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Learn to Love Again (m) | myg

Summary: People always leave. They become beautiful stars shining bright in the night sky. When life hands you lemons, you’ve been told to make lemonade, but that is hard when your soul and heart is breaking apart. When you rescue a tiny cat and meet a handsome stranger in the cafe, you finally feel yourself healing – but when they too leave, how are you going to learn to love again?

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female, mainly called pet names so no ‘Y/N’).

AU + genres: Hybrid!au (shapeshifter!yoongi), strangers to lovers, slice of life, heavy angst, a lot of sadness and grief (I’m sorry!), dark vibes, smut and fluff and some humor sprinkled in there too. 

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 19,4K

Warnings (general) + triggers: Heavy angst, extreme heavy sadness and grief, death of minor characters, mention of previous character death (parents and siblings), mentions of su*cide, mention of m*rder, su*cidal thoughts. Mention of past car accident. Mention of past domestic abuse. Mirrors 👀👀

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please stay safe!), choking, oral (female receiving), nipple and breasts play, one-time use of a degrading word (otherwise petname), hair pulling – I guess it’s pretty vanilla with a slight sprinkle of spice 🤭

Author’s note  (1): I know it sounds hella sad (and it is), but it is also very sweet and heartwarming too 💜 I wanted to venture into the darker stuff again, and embrace all the feelings and sadness that I felt a few weeks ago (I’m fine, well I’m getting through it at least). 

If you are triggered by any of the warnings, I suggest that you skip this. It’s not that explicit though, but the heavy subjects are still there and they feature in it a lot.

Also, the quote “people always leave” features a lot in this and I only now realize why I find it so familiar – it’s a famous quote from Peyton Sawyer from One Tree Hill.

Author's note  (2): It’s only partly edited, so I’m so sorry about any mistakes or weird wordings (English is also not my mother language). When I read it again, I felt sad and like the whole thing is crap (why do I also feel like this adgadfjkhs), BUT, I still like it, it’s a piece of my heart in there… I can’t just let it sit in my docs to collect dust. So – I’ll just post it early and never look at the thing again (expect for the cover, because damn I’m so happy with how that turned out 🥹).

Taglist: @keshiadeija @viankiss @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad If you prefer to read on AO3 you can also find it there 🙂

The heavens are weeping again, unleashing a torrential downpour that drums heavy on the windows. Just like the heavy beating of your heart and the tears that just won’t stop falling down your cheeks.

For days now, the world has languished in this disquiet, a foreboding atmosphere that has draped itself over every moment, casting a shadow even before the haunting ring of the call that echoed through the silence.

A searing, heart-wrenching call that etched itself into the fabric of your existence, standing out as one of the most agonizing moments life has ever dared to deliver.

Caught off guard by the unexpected twist of fate, it blindsided you, sending shockwaves through your core and leaving you utterly rattled, as if the very ground beneath your feet had shifted without warning.

Your conviction in her well-being crumbled as swiftly as a sandcastle against the tide.

In your last encounter, she radiated joy—her infectious happiness casting a brilliant glow over her words as she spoke about her new job, her blossoming romance, and her boundless love for life.

A tear, heavy with the weight of the contrast between then and now, traces a lonely path down your cheek.

The echo of her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes, and the unbridled excitement that made her hands tremble with anticipation haunted your memories. 

It's a heart-wrenching juxtaposition between the happiness she projected and the sorrow now etched into the fabric of your own emotions.

She wasn't just a friend; she was your confidante, a steadfast companion through the labyrinth of years and experiences. Your best friend.

In the tapestry of your friendship, she emerged as the resplendent thread, the one who consistently outshone the rest. 

Even on her darkest days, she radiated a brilliance that surpassed the ordinary, a celestial glow that left an indelible mark on your heart. To you, she wasn't just a friend; she was a luminous star, a breathtaking celestial entity whose untimely descent felt like a cosmic supernova, casting a blinding light that left everyone in its wake awestruck and forever changed.

Like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, the day she chose to end her own life blindsided everyone. 

The abruptness of her decision, the finality of calling it quits, left a haunting question echoing in the hollow chambers of your soul—why? 

The puzzle remains unsolved, the enigma of her despair a perplexing maze you can't navigate. Outwardly, her life seemed like a canvas painted in hues of contentment, yet the invisible struggles eluded comprehension. 

Despite the deep conversations that usually wove through the tapestry of your friendship, the darkness she harbored never surfaced in her words. Her choice to shroud her pain in silence remains an unfathomable mystery, a tragic paradox that still elicits a profound sense of bewilderment.

The haunting ‘what if’ lingers, an elusive specter of regret—what if she had shared her struggles with you? 

The possibility that your words could have been a lifeline is an uncharted sea of sorrow. The uncertainty, the unfulfilled potential for intervention, claws at your conscience like a relentless tempest.

In the wake of this unanswered plea for connection, tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop bearing the weight of unspoken conversations. The dampness on your collarbone, where your shirt clings uncomfortably, is a tangible reminder of the storm within. 

A mere few days have crawled by since that fateful call, the kind that alters the very fabric of reality. 

The echo of your friend's voice reverberates through your memory—a seismic revelation that shattered your world. As the words unfolded, you crumpled to the floor, the phone nearly slipping from your trembling grasp.

A gasp caught in your throat, a palpable surge of emotion crashing over you like a tidal wave.

In that harrowing moment, your heartbeat quickened, each thud resonating with the weight of sorrow and anger. The air itself seemed to constrict, tainted with the bitter aftertaste of an impending storm. The onslaught of emotions clawed at your chest, a tumultuous dance between sadness and anger, each one vying for dominance in the chaotic symphony of your soul.

Powerlessness wraps around you like a suffocating shroud, the absence of your brightest star leaving a void that seems insurmountable. 

In this moment of staggering loss, the future unfolds as a vast expanse of uncertainty. How do you navigate a world without the radiant glow she once brought to your existence?

Yet, as the weight of grief presses down, a resilient ember flickers within. Acknowledging the inexorable march of time, you realize that her memory, like a cherished constellation, will be a guiding light in the night sky of your life. 

In the tapestry of your emotions, she, alongside your parents, becomes one of the celestial beacons you look up to during moments of sorrow or when life's burdens become too overwhelming.

You step out onto the balcony, enveloped by the velvety embrace of the dark blue sky. 

The resplendent moon takes center stage, surrounded by a constellation of bright companions that twinkle in the vast expanse of the night. The beauty of the cosmos is a bittersweet solace, a celestial dance that captivates your gaze.

The night sky has always held a captivating allure for you, but in the wake of the profound loss of your parents, it transcends mere beauty. 

It becomes a sanctuary, a cosmic tapestry where memories linger among the stars. Each celestial beacon now carries the weight of cherished moments, transforming the night into a sacred canvas where the brilliance of your loved ones continues to shine, casting a radiant glow that lingers in the quiet moments of contemplation.

The subtle hum of your phone reverberates in your hand, a clandestine messenger that disrupts the tranquility of your thoughts, setting loose a cascade of emotions. 

The screen lights up with a message from a friend, its arrival like a seismic tremor in the landscape of your contemplations, shaking loose the delicate balance you've tried so desperately to maintain.

Yuna [20.31]: Iseul’s funeral is on Saturday. We’re all going. U coming?🌹

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach like a heavy anchor – the thought of attending the funeral feels like navigating a tempest of emotions you're not sure you're prepared to weather. 

The prospect of confronting tears, raw emotion, and the grieving presence of her family looms before you, casting a shadow over the already somber occasion. 

Yet, duty intertwines with reluctance; you were her best friend, after all. 

The expectation to pay your respects becomes an unspoken mandate, tugging at the seams of your resolve despite the storm of discomfort that brews within.

Tears have become an unwelcome torrent on your phone, transforming the smooth surface into a slippery terrain that complicates every attempt to type. 

The screen blurs beneath a watery veil, mirroring the tumultuous cascade in your own eyes. Distraction clings to each droplet, making it not only challenging to navigate the phone but also to see through the emotional downpour that clouds your vision.

But against the deluge of sorrow and the weight of grief, you summon the strength for a brief reply, a fragile lifeline tossed into the turbulent sea of emotions.

You [20.46]: Yes🌹

With a heavy sigh, you gently lay your phone face-down on the nightstand, as if shielding the illuminated screen from the weight of the world you've just momentarily set aside.

How do you navigate this desolate landscape that life has become? 

The void feels more palpable now, a haunting echo of emptiness that had lingered even before.

It's as if the very essence of existence has been drained away, leaving you grappling with the profound question: What is the point when the world around you continues to crumble, and people around you just keep dying?

At Iseul's funeral, you navigated the somber scene alongside your friend group, bracing for the emotional maelstrom that awaited. 

The atmosphere unfolded exactly as you had anticipated — a tableau of tears, grief-stricken family members, and the embrace of mournful hugs. Conversations echoed with memories of Iseul's radiant spirit, each word a bittersweet tribute to the bright and bubbly soul that once graced your lives. 

Amidst the collective sorrow, the air hung heavy with the weight of loss, weaving a tapestry of emotions that spoke to the indelible impact Iseul had left behind.

It was agonizing, bidding farewell in the harsh reality of acceptance. The harsh truth of life unveiled itself – an unrelenting cycle of departures. 

Yet, amidst the crushing finality, you find solace in the enduring promise that even though everyone leaves, the stars above will forever bear witness to her presence, a cosmic constellation of memories that will continue to illuminate the canvas of your nights.

Work persists in its mundane rhythm, the monotony punctuated only by the forced smiles you offer customers as you brew their coffee or recommend delectable treats in the cafe. 

For you, work has forever remained a sterile landscape, devoid of passion or purpose. The unfulfilled yearning for a meaningful career tugs at the edges of your consciousness, a persistent ache exacerbated by life's unrelenting cruelty—your unfinished degree in astrophysics stands as a testament to dreams deferred. Maybe you’ll go back to school – you don’t know.

Your thoughts are abruptly shattered by a brash intrusion, a man’s voice slicing through the ambient noise with an unwarranted familiarity. “Hi, pretty,” he drawls, snapping your attention to the present, “can I get a black coffee, a muffin, and your number, please?” 

The audacious request hangs in the air, leaving a charged pause that crackles with a blend of amusement and annoyance.

You stifle a silent scoff, a careful veil to conceal the simmering irritation within, though the indignation is palpable. 

This flirtatious interlude is far from novel—far from the first time someone has attempted to weave charm into the fabric of your workday. Yet, a discomforting truth lingers beneath your composed exterior: you disdain these unwarranted advances, a sentiment you've carried with you each time such encounters stain the ordinary canvas of your work.

Forcing a smile that feels more like a fragile mask, you locate a muffin, navigating the familiar routine with practiced efficiency. 

As you approach the coffee machine to craft the requested brew, you gather both items and, with a subtle sigh, slide them across the counter. 

Your words, delivered with a polite cadence, carry a hint of firmness as you say, “Here you go. Apologies, but my number isn't on the menu.”

Turning men down has become a skill honed through the crucible of experience, a necessity etched into the fabric of your being, especially after the wreckage of your last relationship. 

It wasn't just a breakup; it was a tempest that left you bruised, not only on the surface but also in the recesses of your soul. 

To declare a dread of relationships, despite the quiet longing that flickers deep within, would be an understatement—the mere thought evokes the echoes of a tumultuous past, a cautionary tale etched in both physical and emotional hues of black and blue.

Despite the man's disapproving frown, he begrudgingly parts with his payment, snatching his coffee and muffin.

As he vacates the space, you extend a tight-lipped greeting to the next customer, the forced smile a delicate masquerade concealing the intricacies of emotion churning beneath the surface.

Day after day unfolds in this relentless routine, a relentless loop where, despite the suffocating weight of depression, you muster the strength to haul yourself into work. 

The struggle is an unspoken battle, fought in the silent recesses of your soul, and each morning becomes a victory against the persistent darkness that threatens to engulf your spirit.

You maintain a lifeline to your friends, weaving a narrative of your somber mood and emotional tumult, acutely aware of the significance of vocalizing your feelings rather than succumbing to the perilous grip of silent suffering.

Recent conversations with your friends have taken an unexpected turn, steering into the realm of your dating life or, more accurately, its conspicuous absence. 

Their fervent advocacy for you to reenter the world of romance echoes in your ears, their well-intentioned pleas urging you to cross paths with someone great and amazing. 

However, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of uncertainty, unsure if you're ready to navigate the labyrinth of love once more. 

Despite your reservations, you indulge them, allowing their words to wash over you like a waterfall of unsolicited advice, all the while steadfast in your understanding that a man is not a prerequisite for happiness or the completeness of your life—you've long recognized your ability to stand firm and flourish on your own terms.

An entire season has unfurled its tapestry, and while the vast void persists within the caverns of your heart, there's a subtle transformation underway. Amidst the lingering shadows, a sliver of the sun's warm rays threads its way through, gently illuminating the emptiness. 

The caress of warm weather and sunlight manages to coax a faint lift in your mood, a subtle thawing of the emotional frost. 

Yet, amidst the burgeoning warmth, there's a yearning for the crispness of cold, the kind that invites the comfort of wool sweaters and socks, beckoning a desire to cocoon on the couch and lose yourself in the embrace of solitude.

After withstanding the relentless onslaught of your friends' persistent prodding into the realm of your love life, you've yielded to the chorus of their well-meaning badgering. With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, you've made the bold decision to reenter the intricate dance of the dating game.

The prospect of discovering 'the one' remains shrouded in uncertainty, a delicate balance between the promise of profound connection and the potential peril of heartache from those who might not treat you right. 

However, the ambiguity of the journey doesn't deter your resolve. To remain passive is to forfeit the chance at something extraordinary. 

The echoes of Iseul and the silent encouragement from your departed parents reverberate, urging you to embrace life with all its intricate hues. Their unwritten wish for your happiness becomes the compass guiding your path, compelling you to take the plunge and give it your all.

You yearn for a life where the pursuit of happiness isn't punctuated by the haunting inevitability of departures and loss. You grasp the harsh truth that people leaving or departing through death is an inescapable facet of existence, a relentless current in the river of life. 

Yet, the recurring tide of sorrow that washes over you each time someone departs feels burdensome, a weight that anchors your spirit. It would be a cherished reprieve if the ebb and flow of life's transitions didn't carry with it a relentless undertow that threatens to drag you down each time.

Your dating escapades have unfolded like a series of misadventures, each rendezvous more perplexing than the last. 

One suitor wielded an aggressive tone that eclipsed any potential connection, while another was so absorbed in self-interest that your voice seemed but an echo in the conversation. Then there was the one who sought solace in your company to mend a broken heart, an unwitting participant in their quest for emotional repair.

With every disappointing encounter, your hopes wane like the dying embers of a once-bright flame. Yet, undeterred, you persist in the pursuit of connection, a resilient soul navigating the unpredictable seas of dating with unwavering determination.

Amidst the tumultuous sea of advice from your friends, the suggestion of a night out clubbing emerges as a potential remedy to jumpstart your dating life—a one-night stand, a shortcut to reclaiming agency over your love life. 

However, the proposition fails to align with the essence of who you are. The neon-lit allure of the club scene doesn't resonate with your soul, and the idea of a fleeting encounter doesn't hold the promise you seek. 

Nonetheless, you find yourself engulfed in a pulsating sea of sound, the music in the club roaring, the bass reverberating through the floor and into your bones. 

The atmosphere is a maelstrom of heat and sweat, a suffocating embrace that intensifies your regret for being there. 

Yuna, exuding an air of confidence, takes charge and orders a round of drinks for the group. Meanwhile, Nari's eyes scan the lively chaos of the club, a vigilant matchmaker on a mission to uncover potential matches for you.

Her finger extends with a pointed certainty toward a mysterious figure—a dark-haired man sporting a sleeveless shirt, the canvas of his arm adorned with an intricate tattoo sleeve. His dark eyes, scanning the crowded expanse of the club, carry an enigmatic intensity, hinting at a captivating allure that goes beyond the surface.

Your laughter carries a blend of amusement and skepticism as you dismissively remark, “Nah, he's giving off major fuckboy vibes.”

Amidst the cacophony of pounding music in the club, Nari practically shouts in your face, her words punctuating the beat as she insists, “Maybe that's exactly what you need!” 

The intensity of her proclamation, a fervent plea for spontaneity, reverberates in the air, a challenge thrown into the whirlwind of the night's possibilities.

You shake your head, a firm yet polite rejection lingering on your lips, “No, thank you.” 

Just as the tension subsides, Yuna appears with a tray of drinks, a timely distraction. Gratefully, you accept your drink, savoring the sweet and sour concoction that dances across your palate, momentarily providing respite from the charged atmosphere of the club.

The night unfolds in a rhythm of measured indulgence—a few drinks to chase a gentle buzz, steering clear of the edge of intoxication. Your gaze scans the crowd in search of potential matches, but amidst the pulsating lights and swirling music, none captures the elusive spark that ignites a genuine interest.

As the night deepens and the rhythm of the club starts to fade, you bid farewell to your friends, the weight of the evening settling in your bones. 

Stepping out into the nocturnal air, you're greeted by the relentless cascade of rain, a torrential downpour that catches you off guard. Damn it, you realize, a surge of annoyance coursing through you, you didn't bring an umbrella.

Embracing a sudden burst of defiance, you make a split-second decision, a resolute ‘fuck it’ echoing in your mind. 

Stepping onto the sidewalk without the shelter of an umbrella, you surrender to the unrelenting rain. In mere moments, your hair clings to your skin, and your clothes succumb to the downpour.

As you navigate the labyrinth of alleys and pass by numerous apartments, a peculiar low noise infiltrates the ambient hum of the rain. What is that sound? 

It's a subtle yet persistent calling that arrests your movements, compelling you to strain your senses in an attempt to decipher its origin. 

It's not just your slightly tipsy mind, is it, playing tricks on you? 

The cadence of the noise feels like a desperate plea, an ethereal call for help that beckons you into a mysterious dance between reality and the unknown.

Undeterred by the absence of street lamps, you navigate a shadowy alleyway nestled between looming apartment complexes. The darkness cloaks the path ahead, but you press on, an intrepid explorer drawn to the mystery that lies beyond the veil of obscurity. 

As you draw nearer, the enigmatic noise crescendos in intensity, a haunting melody that pierces the quiet of the alley. 

Your steps quicken, and with each stride, the source becomes clearer. Could it be emanating from the depths of the dumpster?

A sense of déjà vu wraps around you, as if this eerie scene has been lifted from a cinematic reel. The dilemma tugs at your curiosity, tempting you to peer into the abyss of the dumpster, a choice that hangs in the balance. 

Yet, before you make a decision, a glimmer of relief washes over you. 

Nestled snugly beside the dumpster, a small ball of fur captivates your attention, its presence a stark contrast to the ominous shadows. 

A silhouette emerges from the darkness, and as you inch closer, the mystery unfolds into a shivering, meowing figure—a black cat. 

The frailness of the tiny creature tugs at your heartstrings, and you find yourself hunching down, extending a tentative invitation with soft calls, coaxing the small, ebony bundle to bridge the gap between its vulnerability and your outstretched hand.

The black cat fixes its gaze upon you, eyes mirroring a blend of uncertainty and wariness, as if it's attempting to decipher the intentions behind your outstretched hand. 

The black cat stirs from its initial hesitation, uttering plaintive meows that seem to echo its distress. As it rises, the stark reality becomes evident—malnourished and shrouded in fear, it moves tentatively towards you. Each step seems to echo a history of abandonment and struggle. With aching slowness, the feline inches closer, navigating the wet ground with trepidation. 

Softly, you beckon the malnourished feline closer, the words “Come here, you poor thing” carrying an invitation laced with compassion. 

As the tiny creature inches nearer, its pitch-black eyes become an intense focal point, a gaze that transcends the physical realm, peering into the depths of your soul. In that poignant exchange, a silent pact forms—an unspoken promise of comfort and understanding between two beings, each seeking solace in the other's company.

As the fragile black cat draws near, an echo from your past resurfaces—the cautionary words of your mother reverberating in your mind. ‘Black cats bring omen and death,’ her voice, etched in childhood memories, had warned. 

Yet, confronted with the stark vulnerability of this shivering, lost creature in the cold summer rain, you find your resolve tested. 

Against the weight of your mother's superstitions, compassion prevails, and you make a conscious decision to offer refuge. You haven’t got anything else to lose, but yourself.

The cat's purrs resonate in the quiet alley, a melodic response to the tentative connection forming between you. Meows become a symphony of trust as it finally caresses your hand, a delicate dance of vulnerability. 

With a newfound intimacy, it leans into your touch, climbing up your arm to find refuge in your lap. Despite your jacket's damp embrace, you pull the shivering creature closer, enfolding it tightly against your chest.

“I’ll take you home and get you some food.”

Rising from the damp alley, you cradle the tiny black cat in your arms, an intimate embrace that transcends the physicality of the moment. As you navigate the journey home, each step becomes a testament to the newfound connection—its fragile heartbeat resonating against your chest.

As you finally reach the sanctuary of your home, both you and the shivering cat are thoroughly drenched from the relentless rain. 

With a twist of the key, you unlock the door to your small apartment, ushering in a breath of warmth that contrasts sharply with the damp chill outside. 

In a choreography of relief, you kick off your sodden shoes, the cat nestled at your feet. Unburdened by the weight of the rain-soaked coat, you hang it on the rack, a visual symbol of the transition from the stormy world outside to the comforting refuge within the four walls of your home.

“I'll find you a towel and dry you off,” you promise to the cat, your words a tender reassurance before your feet. With a sense of urgency, you hasten to the bathroom, a quest for a towel becoming a mission to provide comfort to your newfound companion.

As you return, traces of wet footprints mark the path from the entryway to your living room, leading to the sight of the cat perched regally on your couch. 

The unexpected image elicits a sense of awe within you, a silent marvel at the fortuitous encounter that has unfolded. With the fluffy towel in hand, you join the tiny creature on the couch.

With gentle strokes, you tenderly dry the cat with the fluffy towel, the rhythmic purrs and meows resonating like a melody of gratitude. 

In this intimate act of care, a bond forms between you and the feline, its response a testament to the shared understanding that has quietly blossomed. 

The dampness of the storm may linger outside, but within the confines of your home, a warmth permeates, forged through the simple yet profound act of offering comfort to a fragile soul.

Persistently, the cat continues its chorus of meows, its nearly obsidian eyes fixed on you with an intensity that transcends mere feline curiosity. In the silent exchange, a profound question lingers in the air—what does it want? 

The gaze carries an almost pleading quality, an unspoken plea that invites you to unravel the mysteries hidden within those enigmatic eyes, and in doing so, embark on a journey of connection and understanding with this small, mysterious soul.

A revelation flickers in your mind like a sudden burst of light—food! 

The realization washes over you, and a spark of understanding illuminates the unspoken hunger behind those pleading eyes. “You're starving, ain't ya?” you murmur, the words a bridge between the two of you, an acknowledgment of shared needs and the beginning of a silent commitment to provide not just shelter but sustenance to this small, hungry soul.

In a hurried dance between care and necessity, you dart into the kitchen, swinging open the fridge door to unleash a blast of cold air. 

The realization that your wet clothes might lead to an impending cold nudges at you, urging a brief pause for self-care. As you contemplate changing into dry attire, the cat, now a nimble companion, weaves around your feet, a symphony of meows echoing its anticipation of the impending feast.

As your gaze sweeps across the contents of the fridge, a flurry of questions dance in your mind—what do cats like? 

In a moment of culinary improvisation, you spot the remnants of yesterday's fish. A hopeful assumption takes hold—cats like fish, right? 

Without a second thought, you snatch the container, crack it open, and ceremoniously place it on the floor. 

The cat descends upon the fish with a voracity that borders on desperation, consuming it in a whirlwind of seconds. 

You observe in silent fascination as the cat devours the fish with an almost primal fervor, each bite a testament to the depth of its hunger.

As the cat lifts its gaze, those dark, fond eyes fixate on you, a silent expression of gratitude that transcends words, forging a connection that lingers in the air like the sweet aftertaste of an unexpected bond.

You retrieve a bowl, fill it with water, and place it on the floor. The cat, having satisfied its hunger, wastes no time. It immediately dips its tongue into the water, each lap a testament to the thirst that had accompanied its hunger. 

In the quiet aftermath of the cat's meal, you find yourself engaged in a one-sided conversation. While it laps up the water, you speak to it with a hint of longing, as if expecting the feline to reveal its name with a mere glance. “I don't know what your name is…” you muse aloud, your words hanging in the air like a silent plea for connection. 

In the exchange, a profound yearning takes root—a desire not just to care for this creature but to unravel the mystery that shrouds it, beginning with the revelation of a name.

Hmm... A whimsical idea takes shape in your mind, and with a voice full of hope, you share your musings with the feline companion. “I don't know, maybe I'll give you one!” you exclaim, the words tinged with the excitement of a newfound connection.

Testing the waters, you propose a couple of names with a hopeful lilt in your voice. “Shadow?” you venture, eyes fixated on the cat, seeking any flicker of recognition. 

Yet, met with a stoic demeanor, you playfully offer another option, “Licorice?” 

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, but the cat remains unfazed, engrossed in its culinary pursuits. 

Embracing a sudden surge of inspiration, you think of a name that dances on the edges of whimsy and mischief. “You look like a 'Loki,' like a God of Mischief!” The words tumble out with a playful chuckle, a nod to the elusive charm that shrouds the feline. 

To your surprise, the cat interrupts its feast, casting what seems like a dumbfounded expression your way. 

A moment of shared acknowledgment hangs in the air before the cat resumes its meal, leaving you to wonder if, in that fleeting pause, you've glimpsed the spark of recognition in its enigmatic eyes.

An impromptu burst of enthusiasm seizes you, and with an abrupt yell, you christen the cat in a moment of whimsy. “Kitten!” 

The exclamation is so sudden that it startles the cat, prompting a small leap in surprise. “That's your name. You're so small, like a little kitten,” you playfully jest, mimicking the affectionate cooing one might give to a baby. 

In the imaginary realm where cats understand human whims, you half-expect a hypothetical eye-roll, as if the creature were a miniature human indulging in the theatrics of a quirky naming ceremony.

In the wake of your spontaneous naming ceremony, Kitten darts away, a streak of fur and energy leaving you in its playful wake. A fleeting attempt to follow its swift movements reveals the futility of keeping pace with this agile companion.

An earnest plea escapes your lips, “No, don't run away, Kitten!” A plea that halts not far from your bedroom, where a sudden idea takes root. “We're going to bed, and you can even sleep in my bed.” The promise hangs in the air, an invitation that sparks the cat's curiosity. 

Without hesitation, Kitten races back to you, weaving through your legs and darting into the bedroom. It watches itself in the mirror in front of your bed, before it in a graceful leap, lands on the bed, transforming this impromptu offer into a shared moment of warmth and companionship.

A soft chuckle escapes you as Kitten, with a graceful twirl, transforms into a snug, fluffy black ball. It settles onto the bed, a picture of contentment and trust, the rhythmic rise and fall of its breathing echoing in the room. 

In the sanctuary of your bathroom, the day's residue fades away as you delicately remove stained makeup and indulge in your nightly skincare rituals. 

With a sense of quiet reverence, you return to the bedroom, mindful not to disrupt Kitten's serene repose. Nestled in bed, you prop yourself up, the rhythmic routine a prelude to the tranquility that envelops the room. 

As you surrender to the embrace of sleep, the ethereal presence of the black cat becomes a silent companion in the journey between waking and dreams, a guardian of the night's secrets.

In the intimate company of Kitten, you find solace in the honesty of your own reflection. “He wasn't really for me, Kitten. I don't know why I keep going on these dates. They amount to nothing.” A sigh punctuates your admission, a subtle echo of the unspoken search for connection that seems elusive in the realm of human encounters. 

As you delve into a shared meal with your newfound family member – Kitten, you stuff your face with delicious food in an attempt to keep your minds off your failing romantic life.

Kitten responds to your words with a series of gentle meows, a seemingly agreeable chorus that resonates in the room. 

Over the past few days, he has transformed into an impeccable listener, absorbing the tapestry of your thoughts with silent grace. 

In the quiet moments of your soliloquies, a yearning surfaces—a desire for more than a feline confidant, for words that echo back with advice and wisdom. 

Yet, despite this unfulfilled wish, Kitten's silent companionship remains a source of profound comfort, his presence weaving seamlessly into the fabric of your daily life, a testament to the unexpected connections that emerge in the quiet interludes of solitude.

Consistent as the rhythm of a heartbeat, Kitten is there, a patient sentinel awaiting your return from the hustle of the day. 

His presence becomes a cherished routine, an embodiment of comfort that transcends the mundanity of the everyday. 

As you settle in front of the television, Kitten gracefully claims his place in your lap, his form snuggling into the contours of your warmth. 

The scene unfolds like a silent ballet, a dance between two beings finding solace in the quietude of shared moments—a testament to the profound bond that has blossomed in the intimate spaces of your daily life.

On a day marked by what you'd deem a successful date, you decide to bring the guy home to your apartment. 

Kitten welcomes you with joyous meows, but the moment his obsidian eyes lock onto the man, a palpable shift occurs. 

The cat's once-hospitable demeanor morphs into a display of territorial assertion—he hisses, claws unsheathed, a guardian of the sacred space that has become both haven and sanctuary.

Unfazed by Kitten's display of discontent, the man follows you into the bedroom, a trail of unresolved tension lingering in the air. However, as you attempt to navigate the fragile balance between human relationships and the silent protests of your feline confidant, Kitten stalks in with palpable anger. 

Kitten's claws assert their protest on the man's pants, a silent plea echoing through the room. “I'm so sorry about my cat. He's not usually like this,” you hastily apologize, attempting to navigate the tumultuous intersection of human connection and feline territoriality. 

In the midst of the uneasy dance, the guy gently guides you down onto the bed, a kiss bridging the gap between words left unsaid and the uncharted landscapes of desire.

In an unforeseen twist, Kitten catapults onto the bed, launching a surprise attack on the poor man's back with unbridled ferocity. 

The room erupts with a sudden commotion as the guy yells in pain, Kitten swiftly retreating to the shelter of your startled embrace.

Frustration and pain tinge the man's voice as he vehemently declares, “Fuck this. This isn't worth it! Your cat is a fucking psycho!” 

The words hang in the air, a bitter testament to the unexpected turbulence that has unraveled in the wake of Kitten's feline intervention. 

With an angry storm, the man storms out of your bedroom and through the front door, leaving behind a charged atmosphere and the unresolved echoes of a connection unraveling at the seams.

As the storm of emotions settles, Kitten finds solace in your lap, a contented purr resonating through the room—a feline sovereign basking in the aftermath of his territorial triumph. 

Meanwhile, you remain seated, mouth agape, an image of stunned disbelief etched across your face. 

You address Kitten with a scolding tone, attempting to impart a sense of reprimand into the air. “You can't do that, Kitten!” you assert, a firmness in your voice attempting to breach the language barrier between human and feline.

Amidst the aftermath, a hesitant chuckle escapes your lips, a soft attempt to diffuse the tension that lingers in the air. “Also, you're gonna leave me single forever if you do that,” you jest, the words bearing the weight of both humor and a subtle unease. 

In the ambiguous space between laughter and contemplation, you grapple with the conflicting emotions stirred by Kitten's unexpected display of protectiveness—a complex blend of gratitude, amusement, and the uncharted territories of understanding the intricate dynamics of companionship with a creature whose language transcends the boundaries of words.

A solitary figure with raven-black hair occupies a corner table in the cafe, his presence shrouded in an air of quiet mystery that tugs at the edges of your memory. 

Intrigued, you've stolen glances at him, an unspoken connection sparking curiosity within you. 

The man, seemingly lost in a world of words and sketches within the pages of his journal, emanates a strange familiarity that dances on the fringes of your consciousness. 

As he sips on his coffee, a poignant picture of solitude and anticipation, you can't help but wonder about the untold story woven into the fabric of his contemplative gaze. Perhaps he's a poet awaiting inspiration, or maybe, like you, he's caught in the delicate dance of anticipation, waiting for someone who may never arrive.

His long, pitch-black hair cascades in soft curls, framing a face adorned with dark, expressive eyes. The fair and creamy complexion of his skin, paired with lips tinged with the aftermath of fervent bites, adds an air of mystery to his features. His hands, adorned with prominent veins, move with purpose across the pages of his journal, translating the thoughts within his mind into tangible strokes. Clad in a black leather biker jacket and ripped jeans, he emanates a ‘bad boy’ allure that might not align with your usual preferences, yet there's an undeniable handsomeness that transcends the surface. As you observe, the truth unfolds—looks can be deceiving, you know.

As the hands of the clock inch towards the conclusion of your shift, you notice the enigmatic man with the pitch-black hair has vanished, leaving only the echo of his presence lingering in the now vacant corner. 

The air is charged with the unspoken allure of an encounter that slipped through the fingers of time. 

Packing up your belongings, you carry the weight of curiosity with you as you embark on the journey home, where the enigmatic enigma of Kitten awaits.

Kitten, sensing your return, greets you with a symphony of affectionate meows. Your hand instinctively reaches out, weaving a tapestry of gentle pats and strokes, an unspoken language shared between human and feline. With a contented sigh escaping your lips, you murmur, “Happy to be home.”

In the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, you find yourself recounting the day's enigmatic encounter to Kitten, the words lingering in the air like a shared secret between kindred spirits. “I saw the loneliest guy today, Kitten. It felt like he was waiting for someone, but destiny stood him up.” 

As the words escape your lips, Kitten's attentive gaze reflects an unspoken understanding, a silent pact shared between you and your feline confidant.

Your fingers delicately dance behind Kitten's ears, a gesture that elicits a symphony of contented purrs, resonating within the confines of your quiet haven. 

The next day unfolds like a familiar scene, the cafe's atmosphere steeped in the aroma of coffee and the rustle of pages turning. 

Once again, the mysterious black-haired man graces the corner with his presence, accompanied by a steaming cup of coffee and the enigmatic dance of his pen across the pages of his journal. 

Your curiosity, a flame flickering in the recesses of your thoughts, draws you to the edge of decision — to approach and unravel the mysteries that cloak him. Yet, an invisible barrier holds you back, a silent pact with yourself not to disturb the solitary poet whose verses remain unread. 

The elusive man, shrouded in the mystery of unread words, remains a realm unexplored, as each coffee order becomes a bridge guarded by your coworker.

As the day unfolds, the mysterious man persists in his corner, a captivating enigma that draws your attention like a moth to a flame. 

The rhythmic ballet of your daily routine continues, an intricate dance of serving customers while stealing glances in his direction. 

In the quiet recesses of your mind, a burning question simmers – who could possibly stand up this captivating soul, adorned with the allure of dark hair and an air of mystery that commands the room?

After days of observing the silent saga of the man and his solitude, a week of unbroken routine, your empathy swells like a rising tide. 

A magnetic force compels you to bridge the distance, and against the backdrop of the cafe's ambient hum, your feet, as if guided by an invisible hand, carry you to the table where he patiently awaits an absent companion. 

With a mix of curiosity and compassion, you settle into the chair opposite him, breaking the invisible barrier that held you apart.

As your presence disrupts the solitude he had grown accustomed to, his intense gaze, reminiscent of a predatory feline, lifts from the pages of his journal to meet your own. The sharpness in his eyes feels like a calculated assessment, causing a subtle tremor to course through you. You gulp.

“Hi,” you start, the uncertainty palpable in your voice. Attempting to mask your nervousness, your fingers run through your hair, a feeble defense against the anxious tide. 

“I’ve noticed you here alone for the past few days, and I just—” Your words stumble, caught in the rush, but before you can continue, he interjects with a voice sharp as a blade, his eyes piercing through you like he can unravel your deepest secrets. 

“Are you stalking me?” The question hangs in the air, and his gaze feels like an X-ray, laying bare your darkest thoughts. Your body seizes, frozen in the penetrating gaze that seems to pry into the very recesses of your soul.

Why does his voice carry a hint of familiarity, resonating through the air like an echo from another time?

His very presence, too, feels like a distant memory, even though you're certain you hadn't laid eyes on him before he entered the cafe a week ago. 

A subtle smirk plays on his lips, a realization dawning on you that he's asked a question. As you attempt to gather your thoughts, you find yourself choking on air, grappling to string together a coherent response.

“I'm kidding. I know you work here,” he chuckles, and you release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Your shoulders ease, and in an instant, you respond with a soft smile, a subtle connection forming in that shared moment of relief.

“Are you waiting for someone?” you inquire, and a smile graces his face, revealing gleaming white teeth and pink gums. He looks cute. Dangerously so.

“Nah. She just arrived.” Your eyes light up. Finally, his date has shown up! You start to rise from your chair, eager to make space for his companion. He looks up at you, a curious expression on his face, and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Making room for your date?” you quip, utterly dumbfounded.

“Date?” he asks with a raised brow. You nod, adding, “The one you’ve been waiting for.”

“But I’m already looking at her.” Your mouth hangs wide open; did you just hear him right? Is this a pickup line? And why on earth is it working?

You chuckle nervously, the sound a stark contrast to his calm and cool demeanor.

You ease back into your chair, and the conversation flows so naturally that you feel like you've known him for years.

Upon returning home, you excitedly share the details of your day with Kitten, recounting the encounter with the handsome man with his curly hair and piercing eyes. While you stroke Kitten and he purrs contentedly, you express your perplexity about the strange sense of familiarity the man emanated, despite being certain you've never met him before.

Kitten twirls and purrs in your lap, savoring the gentle strokes as you recline on your couch.

“I can't help but wonder if he'll be there again tomorrow,” you muse, your voice a soft melody to the room, accompanied by Kitten's content purrs.

He returned to the cafe the next day, and the next and the next turned into weeks.

He dedicates every moment to his secluded corner, and during your breaks you find solace in the cadence of your conversations. His name, Yoongi, resonates with the soulful poems that he breathes life into with his well-worn guitar. You’ve never heard him play or sing, but you look forward to the day you might.

His question pierces through the hum of the café, abruptly pulling you from your reverie as you delicately nibble on your muffin. “Are you heading home for the summer break?” he inquires, the unexpected interruption leaving a sweet and curious taste lingering on your lips.

As his question hangs in the air, you lock eyes with him, realizing he might not grasp the gravity of his inquiry. 

There's a momentary sag in your shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lies beneath. Gathering the strength to respond, you share a piece of your past, “No. My parents died when I was young.”

Regret casts a shadow over his striking features in an instant, and you witness a profound apology escaping from his lips.

“I'm holding up okay. It's a tale from a while back. A car accident took my parents, leaving just my little sister and me as survivors,” you share, a poignant sadness threading through your words, your eyes misting with the memories.

He tenderly offers words of comfort, a soothing balm for your weary soul, and you allow him to lift the heaviness that clings to your spirit.

You beam at him, grateful for the warmth that radiates from his kind soul, a presence you've grown to cherish over the past few months. “And you, any exciting plans for the summer?”

“I might have to go home to my parents for a bit, but I’m not sure yet,” he shares, absentmindedly running his fingers through his soft black locks, a gesture that makes you yearn for the touch of your own hand in that sea of darkness.

“I'm telling you, bitch!” Nari slaps Yuna's thigh, a bit too enthusiastically, causing her to flinch in pain, as Nari adds with a sly grin, “She's head over heels in loooove.”

You roll your eyes at both of them, their playful banter fading into background noise as you savor the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

You've navigated downtown, finding refuge in a cozy establishment where the ambient tunes, board games, and drinks create the perfect backdrop for reconnecting with your friends.

“I swear, I'm not head over heels or anything,” you insist, batting away their teasing with a playful smirk, all the while sipping on the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

“He’s just nice,” you add with a soft smile.

“You sure do talk about him a lot,” Yuna adds in a chuckle as she rubs her thigh.

“Well, he's an interesting person, and the conversations just flow,” you reply with a grin, downplaying the significance, but your friends exchange knowing glances that hint at their suspicions.

Nari takes a sip of her drink, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Speaking of crushes, your little companion, what's his name again? Kitten?”

You passionately defend Kitten, your eyes sparkling with affection. “Don't bring Kitten into this! I adore him,” you gush, wearing your love for the little furball as a badge of honor.

Nari shares her romantic wisdom, her words dripping with affection. “Cats are fine companions, but you should find a man who can bring you warmth and happiness,” she says, her eyes practically turning into hearts if this were a cartoon. You can't help but chuckle at her earnest advice.

Yuna playfully nudges your shoulder and suggests, “You should totally ask out this Yoongi guy. I mean, come on, you practically light up every time you talk about him.”

You pause, a moment of uncertainty hanging in the air. “Maybe,” you finally reply, your words carrying the weight of contemplation.

Nari's enthusiasm rings in your ears, a bit too loud in the cozy ambiance. “You don't have anything to lose, only more to gain!” she almost shouts, her excitement reaching its peak. Her words, fueled by a touch of intoxication, linger in the air, leaving you to ponder as you consider whether it's time to call it a night.

“Okay. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

As you step into your apartment, Kitten greets you with an extra dose of affection, weaving himself between your legs and trailing you with heightened attention. Tonight, he appears more attuned to your every move, purring and twirling around your legs with an endearing neediness. Settling down, you can't resist his charms and find yourself seated, offering gentle strokes to his fur-covered frame.

As you wrap up your nightly routine and slip into your comfortable pajamas, you turn to Kitten with a question that has become a familiar part of your routine. 

“I'm heading to bed, Kitten. You joining?” Kitten promptly leaps onto the bed, taking his customary place by your side. 

However, tonight, there's a lingering sense of affection in his actions. He showers you with gentle licks, a gesture that brings a smile to your face. As sleep gradually claims you, your dreams are adorned with vivid images of obsidian eyes and a dark, star-studded sky.

As you awaken from a restful sleep, the absence of Kitten by your side strikes you like a sudden jolt. 

Your initial response is to sit up, calling out for him, yet there's only silence in return. 

The quietness, once comforting, now carries an eerie weight as you realize the profound impact Kitten has had on your daily life. 

The room feels emptier, and a sense of unease settles in, disrupting the peace you've grown accustomed to.

A wave of melancholy washes over you, creating a heavy ache in your chest as you scan the familiar corners of your apartment, desperately searching for any sign of Kitten. 

The unanswered questions pile up in your mind, a torrent of worries threatening to drown you. Did he, too, decide to leave, slipping away like others from your life? 

The uncertainty gnaws at you, pushing you to venture into the quiet streets, hoping against hope to uncover the fate of your feline companion. Each step is a mix of trepidation and determination, a journey into the unknown to retrieve the missing piece of your daily existence.

A sense of desperation tightens its grip as you scour every nook and cranny, but Kitten remains elusive, leaving you with the bitter taste of vanishing hope. 

The echoes of your unanswered calls hang in the air, blending with the growing unease that clings to you like a shadow. The once familiar spaces now feel like a maze, and you can't shake the sinking feeling that your luck is slipping away, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The haunting question persists: where could he be, and what could have taken him from your side?

With a mixture of determination and trepidation, your feet instinctively carry you back to the cafe. 

The familiar chime announces your arrival, drawing the attention of your coworker, who casts a puzzled look your way. The early hour has caught them off guard, their raised eyebrow mirroring the questions that dance in your own mind.

As you scan the cozy confines of the cafe, a subtle panic begins to creep through your veins. The absence of Yoongi creates an uneasy knot in your stomach, but you reassure yourself, clinging to the hope that he might stroll in later, as he often does.

The hours drag on, each passing moment heightening the anticipation. As the door chimes with every newcomer, a flicker of hope dances in your chest, only to be extinguished when it's not Yoongi. 

The day becomes a symphony of disappointment, and the subtle hope you clung to begins to dissipate, slipping through your fingers like elusive grains of sand. The cafe, once a haven of warmth and comfort, now feels eerily empty without the presence of his familiar silhouette.

As your shift draws to a close, a heavy sadness settles over you like a thick fog. The absence of Yoongi, who always brought a touch of warmth to the cafe, leaves an emptiness that echoes through the familiar surroundings. The unanswered questions linger in your mind, and a nagging worry creeps in — what could have kept him away? 

The air is charged with uncertainty, and you can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him.

A sudden realization hits you like a wave, as you recall Yoongi mentioning the possibility of traveling to his parents for the summer break. 

The initial sting of disappointment transforms into a pang of concern. Questions swirl in your mind like a tempest – did he leave without saying goodbye? Why didn't he share his plans with you? 

The uncertainty gnaws at your thoughts, and you grapple with the unknown, desperately seeking solace in the memories of your time together.

A disquieting sensation twists in your stomach, an ominous premonition casting a shadow over your thoughts. The unease tightens its grip, leaving you with an unsettling sense that something may have befallen Yoongi. 

Your mind races through various scenarios, each more distressing than the last, as you grapple with the haunting uncertainty that looms over his absence.

Regret echoes through your thoughts like a haunting refrain. The absence of contact details with Yoongi leaves you grappling with the repercussions of a missed opportunity, a seemingly insignificant detail now carrying the weight of your uncertainty. 

A sense of loss and yearning wraps around you, intensifying the void created by the absence of a farewell. The realization dawns that in the midst of budding connection, you failed to secure a bridge to traverse the distance that now separates you.

Each step on the journey home feels like a weighted march, the heaviness of unspoken goodbyes sinking into your bones. 

Sorrow, like a relentless tide, floods your heart, consuming it with an ache that echoes through each footfall. Familiar pangs of longing claw at your chest, constricting breaths into fleeting gasps. 

It's as if the very air you breathe carries the weight of an unfinished story, leaving you to navigate the foggy terrain of uncertainty, the poignant residue of an incomplete connection lingering in the spaces between each step.

A tempest of thoughts unleashes in your mind, a whirlwind of self-doubt and abandonment. The notion that he, too, might have slipped away like others before him wraps around your heart, squeezing it in an unforgiving grip. The ache is palpable, resonating through every fiber of your being. It's an anguish that cuts deep, a symphony of hurt orchestrated by the haunting possibility that echoes in the chambers of your wounded heart.

In the intricate tapestry of your time knowing him, he wasn't just a passing figure; he had etched himself into the mosaic of your life, becoming a fragment that held the essence of friendship. 

You step into the sanctuary of your apartment, liberating your feet from the constraints of shoes, and collapse onto the couch, surrendering to its plush contours that cradle you in a cocoon of solace.

In the midst of trying to regain control of your racing breaths, a subtle vibration resonates from your pocket, drawing your attention like a lifeline. Retrieving your phone, you cast an intrigued glance at the illuminated screen, revealing an incoming call from Yuna.

With bated breath, you answer the call, the familiar cadence of Yuna's voice instantly arresting your senses. 

An unexpected wave of emotions surges through you, freezing you in the moment as her words weave a narrative you weren't prepared for.

The weight of her words hangs heavy in the air, a heartbreaking tremor in her voice as she struggles to regain composure. 

“Babe,” she utters, the tearful plea slicing through the silence like a dagger.

You can feel the gravity of the situation intensify as she reveals, “It's Nari,” the name echoing with a sense of foreboding that pierces through the air, leaving you breathless.

Dread hangs thick in the air as you muster the courage to ask, your voice trembling with fear and concern. “What about Nari?” 

The words escape your lips, each syllable a hesitant step into the unknown, and as you sit up on your couch, a sense of urgency grips you, rendering you more alert than ever before.

The weight of Yuna's words crashes over you like an unrelenting wave, drowning your senses.

“She's gone,” Yuna sobs, her cries echoing in your ears. 

A sudden chill grips your entire body, and the world around you blurs as your vision turns white. 

Tears well up, threatening to spill over, and an indescribable ache settles in the core of your being. It feels as if the ground beneath you has shifted, leaving you suspended in a surreal and devastating moment.

Your voice quivers as you manage to break through the numbness, the question escaping your lips like a fragile whisper. 

“How?” you repeat, the word catching in the tightness of your throat. Tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of an ocean, a torrential release of the overwhelming emotions within you. 

Your friend's voice wavers with sorrow as she delivers the painful revelation. “Apparently, she was sick and didn’t tell anybody…” 

Each word, heavy with the burden of the unspoken, echoes in the emptiness of your apartment.

The truth, a bitter pill to swallow, lingers in the air, and you find it hard to comprehend the reality of the situation. 

The walls of your sanctuary, once comforting, now press in on you, transforming your home into a claustrophobic cage of grief. The world outside seems to blur, and all that remains is the weight of disbelief settling on your shoulders.

The longing to share your grief with Yoongi intensifies, yet the barrier of not having his contact details becomes a painful obstacle. Your emotions, already tumultuous, now surge like a tempest within. 

Frustration and sorrow intermingle, a chaotic dance that you try to contain. 

As the weight of the news presses down on you, your nails unconsciously dig into your skin, seeking an outlet for the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume you. The physical pain becomes a tangible manifestation of the emotional turmoil churning within.

The abruptness of Nari's illness and passing hits you like an unforeseen storm, leaving you grappling with disbelief. 

Memories of her last moments flash vividly, and you question the cruel twist of fate that snatched away someone seemingly healthy. The sounds of inconsolable sobbing echo in your ears, and only then do you realize that the mournful cries tearing through the air belong to you. 

“Are you alright?” Yuna asks you in sobs.

The weight of grief presses down on you, suffocating and relentless. 

As the tears stream down your face, each one carries a piece of the pain that now resides within you. 

“No,” you whisper, the word a feeble attempt to encapsulate the magnitude of your despair. 

Your body curls inwards, seeking solace in the fetal position, as if you could fold away the anguish. 

The phone lies beside you, a lifeline to Yuna's distant sobs, but it offers little comfort compared to the absent warmth of Kitten, whose presence could once bring solace to even the darkest moments.

The weight of Yuna's words hangs heavy in the air, a shroud of truth that you're forced to confront. “Babe, she had cancer and didn't want us to know… She wanted to live a happy life until the end,” 

Yuna sobs again, and though her intent is to offer solace, the revelation feels like a cascade of heavy stones on your already burdened heart. The bitter sweetness of her desire for a joyful life juxtaposed with the pain of her silent struggle adds another layer to the grief, leaving you to grapple with the complexities of Nari's hidden battles.

“Yuna…,” you cry, the anguish in your voice echoing the profound pain that seems to squeeze the very life out of your heart. 

“Why does everyone leave?” 

The question hangs in the air, more rhetorical than expectant, as if you're not seeking an answer from Yuna but grappling with the cruel patterns of departure that life has woven into the fabric of your existence. 

Each departure, like a thread pulled from the tapestry of your world, leaves an unraveled piece that never quite knits itself back together.

“I–, I don’t know,” she stammers through her tears, the weight of the unknown echoing in her voice, mirroring the uncertainty that now shrouds both of your lives.

“Promise we’ll be there for each other,” you declare, the weight of the words hanging in the air. It's a poignant plea, an acknowledgment of life's unpredictable twists. You understand that you can't ask for an eternity, but in this moment, you're determined to hold onto each other as tightly as time allows.

“Count on it,” she vows, her response flowing effortlessly, a testament to the unspoken bond between you two.

Despite the tightening in your throat, a glimmer of happiness sparks within you at the assurance she just gave.

Why must life be so fucking cruel, robbing you of everyone you hold dear?

An overwhelming urge to reconnect with your sister washes over you, a deep yearning fueled by the ache of prolonged silence between you.

“I want to call my sister,” you manage to say through your sobs, a desperate plea lacing your words. “Will you be alright, Yuna?” you ask, your concern breaking through the waves of grief that surround you both.

“Yeah. I mean, I'm fucking sad, but go ahead and call her. Can I come to your place tomorrow?” Yuna's voice carries a subtle plea, a shared understanding that neither of you wants to be alone in the midst of sorrow.

“Yeah, I'd love that,” you respond, your voice carrying the weight of grief and the faint glimmer of gratitude for the companionship that awaits tomorrow. As you attempt to dry your tears with a throw blanket on the couch, the room feels emptier than ever, and the ache in your heart persists.

“See you tomorrow,” she says before the call ends. 

The hollowness in the room deepens, and you draw in a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on your phone. The background image captures a moment frozen in time, featuring you, Nari, and Yuna. 

God, the ache of missing her intensifies, and you can't shake the heaviness in your chest.

You tighten your grip on the phone, each tear that escapes your eyes a silent testament to the pain in your heart. Determination wells up as you locate your sister's number, fingers tracing the familiar digits, ready to bridge the gap that time and distance have carved between you.

The rhythmic ringing echoes through the emptiness of your apartment, each tone a reminder of the solitude that now envelops you. 

Anxiety gnaws at the edges of your thoughts as you anticipate the warmth of your sister's voice, a comfort you desperately need. Yet, the unanswered calls amplify the distance that separates you. With a heavy heart, you decide against leaving a message, the weight of unspoken words settling as you slump back onto the couch.

The sudden vibration of your phone startles you, and as you glance at the screen, the sight of your sister's name sparks a mixture of relief and anticipation. With a soft sniffle, you muster the strength to answer, “Hey, sis,” your voice laced with a blend of vulnerability and longing, reaching out across the digital expanse to bridge the emotional gap that separates you.

A chill courses through your body, rendering you motionless, as a deep, resonant voice resonates through the phone, catching you off guard.

“Hey,” his voice echoes through the phone, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Your trembling hand clutches the device, and you find yourself holding your breath, caught in the sudden intensity of the moment.

“I'm Detective Kim,” he introduces himself, his voice echoing through the line. It carries a calm demeanor, yet beneath its surface, you detect a subtle undertone of sadness, adding a mysterious depth to his words.

This can't be good, you murmur to yourself, the words barely escaping your lips as a chill courses through your veins, turning your blood to ice once again.

“Are you Jiho's sister?” The detective's voice remains steady and calm, but beneath the surface, you sense an undercurrent of gravity and anticipation.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice catching in a sob as you struggle to contain your tears. The ominous feeling intensifies, and you can't shake the sinking realization that a detective is the one answering your sister's phone. 

The air becomes heavy with uncertainty and fear.

“I'm deeply sorry to be the bearer of this news,” he begins with a sympathetic tone. 

You inhale sharply, bracing yourself for the impact of the words that follow.

“Your sister has passed away.” 

The world seems to shatter around you as the weight of his message settles in, leaving you breathless and heartbroken.

In that devastating moment, it feels as if the very foundation of your existence crumbles. 

Your body and soul plummet through a void, each passing second an agonizing countdown to the inevitable impact that will shatter you into a million irreparable pieces. 

The weight of grief bears down on you, and you're suspended in a free fall of despair. 

You become acutely aware of your breath, or the lack thereof, as if the air itself has turned into a suffocating force, triggering a torrent of violent inhalations, each one a desperate attempt to grasp onto a reality that has just slipped through your fingers.

A heavy silence envelops the room as the detective imparts the devastating truth, each word landing with the weight of a sledgehammer on your fragile emotions. “She was killed,” he utters, the somber notes in his tone resonating like a funeral dirge, casting a pall over the already dim reality of your world.

A suffocating wave of panic crashes over you, rendering your extremities numb and your breath caught in the grip of invisible hands. 

The room seems to close in as the detective's voice on the phone becomes a distant echo, his words lost in the disorienting whirlwind of your own mental tempest. It's a struggle to comprehend the standard condolences and procedures he details, as if reality itself is slipping through your trembling fingers.

Fucking hell. Is this hell?

In the wake of your parents' departure, you believed you had tasted the bitterest sorrow, yet today eclipses that agony without a shadow of a doubt.

You cast your phone aside on the couch, retreating to your bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. The anguish within erupts into violent sobs, an unrelenting torrent of tears flooding from your eyes, your entire frame convulsing with the weight of your grief.

You bury your face into the softness of the pillow, muffling the guttural scream that tears from your lungs. 

The sound, a primal release of anguish, reverberates within the confines of your room. Screw the neighbors; right now, the universe needs to bear witness to the rawness of your pain.

What the fuck is up with this world? Everyone around you dies! Everyone leaves!

You can’t take it anymore.

As you surrender to the torrents of grief, you hope that tears might offer solace, a fleeting relief that could pave the way for much-needed sleep. Yet, despite your desperate attempts, the embrace of slumber eludes you, leaving you trapped in the clutches of your sorrow-soaked thoughts.

In an impulsive surge, you opt for a nocturnal stroll. Snatching your jacket, you step into the silent night, the residue of dried tears blending seamlessly with the ones that refuse to cease. 

The moon above, a silent witness to the turmoil within, as your footsteps echo the rhythm of a heart weighed down by grief.

As you traverse the familiar streets of town, a magnetic pull guiding you to a cherished park, your sanctuary. Swiftly, you arrive and gingerly settle your weary frame onto a weathered bench, the cool night air offering a gentle caress to your battered soul.

As your gaze ascends to the enchanting tapestry of the night, a celestial dance of stars unfolds above. Tonight, the cosmic expanse seems to cradle the spirits of your sister and Nari, their luminous presence illuminating the vast darkness, a celestial reunion among the constellations.

As your tears persist, you fix your eyes upon the star-lit canvas above. Each gleaming star appears like a radiant jewel, casting an ethereal glow across the night. The beauty is undeniable, yet a poignant sadness lingers in your heart. 

Compelled by an unspoken yearning, you embark on the solemn task of counting the stars, each one a celestial tribute to the cherished souls who now adorn the heavens. 

The question echoes in your mind: Why?

Why do they blaze with such brilliance, akin to a dying star igniting in a final, magnificent burst before consuming everything in its cosmic embrace?

Your heart pounds violently against your ribcage, each beat echoing through your chest, and the air feels elusive, slipping away as if you're caught in a suffocating grip.

Life reveals its cruel nature, leaving you to grapple with the relentless question: Why does everyone leave? Why does the world around you crumble, stealing away those you hold dear?

An emptiness envelopes you, a void so profound it swallows every ounce of light. Darkness creeps in, and an irresistible urge emerges, coaxing you to surrender to its consuming embrace.

Perhaps it's time to release your grip on reality and join the celestial dance of those who have departed before you?

As the tears flow, perhaps this haunting void within will dissipate, bringing an end to the relentless ache that permeates every fiber of your being.

As the weight of loneliness bears down on you, an insidious desire to surrender, to slip into an eternal slumber, creeps through your shattered heart. The yearning for an endless sleep, where the fractured pieces of your soul find solace, consumes you. It's as if the very essence of your being is crumbling into irreparable fragments.

The fragments of your soul lie scattered, and the daunting question echoes in the hollow chambers of your despair—can you summon the strength to mend them once more, to piece together the shattered remnants of your being?

In the depths of your despair, a resolute realization surfaces — a quiet but unwavering knowing that, despite the relentless cruelty, you're not ready to surrender to the void. Life, as brutal as it may be, still holds threads of resilience within its intricate tapestry, and you find an ember of strength glowing amidst the shadows.

You divert your gaze downward, focusing on your hands nestled in your lap, choosing the tangible reality of your own existence over the distant allure of the star-studded night.

You harbor too many aspirations to surrender to despair. Your desires paint a vivid canvas of dreams: to find solace in the embrace of a kind-hearted partner, secure a fulfilling career, and relish the simple joys that life offers. Nari's silent battle with illness inspires you to embrace life with the same gusto, celebrating its moments without the need for validation.

In the midst of your fragmented existence, amidst the shattering pain, you crave it all. Yearning for the entirety of life's tapestry, even when it feels like it's unraveling. 

Despite life's cruelty, there's an undeniable allure in its intricate beauty, compelling you to seek solace and embrace the stunning contradictions that define your life.

Amidst the tear-stained path, your resolve solidifies. 

The decision made, you tread back to your apartment, the silent witness to your inner turmoil. Each step echoes with the weight of your emotions, a symphony of sorrow playing in the background. 

The sanctuary of your home beckons, promising the respite that only sleep, albeit restless, can bring. Sleep, like a long-lost friend, embraces you swiftly this time. Grateful for the solace it brings, you sink into its comforting arms, the reprieve from the turmoil of the day unfolding like a gentle lullaby.

The chime of the doorbell resonates through your apartment, and you're roused from the depths of sleep. Yuna, true to her word, stands on the other side, a beacon of support in your time of need.

Embraced in a tight hug, tears stream down both your faces, the shared weight of grief transforming the silent embrace into a powerful testament of mutual understanding and shared sorrow.

Seated on the couch, you engage in a heartfelt conversation about the unpredictable journey of life—its highs and lows. 

As a comforting silence settles between you, you reach for the remote and, with a flicker of distraction, decide on a mindless show. Wrapped in the embrace of shared grief, you find solace in the soft glow of the television, its images casting a gentle veil over your weary souls.

That night, Yuna stays over, a comforting presence that feels like a blessing in the midst of your overwhelming grief.

In the vulnerable hours of the night, you pour your heart out to Yuna. 

Tears flow freely as you share the ache of losing your sister, the void left by Kitten's absence, and the fear that Yoongi might be gone forever. In the solace of shared sorrow, you find a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows.

In the tender embrace of Yuna, you find solace. Her comforting presence is a lifeline in the storm of grief, holding you close as tears cascade. Though she's often your pillar of strength, tonight you yearn to reciprocate, to be the support she's always been for you. It's a quiet understanding, an unspoken pact between friends navigating the unpredictable currents of life.

In the quiet depths of the night, as you share your pain with Yuna, a flicker of determination ignites within you. You yearn not just for solace but to become the architect of your own joy. The realization dawns that your happiness lies in the unwritten chapters of your own journey, waiting to be explored and embraced. It's a moment of self-discovery, a commitment to forge your path to happiness, independent and resilient.

With the dawn of a new day, you decide to embark on a journey of self-discovery. 

Despite the weight of sorrow lingering in your chest, you resolve to savor life in all its transient splendor—embracing its beauty, acknowledging its ugliness, and reveling in every nuanced shade in between. 

Each moment becomes a canvas, and you are determined to paint it with the vibrant strokes of resilience and newfound appreciation.

With unwavering determination, you approached your boss at the café, advocating for a shift in your work hours. The goal? To rekindle the pursuit of knowledge, to step back into the world of academia and reignite the spark of astrophysics that had once fueled your passion. 

As the prospect of returning to school looms on the horizon, you recognize that the journey ahead is both a challenge and an opportunity—a chance to sculpt a future that you can genuinely be proud of, with each completed course marking a triumph over self-doubt and a step closer to the constellations of your dreams.

In the wake of that poignant night where two cherished souls departed, a few months have quietly slipped away. 

In a tender gesture of support, Yuna encourages you to embrace the prospect of love once more. Unlike before, hesitation has no place in your heart this time. 

With newfound courage, you step into the realm of dating, a journey tinged with both vulnerability and hope, as you navigate through the tapestry of emotions woven by the threads of the past and the promises of the future.

Life, a relentless journey, doesn't yield to simplicity, yet within its intricate folds, a subtle transformation occurs. It doesn't unravel swiftly, but with each passing day, it stitches together a mosaic of improvement, a gradual emergence from the shadows into the dappled light of a better tomorrow.

With each sunrise, a symphony of healing orchestrates within you, crescendoing into a melody that resonates louder, and you find solace in the fact that every dawn gifts you a version of yourself stronger and more resilient than the preceding day.

As winter unfurls its icy embrace, you find solace in the familiar touch of your cherished wool coat, the cozy sanctuary of fluffy sweaters enveloping you like a hug from a dear friend, and the softness of warm socks cradling your every step. 

With a steaming cup of tea in hand, you dive into your studies, the brisk air outside contrasting with the warmth that courses through your veins.

Embarking on the journey to reclaim an unfinished chapter of your life, returning to the hallowed halls of academia, you revel in the triumphant echoes of resilience as you strive to complete the narrative you once set in motion.

As you tread homeward, the city draped in the melancholy hues of twilight, a fleeting silhouette dashes through the alleys, a phantom of darkness. 

For the briefest moment, memories of Kitten's playful escapades dance in your mind, a bittersweet symphony of nostalgia. 

A sigh, heavy with the weight of longing, escapes your lips, yet you trudge forward, navigating the shadows toward the warmth of your home.

In the intimate glow of your kitchen, you conjure a culinary masterpiece, a symphony of flavors orchestrated only for yourself. The sizzle of ingredients harmonizes with the rhythmic beat of your heart, a ritual of self-love that has become your refuge. 

Many a time, you've crafted these delectable creations, some shared in the company of fleeting dates whose presence, like autumn leaves, brushed briefly against the canvas of your life, but leaving no lasting imprint on your heart.

Midway through the mundane task of stowing away dishes, a subtle and mysterious hum reverberates through your abode, originating from the vicinity of your door.

The air is suddenly filled with a familiar, distant melody—a soft and rhythmic meowing that sends a jolt of excitement through you. 

Abandoning your chores, you rush to the door, fingers fumbling with the lock, and there, in all his glory, stands Kitten!

In a flurry of warmth and relief, you scoop up the cold, shivering Kitten into your embrace, quickly closing the door behind him. His meows echo gratitude, and a tender lick against your cheek seals the unspoken bond that time and distance failed to break.

In a million moments, you never fathomed seeing him again. Now, as he rests in your arms, elation courses through you like a celestial symphony, leaving you over the moon with sheer happiness.

His return is a testament to a bond beyond time, a friendship that defies the measure of days. It's not about the duration of his absence; it's about the joyous truth that he returned to you, stitching the fragments of your heart back together.

You rush to your cabinet, your heart pounding with both relief and excitement. Grabbing a can of cat food, you swiftly prepare a feast for Kitten, watching as he eagerly devours the meal, his hunger echoing the void his absence left in your life.

As you stroke Kitten's fur, you can't help but ponder on the mysteries that shroud his disappearance. His body, while not emaciated, carries the silent tales of his adventures. 

You yearn to unravel the chapters of his feline escapades, wishing you could converse with him, share the unspoken hardships, and assure him that he's found a forever home in the warmth of your embrace.

In a breathless whisper, you confess, “I've missed you so much,” the weight of your longing carried in the tenderness of your voice. 

A solitary tear, a testament to the emotions flooding your heart, escapes and dances down your cheek, mirroring the joy of a reunion long yearned for.

As the echoes of your affectionate words linger in the air, Kitten responds with a gentle purr, a harmonious melody that intertwines seamlessly with the sound of him relishing the meal.

Amidst the soft cadence of Kitten's purring, you find solace in the familiar presence of your feline companion. With a sigh, you decide to share the intricacies of the tumultuous journey you've undertaken since his absence. “So much has unfolded, Kitten,” you whisper, your voice a gentle reassurance, “a lot of shit, but also a lot of good.”

As Kitten finishes his meal, he responds with a symphony of content purrs, gracefully padding over to where you crouch. With a playful nudge against your legs, he seems to convey a silent acknowledgment, a shared moment of warmth and connection between old friends.

In the span of a few days, the void that Kitten's absence left has been filled with the comforting rhythm of his presence. You've poured out your heart to him, recounting the events and emotions that unfolded during his time away, as if catching him up on the chapters of your life. 

Kitten, with his attentive eyes and soothing purrs, seems to understand more than most, providing a silent anchor in the storm of your experiences.

As you sink into the soft embrace of your couch, a contented smile plays on your lips. With Kitten nestled beside you, you share a profound realization that has taken root in your heart: ‘I live, so I love.’ The words hang in the air, a testament to the resilience you've found in the face of life's unpredictable twists. The TV hums with background noise, but in that moment, the simple joy of companionship fills the room.

In the quiet solitude of your apartment, you confide in Kitten, the loyal companion who has witnessed both your joys and sorrows. “I don't think he's coming back,” you murmur, a tinge of sadness lingering in your voice. As if attuned to your emotions, Kitten responds with a gentle meow, a feline reassurance that transcends words. 

In the rhythmic cadence of your words, a sense of vulnerability emerges. “I know, I know. I don't need a man in my life. I get that,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of self-awareness.

The clinking of utensils against pots and pans provides a subtle percussion to your thoughts as you continue, “But Yoongi was special, you know? Like he just got me... and I just wish for him to be happy doing whatever he's doing.” The aroma of dinner fills the air, mingling with the unspoken sentiments swirling in the room.

As you delicately feed Kitten some steamed broccoli, the notion of reuniting with Yoongi lingers in the air. “If he comes back, you should meet him – I'll introduce you!” The words spill from your lips, carrying a hopeful melody.

As you reminisce about Yoongi, a fond smile plays on your lips. “He's such a wonderful person. And handsome? Oh, his hands,” you begin, tracing the air with your fingers as if you can feel the texture of his presence. Memories flood back, each detail etched in your mind like a cherished photograph. “Long fingers, veiny hands,” you murmur, the words infused with a hint of admiration that even surprises you. The love for this man reverberates in your voice, a quiet confession to the depths of your feelings.

Kitten's melodic meow serenades the room as he gracefully weaves between your feet, his tail coiling affectionately around your calves like a comforting embrace.

“If you meet him, please don’t claw his back out like you did with that other guy. Yoongi is nice.”

With a heavy heart, you confide in Kitten, the weight of your worry evident in the rhythmic tapping of the spatula against the sizzling vegetables. “It's been nearly half a year, and I can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him,” you murmur, the crackling sounds of the kitchen offering a somber backdrop to your uncertainty.

As the warmth of the meal envelops you and Kitten, you sit together, a silent companionship settling over the room. The simplicity of this moment strikes you, and a quiet realization unfolds – you love your life just as it is. 

In the shared silence, you feel a sense of wholeness, a testimony to the goodness found in life's simplicity. Though your heart may still ache at times, you've come to accept that, too, as a part of the beautiful complexity that makes life what it is.

You're keenly aware that time is the remedy for healing, a gentle but persistent force that gradually eases the ache until one day, the pain will be a distant echo of what it once was.

Your weary limbs protest against the demands of a full-time class schedule and cafe shifts, revealing the hidden challenges of your daily grind. Fatigue clings to you like a shadow, and an involuntary yawn escapes.

With a wearied sigh, you address Kitten, your loyal companion in fatigue. “Ah, Kitten, today's been a battle. I'm going to bed early today,” you murmur, dragging your exhausted body to the bathroom in a nightly ritual. 

Upon returning to your sanctuary, you find Kitten, already nestled in his customary spot, a comforting presence in the silent embrace of the night.

Sinking beneath the cozy duvet, you surrender to its tender embrace, the fabric cocooning you in a haven of softness. With a gentle pat, you acknowledge Kitten, “Thank you for being here,” you murmur before succumbing to the enchantment of dreamland.

As consciousness tiptoes back into your awareness, the remnants of dreams linger like elusive whispers in your mind. Gently awakening, you open your eyes to find the absence of Kitten.

Your eyes widen in astonishment, and your body tenses as you absorb the scene unfolding before you—a man, peacefully lost in the realm of dreams. 

Your gaze follows the cascade of long, slightly curly, obsidian hair that drapes over his shoulders, tracing the contours of his creamy white skin. The play of morning light reveals a well-defined back, drawing your eyes down the elegant curve of his spine until they come to rest on a small, soft, plum-like ass. The realization hits you like a bolt— he's completely naked!

Why is your heart orchestrating a rapid symphony, each beat echoing in your ears like a thunderous drumroll? And what in the world is a naked stranger doing sprawled across your sheets as though he belongs there?

He slumbers in serene oblivion, emitting soft, melodic sighs that weave through the air, his chest gracefully ascending and descending in rhythmic dance with each tranquil breath.

Wait. 

He seems familiar.

A gasp escapes your lips as you take a closer look, and the realization hits you like a bolt of lightning – it's Yoongi! 

Shock and disbelief intertwine in your chest as you stare at his peaceful slumber.

Confusion and a hint of panic surge through you as your mind races with questions. 

Why is Yoongi in your bed, and why on earth is he naked?

How did Yoongi end up here, and where is Kitten?

A myriad of questions spins through your mind, a turbulent storm of curiosity. As you ponder the mysteries, you belatedly notice Yoongi stirring, gracefully shifting to lie on his back.

Your face burns with embarrassment as the realization dawns that he's still completely naked. Heat rises to your cheeks when his half-erect dick brushes against his stomach, prompting you to instinctively shield your eyes, flustered by the unexpected sight.

You wrestle with the dilemma of whether to disturb his serene slumber or let him continue resting peacefully. The soft innocence in his sleeping form makes the decision more challenging, and you lean towards allowing him to bask in the tranquility of his dreams undisturbed.

Gently, you drape the comforting warmth of your duvet over him, a shield against the chill of the room. With nimble movements, you extract yourself from the bed, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of his slumber.

Confusion seizes your thoughts as you grapple with the surreal scenario—Yoongi peacefully nestled in your bed. You wrack your brain, questioning every sober memory, desperately trying to unearth the missing pieces that would explain his presence.

You step into the kitchen, a fleeting sense of unease prickling at your skin as you scan the room for Kitten, but he remains elusive, leaving a trace of uncertainty in the air.

A twinge of melancholy washes over you as Kitten remains elusive, but you console yourself with the hope that he might return, his absence merely a temporary void in your otherwise comforting routine.

You embark on the simple yet intimate act of preparing two steaming cups of coffee—one for yourself and one for the unexpected visitor who occupies your bed.

You seize a handful of aromatic coffee beans from a vintage jar, letting the rich fragrance envelop you as you crush them under the steady hum of your machine. With precision, you measure out the perfect amount, combining it with hot water, allowing the concoction to brew into a comforting elixir.

While the coffee brews, your mind races with bewildering thoughts about Yoongi's unexpected presence in your bed. Puzzlement clouds your senses as you contemplate every conceivable scenario. 

Did he let himself in? Was there some mysterious way he could have gained access? 

With a touch of anxiety, you even venture to your front door, checking for any signs of unauthorized entry, only to find it securely locked, shrouded in an eerie silence.

You're grappling with the perplexing mystery of Yoongi's appearance in your bed, as if he materialized out of thin air, defying all logic and reason, leaving you spellbound by the inexplicable magic that seems to have woven its way into your ordinary reality.

In the quiet chaos of your thoughts, Yoongi's presence offers more questions than answers, an enigmatic puzzle that seems to defy the ordinary. The absence of Kitten only adds another layer of mystery to the unfolding scene. 

As the coffee machine dings, disrupting the contemplative silence, you're left grappling with the surreal conundrum before you, seeking clarity in the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

With the warmth of freshly brewed coffee in your hands, you reenter the bedroom to discover Yoongi, now alert, draped in your duvet, a captivating silhouette in the soft morning light.

Your greeting falters as you nervously stammer, “H–, Hi,” setting the two mugs of coffee on your nightstand. Yoongi's gaze, sharp and feline-like, traces your every move, creating a palpable tension in the air.

An unfamiliar nervousness grips you in his presence, an unusual sensation considering your usual ease around him. Perhaps it's the fact that he's naked, his gaze akin to a predator eyeing down its prey, intensifying the air with an unspoken tension.

“Hey,” finally breaking the silence, he greets you with a low grumble, scratching his head and letting out a lazy yawn.

His body exudes a captivating blend of softness and defined muscles, a captivating sight that—

His voice, laced with a teasing smirk, breaks the tension. “Can't stop staring at my dick, huh?”

Your throat tightens as you realize you've been caught in the act, silently observing him. Panic sets in – does he think you're a freak now? Fantastic.

You let out a nervous chuckle, deliberately shifting your gaze away from the obvious bulge in the duvet around his lap. “What are you doing here, Yoongi? And why are you naked?” you inquire, genuinely puzzled.

He chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a tinge of unease. “You haven't figured it out yet?” he teases, his words hanging in the air, leaving you in suspense.

You must resemble a walking question mark, because his chuckles only intensify. It's as if he finds your confusion amusing, and you're left standing there, desperate for answers in the midst of his enigmatic laughter.

In a soft tone laced with a smirk, he utters, “Kitten.”

Your gaze fixates on him, bewildered. Kitten? Is he referring to your cat?

Your jaw drops as he gracefully emerges from the bed, the duvet cascading off his frame. In his unabashed nudity, he strides toward you.

He inches closer, the proximity almost causing your lips to collide. A surge of warmth courses through you when he delicately tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m a shapeshifter,” his revelation hangs in the air, the weight of it palpable, and as he locks eyes with you, searching for any flicker of discomfort, the truth settles. Before you can process it fully, he leans in, capturing your lips with an irresistible surge of passion.

His lips, soft and inviting, embark on a slow yet passionate dance, as if reuniting with a long-lost lover. Responding eagerly, you part your lips, allowing the kiss to deepen, and in that electrifying moment, your entire body succumbs to a sensation akin to melting butter.

You yield to his touch, molding your body to his as you sense the undeniable hardness of his arousal intimately pressing against your core.

Fuck.

In the midst of the heated moment, you draw back slightly to meet his gaze, the question hanging in the air, “So... you're Kitten?”

He offers no verbal response, just a low, affirmative hum, before plunging back into another intoxicating kiss.

You surrender to the sensation, feeling the firm grip of his hands on your waist as they journey upward beneath the fabric of your well-worn shirt.

His touch ignites a trail of sensations, tracing a path across your body, sending electric shivers as he lifts your shirt, gently grazing against the contours of your breasts.

Under the intensity of his gaze, your body responds, a flush of heat spreading through you, your nipples hardening in response. He emits a low, satisfied hum, as if relishing the effect he has on you.

Effortlessly, he works to level the playing field, swiftly undressing you as if in a race against time. With a purposeful tug, he eases your shorts down, a silent declaration of his desire.

Bare before him, clad only in a simple black panty adorned with delicate pink hearts, you can't shake the vulnerability coursing through you. A sudden urge to conceal yourself washes over, a reaction to the raw exposure in this intimate moment.

“Don't shy away, you're stunning,” Yoongi murmurs, his firm grip on your hips drawing you closer to his naked body. The undeniable heat of his arousal presses against your core, a tangible reminder of the desire smoldering between you.

Gratitude escapes your lips in a hushed tone, your cheeks tinged with a warm blush.

“Now, let’s get these off you, yeah?” with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he hooks his fingers inside the fabric of your panties, teasingly tugging them down. He pauses, seeking your consent, before sensually sliding them all the way down your legs.

As he slides your panties down, a sudden awareness of your arousal hits you, intensified by the cool rush of air against your heated core.

As they fall to the floor, Yoongi swiftly snatches up your panties, bringing them to his face to inhale the intoxicating essence of your arousal, his eyes darkening with desire.

Why does that look so utterly sinful, setting off a delicious rush of arousal coursing through your veins, leaving you breathless in its wake?

As the intoxicating scent of you envelops him, he murmurs, “Damn, you smell good,” his eyes dilating with an unmistakable hunger.

“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell.”

In the raw vulnerability of your shared nakedness, he guides your body back to the bed, gently laying you down, his presence a magnetic force, hovering above you.

He immerses himself in the expanse of your neck, a symphony of sensations unfolding – a delicate ballet of tender kisses, followed by the electrifying nip of his teeth grazing the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

You moan in unabashed pleasure, your hands instinctively seeking refuge on his chiseled pectorals, anchoring yourself amidst the rising waves of bliss.

Yoongi's gaze shifts to the mirror positioned strategically in front of your bed. “I've been meaning to ask,” he smirks, locking eyes with you, “why do you have a mirror in front of your bed?”

You squirm beneath him, breath catching.”'It's part of my wardrobe panels,” you admit, your voice a fragile melody.

He chuckles, a low and enticing sound, his smirk dancing on his lips. “I don't think that's why the whole panel is mirrors,” he says, sitting up slightly. His finger traces a slow, teasing path from your collarbones to your breasts, sending shivers of anticipation racing through your body.

He leans in, his breath sending a shiver down your spine, and in a deep, low voice, he murmurs into your ear, “You're a dirty one, aren't you?”

His degrading words make your breath hitch instantly, and you involuntarily clench your thighs together. As you shake your head in disagreement, he just smirks, unconvinced.

His chuckle resonates in the room as he asks, “Do you enjoy watching yourself in the mirrors?” Sitting up, he moves to the foot of the bed, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark.

He gracefully steps out of the bed, casting a predatory gaze as he hovers over you, an aura of irresistible allure surrounding him.

With unwavering determination, he declares, “You're going to watch yourself in the mirror as I fuck your pussy with my tongue.” In a single, fluid motion, he seizes both of your thighs, pulling you to the foot of the bed, sending a thrilling jolt through your senses.

Despite the heat coursing through your entire being, a light chuckle escapes your lips. However, the mirth dissipates as you lock eyes with the intensity in Yoongi's dark gaze.

“Sit up,” his command echoes through the room, and as he gracefully lowers himself between your legs, a thrilling anticipation courses through the air.

From your elevated position, you admire the tousled chaos of his hair, a disheveled masterpiece that only enhances his captivating allure. His eyes gleam with a mischievous spark, a silent promise of the intensity that is about to unfold.

You seize his cheeks with urgency, your voice dripping with desire, a fervent plea escaping your lips, “Fuck. Yoongi, please eat me out.”

He moistens his lips with a teasing chuckle, descending eagerly towards your already soaked center.

He expertly widens the gap between your legs, creating a perfect haven for himself before delving into your pussy with fervent devotion.

With a tantalizing finesse, he starts with a subtle stroke of his tongue along your folds, gradually ascending to the apex of your clit, eliciting a fervent moan that echoes in the room.

As waves of pleasure cascade through you, your fingers instinctively entwine in his tousled locks, gently pulling as he skillfully devotes his attention to the exquisite dance of his tongue and lips on your pulsating core.

Gasping for breath, your anticipation mounts, every nerve tingling with pleasure, as Yoongi's rhythmic strokes across your intimate folds propel you toward a climax, your toes curling in ecstasy.

Pausing momentarily, he murmurs in appreciation, “You taste even better than you smell, Kitten,” his words sending a shiver down your spine.

You're on the verge of asking him about the nickname ‘Kitten,’ but his tongue explores your folds, leaving you breathless and unable to form words.

Your question dissolves in the heat of the moment, the building climax taking center stage as you lose yourself in the pursuit of pleasure.

Lost in the waves of ecstasy, you can't resist the urge to surrender, closing your eyes as Yoongi works his magic with undeniable expertise.

“No, no, no. Look at yourself in the mirror, Kitten.”

“Why do—” before you can finish your question, it fades away on your tongue as Yoongi plunges back into pleasuring your core with a renewed intensity, leaving your thoughts swallowed by the whirlwind of sensations.

As you glance at the mirror, you catch a glimpse of your own blissful expression, framed by Yoongi's tousled black hair nestled between your thighs. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking, a sight of pleasure that leaves you utterly captivated.

The provocative scene unfolding in the mirror intensifies your arousal, your breath hitching in tandem with the escalating desire pulsating through your veins.

“Yoongi, I’m—” your plea catches in your throat as Yoongi skillfully responds, his hand finding your pulsating clit, heightening the pleasure while he continues to ravish you with his insatiable tongue.

His fingers dance in rhythmic circles over your throbbing clit, coaxing the tension from your core. As the knot unravels, a wave of blissful release washes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.

Ecstasy courses through your veins, your toes curling, muscles tightening, and in that moment, an unexpected surge of pleasure hits you like a sneeze that never comes. You release a symphony of moans, surrendering to the intense climax that Yoongi skillfully orchestrates with his talented tongue.

He continues to suck, savoring every drop of your essence, an insatiable thirst in his eyes matching the fervor of the intimate dance between your bodies.

As the intensity peaks, you gently tap his shoulder, signaling him to withdraw. He complies with a sensual slurp, leaving you breathless and tingling with the echoes of pleasure.

A mischievous grin stretches across his face as he licks his lips, “You're incredible, Kitten.”

You arch an eyebrow, curiosity coloring your tone, “Why do you keep calling me ‘Kitten’? You’re Kitten.”

He erupts in laughter, a symphony that resonates through the room, his chest rising and falling with the melody of mirth, and in that moment, he's a captivating masterpiece.

“Do I really look like a Kitten to you?” he inquires, a playful glint in his eyes as he gently nudges you back onto the bed.

Your words stumble as you search for a response, “Not really,” you admit, offering him a small yet tender smile.

“But you look cute and sweet, like a good Kitten,” he murmurs, his hands exploring the curves of your breasts.

A low moan escapes your lips as he teases your nipples with a playful twist, igniting a fresh surge of desire that pools in the growing heat between your thighs.

As you ache for the feel of his throbbing length, you attempt to grab hold of him, but like a fleeting mirage, he skillfully eludes your touch, leaving you yearning for the intimate connection that inches away with each evasive movement.

“Nah. I just want to fuck you silly,” he rasps, eyes tracing every bead of sweat on your flushed skin, reveling in the primal rhythm of your hurried breaths.

“If you want to, that is?” he teases, his voice a sultry whisper, as he takes control, guiding himself between your legs with a confident hand that promises a morning full of pleasure.

As you feel the weight of his gaze, you gulp, wondering how, in that heated moment, he could question what you crave. It's undeniable – you want him, and the intensity of your desire hangs in the air between you, palpable and unspoken.

Your breath catches as you respond, the words tumbling from your lips in a heated rush, “Fuck, yes, Yoongi. I want you inside me, now,” the urgency in your voice betraying the intensity of your desire.

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as he replies, “Please” with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“‘Please’ what?”

“Say ‘please’.”

You huff, incredulous at his audacity. The desire in his eyes is undeniable, and he seems to enjoy the game. Part of you rebels, tempted to be a brat just to irk him, but the need for his touch overrides any resistance. You crave his intimacy, aching for his dick despite the defiance lingering in the air.

“Fuck this,” you grumble, frustration evident in your voice. In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of Yoongi pulling back, as if reconsidering his stance.

“Please! Don’t leave,” you plead desperately, your sincerity laid bare. The smirk on his face deepens, as if savoring the intensity of your plea.

“Please fuck me, Yoongi.”

His satisfaction evident, he rewards you with a swift kiss before aligning himself with your eager entrance, anticipation humming in the air.

Your arousal has reached a point where there's no discomfort, just a perfect fit as he slides into you, your wetness welcoming and enveloping him seamlessly.

He hisses as he eases into your warm, tight walls, and you can feel him doing his best to restrain himself.

You release a breathy huff as he fully penetrates, his balls gently meeting the warmth of your folds.

He lets out a guttural groan as he steadies himself, withdrawing only to plunge back in with an intensity that sends shivers through your body.

In this intimate position, with him above you, every nuance of his pleasure is on full display—the way his nose scrunches in delight, his soft lips occasionally nibbling the bottom one in sheer ecstasy.

Between each thrust, he can't help but express his amazement, his voice low and husky, “Damn. You're so tight.”

You know. It’s been awhile. 

As he moves within you with an increased rhythm, his hands find your breasts, skillfully massaging them in sync with his fervent thrusts, creating a symphony of pleasure that courses through your entire body.

Ecstasy courses through you, and in the midst of your fervent pleasure, you can't help but release a breathless exclamation, “Fuck, Yoongi!”

Every skillful thrust seems to find its mark, synchronized with the enticing dance of his fingers on your hardened nipples. Pleasure envelops you, clouding your thoughts in a haze of ecstasy.

Your pleasure intensifies as Yoongi skillfully pinches your nipples, eliciting a symphony of moans that harmonize with the rhythmic dance of his passionate thrusts.

Sensations ripple through you, and the desire to reciprocate Yoongi's pleasure builds within you. You yearn to give him the same ecstasy he's generously bestowed upon you.

Amidst the rhythmic cadence of Yoongi's thrusts, a bold request escapes your lips. Your gaze, laced with desire, meets his, and with a subtle plea in your eyes, you softly murmur, “Yoongi—, I want to ride you. Please.”

With a devilish grin, Yoongi withdraws from your embrace, reclining on the bed, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

His voice, laced with desire, sends shivers down your spine as he commands, “Then you're gonna watch in the mirrors as you fuck yourself on my dick,” reclining with his head angled towards the mirrors.

Mounting him, you position yourself strategically, both of you reflected in the mirror—a tantalizing image of entangled limbs, the intensity of the moment etched in your heaving, sweat-glistened bodies.

Grasping his throbbing dick, he hisses in anticipation as you deftly align your eager entrance with his cock.

With a fluid motion, you descend onto his rigid cock, your velvet walls enveloping him in a tight, intoxicating embrace.

From below, Yoongi savors the view, his gaze lingering on the contours of your face, as if committing every detail to memory.

You guide the rhythm, your hands finding stability on his sculpted chest, setting the pace as you ride him with a mix of determination and desire.

Your movements cascade, a slow dance that gradually builds momentum, each rise and fall carrying a symphony of pleasure and anticipation.

As you gaze upon your reflection, the flush of arousal paints your cheeks, your disheveled hair framing your face like an unruly halo, and your breasts dance in perfect harmony with the rhythm of your passionate movements.

The person in the mirror seems like a stranger, a sensual revelation you never knew existed within you. The mirrors, always present but never before utilized for sex, now reflect a version of yourself that’s both thrilling and new.

Heat courses through your veins, an intoxicating blend of arousal and empowerment, as you observe your own uninhibited reflection. With newfound vigor, you escalate the rhythm, riding Yoongi more vigorously. His appreciative groans and tender gaze mirror the intensity of the moment.

Unbridled desire takes over as your hands instinctively find their way to Yoongi's neck. Without a conscious thought, your fingers glide over the warmth of his skin, gently encircling his throat.

An electrifying jolt courses through you as you sense Yoongi's involuntary twitch within you, and you catch the ragged rhythm of his breath.

Panic courses through you, and you hastily retract your hands, realizing with a shock that you had unintentionally exerted pressure on Yoongi's throat. “Oh my God! I'm so sorry!” you blurt out, your apology a mix of concern and embarrassment.

“It's fine, Kitten. I like it,” he reassures you with a devilish grin, seizing your hands and guiding them back around his neck, his eyes sparking with a hint of mischief.

You shoot him a concerned glance, pausing your movements to ensure he's okay. Once he reassures you with a nod, signaling his approval, you dive back into the rhythm you had before.

With a newfound boldness, you tighten your grip around his throat, drawing out another satisfying twitch from him. His reaction sends a surge of pleasure through you as he hits that sweet spot, causing a kaleidoscope of sensations that make you see stars.

Your unrestrained moans fill the room, a symphony of desire that intertwines with the rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding. The sight of Yoongi unraveling beneath your touch fuels a primal arousal, and you revel in the raw passion that courses through every fiber of your being.

“Fuck!” you pant.

“I’m gonna come,” you confess, the words escaping on a ragged breath, as you impale yourself on his dick. You’re body trembling as you hold the moment, savoring the anticipation before the inevitable plunge into ecstasy.

With a tender touch, you withdraw your hands from his throat, leaning down to kiss him. Your lips meet his in a dance of passion, tracing a path from his mouth to the very spots your fingers had claimed on his neck moments ago.

His low, guttural groan harmonizes with the rhythm as you ascend, reclaiming your perch on him. The dance begins anew, your body moving with purpose, riding the waves of pleasure set in motion by each calculated bounce on his throbbing length.

Yoongi's hands eagerly envelop your breasts, his fingers dancing with the rhythm of your fervent movements. With each descent onto him, you feel a surge of pleasure building, the shared pursuit of ecstasy driving you both towards the brink of blissful release.

His fingers deftly find your sensitive nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. The sensation is so intense that a fractured, high-pitched man escapes your lips, your back arching involuntarily in the exquisite dance of pleasure and pain.

As your walls instinctively clench around his pulsating dick, you witness the pleasure etched across his face, a delightful scrunching of his features that mirrors the ecstasy coursing through both of you.

“Yoongi, I’m com—,” you gasp, a desperate plea laced in your voice. Your words are unnecessary; the vice-like grip of your walls and the erratic cadence of your breath already convey the impending release that hangs thick in the air.

“Come all over my dick,” he smirks through a groan, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Watch yourself fall apart in the mirror.”

How can this man ignite such an intense flame within you? The knot in your stomach tightens once more, and as you surrender to it, a primal, drawn-out moan escapes your lips, echoing the depths of your desire.

With unyielding eyes, you lock onto your own reflection in the mirror as ecstasy courses through you, marking the moment you climax on his d*ck. Your rhythmic bouncing falters, but Yoongi, sensing your need, seizes your hips and propels the pace, driving you deeper into the intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure.

Your mouth hangs open, breaths rapid and erratic, akin to the aftermath of a sprint, while every inch of your body throbs with the residual heat of a fervent blaze.

“So beautiful—FUCK!” he moans, powering into you with an astonishing velocity, sending shivers down your spine.

His hold on your hips tightens, your hands finding refuge on his sculpted chest for support. Your body teeters on the edge of weightlessness and grounding, as if you'd unravel if Yoongi's firm grasp on your hips faltered.

Despite the fatigue washing over you, a surge of determination courses through your veins. Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you entwine your fingers around his neck once more. You sense the impending release in Yoongi's every movement, and you're determined to be the catalyst that propels him over the edge.

The moment your grip tightens around his throat, a powerful surge reverberates through his dick within you, sending intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It's an electrifying sensation, making every touch between you more intense and satisfying.

With an intense squeeze, you lock eyes with Yoongi, a plea in your gaze. “Fill me up, Yoongi.”

In a primal release, he surrenders to the moment, thrusting into you with an erratic rhythm, coating your walls with the warmth of his climax.

“Ahh,” he pants, the rush of air filling his lungs as you release your grip on his neck, both of you engulfed in the aftermath of shared release.

You watch him in amazement as his fervent thrusts subside, and he eases into the embrace of your bed, a portrait of passion painted across his beautiful face.

As he gradually softens within you, you take the initiative to lift yourself off him, both of your essences clinging to your skin, a residue of your shared passion that you welcome without reservation.

As you recline beside him, a soft chuckle escapes your lips, a shared breathlessness enveloping both of you. The air in the room is charged with the echo of passion, leaving a tangible energy that binds your entangled forms together.

Breathless and sporting a satisfied grin, he turns to you, his eyes filled with a post-passion glow. “Fuck that was incredible,”' he murmurs, capturing the shared intensity of the moment in the curve of his smile.

An undeniable contentment colors your voice as you respond, “Yeah,” savoring the echoes of pleasure that linger in the air.

Suddenly, a spark of realization ignites within you, propelling you to move with swift purpose. You crawl back on top of him, a burst of energy that startles him, like a surprise in the midst of shared afterglow.

“Why did you leave me?” you inquire, a tinge of accusation laced with the bitter notes in your voice. “Without a word or a farewell. Why did you disappear without a trace?”

His eyes widen momentarily before giving way to an expression of anguish and sadness. A tug at your heart intensifies, as his face alone tells a story you fear can't be good.

He begins with a heavy admission, meeting your eyes with earnest sincerity, “My brother died.”

Your words stumble out in a rush, “Oh, God! I'm so sorry!” The unexpected revelation leaves you fumbling for the right response.

His words flow, carrying a weight of anger and grief, “It's alright. ButI felt so much anger and grief, you know?” he explains, “so much so that I couldn't shapeshift and was stuck in my cat form.”

You exhale a soft ‘aha’ at his words, and the realization washes over you— he was grappling with his own demons, just as you were.

“When I'm consumed by intense emotions, I lose control of my ability to shapeshift, and, and—” You witness a tearful welling in his eyes, prompting you to gently cup his cheeks, reassuring him that it's okay.

“I just wanted to be alone and I didn’t want to burden you…” A few tears spill from his eyes, and you tenderly catch them with your gentle fingers.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, finding solace in the curve of his neck, where his soft minty scent envelops you like a comforting embrace.

“I am so fucking sorry you had to endure that. I understand, truly. But you would never be a burden to me,” you express, gazing into his eyes with a tenderness that echoes your sincerity.

“I want to be there for you,” you declare, your own tears mirroring the empathy in your eyes.

“Ah, shit. I didn’t mean to cry. But, you know, I understand,” you say, your words accompanied by a wry smile as tears trickle down your face and onto Yoongi’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Kitten. I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

He seizes your cheeks, tugging you into a tender and unhurried kiss. Time loses its grip, and you're oblivious to the remnants of his seed mingling with your essence, creating a slippery trail between your pussy and his still-slick pelvis.

Lost in the rhythm of your kisses with Yoongi, you surrender to the moment, where every touch feels like a missing puzzle piece seamlessly falling into place.

The two cups of coffee are long forgotten.

Authors note (3): Thank you so very much if you have made it this far 😭 I know this story is a lot – I’ve been dealing with a lot of different stuff for many years, and some of it just got to be too much a few weeks ago, and this story popped into my head. It was therapeutic to write. I don’t know if people will like it or not, but in the end, that’s not what it’s about. It will just exist here.

If you struggle with any of these subjects or emotions, you’re always welcome in my inbox – I’m not a trained psychologist or anything, though! But sometimes it is better to voice your feelings, than struggling in silence. Everybody’s welcome 🫂

I hope you’re doing well. Thank you for you 💜

❁ pictures you've taken of your boyfriend, Yoongi

More of the boyfriend pictures series

❁ pictures you've taken of your boyfriend - the series ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡

✼ Bangtan

→ Namjoon

→ Seokjin

→ Yoongi

→ Hoseok

→ Jimin

→ Taehyung

→ Jungkook

✧ Seventeen

→ Seungcheol

→ Jeonghan

→ Joshua

→ Junhui

→ Soonyoung

→ Wonwoo

→ Jihoon

→ Seokmin

→ Mingyu

→ Minghao

→ Seungkwan

→ Vernon

→ Chan

❁ pictures you've taken of your boyfriend, seokjin

More of the boyfriend pictures series

Non-requested info about me

nickname: Jiji

age: 22

zodiac sign: sagittarius sun, pisces rising (I'm a yoonjin's daughter)

bangtan biases: Yoongi, Seokjin

seventeen biases: Seungcheol,Seungkwan, Joshua,Wonwoo

ultimates: Yoongi, Wonwoo, Seungkwan

hobbies: music,reading,writing,playing games, photography

Particular traits: I scream when I play games, I'm weirdly funny, I sing for free (because I'm terrible at it), I collect books and photocards.

Hi everyone, and welcome to my blog!

I will principally write about bangtan and seventeen, but I'm willing to share what's on my mind since I'm a hopeless romantic and a wannabe writer!

Don't hesitate to text me if you want to make some requests about one shots or moodboard ✩

English is not my first language, so please understand me if I make some mistakes, and obviously, don't hesitate to tell me what's wrong!

I wish you all a great day.

❁ pictures you've taken of your boyfriend, jimin

More of the boyfriend pictures series

❁ pictures you've taken of your boyfriend, Jungkook

More of the boyfriend pictures series

❁ pictures you've taken of your boyfriend, Taehyung

More of the boyfriend pictures series

❁ pictures you've taken of your boyfriend, hoseok

More of the boyfriend pictures series

★Videocall with your long-distance boyfriend, Yoongi

I miss them so much 😔

AH

TWISTED TALES: A DISNEY COLLECTION

You have the power to make this life free and beautiful. To make this life a wonderful adventure; because that is what life is—an awfully big adventure. That’s the real problem with the world, too many people grow up. They forget.

Laughter is timeless. Imagination has no age. And dreams are forever.

GUKED presents a retelling of seven different Disney stories to spike in you a sense of nostalgia and introduce you to another world.

10 JAN 2020 © guked—all rights reserved. no reposting, translating, or modifying on any platform.

KISS THE GIRL | THE LITTLE MERMAID      —jungkook x (f) reader

After saving a human prince from being drowned by the sea witch, you’re cursed by that infamous witch to live out the rest of your days as a human—unless you can manage to get true love’s kiss from that very same prince.

Which would be a simple task, had he not hated you the moment you met.

CONCEAL, DON’T FEEL | FROZEN      —taehyung x (f) reader

Raised to hide an integral part of himself all his life, Taehyung is unable to cope when thrust into the spotlight to become King of Arendelle and plunges the kingdom into an eternal winter.

And you’re the brave soul sent to bring him back, dead or alive.

A WANTED MAN | TANGLED      —hoseok x (f) reader

Running away from the palace guards and the goons he had tricked, Hoseok is in desperate need of a safe place to hide and a good disguise. When he runs into a naive girl in the woods, he cultivates the perfect plan.

And wanting nothing more than for him to fulfill his promise, you agree to help him.

WE’RE ALL MAD HERE | ALICE IN WONDERLAND      —yoongi x (f) reader

All your life people whispered about how you were mad, how you hadn’t let your imagination be suffocated by rules and society. After accidentally falling down a hole while chasing a rabbit with a watch, you encounter a man who says he’ll help you return home.

But you soon find that everyone down in Wonderland might be a little mad—especially the man they call the Mad Hatter.

WHEN WE’RE HUMAN | PRINCESS AND THE FROG      —namjoon x (f) reader

Being turned into a frog had not been on either of your agendas. A small part of Namjoon felt bad about accidentally turning you into a frog along with him, but it wasn’t his fault that you weren’t really a princess that could magically turn him human with a kiss.

Now the two of you are on a quest to break the curse and become human again—and maybe find love, too.

STROKE OF MIDNIGHT | CINDERELLA      —jimin x (f) reader

Surviving in a household of women who hate you is tough work, but you manage somehow. You keep telling yourself to have faith that one day you’ll be able to escape their malicious clutches, and that day might be sooner than you think when you meet a handsome young man.

He might just be the prince charming you’d been waiting for to sweep you off your feet.

ONCE UPON A DREAM | SLEEPING BEAUTY      —seokjin x (f) reader

You had always known you were cursed. But you hadn’t realized the extent of your parents’ worries until they shipped you off to a cottage in the woods with three fairies as your guardians to keep you safe from the wicked magic. It was there that you met a handsome man who kept you company when you were lonely.

But you weren’t so sure that your budding love could pass the test of time, magic, and sleeping curses.

Vowed in Blood Masterlist

Synopsis: Born in a world where choices are a privilege not bestowed upon women, Mariah’s father establishes an arrangement with the deadliest mafia of New Work City to have her married off to its heir. In this world, a handsome exterior often hides the monster within; a monster who can just as easily kill as kiss you.

Prologue

Chapter One: The Arrangement

Chapter Two: The First Meeting (07/18/21)

Vowed in Blood: Chapter Two

Synopsis: Born in a world where choices are a privilege not bestowed upon women, Mariah’s father establishes an arrangement with the deadliest mafia of New Work City to have her married off to its heir. In this world, a handsome exterior often hides the monster within; a monster who can just as easily kill as kiss you.

Warnings: None (yet).

A/N: We’re making Jimin taller in this because he’s Namjoon’s brother and Namjoon is the size of Groot. 🤣

 Chapter Two: The First Meeting

*3 Years ago,

           My life was over before it even started. Everything was decided for me. “But you’ve never even met him!” My middle sister Jade exclaimed. “He could be ugly, fat…or even worse OLD!” She shuddered. “There has to be something about him on the internet, let’s google him!” Jade suggested. Multiple photos and articles surrounding the members of Bangtan flashed across the screen. A swift click on images and Kim Namjoon popped up. “He’s taller than everyone…” Leah, my youngest sister, explained in amazement. Curiosity got the best of me and I peeked over to the screen.

           Yes, he was tall…but that was not what got my attention. His eyes. They were dark and piercing. I could only envision how those eyes were the last image seen by his victims before finding a painful end. I stared into those emotionless eyes until Jade clicked a link and an article pulled up stating how Namjoon was one of the most sought-after bachelors in New York City. An heir to hundreds of millions of dollars when it really should have stated an heir to my impending doom.  

           “Wow, women really throw themselves at him. He’s with a different girl in every photo.” Jade huffed. “They can have him,” I said bitterly. In this world, a handsome man was more devil than prince charming and I needed to know just what I was dealing with. I stood up abruptly, “I need to speak with Thomas.” Thomas was my father’s most loyal soldier. He also was entrusted to keep Jade and me safe whenever we were not on the mansion’s grounds. He was our bodyguard. If anyone else knew more about Namjoon than my father, it was Thomas.

           “He became a Made Man at fourteen,” Thomas explained. “FOURTEEN?!” My eyes almost popped out. Boys did not become officially a part of the Mafia until they were at least eighteen and initiation typically meant making your first kill. “That means. He killed someone at fourteen years old?” I swallowed thickly. At fifteen, I could hardly register being able to take someone’s life. Jade shook her head, “He’s a monster.” Thomas shrugged as he said, “He is what he needs to be. Growing up in this kind of life, you can’t be a pussy. Especially with a father like his.”

 *Months Later*

           Time had flown by giving me less and less of a chance to prepare. Two days until the engagement and mother was fluttering around the house trying to ensure that every detail of the home was in tip-top condition. The occasion was meant to be small since this alliance was relatively new, just Namjoon’s family, mine, and a few other respective heads of New York and Chicago. Thomas explained to us this was for safety reasons as if I wasn’t being sold off to the most dangerous man in the vicinity. I wish they would have canceled it altogether.

           Jacob, my five-year-old little brother jumped up and down on my bed, “I want to play!” He had entirely too much energy. “You know the rules Jake, Mother doesn’t want you running around the house before the guests arrive.” I sighed. “But they aren’t even here!” Luckily, Namjoon and his family were not set to arrive until tomorrow. Only one more night until I met my future husband… I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath to quell the anxiety from bubbling over. “Are you crying again?” Jacob asked as he slid off the bed and put his small hand into mine. This little boy was my solace. “What do you mean?” I smiled wide to prevent tears from slipping down. I mostly cried at night hoping to drown myself in my sorrows protected by the darkness.

           “Leah says you cry a lot because Namjoon bought you,” Jacob furrows his small eyebrows and looks up into my eyes. For a minute, I was taken back. I would have to tell Leah not to say such things especially in front of Jacob. I shook my head diligently, “He didn’t buy me.” Liar. Just then Jade showed up in the doorway of my bedroom, “Same difference,” she shrugged. I huffed. “Stop saying things like that before dad hears and we all get in trouble.”

I felt a tug on my arm, “I don’t want you to leave,” Jacob cries as he grabs my waist and clings on. I bent down to ease his worries, “I won’t be leaving for a long time, Jake.” I held his face in my hands and kissed his nose.

           Suddenly, a devilish smile appeared on his face and he dashed out the open bedroom door, “CATCH ME!” He exclaimed. Jade tore after him, “I’ll kick your ass you little monster!!” I rushed into the hallway after them both when Leah peaked her head out of her door and followed suit. I flew down the stairs hot on Jade’s tail but unfortunately, Jacob was still in the lead. Mother would have my head if something got broken. I wanted to shout for them to stop but my father’s office was just around the corner and if we were caught, we were dead.

           We passed father’s door and relief came over me seeing that he wasn’t in there. However, three men dawned in all black suits rounded the corner and all relief drained out of me. Jacob managed to halt himself, but Leah hurled herself straight into the man in the middle with full force. Any other person would have lost their balance but this wasn’t just any other person. He was six feet and built like a bull.

           I jerked to a stop in time to see the traffic jam disaster in front of me only to find the pair of eyes I was so desperately trying to escape from looking down at my sister Leah. My gaze was frozen on my future husband as Jade clamored next to me and gasped. Namjoon was preoccupied with steadying my little sister with both hands on her shoulders. Hands he had once used to crush a man’s throat….

           “Leah,” I said trying to keep my voice leveled and void of the anxiety I felt. I wished I was better at hiding my fear. Now everyone was staring at me, including Namjoon. His brown eyes scanned me from head to toe, lingering on my eyes. Wow, he was tall. The men beside him were both tall in their own right but Namjoon dwarfed them in comparison with his massive body frame. His hands were still on my sister’s shoulders as he studied me carefully. “Leah, come here,” I firmly spoke and held out my hand. I wanted her as far away from the three men as possible. She took a few steps back and then flew into my arms. Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

           I heard a scoff next to me, “So, you’re Kim Namjoon?” Jade asked not even trying to disguise her disgust. Jacob made an entirely animalistic sound and charged after Namjoon. Well, he charged after Namjoon’s kneecaps and started pummeling his legs with his small fists. The sight was almost comical if I wasn’t so terrified. One of Namjoon’s men looked down at Jacob, tilted his head, and huffed a chuckle. “Leave Mariah Alone! You don’t get to take her!!” Jacob shrieked as he continued to throw nonexistent punches at Namjoon’s legs. My heart could have literally leaped out of my chest right then.

           I shifted Leah over to Jade and slowly approached this giant tree of a man. Again, I was scared shitless but I had to get my brother away from him. Bangtan and the Cassian Familia were trying to build a bond but alliances could be broken within a blink of an eye and I could not let that happen. A sigh escapes the man smiling down at my brother, “What a warm welcome we get. This must be the infamous hospitality of the Cassian Familia we keep hearing about.” He was a couple of inches smaller than Namjoon with the same color eyes just not as dark as Namjoon’s. it was unmistakable, they were related.

           “Jimin,” Namjoon spoke in a low husky voice. It made me shiver. Jacob was still struggling but Namjoon held him at arm’s length. “Jacob,” I firmly gripped his upper arm. “That’s enough, that is not how we treat our company.” At this Jacob froze, turned around, and looked up at my face. “He’s not a guest! He wants to steal you away Mariah! AND I don’t care if he’s the size of Groot, I AM GOING TO FIGHT HIM!!” Jacob charged back towards Namjoon’s legs. The man named Jimin began to outwardly chuckle, “I’m glad father convinced me to come.”

           “Ordered you.” Namjoon quipped. He didn’t take his eyes off me and my cheeks blazed with the heat of his scrutiny. My father made sure that my sisters and I were never around men very often if he could help it. They were either family members or older than dust. Namjoon was neither family nor was he an old man. He was five years older than me, but he made me feel like I was a child in comparison. He let go of Jacob and I pulled my brother towards my body folding my hands over his heaving chest. Jacob never stopped glaring at Namjoon. As small as he was, he had the courage of a bull. I couldn’t afford courage in this lifetime. “I’m sorry,” I said in haste. “My brother didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

“I DID!” Jacob interrupted. I covered his mouth with my hand and he squirmed, I just held onto him tighter. “Don’t apologize to them!” Gianna spoke looking the men up and down in disgust. “It is not Jacob’s fault that they take up so much room in a hallway. At least Jake is honest. Everyone else thinks they need to blow sugar up his ass because of his inherit-“

“JADE!” I quickly snapped at my sister before she went too far over the line. “Take Leah and Jacob back to their rooms. Now.”

She glanced over to the men in the corridor one last time “But…” I nodded back to the opposite way indicating for her to leave, glad I couldn’t see Namjoon’s expression. Jade grabbed Jacob’s hand and grabbed him and Leah away. Bracing myself for Namjoon’s fury, I was surprised to turn around and see him smirking at me with one eyebrow lifted. My face was burning with embarrassment and I folded my arms around my body. I took a deep breath and began to apologize, “I’m sorry for my siblings, they are…”

“Protective of you.” Namjoon nodded in acknowledgment. His voice was even, “This is my brother Jimin and my right-hand Jungkook.” He gestures to both men on either side of him. Jimin gave me a slight wave and Jungkook gave me the briefest nod before he went back to scanning the corridor. I wasn’t sure of what he was waiting on, it wasn’t like we had hidden snipers along the hallway waiting to strike. I focused on Namjoon’s chin and hoped it was enough to appear as if I was looking him in the eyes, “I should get back to my siblings.” Namjoon had a knowing expression on his face and nodded. I didn’t wait for any more words to be exchanged, I simply turned around and walked off. I never fathomed my first meeting with Kim Namjoon could be any worse than this.

Mature Content

Over 18’s Only

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

4 Days…

You finally arrive. The flight was long but you’re hoping it’s going to be worth it. It’s 9:30am in Seoul.

You text Hobi to let him know you’ve arrived safe and are just coming out of arrivals. He calls you to give instructions on where he and Jimin are parked. Jimin starts flashing his lights when you are near. You can hear their laughter coming from the car feet away.

Once you’re inside Hobi is squealing with excitement, squeezing and hugging you tightly. He’s then pushed out of the way as you get a hug and a kiss from Jimin, you all clap your hands in giddy excitement. “Ok” you say… “that’s enough. I stink and I’m tired! Halp me!” As you flop down on the back seat dramatically. You feel sick to your stomach, a mixture of nerves, hunger and desperation to surprise Yoongi.

The boys have helped you plan it, they had just finished their latest tour and were back home. The plan was to get to Hobi’s, so you could get yourself changed and freshened up. The boys faked a meeting at HQ as they knew that Yoongi would already be there. Telling him they had some adjustments to make to their albums and they needed his help. Hobi’s plan was to tell Yoongi that there was a parcel he needed to sign for in reception and instead it would be you.

While Jimin made his way to HQ after dropping you both off, Hobi had you fed, watered and after you’d refreshed yourself with a hot shower you were ready to go. Hobi blasted music on the drive over as you were both far too quiet. He had a call from Jimin confirming Yoongi was in the building as he had slept in the studio the night before.

Just as you arrive in the car park your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi “Sorry I didn’t reply it’s been a bit hectic, can I FaceTime you before you go to sleep?, I miss your face. Please?”

“Shit!”

You text him back asking him to give you 10-15 mins.

You head into reception wearing a black cap, face mask and long black padded coat. Hobi hugs you tightly and tells you it will all be ok and he’ll see you soon and leaves you in reception for what is the longest 10mins of your life. You finally get a nod from the reception staff that Yoongi is on his way down…

You hear the ping of the elevators.

You can feel your pulse pounding in your ears.

You feel like your legs are going to give way.

Your heart is literally in your throat.

You turn your back to him as he walks down the corridor.

You hear his footsteps getting closer as he mumbles the words “fucking FaceTime” to himself, he then asks the staff what he needs to sign for, sounding a little moody. That voice though… how you’ve missed that voice.

You slowly turn around to face him, pulling your mask off and ask “Are you free to FaceTime now?”

“What the fuuh?!”

He steps back eyes wide scanning you up and down, not sure if it is your voice he heard?

He moves closer, slowly lifting your cap and peaking under it.

He gasps… pulling it back down over your face as he runs away back up the corridor to the elevators.

“Yoongi!” you shout laughing at him. You can hear Hobi clapping/laughing in the background while filming it all on his phone.

You take your cap off as he runs back to you… your arms open, ready to be whisked off your feet. Instead he grabs your wrist and pulls you to the elevator frantically pressing at the call button.

“Yoongi?” You say a little worried as you can’t see his face. The staff and Hobi pile in the elevator quickly after you. Yoongi is standing protectively in front of you. Desperately wanting to kiss you and hold you but too scared of his emotions in front of everyone.

Your back is to the wall of the elevator in the corner, he has a tight grip of your hand holding it to his side.

You rest your forehead on the back of his shoulder completely overwhelmed you let out a heavy sigh, you still don’t know if he’s happy to see you?

A tear falls down your cheek and he feels your breathing change as you let out a quiet sob.

Still holding your hand, he pulls it up to his chest squeezing it tightly to him. You can feel his heart pounding through his chest.

You discreetly put your free hand on the other side of his waist and pull him to you a little. Desperate for him to turn around and kiss you like you’ve dreamt of for months.

Hobi can see the shift in mood and nods to the staff saying “Erm guys come with me I’ve just remembered there’s fresh donuts in the meeting room level 5” they all get off at the next floor. Hobi shouts “Love you guys!” As he exits.

Yoongi doesn’t react he just continues to stare straight ahead… the elevator doors ping closed.

“Yoongi I’m sor…” He turns around grabbing your face in his hands and smashes his lips into yours, kissing you with total desperation, pressing you up against the elevator wall. Your hands go straight to his ass as you pull him in to you, quickly moving them up to his shoulders then cupping his face. You feel wet on your hands as you open your eyes and see tears in his and down his cheek.

You panic. “Yoongi I’m sorry I thought it would be a good idea to surprise you I didn’t mean to upset you…”

“Shut up dickhead and kiss me, I’ve missed you so fucking much!” He grabs your coat collar and pulls you in to him as you wrap yourself around him, just as the elevator doors ping open, he takes you by the hand to his studio.

You’re barely in the door when he flings your cap off and takes your coat from you tossing them to one side.

“I can’t believe it, are you really here?”

His arms outstretched with both hands on your shoulders, he’s staring you up and down and gently turns you around grabbing a hold of your ass “Ahhh yes, you’re real!” He smiles pulling you in to him as he wraps his arms around you, lightly brushing over your breasts and gently kisses your neck.

He pulls you over to his couch and sits himself down, you straddle him as he pulls you down to him.

“How the hell did you pull this off?” He says with a muffled voice as his face is buried into your breasts.

You lean back, combing your fingers through his hair. You tell him how Hobi helped you plan it, that you knew he had the next 4 days free so you planned on spending them with him.

“Wait!… just 4 days?!”

“Well yes…”

“But I have 2 weeks R&R!” He interrupts

“I know but we didn’t have access to your whole schedule, or know if you had anything planned and I don’t want you cancelling any ready made plans with friends or family and so I just grabbed the 4 days and…”

“No! I’m not happy, cancel the return ticket, change the date… stay with me!” He demands

“I can’t cancel it’s too expensive” you laugh.

“No, please just cancel it, 4 days isn’t enough. No, I’ll give you the money, let me buy it please?” He whines

“But I can’t let you do that, plus I have to be back at work, I have a business to run”

He flings himself back on the sofa completely deflated “I’ve just got to hold you, I’ll blink and you’ll be gone!”

“Well don’t blink and don’t waste the time we have in a huff!” You tease.

“Please?” he pleads

“Shhhhh… kiss me Yoongi!”

God how you’ve missed his lips, his smell the feel of his hands on you but most of all you just desperately missed… him.

The kiss is endless, with his hands on your ass he starts to thrust himself against you and you slowly roll your hips grinding on him. You feel a burning in the pit of your stomach, his hands are all over you as you both pick up the pace. He scatters kisses and nibbles on your neck down to your chest as you let out a moan of pleasure. You’ve dreamt about this.

He can’t get enough of you as he kisses you hard, his hands are in your hair then moving swiftly to the tie of your trousers, sliding his hand between your underwear he gently slides two fingers into you. A loud moan escapes you as you gently rock against him while he works his magic, sliding them in and out while his thumb rubs delicately against your clit.

His eyes wide as he drinks the vision of you fucking his fingers in. He leans into you, his fingers moving faster as he feels you tighten around them. You can barely speak everytime you try, you let out another breathy moan which only encourages him.

With his free hand he slides it under your t shirt, massaging your breast and gently tweaking your nipple. You start fucking against him hard calling out his name as you feel you’re about to cum.

“Kiss me Y/N” he asks. His eyes wide with lust.

With one hand on his shoulder you use the other to pull him into you, moaning as you kiss him.

His other hand now in your hair as he holds you in place while you cum. “Fuck me!, fuuck Yoongi, ffuck me…” you moan loudly almost into his mouth.

The smile on his face says it all (if not a little smug). You slowly rock against his fingers as he slides them from you as you come down from your high.

“Well fuck” he laughs “I’ve definitely missed that sound…”

You jump as you hear a loud banging on the studio wall… coming from a room next door.

Yoongi’s phone starts pinging with messages.

“What the fuck, something must be up” he says

You tell him to check incase it’s important.

He leans over grabbing his phone as you unsteadily move off him and sit next to him on the sofa fixing your trousers.

“Oh shiiiit… erm…” his face blushing red

“What? What is it?”

“It appears we have had an audience”

“Shut up! No way!, who’s the perv?” You gasp.

“Oh just a few billion people watching/listening to Jimin, V and JK next door on Live”

“Nooooooo!” You fall back on the sofa cringing, pulling your t-shirt over your head.

The boys had heard your first moan but just started talking louder once they put 2 and 2 together and realised you and Yoongi were “catching up”. Then as you got louder they had to play music to drown it out incase it could be heard on Live as Army never misses a thing. JK and V took it in turns to go off camera to text Yoongi…

“Hey Bro! Happy for you but could you not of used the soundproof booth instead!”

Then V… “I assume you are now finished based on the crescendo? Can I stop singing loudly and turn the music down now?”

Yoongi laughs hard leaning over you to pull your t shirt back down from your face, scattering kisses over your cheeks as he lies down flat on top of you with his head resting on your chest. It feels so good feeling the weight of his body on top of you. You comb your fingers through his hair as he tucks his hands underneath you and snuggles in, before you know it you’ve both drifted off to sleep.

You’re woken by a knocking on his door, he gets up rubbing his eyes and smiles at you stretching. He opens the door to JK standing there with a big bowl of noodles and a big smirk on his face “I figured you two would be hungry?!”

Smiling peaking through the door he shouts “Hi Y/N!!” “Hi JK!” You shout as you get up and walk to the door giving him a peck on his cheek “Thank you for the food” you quickly scurry back before the embarrassment kicks in. “It’s nice to hear you… I mean see you!” He jokes as Yoongi pushes him to leave saying “Thank you, now go” in his still half asleep tone.

You sit together eating the food, not realising how hungry you both were. “Ok!… how much longer do we have left together now then?”

4 days seemed like such a great idea at the time, you know how busy Yoongi is. It would be enough time for you to be with him for you to get your fix, without putting him under any pressure to change his plans and still have his well deserved break. Now sitting with him, you felt like every minute was being robbed from you. You already felt sick at the thought of going home.

Finishing the noodles Yoongi decides “Let’s go home”

You pick up your luggage from reception and He takes the scenic route back home, knowing how much you love to see the blossom trees but he only has eyes for you. He sees your face change as you look a little sad. The reality of just 4 days was kicking in.

“Are you ok sweets?” He asks?

“4 Days isn’t long enough!” You sob

“Don’t.. please don’t cry, please. Wait let me pull over”

“4 Days, 2 weeks…” he says taking your face in his hands “1 month, or 2. It’s never going to be long enough, I’m always going to want you with me no matter how long”

He kisses your tears, you feel better but still shit.

“Let’s make the most of what time we do have then”

You nod wiping your face.

The next few days together go by in a flash. Yoongi wakes you early each morning so he can make love to you as the sun comes up, that’s after he’s fucked you senseless the night before.

You’ve had walks along the Han River, then back to bed. Cooked food for each other, then back to bed. He’s driven you to some of his favourite secluded spots. Danced in the kitchen to Andy Williams “I love you Baby” serenading each other singing into a spatula. You’ve lounged on the sofa wrapped up in each other watching TV. There was no chill with your Netflix. There was hot and sweaty but no chill!

All the while you’ve both had this little clock counting down to your inevitable departure and today is your last full day together.

You’re both up early, showered and ready for the day, you don’t have any set plans, apart from just being with each other.

“Would it be ok if we head to the studio real quick, before we go for food? It should only take half hour, depending on how well it goes?”

“You don’t have to explain we can go no problem”

“Ok, are you good to go now or do you need more time”

“Nope!… let’s go! let’s go!”

You spend the drive to studio gazing at him the whole way there your fingers running through his hair, while he serenaded you with a power ballad playing on the radio. He pulls your hand from his hair and kisses your palm before putting it back in his hair. You feel a lump in your throat but take a deep breath and look out the window, through fear you may cry. Yoongi knows, so sings louder to make you smile.

You get to the studio and he directs you to the office chair… “Sit” he says gently pushing you into it. He seems a little nervous… he must just really need to get his work finished you think to yourself.

“It’s ok you know, I like spending…”

“Shhh” he interrupts putting his finger to his lips.

If he didn’t look so cute you’d probably punch him!

He’s busily clicking and tapping away and a little while later he turns to you gently placing a pair of headphones over your ears. “Just listen” he asks.

He sits on the sofa in front of you pulling you closer to him so you’re now facing each other. He presses play on his tablet.

You hear Yoongi clearing his throat… then…

“Y/N this is everything that I’ve been trying to say to you but haven’t been able to as I stumble over my words when I look into your eyes” you put your hand to your lips as your chin starts to tremble… “Yoo…” he interrupts you with a kiss.

His words are beautiful, amongst other things when he talks he reminds you of the time you’ve spent together, telling you he would rather go through the happiness and despair of seeing you for 4 days or 4 mins than never.

He tells you when he woke you early each morning to watch the sunrise, that he had been lying awake for at least half an hour before you so he could watch you sleep. He told you how he wanted to cancel your return ticket and set you up with a cake business here in Seoul, just so he could see you every day but he knew you would kill him.

You are a blubbering mess, a mixture of tears and Mascara streaked down your face. You look up at him laugh/crying, his eyes are filled with a mixture of anxiety and an urge to kiss you.

Then his voice returns in the headphones.

“There are six words I will never stumble over when I say them to you Y/N… I’am so in love with you”

You let out a heaving sob, as if you weren’t already emotional enough. You grab hold of his face as he pulls you from the chair over to him on the sofa.

“I love you so fucking much Yoongi” you cry.

He clamps himself to you with barely any space between you, one hand gripped round your waist and the other in your hair he’s kissing you hard and with such need you can barely take it.

You start pulling at his sweater lifting it up to get to his pants, unbuttoning them and pulling them down enough to free his perfect erection. You have never needed him inside of you more, you are literally burning inside out.

He doesn’t hesitate as he whips your sweater up and off in one swoop, he lets out a moan at the sight of your burgundy lace underwear his favourite colour on you. You may have been wearing one of his giant black sweaters for your comfort but the underwear was all for him.

He starts pulling at the tie on your pants, getting a little angry when he can’t loosen it. “Ayesh!” He whines.

“It’s a false tie” you whisper in his ear and laugh.

“Aaaaagh! He whines. “Please take them off” he demands with an epic pout.

You stand as he tucks his hands into either side of your pants and slowly pushes them down, dropping delicate kisses on your hips as you run your fingers through his hair.

As you step back out of them he pulls you to him guiding you down on to his perfectly erect cock and slides himself into you, you let out a sigh of relief. You take a few seconds to savour the feel of him inside of you before you start rocking back and forth onto him, his hands on your ass pushing himself in deeper.

He grabs hold of you and flips you down onto the sofa, he needs to fuck you and he does, so fucking well. He’s hammering away at an unforgiving pace, his moans in your ear make you call out his name.

His lips are hovering over yours as he pounds away at your hips, “Kiss me” he pleads. You feel like you’re going to explode. You kiss him, tongues gliding over each other’s, he gently sucks at your bottom lip then kisses down your neck while he fucks you so good, so hard and so fucking deep.

He feels you tighten around him as you moan out his name, “Yoongi!… fuck! fuuck! fuck me hard Yoongi, please, please don’t stop!” He doesn’t he fucks you with all he has a you cum crying out his name.

He’s not far behind you as he sucks in a deep breath through his teeth then moans out your name as he as cums. You wrap yourself round him kissing him hard both slowly rocking into each other as you come down from your high. He slowly eases himself out of you and sits back on the sofa looking at the beautiful mess he has made of you. He conveniently has tissues and wipes to the side of the sofa and you clean yourselves up.

“Ok!” He claps “Shall we go for food now?” he laughs!

“You’re insatiable Min Yoongi!”

You freshen yourselves up grab a quick drink of water and then head on out for food. Yoongi has reserved a more secluded area of the restaurant so you didn’t have to be worrying about prying eyes while you ate together.

It goes by in a flash, you don’t remember what most of the conversations were about but you know every facial expression he used as he gets real cute when he talks passionately about something.

He takes a slow drive back to his apartment, while he’s at his door searching for his key card you lean into his back holding onto him. He holds your hands to his chest while he scans the key and continues to hold you as he pulls you inside and you plod behind him. He turns, pecking you on the lips and cuddles you in tight as you both take in a deep breath. You have less than 5 hours before you have to check in. It fucking hurts.

After taking a shower together, you change in to one of his t shirts and lay on the bed. He slides over to you and pulls you in to him. “Can we just stay like this till I have to go?” You cry into his chest. “Yes, just what I wanted” he says as he squeezes you a little tighter.

You talk about plans for when you can next meet up. He already has FaceTime calls booked in for you in his schedule for the next few months. Even during his R&R time he still has personal projects he needs to work on but he promised he will make sure to call when he can. It’s worked fine for you both in the past but now your closer to leaving it all feels a little more desperate.

The final hour together flies by not helped by you dry humping each other and having a full make out session for most of it but now it’s time to go. He has his arm wrapped round you till you get to the car. On the drive he serenades you again. He’ll do anything to make you smile but it doesn’t work.

Yoongi can only drive you to the airport and say his goodbyes in the car. He pulls up to the airport car park, leans over to you pulling you in and kisses you passionately. “I really don’t want to but I’m going to go head in, I think it’s only going to be harder the longer I stay, I’ll be texting you till I’m in the air anyway” you say crying.

“Ok” he says as he tries to quickly wipe a tear away from his face.

“I love you so hard Yoongi, do you know?.”

You lean in to kiss him as he pulls you in by your collar. “Text me when you’ve checked in”

He’s holding onto your hand tightly as he pulls it to him and kisses your palm.

“Yoongi I…” you swallow hard.

“It’s ok, I know…” he says as he wipes away another tear. You lean in for one last kiss then slowly pull away backing out of the car.

You walk to the entrance not looking back through fear you’ll run back to him. When you get to the check in desk you find your ticket has been upgraded, you bawl your eyes at the customer service team when you try to explain that your boyfriend upgraded you as a surprise but the sounds you make are illegible as they slowly push a box of tissues in your direction with an awkward smile.

You text him to let him know you’ve checked in and to thank him for the upgrading your ticket, he replies letting you know it took all of his strength to not cancel it completely! You tell him to not text and drive but he replies letting you know he’s still sat in the car park not wanting to leave. “Please go home and be safe, I love you” you tell him.

He replies “I will, when you are up in the air and I know I can’t drag you back to me!”

You start boarding, doing your best to smile as you’re greeted by the attendants. Your phone pings as you’re getting yourself seated, you’re not used to the fancy premier 1st class but you’re enjoying it. Getting yourself comfortable you check your messages.

His texts reads “check your email”

You check and there’s a audio file attached. You load the file putting your headphones in and it’s his recording reminiscing of the past 4 days together. Your throat is sore from trying to hold in your cry, you listen to it on repeat as you drift in and out of sleep while his voice plays in your ears. You watch some TV to pass the time but all you’re thinking about is him.

You arrive in London the wait for your connecting flight back home to Newcastle is short thankfully. You eventually get back to your apartment, kick off your shoes and coat and throw yourself in your bed and cry your eyes out, totally overwhelmed you fall asleep.

You wake nearly 3 hours later to your phone vibrating. You’ve missed calls from your family checking in and calls and texts from Yoongi also checking in.

You try to call him but it goes to voicemail, you know he’ll reply when he can. You text him “Just woke up, sorry. Speak to you when you’re free, I love you”

You potter around sorting your laundry, catch up on work emails and get emotional when making a bowl of noodles! You try to keep yourself busy then your phone vibrates it’s Yoongi calling.

“Hello Lover… are you ok?” He asks.

“Yeah I’m good, missing you though”

“I have a package on its way to you so I wanted to make sure you were up to receive it, the tracker says it’s minutes away”

“What is it, I’ve told you to not waste your money. Save it for when you buy me a house” you laugh.

“Not telling, it’s a surprise, hopefully you can have some fun with it though” he laughs

Just then there’s a loud knock on the door.

“Oooooh this might be it now! Hold on while I get it Yoongi”

Another loud knock. Holding the phone to your ear with one hand you unlock your door with the other…

“Hi… I missed you”

“What the fuck?!” You slam the door in shock.

“Fuck! Sorry!” You say scrambling to open it again still with the phone to your ear. He’s laughing so hard as you open it to him. Standing there looking so fucking perfect.

“I’m sor…” you start to say as he slams himself into you, pushing you through your door, picking you up as you wrap yourself around him sloppily kissing each other.

“When did you?”

“I was in the car park waiting for you to get up in the air and thought, fuck it. So I booked the tickets while I waited, I drove back home packed some clothes and got the next flight out, I was only a few hours behind you!”

“How long do I have you for?” You ask

“4 days…” he quips

“Whaat!? Just 4 days?!” You whine

“Nah you’ve got me for two weeks I just wanted to show you how it felt!”

“Dick head!” You laugh as you pull him by his belt buckle to your bedroom…

Mature Content

Over 18’s Only

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Track List…

Leaning over the counter you gaze adoringly at your boyfriend, watching as he cooks up another no doubt delicious meal.

“Taste this please…”

Yoongi holds out a spoon to your lips

“Tell me what you think?”

“Yes Chef!” You take a taste “Ooh… That That I Like It” you smirk

He rolls his eyes and continues cooking.

“Should I make some rice to go with it?” He asks

“No, not today!” You grin

He tips his head back and let’s out a groan.

You slide round the work top moving closer to him.

He’s playing it cool giving you the side eye but you spot the corner of his mouth raise ever so slightly. Which only encourages you to aggravate him more.

You start bopping your head and shaking your hips, moving closer towards him as you bump your hips against his.

“Stop iiiit!” He laughs.

“Hey! I don’t need Permission to Dance!”

“Aaaaaaggh!… please Y/N!” Still laughing.

Standing behind him you wrap your arms around his waist, kissing his shoulders.

He lifts his arm up and over getting you in a gentle head lock and pulling you up to him as he plants a kiss firmly on your lips.

“Now do you regret teasing me because I couldn’t remember a couple of your hundred song titles?” You ask.

“No, no I don’t… not if it means you’ll grind your hips up against me just to tease me. Can I make one request though… please can we do it again but with our clothes off?”

Your mouth wide open, you gasp…

“Aaaaah” he says “Finally! no more witty comebacks eh, are you struggling to find an answer?” He teases.

“No…” you say as you scoot yourself up on the counter, legs wide open. “You guys just never wrote a song titled… Please stop talking and fuck me over this kitchen counter now”

He flicks the hobs off, flings the utensils in the sink as he moves over to you and positions himself between your legs. Grabbing your hips pulling you to him, he kisses you hard and whispers in your ear “You’re My Universe”.

Mature Content

Over 18’s Only

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Keep Off…

“Everyone assumes I just sit in here all day or that they can’t speak to me, I can’t be disturbed if I’m in the studio… I don’t know how that started. I mean obviously if I’m busy and have a deadline to meet then I’m more focused on the task but I do take breaks. I do do other things than just stay in here. People can come and see me, I must come across as pretty boring if they think that’s all I do?”

“Oh ok, does that mean I can come and sit in with you while you work then?”

“No” he laughs

“Dickhead!” You smile

“I wouldn’t get anything done…”

“That’s not fair you know I wouldn’t make a sound”

“That’s the thing, anyone else I can cope with but you don’t have to make a sound to distract me, you alone are distraction enough!”

You huff… “so anyone can be with you in your studio except for me… your girlfriend?”

“Pretty much…” he smiles

“Fine…”

“Wait, are you upset?”

“Nope, it’s all good. Thank you for clarifying”

He reaches his hand over to your thigh. You quickly stand “ok well I’m going in the shower, I’ll let you get on, I don’t want to keep you from your work”

You know you’re being petty but you can’t help it, your favourite thing to do is watch him work. You get so turned on by him just being himself, his little expressions and mannerisms as well as his hands.

Those fucking hands, even watching him prepping food turns you on and now he’s stopping you from getting your fix.

You head to the shower. 10mins later you hear the door to the bathroom click open, Yoongi walks up to the shower door pressing himself against it as he watches you lathering yourself up. “Can I join you?” He asks.

“No… sorry… I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on getting myself clean, I mean if it were anybody else wanting to join it would be fine but I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on washing myself if…”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Sorry… I just really need to focus” you say rubbing the soapy bubbles across your breasts, staring straight at him tweaking your nipples as you go.

He presses himself up harder against the shower door, his mouth open as he watches you bend over lathering up your legs making sure he has full view of your ass.

His forehead flush against the door he lets out a frustrated moan.

You straighten up and start rubbing the soap over your stomach, swirling it around moving your hands up to your breasts lathering the soap around them.

You move your hand slowly down to your pussy. He bites his lip “Please Y/N…” he pleads. You can see his erection pushing against the shower door.

You’re so turned on by the pleading look on his face, you slide two fingers slowly inside, you moan “Suugaa”.

He can’t take it. He bursts through the door fully clothed his arm instantly round your waist as the other grabs the back of your neck gripping your hair, he kisses you hard pushing you up against the tiled wall.

Your hands move immediately to his hair, you hitch your leg up against his hip, he slides his fingers into you as you start to slowly fuck against them.

“Please fu…” you begin to say. Before you even finish he’s desperately trying to rid himself of his soaking wet pj bottoms while you pull at his wet t shirt.

“Aaaagh! I’ve never had to fight this hard with my clothes before!!” As you both laugh

“Your underwear isn’t this hard to take off when it’s wet!” He laughs. Slapping his chest you tell him “Hurry the fuck up… please!”

He’s frantically stamping himself out of them…

“Ok… where were we” he smiles

“In me…” you moan

He flips you round as you steady yourself with your hands against the wall, he grabs your hips pulling them towards him. He slides himself slowly into you as you savour every inch of him, you both let out a satisfied moan. He starts fucking away, slamming into you and taking his frustrations out on your hips.

You’re pleading for him to “Fuck me Yoongi!” He has one hand on your shoulder and the other squeezing your ass as he hammers away. He pulls you back to him as he starts kissing hard down your neck

“Fuuuck Y/N” he moans. You reach round grabbing a hold of his ass digging your nails in as he continues to pound away at you.

You can barely get your breath as you feel a ping in the pit of your stomach and you tighten yourself around him.

“Fuck please, please… wait oh god I’m going to cum” you cry out.

“Me too lover” he whispers with his deep voice in your ear, seconds later you peak together. He lets out a satisfied “Aaaaggghh!” as he holds you tightly to him.

Your legs are weak as he eases himself from you, gently turning you round and kisses you sloppily.

You pull the shower head over to you both and freshen yourselves up. Handing you a towel he takes you by the hand over to the bed.

You lay there cheeks flushed as you watch him dry himself down and put on some dry pj bottoms.

His perfectly toned body and long wet hair making you clench your thighs together as you bite your lip, you put your face in your hands and let out a little scream.

“What?… what is it” he asks confused by your reaction. “You can come in the studio, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset…”

“No, no it’s ok… I’ve come to realise that I would continue to be a distraction… I can’t be in the same room as you and not want to touch you or have you touch me” you blush.

“I would only want to cum in your studio”

“Yeah?… well I can focus on that too” he smirks.

In The Night | jjk

pairing: stalker!jungkook + fem/afab!reader

word count: 2.3k

genre: smut, yandere, thriller

warnings: stalking, male masturbation, female masturbation, obsessive thoughts, yandere behavior, mention of filming without consent, vibrator use, body worship, breaking and entering, use of “princess”, it’s hot

— synopsis: When you find out that the shy tech guy has been watching you at night, you take matters into your own hands.

Eleven P.M. on the dot. It’s almost time. Excitement bubbles in your stomach, nerves flowing from your toes to your fingertips. Immediately, you open your window just enough to leave a crack. Then, you sift through your dresser for something just right. Walking around in a bra and panties would be too obvious—you have to keep up the clueless act as best you can, but still be a tease.

So, you fish out an old shirt you had accidentally made into a too-short-to-wear-to-the-grocery-store crop tee, the graphic on the front more than halfway cut off. It’s perfect to show off the expanse of your stomach, which is key for what’s to come. Perhaps you can go with only that and panties—no doubt it would be game-changing, but you still grab for your heart pattern sleep shorts that do wonders for the shape of your ass. It’s perfect, and just in time.

Eleven-Ten P.M. He’s here. Adrenaline pumps through you at a speed incomprehensible, putting your heart to the test as you can practically hear it pounding. Remember, play it cool. You’re not supposed to know that he’s watching.

Yes, the hot, nerdy tech guy that seems to lose all collectiveness around you watches you through your window every single night. And honestly, you love it.

Of course, you’ve had the inner monologue about how it’s supposed to creep you the fuck out and that you probably should have called the cops by now. But that just wouldn’t be any fun, now would it?

Keep reading

Falling petals (Seokjin x reader) (Hanahaki Au)

Hanahaki Disease: “disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns feelings romantically or when the victim dies. It can also be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim’s feelings for that person also disappears.”

Origin: hanahaki comes from Japanese words Hana (花）”flower” and hakimasu.. “to throw up.”

“And I will give up this fight, cause I can’t make you love me if you don’t.”

~ 🌸 ~

Y/N POV:

“Shoot!” you shout a quick expletive as you seemingly trip over air and lose your balance, crashing down to the ground where your camera shatters. “Oh, no,” you mutter, thinking how you would be in so much trouble.

A pair of urgent-sounding footsteps reaches closer to you, and you look up to see a handsome man, wearing circular glasses and a pink shirt, helping you pick up the shards.

“Are you alright?” he asks kindly, looking at you with his beautiful brown eyes.

“I - I’m fine,” you stutter in awe of his good looks.

“Here, I’ll help you pick this mess up.” He leans down and begins picking up the shards once again, and you help him.

Once you and him finished picking up the shards, he extends his hand to you.

“I’m Seokjin, and I major in filming.”

“I’m Y/N,” you say, shaking his hand. “It’s weird, I’ve never seen you before, and I also major in filming.”

“Oh, I start today,” he says somewhat shy. “After I heard a crash, I ran over to investigate and help. Also, could I ask you a favor? Could you show me around the school?”

You were struck by the kindness of this beautiful stranger. “Of course! It’s the least I can do after you helped me pick up the mess!”

“It’s no problem, really,” he says happily. “By the way, I have an extra camera I brought with me, and I’m happy to lend it to you.”

“Thank you so much!” you beam. “Come on, I’ll show you around the campus.

That day was the beginning of your and Jin’s friendship. You two would walk to class together, chatting about anything, really. Jin would always run up to you, in the morning, shouting, “Y/N! Y/N!”

You would stop and wait, smiling. He’d catch up to you, out of breath.

“Y/N! I have a joke for you!”

“Not again,” you tease. You always loved his jokes no matter how cringy they were.

“What type of tea can be bitter and sweet at the same time? RealiTEA!”

He begins laughing which always resembled windshield wipers, and at that point, you couldn’t hold in your laughter anymore. You both doubled over in front of the university where people stare at you two, questioning your mental health. But you couldn’t care less, because every time Jin laughs, it fills you with a warm feeling of happiness that was contagious.

~ 🌸 ~

It was the night you called him, crying about your stupid ex, that you realized finally, that you loved him— more than a friend. And as you were sitting there, feeling safe in his embrace, you realized you were in some deep shit, but at that time, you couldn’t care less.

So you hid it from him. From fear, from denial, you weren’t sure. But one day, Jin showed up at your door, his smile shining.

“Wow, what’s gotten you so happy?” you ask after you invite him in.

“Not what— who,” he says dreamily. Your heart soars, but drops back on the ground, after you hear his next words. “Her name’s Rachel. I bumped into her today, and she was so nice, cute, and sweet!”

You feel a pang in your chest, and a burning in your throat. You could feel your heart physically shattering in two, as you heard his words.

“Thats’s great!” you say, somewhat fakely. “I’m so happy for you, Jin!” And that was true. He deserved so much better than you, and you could see this Rachel person made him happy. Still, you could not ignore the throbbing in your chest.

“Anyway, I’ll be going now,” Jin says cheerfully, not noticing your sadness. “I’ll tell you more details later!”

After he left, you slid down, against the wall, where your throat was still burning and tears streamed down your face. You start crying, huge sobs that left your whole body shaking. It was official. Jin was gone. His heart now belonged to someone else, and that someone was not you. To your horror, you began coughing up pink peonies, Jin’s favorite flower. Despite your state, you manage to recall a memory: one of your favorite cousins, sobbing while coughing up beautiful flower petals.

It was called Hanahaki. Hanahaki is an illness one suffers from an unrequited love, and the symptoms are coughing up flower petals. You stared in alarm at the peonies that you continued to cough up. You were now a victim of the Hanahaki disease.

~ 🌸 ~

You managed to hide it from Jin, always using the toilet, and flushing the flower petals. The worst was when you met Rachel. She was astonishingly beautiful, just as Jin said, and kind as well. As much as you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate this person. That night, you coughed up a whole peony, stem and all.

Eventually, Jin found out after he went to check up on you, and found you liking stunning, yet toxic peonies covered with speck of blood.

He helped clean up after you, and you gave him the explanation of what you were suffering from.

“Who do you love, Y/N?” he asked, his compassionate eyes filled with worry. “That person is clearly an idiot for not loving you. You’re smart, beautiful, and kind with a pure heart.” At those words, you cough up another storm of petals, knowing that though he meant those words, he will still never love you in the way that you love him.

“It’s no one important,” you say weakly, throat burning. “I already know he doesn’t love me, so I’m going to get surgery tomorrow to get it removed. The only side effect of this is that I will lose feelings for the person.”

“I’ll take you tomorrow, Y/N! It hurts me to see you suffering.”

You smile kindly at him, still marveling at the fact that he was always so thoughtful.

The next morning, he drove you to the hospital; the whole time you were coughing up petals.

He stayed with you throughout the whole thing, holding your hands and giving you support which always caused a storm of petals to erupt.

He held your hand while you were being rolled into surgery. At the door, where you were supposed to part, you signaled for the doctors to hold on.

“Jin, I need to tell you something,” you say, your voice rasp from the petals. He leaned in, listening attentively.

“It was you. It’s always been you.” He opened his mouth to speak, but you shushed him. “Shh, I know what you’re going to say. I’ve known for a while. You love me platonically but not romantically. I just wanted to say that it was an honor and a privilege to have you as my first love. You are so kind and caring, since he first day we met. I loved your laughter, our bickering, our conversations, everything. I love you so much, Jin,” you say, your voice cracking on the verge of tears. “And I will always love you. But I don’t want to be a burden on you, especially when you love someone else. Goodbye, Jin. You are one of the brightest stars in the universe, and I was lucky enough to experience your light and warmth.”

You motioned the doctors to start walking again, holding back tears when you see a frantic Jin banging on the doors, tears streaming down his face. You close your eyes, not wanting to see his distraught face, and soon enough you fall into a deep slumber.

When you come to, your eyelids which felt heavy, caught the sight of Jin who was sobbing, surrounded by a heap of cherry blossoms, your favorite flower.

“Why,” he sobbed. “Why, why, why?” he muttered, tears cascading down his cheeks, and you watched as another single petal fell slowly to the ground.

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ ° ┊ ˚ ✩. ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ .✫ ° ┊ ⊹ ┊ ┊

┊ ✫. ┊ ☪︎⋆ ° ┊ .✫ ┊

┊ ⊹ °┊ ☪︎ ⋆ ┊

☪︎ ⋆. ┊. ˚ ˚✩

┊

˚✩

→ The chasing, series masterlist.

Where you're the one chasing them or being chased by them. Now choose, because they already did.

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Navigation Masterlist.

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