire echoed above their heads. They returned to fire on opposite sides hiding behind the shattered pieces of building near them. 

“We have to make a run for it.” He told her. She frowned but hardened her gaze with a nod. They were sitting ducks this way. Taehyung reached out and grabbed her hand - there was a break in the fire. Then they ran - hard. 

“We have to find a way to meet up with the resistance, Tae!” The female’s voice was loud over the sound of violence around them.

“We have to live through this first!” He growled pulling her in front of him as he spun around a corner. “Listen to me, we …” His hands framed a set of tiny shoulders, holding them firm. “...we need to split up.” 

And as he anticipated, “No. NO! Fuck no, Tae! Tae that’s madness! We can’t!” 

“LISTEN TO ME.” He shook her harder feeling his brow crease. He didn’t like it. He abhorred the idea of being away from her. But this new world order gave them no option. They had to find their way to the Rebels that would help them. “Please, I beg you. Please, we have to split here. I’ll draw their fire. You have to run. I promise you, I’ll find you.” 

He hated it. He hated seeing those rare eyes filled with tears. He hated seeing that strength seep from her. “Please.” He framed her face as their foreheads touched. She grabbed his wrists squeezing her eyes shut. 

“Don’t you die, Taehyung.” The female took a shuddering breath as her tears fell over his fingers. “Do you hear me? Don’t you fucking die. I will find you.” She dug half-moon indentations into his arm as their lips smashed together for the last time. He could feel his tears burning hot craters against his cheeks. 

“Go ____..” He croaked as she sobbed quietly. She finally pulled away running toward a thicket of bushes. Taehyung felt himself hyperventilating as he held his weapon tight. He wanted to run after her. He wanted to scream for her to stay where she was. He swallowed his cowardice as he moved beyond the cover to open fire on the enemy.

I won’t die. 

He pushed toward the open field, drawing their attention to him. Searing pain radiated on his left side, causing him to take a knee. The world was silent as the sky seemed to come to meet him - or he met it?

The weightlessness of the world was apparent as the blue of the sky filled his eyes. The fiery blast sent him, others, and debris hurtling to the sky. He heard the crack of his body as he landed on his spine. 

The tears filled his eyes as the world crumbled around him. He made a promise. “I’m sorry…” Taehyung coughed blood in spurts as his world began to fade to black. 

Taehyung. He could hear her voice even as his body pulled him into the darkness.

Taehyung, wake up! It was her. He was sure of it. 

I want to go back to her. I want to go back to her!

Taehyung! 

He sat up grabbing the arm that shook him from his slumber. His eyes wide as their close proximity gave them both pause. “T-Tempest?” There was worry etched across her face. He could feel her pulse racing under his hand. 

They both glanced at their connected skin - and Taehyung saw the time.

7:52 am

Way To You - 2

Plot: Knocked from his routine, Taehyung finds himself discovering [or is it remembering?] the reality of his situation. It’s especially disturbing since his Wife has been acting rather strange.

Rating: M // NSFW

Genre: dystopian! au/dystopian themes | angst |  smut | fluff if you squint

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female OC (Tempest Estrellado)

Warnings: Strong language, interracial relationship, mentions of drugs, blood, main character injury, implied smut 

Word Count: 1,488

AN: This hot mess has 3 parts. Please enjoy and thank you for loving all that we do © thebiasrekkers (Admin T). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

--

9 am

“Mr. Kim, you seem to be unwell.” Tempest frowned as she pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. “Have you eaten?” He felt himself leaning into the coolness of her palm. There was a brow arch as she watched him. “Mr. Kim? Did you eat?” 

Tae blinked sleepily as he straightened himself. The meeting happened earlier in order for him to retreat back to his office. “N-no. I wound up losing track of time. I had something small and coffee. I apologize for concerning you.” He let his chest expand on an inhale. “I’ll be alright, Ms. Estrellado.” 

She lowered her hands just as the door swung open.

“Taehyung!” The voice sounded upset, but April paused as Tempest and Taehyung turned toward her. What was that look just now? He tilted his head as April seemed to shift her demeanor. “I-I was concerned about you. It was apparent you hadn’t been home.” She moved over toward him as Tempest took a step back. 

There was a look that lingered too long for Tempest’s liking from the woman, who was obviously Taehyung’s wife. “I take it your Ms. Estrellado?” April spoke cooly as she let her fingers dance along his shoulder.

Tempest tilted her head politely. “I am. I was just asking Mr. Kim if he had eaten. I was going to suggest that he should go home to rest.” There was a darkness to April’s eyes as she watched the other woman. Tempest clasped her hands in front of her, nonplussed by the other woman’s focus. 

“I think that’s a good idea, Taehyung.” She turned to him placing a warm hand on his cheek. A wave of nausea hit that had him pulling away from April. 

“M’fine, I just need t-to..” He swayed. Tempest was under his arm before April realized he stumbled. 

“Mr. Kim, I’m afraid I’m going to have to order you to go home.” He tensed at the word order. The Medical personnel held more power than even the military. The Medical personnel was responsible for keeping balance. For keeping the maintenance of The System which allowed the Council power and prestige. 

If someone was called unwell by Medical staff? It was a dire situation. Life was too precious, too important to waste. April glared as Taehyung leaned too heavily on the other woman. She cleared her throat getting under Taehyung’s other arm. “I can take it from here.” She offered a tight smile as Taehyung’s weight transferred. 

“Of course, Mrs. Kim.” Tempest stepped aside. 

“Thank you, Tempest.” Taehyung murmured quietly as he gathered his things. April gave him a stern look that caused him to compose himself before stepping out of the office. Tempest gave a short nod before leaving before them.

11:17 am

“Do you know how embarrassing that was?” April’s voice cut the thick silence in the elevator. Taehyung said nothing as the bell rang to announce their floor. He was tired, his head hurt and all April could do? All she had been doing  - was bitching. 

He waved his keyfob in front of their door. 

“Taehyung, are you listening to me?” April followed him inside as he hung his jacket and bag. The shirt shrugged off his frame, causing her to tilt her head. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? It was as if he had somehow filled out? There was something enticing about him in this state. 

It was so close to that time before. When he was so lively and full of fight. April bit into her bottom lip as she admonished the train of thought. He ran his fingers through his hair as he opened the fridge. He guzzled a bottle of water turning to the hand outstretched next to him.

“You need to take your vitamins and rest, Taehyung. You know you get thrown off if you don’t keep up your regimen.” April held out a small pack of pills. And for the first time in years, he hesitated before taking them. 

“April, I’ll be fine. You have work to do.” He emptied the packet into his mouth followed by vigorous guzzling of water. “I assure you I can handle myself alone.” He arched a brow as April seemed pleased by his compliance. She sighed letting a hand settle against his cheek. 

“Rest. Eat. I’ll be home in the morning. Hopefully, before you leave.” A slight smile before she spun on her heel to leave. He waited for the door to click shut. He waited for the distant ring of the elevator bell. 

Then he turned to the kitchen sink and was violently sick. 

The pills, undigested, floating in bile and a swirl of water as he washed them down the drain.

1:30 pm

“Why is it so hot?” He’d been sweating profusely. His fingers dug into the hem of his t-shirt as he peeled it off. It landed on the floor with a wet plop as he made his way to the shower. The water squeaked on as he dropped the last of his work clothes to the floor. The cool water pelted his skin for much-needed relief. It was strange to think that he’d never really taken a long shower before this moment. He adjusted the heat to wash his hair. 

Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut as the lather slid down his face. 

“You should let me wash your back, querido.” 

A voice echoed in the bathroom - or was it in his head? His eyes popped open too quickly, blurring at the shampoo irritant filling his gaze. It was as if something flickered in front of him. He saw a body, a form  - a voice that sounded so familiar. But they were dreams, right? 

He felt fingers pushing the wet hair back from his face. A body pressed against his and those leonine eyes snagging his soul again. 

“What is it, mi amor?” She purred quietly, concern written across delicate features. He felt his hands on her body, so real. 

He suddenly felt a burn in the pit of his stomach at her proximity. His body knew hers, responded to hers, wanted her. But, that’s impossible? These urges were a thing of the past. It was against protocols. These emotions, these sensations had been done away with. Yet, here he was in the shower - with a woman, not his wife. And he was on fire. 

Taehyung spun in a circle shaking the soap from his eyes. He blinked rapidly as his fingers dug into pectoral space above his heart. He let the thundering of the shower pound against his head. Both hands were used to push wet strands of hair from his face. He reached behind his shoulder to make sure he was rinsed clean. 

“Huh..” He tilted his head as he felt a small scar in the middle of his back. 

He grabbed a towel as the handles squeaked into the off position. Taehyung frowned as he rubbed the condensation on his mirror. He turned to get a look at the scars. 

Scars? Scars?? How had he never remembered these?! How had he never looked at his body’s reflection? His eyes grew wide as he took in the scattered warzone of his back. His hands gripped the sink as he felt the weight of something pressing against the front of his skull.

I promise I’ll find you. Don’t die.  

He shook his head again, stumbling out of the bathroom. Taehyung didn’t understand the fatigue suddenly falling over him. He collapsed atop his bed, towel still wrapped around his waist, an arm across his forehead. 

Taehyung. 

He murmured something, half asleep. A voice that set his soul on fire. A voice that spread color through his world. A voice - that didn’t belong to April.

Taehyung sighed softly, nuzzling into the phantom fingers that caressed his face. 

“..I promised.” He murmured sleepily. “...kept my promise.” 

A body settled on the edge of his bed as he entered deep sleep. 

A pair of glossy leonine eyes watched him until he was finally resting comfortably.

“...And I kept my promise too, querido.” Tempest watched his chest rise and fall for a few minutes before she stood. “Just a little longer. You’re almost there.” She brushed her lips against his forehead. 

9:30 pm

It’s the first dreamless sleep he’s had in some months now. There was a scent in the room that had him reaching for his face. Did he get up and change clothes? He stared down at the sweats and t-shirt. 

He reached for the glass of water at his bedside, draining it quickly. The glass hung between his fingers as the heel of his palm pushed into his eye socket.

9:45 pm

“Taehyung, I’m home to check on you.” April’s voice echoed from the front of the house.

For some reason, for the first time that he can remember - the sound of her voice - causes him to frown.

Jung Hoseok- Amor Fabula~Follow me

…

So this is my longest one yet. This particular entry is for the Amor Fabula Project for Valentines Day for the @btswriterscorner​​ network. 

Setting- A fictional futuristic made-up version of South Korea featuring a place called Flash City, etc. A little island off the coast of SK which is its own ‘country’, called Nue island connected by a huge bridge which leads into SK itself.

I have no idea how many words this is. All I know is that it is VERY LONG AND MY FINGERS ARE READY TO FALL OFF HELP ME!

Leggo! (Still not getting rid of it, fight me.)

…

“Y/N, what on Earth are you doing in there!” the voice of your mother rang on the other side of your bedroom door. “You’ve been in there all day! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” you could only reply as a partially annoyed sigh escaped your throat.  “Did you need something?!”

“As a matter of fact I do need something!” your mother’s voice lowered as the door opened. She entered through the doorway. “Are you okay with pizza for lunch?.” she asked.

“Sure, I guess.” you replied, smiling sideways. “Is Dad working late again?” In all honesty, you knew the answer, you just figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask every day. Even though the answer was yes. Every single time.

“You know your father works late, it might just be us for the rest of the day.” she replied, stepping further into the room. “But that’s alright, isn’t it?”

“As usual.” you seethed, turning back to the book on the table. “When does he not work late.” you casually flicked over the next page. “Let me guess, another set of parents is ready to sell out their innocent offspring.”

“Y/N.” you mother said in a warning tone. “You know that kind of talk is what got you into trouble last time.”

“Mother.” you rebutted with just as much attitude. “Don’t act like I’m wrong.” you mumbled.”And don’t even think about trying to get me to forgive him for considering my premature Deciding.”

“Y/N, he’s trying his best.” she sighed. “You know that.”

“Oh is he now?!” you snapped, slamming your fist on the table.

 It was a touchy subject for you, your father. You weren’t sure how to describe your relationship with him other than shouting matches and glares across the dinner table. It’s been that way for a long time. You were positive he regrets ever giving birth to you in the first place. The feeling was mutual. He was just itching to haul you off on some rich asshole.  

It was called The Deciding. It was law in all of Nue Island that parents decide who their sons and daughters will marry. It’s a huge ceremony, like a wedding! Only this to you was like a prison sentence. It was a huge tradition and everyone on Nue Island followed this code. Love didn’t exist here, only business “Bullshit, no offence but can we not talk about my dad, I want to enjoy my weekend.”

“Well your grandparents have crazy ideas of human life.” she sat next to you, ignoring the jab at your father. “I remember your grandfather used to tell me the stories he tells you whenever he comes over. I used to be just like you, so enthralled with such a crazy thing like love. I wanted it so bad, I’d do anything to find it. I almost left Nue Island and became a singer.”

“What caused you to stop?” you could only look at her like she was crazy. “Why would you stop in the first place?” you raised an eyebrow. “Because of a The Deciding? Because of the government? Why?!”

“Of course not!” she replied. “I just realized that some things were more important, Y/N. Something like love doesn’t ensure you’ll be financially successful for the rest of your life. Love doesn’t assure you’ll always be happy. Love doesn’t mean that you’ll always be loved.“ she explained. You weren’t buying it. In fact you were so close lashing out. Your mom was brainwashed. It wasn’t fair. Not by a long shot.

"But this does? There are a bunch of abusive losers who get put with innocent people every day and the parents don’t care!” you couldn’t help but jump back to your feet again. This place was built of a bunch of old weird guys trying to tell you who to make babies with. You detested it with all of your heart and your father just so happened to be one of those weird guys who did that. “This Deciding thing uses people and since the population is small, no one cares to even question it!”

“Y/N, name five times that’s happened.” your mother narrowed her eyebrows to stare at you with a stern gaze.

“1998 Ella Rigby and Ian Song. Ella wound up drugging Ian, putting him in jail then marrying his brother whom she divorced and took his entire company, leaving him with nothing left. 2004 Maya Darle and Jason Way. Jason nearly choked Maya to death before his arrest for TAMPERING with the system for him to get a second wife. 2009 Dillion Baker and Tiffany Ping, Soyung Ma and Keaton Clark, Carla Manning and Peyton King-”

“Okay Y/N I get it! You don’t like the Deciding, not a lot of people do…but it’s the way of life.” your mother stood up to face you. “But Y/N, this dream of yours…is only that. A dream, and you need to wake you before you hurt yourself with a fantasy.”

“Fantasy is better than a reality.” you mumbled to yourself as your mother took you into a warm hug. “Can I ask you a question?” you said out loud. “Don’t lie to me…do you love me and dad?”

“Why would you ask that? I care for you very much!” your mother ran a few fingers through your hair. That didn’t mean she loved you…it just means she raised you.

“And dad?”

“……I’ve grown to admire him, he takes care of us. His parents thought I was a good match for him and I had to abide, no matter how much my parents hated the idea. That’s what every woman dreams of, right?” was all she said. Translation: Hell No. “But Y/N, listen to me. Whatever is going through you head, you have to get rid of it right away. Your brain is dangerous, My love.”

“My brain isn’t dangerous, it just knows what it wants.” you grumbled as she tightened her arms around you.  "Mom,I…I just-“

"Why don’t we go and get those pizzas.” she cut you off. You decided to kick what you were going to say and just nod with a fake smile. It was better to get off the subject before you broke your mother’s brain trying to get her to understand you. It wasn’t her fault after all.

“Great, let’s go.”

…(Time Skip) (Read more below the cut)

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Renegade | PJM [18+]

‘The system’ arranged your marriage with Yoongi, but you never truly loved him. But this was the way your life was supposed to be, and you were content. Well, until you end up in a bar where you meet a sweetheart with a badboy exterior. The two of you fall head over heels for each other, and you are torn between your emotions and the rules. Jimin rebels the ‘system’ and shows you what emotional freedom is like. ◈ pairing: Rebel!Jimin x Unconverted!Y/N (Ft. Yoongi) ◈ genre: Smut, fluff, slight angst ◈ word count: 6.8k ◈ warnings: Angst, arrranged marriage, infidelity, forbidden love, cursing, smut; Oral, unprotected sex (be safe!), Jimin has rings on his fingers  ◈ notes: Written for the Amor Fabula Project by BTSwriterscorner

© prisczero 2020. do not repost, modify, or translate. 

Keep reading

Amor Erratur [Yoongi x OC]

Warnings: Angst, there was an illegal act but also it is a dystopian world? 

Summery: Yoongi’s life was fairly put together. He would go to work organizing the raffles, talk with the one good person at his office, (Y/n), and marry whoever he was paired with. If only pesky feelings didn’t get in the way of it all. 

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: So… this is the first project that @btswriterscorner​ is doing! It is an amazing network with amazing people and I am excited to continue working with them! Be sure to check them out and the other works that are happening in the same universe as this one!

Keep reading

Sincerely, Yours - JJK

For the @btswriterscorner​ - Amor Fabula Launch Project in celebration of the month of Valentine’s Day!

Plot: Jeon Jungkook hails from humble origins, his family ranked as Laborers. Since he is the youngest of three children, his time for the lottery has not come. But when it does, he refuses to conform to society’s system and runs away. Disowned, he’s now become a fugitive, taking on odd jobs here and there as a “runner-for-hire”. What he doesn’t realize is that he will find love in the most unexpected place.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: dystopian!au/dystopian themes | angst | romance/fluff

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female OC (Nikita Meyers)

Warnings: Strong language, vandalism, violence, interracial/intercultural relationship

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 7,607

AN: This is the companion piece to my first story, Touch In The Dark. This is the “rebel” view of what transpires in the world that I built. In all honesty, I think I may like the MYG version a little more, but I think it’s mostly from my love of hurting my own feelings. I still had a lot of fun with this one and I hope you all enjoy it. Writing for Jungkookis is always a good time. All reblogs, critiques/reviews, comments and affection are accepted! Happy reading!

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

~ j.j. ~

Jungkook swung his legs back and forth as he sat on the edge of a nearby building. He whistled a tune to himself, a song from a life he could barely remember these days. A former Laborer, now turned Runner, Jungkook could say that he left a life that he knew wasn’t meant for him. The Class system was such a bogus way to create order and balance in the world. The Blue Bloods stayed in the upper tier and those born in poverty or with lesser means were meant to work for the rest of their days. Throw in The Lottery Bill and that was just the cherry on top of a fucked up sundae.

A soft breeze pushed against his form as he watched the sky transform into a mesh of warm colors: pinks, purples, oranges and yellows. The sun was starting to set and the world’s light would dim, blanketed by the cobalt sky littered with the few stars he was only allowed to see as he ran from rooftop to rooftop. Running free, no longer tethered to the rules of the world that dared to shackle him to a life of meaninglessness.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he scrolled through the messages and noticed the priority one at the very top. Brushing his fingers through his hair, he sighed quietly as he glanced over the message. His newest client was scheduled to meet him in an hour. It was a standard escort job. It wouldn’t be too hard and the pay was decent.

In their society, it was a crime to “fall in love” with anyone. Period. Not even the spouse that was chosen during an individual’s Lottery drawing. Love fueled emotions that often led to the ruins of others. Passion had the potential to overshadow logic and reason. When logic and reason were cast aside, only terrible things happened. Emotions were just bad things and led to bad times.

Jungkook didn’t buy into that horseshit.

It was the main reason he abandoned his station in life and lived in the moment. He didn’t worry about yesterday. He could care less about tomorrow. Today was all that mattered and all that would matter when it was finally said and done. 

He slid his thumb over the screen, dialing the number of his new “job” detail. The man answered quickly, interrupting the second ring. 

“Is this Jeon Jungkook?”

Jungkook smirked at the hushed tone in the man’s voice. “It is. Is this Min Yoongi?”

“Yes,” he replied softly, as if trying to gauge Jungkook’s own tone, “were you able to secure safe passage for both my wife and me?”

Clambering to his feet, he dusted off the backs of his weathered jeans and knocked a bit of dirt off his boots. “That’s not my area of expertise, I’m afraid. That was taken care of by a different handler.”

He knew he was being a little shit, but sometimes it was all about asking the right questions.

There was a semi-long pause from the other end of the line, followed by a slow sigh of what could be presumed as mounting exasperation. 

“So why was I directed to you?”

Jungkook’s grin grew a little wider. “Because I’m the one who’s going to get you out in one piece.”

“I see,” Yoongi said, as if he was mulling over something, “so you’re a Runner.”

It wasn’t a question.

“That’s right.”

“I just hope you’re as fast as that mouth of yours.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “I’m faster, trust me.” Pushing back the sleeve of his jacket, he spied the time. “I’ll meet you at the Square in half an hour. Don’t be late.”

And without waiting for a reply, Jungkook ended the call. Pulling out his earbuds, he connected the jack to the phone and slipped the buds on. It didn’t take him long to find the song he wanted, cranking up the volume as the intro crescendoed slowly. Inhaling lungfuls of air, he stretched his arms out wide and then raised them up so they were parallel with his head. Once he loosened up the muscles, he rolled his neck and hopped up and down - shaking his arms for good measure. 

He always had to psyche himself up for things like this.

As soon as the balls of his feet hit the ground, Jungkook lunged forward. Up and over the edge of the roof. The world rushed by him in a blur of motion, his dark hair flying off his forehead. The night was cool, but the wind stung his eyes - making them water. He quickly wiped at them, curling his body inward and then extending his limbs. The concrete scraped at the pads of his fingers, but it didn’t take him long to realign his body, forcing his lower half to swing off to the side so that he could catch the railing of the fire escape. 

The bars rattled violently when his heels planted themselves onto the platform, but he was already climbing up the bars to reach the next rooftop. Once Jungkook made it over the edge, his legs pumped the ground in tandem with his heavily beating heart.

Unconsciously, his mouth spread into a wide open smile.

Free-running. They couldn’t have called it something better if they tried.

Sweat broke out across his brow and the pulse of the song’s bass seemed to reverberate throughout his entire body. With every jump, lunge, catch and pull he performed, Jungkook’s elation only seemed to climb. It would be too soon if he could never run as free as he was now.

Heaving and halfway covered in perspiration, Jungkook arrived at the designated meeting spot within fifteen minutes. It gave him just enough time to grab a bottle of water from a nearby vending machine, emptying half the contents over his head and soaking his hair. Onlookers peered at him curiously, but he didn’t pay them any attention. He almost never did. He drained what was left in the bottle, savoring the feeling of re-hydrating himself.

Craning his neck, he located a nearby waste bin and was about to toss the bottle into it - arms stretched like he was shooting a basketball into a hoop. 

He stumbled forward suddenly, his body pushed forward from an unexpected impact. Grunting, he quickly pivoted on his heels to see who was responsible, but all he caught sight of was a ball cap flying in his line of sight as auburn curls flew past him. Jungkook reached out and snatched the hat out of the air as the owner turned to catch a glimpse of him. 

Her dark gray eyes glared at him, catching Jungkook off guard. Despite living in South Korea, Jungkook was used to foreigners. But he certainly didn’t remember seeing someone with those eyes and soft caramel skin. Her hair looked dyed, but it strangely suited her.

Jungkook took a step forward, holding her hat out to her. Instead of taking it back, she continued to shift her gaze from him and then to the hat. He grinned.

“Not even a thank you, huh? You don’t want this back?” He waved the cap back and forth, as though he were trying to keep a cat’s attention on him. “Is this mine now?”

He hadn’t seen her move. In fact, he didn’t even realize she’d closed what small distance existed between them. Not until Jungkook felt a soft burst of pain near his stomach. The wind was knocked from him almost immediately and all he could manage was a wide-eyed stare at her.

She grinned, twisting her fist into his stomach a little more. “Not a chance, you fucking tool,” replied the girl.

Jungkook collapsed to one knee when she took a step back, her hat not back in her possession. He struggled to reclaim what air was stolen from him, one dark brown eye glaring up at her. Not to say that women were weak, but he hadn’t expected a punch from a pretty girl to hurt this much. 

Hopping back on one foot, she waved the hat at him in a farewell gesture before sliding it back onto her head. She turned and bolted from the square without so much as a second glance at him. He coughed, rubbing at his chest in an attempt to regulate his breathing again.

Wow, what a bitch, he thought, but Jungkook found himself smirking once the pain subsided.

Maybe he was a glutton for punishment.

“Are you alright?”

The voice jarred him from his thoughts and he quickly scrambled to his feet. He was face to face with his temporary charge, Min Yoongi. Standing beside him was a woman with dark brown curls, hazel eyes, and mocha skin. She peered at Jungkook curiously, her hand laced through Yoongi’s. She was also a foreigner from what he could tell, and well-known through the news as the “Charity Selection” picked from The Lottery two years ago.

He folded his arms across his chest. “This might be a little difficult.”

Yoongi lofted a brow. “And why is that?”

“Well,” Jungkook began, taking a few steps toward them before circling around both of them, “your wife’s kinda popular.”

The older man narrowed his eyes. “So you’re not going to be able to help us?”

“I didn’t say that.” He held a hand up and then waved it through the air, as if shooing away a gnat. “I just said that it’ll be a little difficult. Not impossible.” Jungkook met their gazes and grinned. “I got this. Trust me.”

~ n.m. ~

“Nikita, that was reckless.”

Removing the baseball cap, she roughly ran her fingers through her curls while scoffing. She carelessly tossed the parcel onto the table. “What does it matter? I got you what you asked for.”

The man seated at the table steepled his fingers, dark eyes peering over his knuckles at her. Nikita waited for him to say something, but he merely sighed and began to untie the twine wrapped around the brown paper packaging. It was his way of dismissing her, but letting Nikita know that she wasn’t completely off the hook. He’d find a way to pay her back and it wouldn’t be pretty.

She knew this because it wouldn’t be the first time.

Not wanting to press her luck, Nikita quickly vacated the office and closed the door behind her. She rested her shoulder against the door frame, mentally kicking herself for what she’d said. She knew she didn’t mean it, and yet she continued to come off as cold and unfeeling in these situations. Nikita was about to slam her head into the door when someone suddenly cleared their throat beside her. 

“Keep it up and you’re going to put Minjae Hyung into an early grave.”

Craning her neck, she cut her eyes at the shaggy-haired individual - his shit-eating grin never failing to irritate her. 

“Shut-up, Taegi-ah,” she snipped, walking past him. Predictably, he followed but Nikita ignored him, focusing her attention on the warehouse.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Nikki-ah,” he whined at her back. 

She rolled her eyes. Nikita hated that nickname and he knew it. She also knew that he didn’t care that she hated it. 

Because that was the kind of person Yoon Taegi was. 

A pain in her goddamn ass.

But she couldn’t hold it against him. Because he was the one who helped her break the chains the world decided to put on her the day she was born. Without him, she knew she would still be living the life of a woefully ignorant aristocrat - blind to the truth of society’s agenda. Nikita lived in a castle made of glass and didn’t understand her purpose outside of being a breeding agent for some future husband she would never be able to relate to.

When the day came for her to be matched with her significant other, Nikita was ready to accept that lot in her life. She was prepared to walk down the path that she was groomed for. What reason did she have to believe otherwise; to be aware that there was something else beyond the veil?

The truth wasn’t known to her until she saw a couple being arrested on the streets - cuffed and pulled away from each other. They screamed until their throats were raw, and then continued yelling for each other. They managed to share one final kiss until each were thrown into separate police cars and driven away to be incarcerated.

Their fates were declared on international television.

Taegi was the man she’d seen carted away and three months later, he broke out of prison. As punishment, the woman he loved was put to death. It was their attempt to shatter his spirit, to break him. 

They failed.

Sighing, she looked at Taegi’s smug expression and couldn’t help marveling at how far they’d come. A loaf of bread, cheese and meat was all it took to barter for the truth. Taegi gave it to her and Nikita knew she could never go back to her life of privilege. Not if there were people she could help in the process. It didn’t take her long to find herself pulled into Rebel circles - all of them graciously accepting her into their fold.

hree years passed since then and Nikita didn’t regret leaving her family or her “duty” behind. She was free and she was fighting for a cause that meant something. Even if she’d never experienced it for herself.

Love.

Sliding the metal door aside, Nikita stepped into the warehouse. The smell of gunpowder and kerosene instantly filled her nostrils - causing her eyes to water slightly. She quickly wiped at them and sniffed, fishing through a crate on a nearby table. Her hands stilled momentarily as she felt Taegi’s palms slip over her shoulders. He squeezed them gently and she sighed, hanging her head a measure as her eyes stared into the box of homemade pipe bombs and hand grenades.

“Sometimes I worry that the fighting is never going to end,” Nikita said softly.

Taegi rubbed her shoulders in a comforting motion before moving away from her to lean against the table. He folded his arms across his chest, his face lifting to the ceiling. “It’ll stop one day. We just have to stand strong and in solidarity.”

Nikita shrugged, pulling out a few pipe bombs. “I just hope we’re around long enough to see it.”

She checked the fuses, gauging their length, before placing them back in the box. She set one hand grenade out, flicking a finger over the pull pin. After making sure that it was secure, she dropped it into her messenger bag and moved to the next crate. It contained knives of varying shapes and sizes. She opted for a switchblade of decent length, slipping it into her back pocket.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Pulling it out, she scanned the message on her screen. It was from Minjae, as expected. He was sending her on another assignment. There was another potential ally they could have on their side versus running amok on the streets.

Turning to move to another table, she felt Taegi’s hand grasping at her arm. She looked at him and saw the worry lines etched across his forehead. Nikita couldn’t help but smile at him.

“You just got back and you’re already prepping to head out again.” He frowned. “You’re like a machine, woman.”

“Can’t help it,” she said, chuckling slightly, “I’m not one to sit around and do nothing.”

“It’s not about doing nothing. It’s about resting. You’ve been gone for three days.” Taegi sighed, releasing his hold on her. “Hyung can’t pass this off to someone else?”

“Nope.” Nikita shook her head. “Recruitment’s my main gig. You know this. Besides…” She paused, meeting Taegi’s gaze, her own expression softening a bit. “...if we don’t have more people on our side, what good is any of this? It’s never going to stop until every last one of us are either dead or re-educated. Numbers mean everything.”

Looking back at the phone, she opened the file Minjae sent her. It was the most current dossier on a person willingly living off the grid. They had been for some time now.

She recognized his picture immediately. He was the guy she’d run into earlier that day. The same guy she punched in the gut for teasing her when she was in the process of playing “courier” for their group.

Nikita couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped her. Taegi looked at her curiously but she shook her head, slipping her phone back into her pocket. This was going to be interesting. Maybe he’d hear her out despite the terrible first impression she’d given. 

My job just got a little bit harder. Great.

~ j.j. ~

Jungkook lazily sprawled himself out on the largest branch of an old tree near the edge of town. Swiveling a toothpick between his teeth, he looked around at the people who passed below him obliviously. It amused him, in a way, how they could mindlessly continue with their lives. They were like sheep to the slaughter, unaware of the truth of things.

Then again, he didn’t really know what the “truth” was himself.

All that mattered to him was no longer having a label stamped on his body as though it were a badge of shame. Society deemed that he was destined to be poor. Society claimed that his ideal match would be someone of their choosing. Society was right and the average person didn’t need to question this.

Well, society could go eat a bag of dicks.

Again, his phone buzzed. He picked it up from where he had it laying on his chest to stare at it - the screen illuminating his face in the shadows. It was another job forwarded by his employer. Sighing, he opened up the dossier of the person he was sent to help this time. When he saw the picture, however, Jungkook sat up so fast that he nearly fell out of the tree. 

It was her. The woman who nailed him in the gut without batting an eyelash. The woman whose dark auburn curls and gray eyes failed to vacate his mind.

He was immediately suspicious.

Normally he would forward a job he didn’t want to another Runner. It wasn’t like Jungkook was hurting for money. In fact, he was planning on taking a small vacation soon - taking himself off the grid completely for a few weeks before coming back. But his curiosity was a damning thing and he didn’t mind being damned if it meant knowing who this woman was.

Nikita Meyers. 25. Former Blue Blood. Currently wanted by authorities due to her association with various Rebel factions throughout the world.

Blinking, he read through the short blurb again to make sure that he wasn’t misinterpreting anything. But what was there to misinterpret? This woman had it all and threw everything away to be a fugitive? Like him? He didn’t get it. Wasn’t the high life a life of pleasure and carefree days?

Why would she ever want to toss it away for the gritty life?

Jungkook frowned, thinking back on the life he left behind. He refused to conform to society’s whims and ran away from home when it was time for him to have his partner chosen through The Lottery Bill. He didn’t know what love was and he wasn’t sure if he wanted any part of it if the government was hell-bent on minimizing it throughout the globe. Jungkook could admit that he did stupid things when he was emotionally unstable, hence why he was living the life he currently was in the first place. But he also wasn’t too keen on the idea of bending to the whims of others.

Even so…

Sliding his thumb over the screen, he dialed the number his contact provided for him. It rang three times before someone answered. Her voice filled his ears and he leaned his back against the trunk of the tree as he listened.

“Jungkook-ssi?”

He smirked. “Oh, are we using polite words now?”

He heard a sigh from the other line. “I won’t apologize for what I did. I had my reasons.”

“Sure you did.” His tone dripped of sarcasm, but Jungkook felt his smile growing wider. “It’s alright. I forgive you anyway.”

“You’re so gracious. So, are you gonna help me or are you gonna pass me off so I’m someone else’s problem?”

His lips formed into a small ‘O’ while he scratched the side of his nose. “Is that normal for you?”

Nikita scoffed. “I don’t make it a habit to become a problem for anyone in the first place.”

“That’s a shame,” he replied while shifting his position to stand on the tree branch, “it’s fun to be problematic.”

“I’m sure you’d know that.”

“Of course. That's why I said it.”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

Jungkook was going to help her. He’d made that decision the minute he saw her picture on his phone as the next job he was supposed to take. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have fun with her about it. 

“Well, you’re in luck. I happen to have some free time slotted in my schedule.”

“Good. Now come down from that tree and meet me face-to-face.”

His smile fell from his face and he sat up again, looking around in every direction. He quickly craned his neck down and saw she was standing below the tree he was currently perched in. For a long moment, the two of them just stared at each other - each of them holding their phones to their faces; listening to the other person breathing. 

Then he saw her smile up at him. It was a smile that clearly said that she knew more than he did; that she’d gotten the best of him. A smile full of secrets, daring someone to try to discover them.

It was a smile that made his heart twist sharply in his chest.

Hanging up the phone, he slid it into the inner pocket of his leather jacket. Without batting an eyelash, Jungkook effortlessly hopped off the tree branch, landing with an unnecessary flourish in front of her. Nikita slid her phone into her pocket as he slid his palms over the thighs of his jeans. 

Again, neither said anything. They just took in each other’s presence. 

Now that he got a better look at her, Jungkook was at least half a head taller than her. The strap to a dark gray messenger bag was pressed across her chest at an angle, enhancing the swell of her bosom. Other than that, there was nothing else about her that would elicit inappropriate thoughts. No skin showed outside of her bare neck, face, and thin wrists peeking out from the sleeves of her dark green field jacket. She wore charcoal gray cargo pants stuffed into a pair of shin length combat boots. A black newsboy hat adorned the top of her head this time.

“So,” Jungkook said, finally breaking the silence, “where am I escorting the lovely lady?”

“We’re too exposed here.” Nikita moved past him and he pivoted on his heels to follow after her. 

They were heading back into the city. 

Just as he was about to suggest they could go somewhere a little more private to chat, she hopped onto a nearby dumpster and scaled up the fire escape as easily as snapping her fingers. Jungkook slowly arched his neck, watching her fling herself up one iron landing until her body swung in a half arc to allow her the reach she needed to grasp onto the edge of the building’s rooftop. Her booted feet scraped over the brick, crumbling small bits to the ground until she disappeared over the edge.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” he mumbled, his smile returning. This woman was just full of surprises.

“Are you comin’ or not?” she called down to him.

Not like he needed to be asked twice. Jungkook made a game of it, determined to scale the building in half the amount of time she had. Once he reached the top, he pulled himself over the edge in time to see her running at full speed across the building. 

“Hey!” he shouted after her, his own legs eating at the ground in hot pursuit, “Wait a minute!”

But just as he was starting to close the distance, Nikita jumped from the building and curled her body inward. Jungkook was almost to the edge and was preparing his own dismount when he saw her successfully clear the gap. She grabbed onto one of the metal pipes and swung herself into an open window. Jungkook didn’t have a chance to relish in the adrenaline pumping through his veins, his eyes memorizing her movement patterns so he could follow the trail she was leaving for him.

Dust filled his nostrils, causing him to cough from the onslaught to his senses. The room smelled of old wood and mold. The building had long since been abandoned and there was clearly no interest in changing its state of disrepair. The boards creaked under each step that was taken and Jungkook mentally worried if the floor would crack and collapse right beneath him.

A beam of bright light blinded him and he hissed, moving his forearm to cover his eyes. 

“Yo, what’s the deal?!” 

His words sounded snappish, which hadn’t been his intention, but what did anyone expect when suddenly rendered unable to see?

“Sorry,” Nikita said, lowering the light to give him a chance to adjust to the darkness, “I wanted to make sure you were right behind me.” 

Jungkook rubbed his fists into his eyes gingerly, shaking his head to blink the golden spots away from his vision. “It’s fine.” 

She gestured with the flashlight toward the stairs. “Follow me. And watch your step.”

Everything in the building seemed ancient and forgotten. Jungkook swore he heard it groan in response to their presence there. It gave him an eerie sort of vibe that he wasn’t sure he wanted to really wrap his head around. 

Once they reached the ground floor, Nikita disappeared through a door to the right. It looked like an office building of some kind now that he got a better look at it. He could hear her roughly pulling at drawers from what he assumed were old metal filing cabinets. Jungkook took a lean against the door frame, folding his arms across his chest as more dust flew in the air from Nikita’s manic investigation methods.

“Need any help?”

She slammed a drawer closed and yanked at another one, fingers dancing over the folders. “I’m good.”

He shrugged, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. “So what is this place?”

“Used to be a Public Records office until everything became digitized and moved to the various data hubs all over the globe.”

“And now?”

Nikita pulled out a folder and sifted through the papers inside. “Now it’s a place for squatters and a go-between for Rebel units.”

Jungkook hummed in understanding. But something puzzled him.

“So why are we here?”

Turning to face him, she waved the envelope at him. “Gathering intel for another client.”

“Wait.” He stepped inside the room. “This isn’t an escort job, but a recon mission?”

Nikita grinned, shutting the drawer closed with her hip. “Yup.”

He frowned. “Then why was I hired for this? You do know that I’m a Runner, right?”

“I know.” She stuffed the envelope into her bag, using the beam of her flashlight to rifle through whatever contents were also inside. “I know exactly who you are, Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook didn’t know why, but he didn’t like what she was insinuating with those words.

Nikita pulled something else from her bag, but it was too dark for him to see. Using her other hand to secure the bag’s clasp, she stepped toward the window and slid it open. Jungkook watched her poking her head out, presumably to see if anyone else was coming. It was dark and most people had normal work schedules so there wasn’t a chance for anyone to be out after midnight. 

Well, except for them.

“It’s a waste.”

“What?” Jungkook slightly tilted his head, confused. “What is?”

“You left everything behind the same time I did, but all you’ve done is float through life without a care in the world.” She glanced at him from over her shoulder. “It’s a waste.”

Rolling his eyes, he frowned. “What the hell do you know?”

He didn’t appreciate her judgmental attitude toward him. It wasn’t like she knew him. It wasn’t like she understood what he’d gone through up until that point. Living off the grid wasn’t easy and it wasn’t for everyone. Sure, he could have gone back home and ponied up. He could have turned to those fighting against society’s rules and regulations, seeing refuge from a dying world. But he wasn’t about to let himself become dependent on anyone. Being dependent on others equated to marginalized freedom and Jungkook didn’t want that either.

Even if it he had to remain alone to maintain it.

“I know you’re a Runner,” she said, flashing a shit-eating grin at him, “so I suggest you do what you’re good at. Running.”

Jungkook wasn’t sure what she was getting at. But before he could question her further, something fell to the ground. It rolled across the floor and into the sliver of light that leaked in through the window from the streetlamp outside. 

It was a hand grenade.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Jungkook barely heard his own voice through the panic cadence of his heartbeat. 

Nikita reached out to grab his hand, pulling him toward her. “RUN!”

They both tumbled out the window, rolling onto the grass in a tangle of limbs. They dislodged themselves from each other, frantically scrambling to their feet as they hurried to put as much distance between them and the building as possible. The heat from the explosion pressed against Jungkook’s back, forcing his body to lurch forward. Something cut the side of his face and he grunted as his shoulder collided with the concrete. He thought he heard someone calling him, but it was hard to make out from the soft ringing in his ears and the alarms going off.

“Shit,” he muttered as he sat up on all fours, shaking his head back and forth to chase away his rattled nerves.

Someone grabbed roughly at his jacket, yanking him up to his feet. His face was inches from Nikita’s, her stormy eyes reflecting the fire and smoke eating away at the building behind him.

“Come on,” she said, her hand reaching out to grasp his, “we have to go!”

He didn’t have time to yell at her. He simply followed her direction. Besides, he knew better than anyone that he couldn’t just walk away from this. Jungkook was an accomplice - willingness be damned. 

He was a Rebel now.

~ n.m. ~

She’d be lying if she hadn’t planned it out that way. Nikita never had any intention of outright asking Jungkook if he would join their cause. Instead, she chose to be a dirty bitch about it - forcing his hand and leaving him no other option but to stand at their side. The Rebels weren’t necessarily losing, but they weren’t winning, either. The more skilled people they had on their side, people like Jungkook, the more likely they would win against society’s preconceived notion of what “success” and “happiness” was.

Nikita did it because she knew that they had to have him. That she had to have him. She didn’t feel guilty about taking him away from the life he’d chosen for himself.

A month later, however, the guilt started rearing its ugly little head. Usually in the dead of night; when the urge to smoke overtook her. She puffed on a cigarette, her thoughts swirling around in her head like a busted washing machine in desperate need of repair. Minjae told her that she didn’t need to tell him the truth about that day; what her intention was. She normally never questioned Minjae or his motives.

Now? Another month passed. She wasn’t so sure anymore..

A strong gust of wind pushed up against her body, causing her to take a half a step forward. The wind was always powerful the higher a person was. But the rooftop of their hideout was the only place she could find any solace. More and more people were joining their cause, but more people meant less space. Maybe it was the former high-privileged snob in her, but she liked being able to have a little breathing room in her life.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were here,” a voice said from behind her. 

She turned to glance over her shoulder, seeing that it was Jungkook. Her brows furrowed, a soft ache building at the center of her chest. But she didn’t say anything. He took a step back, his hand reaching behind him so he could push the door back open.

Nikita exhaled a thin stream of smoke, tapping the ash off the side of the building. “Stay if you want.” She shifted her gaze back to look at the twilight sky. “You don’t have to leave.”

The door closed, but the sound of feet shuffling closer toward her caused her to release a silent breath of relief. She didn’t want the awkward feeling to continue between them, and in the last month Jungkook proved himself useful. He never demanded to leave, because the people around him wanted him to stay. It made Nikita wonder if he’d never felt a sense of community before now; if he’d always been alone.

She was decent enough not to ask.

“No assignments. That’s rare.” He said it so easily, like he’d been a Rebel for years.

Shrugging, she lifted the cigarette to her lips. “Can’t be busy all the time. Batteries need charging and all that shit.”

He chuckled, sidling up beside her but giving her at least three feet of space. Nikita cast him a sidelong glance, watching him lean against the railing with his forearms.

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Jungkook reached into his pocket and pulled out a toothpick. She raised a brow, unable to force back the smirk forming on her face. It was a habit she’d never understand, but it strangely suited him. She shook her head as he clamped his teeth over the twig, making it swivel back and forth with his tongue.

“What about you?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m heading out in two days.”

Nikita wouldn’t ask him where. It was better if she didn’t know. The less she knew, the less likely Jungkook would be compromised should something happen while he was away.

For a while, neither of them said anything. She finished her smoke, tossing the cigarette butt off the edge. Jungkook was focused on the starry night sky, so she knew he didn’t notice her looking at him. His hair shifted in back and forth motions from another gust of wind. He looked so lost in thought, yet completely relaxed.

Anything could happen between now and tomorrow. Jungkook could turn his back on them and possibly reveal everything he’d learned to the authorities. Or he could just get captured or killed. There were no guarantees in the world they were both fighting against and fighting for.

“I’m sorry,” Nikita said, surprised at herself with how suddenly the words came tumbling out.

“Huh?” Jungkook straightened up to his full height, flashing her a confused look. “What for?”

“I put us in that situation back then so that you’d have no choice but to come with us.” 

He appeared to not understand what she was getting at. Was he really so gullible? Or was he just that innocent? How had the world not broken him?!

Nikita closed her eyes tightly, biting her lower lip that was already beginning to tremble. “I purposefully set you up. I forced you to become a Rebel.”

She couldn’t see him, much to her relief. But the sound of her heart hammering roughly against her ribs drowned out the sounds of the city. If he was saying anything at that moment, Nikita was confident she wouldn’t have heard him.

“I know.”

Those two words pierced through her loudly pounding heartbeat. Opening her eyes wide, she jerked her head to face him. He was closer to her now, but still wearing that gentle expression. The one of someone who understood something that she hadn’t been able to glean. The kind of expression that told volumes about a person’s life.

About the pain they were forced to endure.

“I know you did. And that’s okay.”

She blinked up at him, gobsmacked by his words. “Wh-What?” 

How could he say that it was okay? What part of what she said was okay? As far as Nikita was concerned, none of this was okay!

“Because it was only after being here, I realized why you did. To me, that’s all that matters.”

Nikita’s brows furrowed in disbelief. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was like she’d lost the ability to speak or even formulate coherent phrases. 

He continued.

“I’m a Runner. You said it yourself, running is what I’m good at. People only ever needed me to run for them. Nothing more. Nothing less.” 

She watched him take a step toward her.

~ j.j. ~

Nikita looked like a deer caught in headlights. 

Jungkook felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach; like something was fluttering inside of it. He wondered if he looked the same. If he had that same expression on his own face. Jungkook hoped he didn’t, but he felt weirdly calm. He couldn’t quite place why, other than he believed everything he was saying at that moment. 

And he believed that Nikita would hear him; truly hear him.

Because for damn near two months, Jungkook couldn’t get Nikita out of his mind.

“My family didn’t care about me running away from my responsibilities. If they did, they would be looking for me now.” 

He took another step forward, his eyes flicking downward to see if Nikita was going to take a step back. She didn’t, and that strange feeling in his stomach intensified.

“My two siblings are making up for my shortcomings. They’re happy and so I kept running. Here. There. Everywhere. It never mattered where I was or how long I was gone. Because running is what I do.”

Nikita looked like she was really listening to him. He knew it because of how focused her eyes were; shaking.

“J-Jungkook,” she stammered. 

He knew he should take a step back. Reassess things and think about just what the hell was tumbling from his mouth. It wasn’t like he’d planned this and he hadn’t expected for her to apologize for making him a sucker. One day was all he needed to figure it out. After the initial internal battle he had with himself died down, Jungkook was planning to get the hell out of that place. He would play nice and then bounce. Simple as that.

But one day turned into one week. Then two. Then three. 

Until a month passed by.

He realized it hadn’t bothered him as much as he initially thought. Because in that short amount of time, he saw Nikita in ways that he was sure she didn’t realize was being showcased. Jungkook discovered every nuance about her as their paths crossed every single day. From the way she preferred hats with bills than beanies, to how she would scratch at the bridge of her nose when she was annoyed. She preferred dogs over cats, but had a special kind of love for horses. She liked dark liquors and she hated beer. Nikita hated mornings, but she would always get up early to see the sunrise before going back to sleep.

And she was one helluva free runner.

Taking one more step forward, there was now less than a foot of space between Nikita and him. Again, he looked down to see if she would step back. And again, she didn’t.

“For the first time in a while, no one wants me running anymore. And when I have to run, I know I have a place to run back to. Because there are people waiting for me.”

He reached out to grasp her wrists, feeling her pulse jumping with life beneath his palms. For a split second, he suddenly felt self-conscious that his hands might be cold, clammy, or all of the above. But Jungkook selfishly refused to let go. He would apologize later for it if she shoved him aside. 

Or off the building.

He waited - the soft clouds of breath meeting hers as she breathed out in sync with him. Nikita didn’t move or was thinking about what to do at that moment. Jungkook knew he needed to hurry and say what was churning inside of him. 

What he’d been wanting to say for almost a week now.

“Because people like you are waiting for me.”

His hands moved from her wrists, slowly gliding up her arms until his palms slid over the delicate curve of her shoulders. Jungkook even knew how strong she was under all the bulky clothes she wore. It was how people kept underestimating her. It was how she survived.

But even under that strength was a gentle and compassionate woman. A woman who cared about the people around her. A woman who decidedly left her comfortable entitlement to help anyone suffering under the injustice of the world’s system. A woman who cried in mourning for those who could not be with the ones they loved.

Jungkook’s hands cupped her neck, using his thumbs to stroke over Nikita’s jawline. He gently pressed them to her chin, lifting her face to his. He could see the tears forming in her eyes and he paused, feeling his own hands trembling. Could he afford to hesitate? Could he really let this moment pass by, only to fade away into the darkness where it would never return to see the light of day?

He had to keep trusting her. Trust that she would keep listening.

“Jungkook, what are you--?”

“I love you.”

Jungkook felt like his insides were going to fall straight out of him. He said it. His nerves felt liquefied, but he said it.

“W-What?”

“I love you, Nikita.”

Not wanting her to push him away, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. He felt her gasp in his mouth and he waited for her to retaliate. To kick and scream and threaten to toss him over the side to his death. He would have deserved it. His death would be justified.

But Nikita didn’t shove him to the side. No. And he lifted his lips from hers when he felt her hands cupping his elbows. What tears were in her eyes spilled down her cheeks. Jungkook saw her brows furrow, but there was a watery smile now on her face.

And then he kissed her again, harder. His hands left her face so he could wrap his arms around her, fully pulling her up against him. He needed her close. Closer than he’d ever been able to get to her. The need was terrible and he didn’t want to chase it away. He sucked in air through his nose, drinking in the subtle smell of her shampoo. Nipping and tugging at her lips between his teeth and tongue, he relished the soft taste of ash from the cigarette she smoked earlier. But there was a hint of peppermint. Nikita always ate a peppermint before smoking because she despised the taste.

Jungkook would continue his mission of getting her to quit.

They parted the kiss long enough to get air. He could just barely see her through the clouds of their breaths. Even in the dark, her eyes seemed to glow. He loved how Nikita always looked like she could see right through him.

“I fell in love with you. I don’t know how. I don’t know why.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers as their noses touched. “I just did. I just do.”

Turning to bury his nose into the curve of Nikita’s neck, he smiled against her skin.

“It’s okay if you don’t right now. We have as much time as we need to figure it out. Until then, just let me keep loving you as you are now. As I am now.”

Her body shook with how roughly she was nodding her head. Jungkook pressed his fingers against the back of her neck as he held her aloft. And for awhile, that’s all they did. Hugged each other. He could feel how hard their hearts were hammering against each other. All the anxiety and hesitation felt like it was bleeding out of him.

Nikita laughed a little. “Damn,” she whispered.

Jungkook smirked. “What?”

“Guess this means I love you too.”

They shared a laugh. He leaned forward to pull her into a hug. Jungkook appreciated how good it felt to know her arms were around him. It may have been a selfish beginning, but it wouldn’t be a selfish end.

He knew things would get harder from now on. But that was okay. Because the hole in his heart was full. 

Because he loved this woman in his arms.

Sincerely, Yours by Admin E (@thebiasrekkers)

Jungkook frowned, thinking back on the life he left behind. He refused to conform to society’s whims and ran away from home when it was time for him to have his partner chosen through The Lottery Bill. He didn’t know what love was and he wasn’t sure if he wanted any part of it if the government was hell-bent on minimizing it throughout the globe. Jungkook could admit that he did stupid things when he was emotionally unstable, hence why he was living the life he currently was in the first place. But he also wasn’t too keen on the idea of bending to the whims of others.

Even so…

TUMBLR | AO3

Renegade | PJM [18+]

‘The system’ arranged your marriage with Yoongi, but you never truly loved him. But this was the way your life was supposed to be, and you were content. Well, until you end up in a bar where you meet a sweetheart with a badboy exterior. The two of you fall head over heels for each other, and you are torn between your emotions and the rules. Jimin rebels the ‘system’ and shows you what emotional freedom is like. ◈ pairing: Rebel!Jimin x Unconverted!Y/N (Ft. Yoongi) ◈ genre: Smut, fluff, slight angst ◈ word count: 6.8k ◈ warnings: Angst, arrranged marriage, infidelity, forbidden love, cursing, smut; Oral, unprotected sex (be safe!), Jimin has rings on his fingers  ◈ notes: Written for the Amor Fabula Project by BTSwriterscorner

© prisczero 2020. do not repost, modify, or translate. 

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