The Plot - Tumblr Posts

thinking about how deep the hunger metaphor runs in haikyuu

. , lilac , p.js (☂️)

IN WHICH: you liked jay a lot, but your innocent crush soon spiraled into an obsession, blurring the line between fantasy and reality, as your thoughts twisted into something darker than you expected. GENRE: fluff, slightly dark (?). WARNING(S): obsession, stalking, mentions of accident, kissing, not proofread, lmk if I missed anything. WORD COUNT: 7.8k

LIKE THE FLOATING CLOUD — Changing schools wasn’t on your wishlist, but here you were. It had been a long time since you’d recovered from the accident, and life had thrown you yet another curveball—starting over in a new place. Just weeks ago, you'd woken up from a coma, expecting some form of respite from life’s relentless challenges. But the world doesn’t pause, does it? You were thrust into yet another whirlwind, this time, school. New faces, new halls, and new pressures to bear.

The morning sunlight gleamed off the freshly polished windows of the sprawling campus, casting reflections that danced across the pavement. The building loomed before you—its modern glass façade glimmering in stark contrast to the worn, familiar bricks of your old school. You stopped for a moment, taking in its sheer size. “Damn,” you muttered under your breath, barely aware of the words slipping from your mouth. “They have a better infrastructure than my previous school.”

Stepping inside, the scent of fresh paint and newly waxed floors hit you, a stark reminder of just how new everything was. The halls were alive with the buzz of students rushing to get to their first classes. Lockers slammed, sneakers squeaked against the tile floors, and the faint hum of conversation filled the air. You watched them—groups of friends laughing, others buried in their phones or textbooks, weaving through the maze of hallways like they’d been doing it forever.

It felt strange, seeing all this after months confined to the stillness of a hospital bed. A stark contrast to the sterile walls and cold, white lights you had grown so familiar with. The vibrant chaos of school was both overwhelming and comforting in a way. You stood there for a moment, just observing, soaking in the life you’d almost forgotten. The sight of students hurrying to their classes, backpacks bouncing against their shoulders, gave you a sense of normalcy. The halls were bright, lined with posters of school events, sports team victories, and upcoming dances—everything you’d missed out on for what felt like a lifetime.

You clutched the straps of your bag a little tighter, pulling it further up your shoulder, almost as if it would anchor you in this unfamiliar place. You could feel the faintest bit of nervous energy rising within you, the kind that makes your heart beat just a little faster. But you weren’t going to let it overwhelm you. Not today.

As you passed by a few students gathered in the corridor, you could hear bits of their conversation. “Did you finish the homework for Mr. Park's class?” one asked, flipping through her notebook. The other girl nodded, her head buried in a thick textbook. You glanced at them, envy prickling the edges of your mind. They belonged here, and you… well, you were still finding your place.

“Alright,” you whispered to yourself, straightening up and taking a deep breath. “New school, new start.” With one last glance at the crowded hallway, you made your way toward your first class, determined to make this day yours, no matter how alien everything felt.

HELLO, HELLO LIKE A PETAL — Not even a week into your new school, you saw him for the first time—the class president. You didn’t know his name yet, but something about him drew your attention. He moved with quiet confidence, guiding students through their doubts with ease, his voice calm, yet commanding. His presence was magnetic, the way he gestured with his hands as he explained a complex problem, or the soft smile he gave when someone finally understood.

“Do you like him?” Semi, the girl sitting next to you, nudged your arm gently, her teasing grin barely concealed behind her hand. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the heat creeping up your neck. How could you like someone this early? It was ridiculous.

“I’ve never even seen him before today,” you muttered, pretending to focus on the scribbles in your notebook, though the lines blurred together as your thoughts wandered. “I don’t like him… not yet, at least.” You added a nervous chuckle, but your eyes refused to stray from him.

It wasn’t until he glanced back—straight at you—that your heart betrayed you, hammering against your chest as if it had been caught in the act. He walked over, each step deliberate, his posture straight and assured. You could feel Semi's gaze burning into the side of your face, her amusement at your sudden silence barely restrained.

“You haven’t submitted your assignment yet,” he said, his tone polite but firm, snapping you out of your daze. His eyes were kind, though, like he didn’t even notice the way your hands fumbled nervously with your pen as you nodded, barely able to form words.

“I’ll, uh, get that to you… soon,” you stammered, mentally kicking yourself. Of course, a guy like him wouldn’t even blink in your direction beyond official school matters. He was the class president, for crying out loud—probably too busy managing a thousand other things to even notice you.

As he turned to walk away, Semi was quick to jump in with a teasing whisper, “Girl, you’re down bad.” She let out a soft snicker as you glared at her, your heart still racing from the brief encounter.

Your eyes followed him despite yourself, as if they couldn’t tear away from the sight of him—his tall figure moving with that same effortless grace. It was just a simple conversation, nothing more than a sentence or two exchanged. But it left a mark, one that you knew would linger. Something about him seemed like a beacon, and you weren’t ready to look away.

“Well, that’s one way to make an impression,” you murmured to yourself, sighing quietly. It was ridiculous how so little could feel like so much.

LIKE THE SPRING BREEZE — You were still new at school, trying to adjust to the routine, but at least you had made one friend—Semi. She was your lifeline in this sea of unfamiliar faces, and with her by your side, school didn’t seem as daunting anymore. And then, there was Jay. You’d finally learned his name, not that it had been hard. He was popular, almost too popular.

One search of his Instagram, and you were greeted with hundreds of likes and comments from not just your school but people outside as well. He had that effortless charm, the kind that made people gravitate toward him. Maybe that was why you were crushing on him so hard—or maybe it was the way his smile seemed to light up the hallway whenever he passed by.

You found yourself scrolling through his feed late at night, learning everything you could without actually knowing him. You knew when his birthday was, how he liked his coffee, and what his favorite band was. And today, you decided to make a move, something small but hopefully memorable. You bought him a pastry, a cute little cupcake from the bakery down the street, wrapped it in a box with a neat little bow, and headed straight for his locker before school started.

Standing in front of his locker, you took a deep breath, placing the box inside. The nerves were eating you alive, but you didn’t want to back out now. Just as you turned around to leave, you froze. There he was. Jay, standing right behind you, his expression a mix of curiosity and confusion.

His voice broke the silence. “What are you doing?” He asked, his hand brushing against yours as he reached for the box. The contact sent a jolt up your spine, making your heart race even faster.

Your mouth went dry, but you managed to stammer out, “It’s your birthday, right? I, uh... got you these.” You held out the cupcake, your smile shaky as you tried to mask how flustered you were.

Jay blinked, glancing between you and the cupcake before offering a polite smile. “Thanks, but... do I know you?”

The words hit harder than they should have. You felt your heart drop into your stomach, the awkwardness thick in the air. He didn’t even know you? All this time, you’d been working up the courage to talk to him, and he didn’t even recognize you. Ouch. You forced a smile, trying to save face, but the sting of embarrassment was hard to shake off.

“We’re in the same class. I’m the new student,” you muttered, your voice a little quieter, hoping this wouldn’t be as humiliating as it felt.

Jay’s eyes widened slightly, realization dawning. “Oh, right. I must’ve forgotten. Sorry about that.” He gave you another smile, the kind that was polite but distant. “Thanks for this.” He held up the box, gave you a nod, and with that, he walked away, leaving you standing there with your pride in pieces.

You couldn’t help the frustrated sigh that escaped your lips as you watched him go. “Such a bastard,” you mumbled under your breath, though there wasn’t any real anger behind it. Just exasperation. Despite the awkwardness, you still found yourself drawn to him. How could you not? The way he walked, the way his shoulders moved with an effortless swagger—there was something about him that just pulled you in.

But then again, you weren’t the only one. You’d seen the way other girls looked at him, the way they’d flock to him like moths to a flame. You were just another admirer in a sea of them. And yet, here you were, feeling like this tiny interaction, awkward as it was, was something special. Maybe it was your first real conversation with him, but it was something.

LOVE RESEMBLES MISTY DREAMS — Love, for you, felt like one of those foggy dreams you have just before waking up—the kind where everything is hazy, but you can still remember the emotions. It was no longer just a feeling but a reality you crafted for yourself. Everything was deliberate, including the way you “accidentally” bumped into Jay in the hallways or “coincidentally” ended up in places where he usually went after school. Some might call it stalking, but you thought of it as strategic planning. After all, you just wanted to talk to him—get to know him.

And then, one day, you got your golden opportunity. How? You joined the History Club. You absolutely loathed history. Memorizing dates, names, and ancient events was the last thing you wanted to do, but none of that mattered when Jay was the club leader. You’d force yourself to endure it, just for a few moments with him.

Today was one of those long club meetings, the kind that dragged on forever as Jay led the discussion while you sat across the room, your eyes barely leaving him. The topic was something about ancient dynasties—honestly, you weren’t paying attention. Instead, you had focused on making your notes look as neat and perfect as possible, hoping to catch his eye with the colorful highlighters and meticulous doodles. When you finished, you slid over to where he was sitting, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Jay, how does this look?” you asked, handing over your notebook with a hopeful smile.

Jay barely glanced at the notes before his brows furrowed in confusion. “It’s... nice. But, um, you shouldn’t have used so many highlighters. It’s kinda hard to read with all the colors.” His tone was polite, but it still stung a little. Semi, who was sitting beside you, covered her mouth to hide her laughter, shaking her head as she continued working on her own notes.

“Oh... okay.” You tried not to let your disappointment show, but it was hard. Your enthusiasm had deflated like a balloon, and the frown tugging at your lips was a clear giveaway. Trying to keep your cool, you casually pulled out a small, wrapped box from your bag and slid it toward him, as if this were a completely normal thing to do.

Semi’s eyes widened, her shock evident. She was always amused by how bold you were when it came to Jay, but this—this was a new level. Jay blinked in confusion, his gaze flickering between you and the box now in front of him.

“What’s this for?” he asked, a small crease forming on his forehead. He picked up the box, turning it over in his hands as if trying to figure out why you’d given it to him.

You swallowed nervously. “I, uh, made some cookies for you.”

There. You said it. No going back now. You could practically hear Semi holding back her laugh, but you didn’t dare look at her. Your eyes were glued to Jay, waiting for his reaction. He stared at the box for a moment, looking almost... awkward. His smile was tight, as if he didn’t quite know how to handle the situation.

“Oh... thanks,” he said, his voice uncertain, like he was trying to be nice but wasn’t sure how to accept this gesture. He shifted his weight, glancing around the room as if searching for an escape route, and that small gesture hit you harder than you expected.

Your heart sank. The realization washed over you like a cold wave—he wasn’t interested. He probably had girls giving him gifts all the time, and you were just another admirer in the crowd. The worst part? He was too polite to brush you off outright, which only made you feel worse. The room began to clear out, and soon, it was just the two of you left, the silence hanging heavy between you.

You fiddled with the edge of your notebook, finally breaking the quiet with a question you dreaded asking but couldn’t keep inside any longer. “Do I... do I annoy you?”

Jay’s head snapped up at your words, his eyes wide with surprise. “What? No! Of course not.”

But you could tell from the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. He was trying to be kind, but his discomfort was impossible to ignore. You forced a smile, but the hurt still crept into your voice.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, waving it off as if it didn’t matter. As if your heart wasn’t breaking a little.

Jay hesitated, his fingers tightening around the box of cookies you had given him. He looked almost guilty now, as if he knew how much his reaction had affected you. Without saying anything, he opened the box and took one of the heart-shaped cookies, biting into it quietly. You watched as he chewed slowly, his gaze drifting to the floor.

The silence that followed felt heavy, awkward, and filled with all the unsaid things that lingered in the air between you. It wasn’t much, but seeing him eat the cookies you made—even though you knew they weren’t going to change anything—was enough to make you feel a small flicker of hope again, even if just for a moment.

I LIKE THE SCENT OF TODAY — As if life had its own twisted way of pulling strings, you eventually grew closer to Jay—or at least, that’s what you told yourself. Bonding over history wasn’t something you ever anticipated, but somehow, there you were. It had been five months. Five months of stolen glances, hushed conversations, and countless moments where you felt your heart skip a beat just from being near him.

Five months of wondering why Jay didn’t push you away. Despite knowing your feelings, he had never told you to stop. Sure, you had followed him home once or twice—okay, maybe more than once. But the strange thing was, he noticed. He noticed and he never did anything to stop you. Instead, he fed your one-sided affection with smiles that lingered a bit too long and conversations that bordered on intimate. It confused you. Sometimes you wondered why he acted as if he was leading you on, yet at other times, it felt like he was just being kind out of some sort of obligation.

You remembered one afternoon clearly. It was just the two of you in the History Club room. The other members had gone out for a break, and the quiet settled between you like a soft, suffocating blanket. Jay was engrossed in some text about ancient civilizations, flipping through the pages with a look of calm concentration. You, on the other hand, couldn’t focus. Your eyes kept drifting toward him, your mind racing with the questions you had been holding in for weeks.

“Jay? Stop talking about historical monuments,” you muttered softly, breaking the silence. You’d lost track of how long he’d been going on about some ancient ruin. Normally, you’d let him talk—it was one of the things you liked about him. But today was different. There was something bubbling inside you, a feeling that couldn’t be ignored any longer.

Jay blinked, startled by your interruption. He looked up from his book, his dark eyes meeting yours with a curious glint. “Oh?” he asked, his voice tinged with confusion. He set the book aside, leaning back in his chair, and raised an eyebrow. “Then, what do you want to talk about?”

Before you could respond, he casually reached out, gripping the arm of your chair and pulling it closer to his. The sudden movement caught you off guard, and now your knees almost brushed his. You felt a blush creeping up your neck, your heart fluttering in your chest as you looked down, avoiding his gaze.

But you had to ask. You had to know. Swallowing your nerves, you looked back up at him, eyes searching his for some kind of answer. “Jay? Why are you doing this?”

He frowned, clearly not understanding what you meant. “Doing what?” he asked, his tone casual, but you could tell he was puzzled. His gaze flickered to the small, wrapped gift boxes and notes that littered his desk—tokens of affection from his admirers, yourself included. You watched his eyes settle on the trinkets, as if they might hold the answer.

You followed his gaze, feeling a knot of frustration tightening in your chest. “Accepting my gifts, I mean… and talking to me,” you clarified, your voice quieter now, but firm. You hated the way your heart felt heavy, as if you were bracing for a truth you didn’t want to hear. “Why do you talk to me like this? Why do you make me feel like there’s something between us?”

Jay seemed taken aback by your bluntness. He glanced back at you, a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips as he looked away again, his fingers tracing the edge of the nearest gift box. “Oh, that… they were nice,” he muttered after a moment, his tone flat.

Nice? That was it? You felt the sting of his words, the casual way he dismissed what meant so much to you. “That’s the only reason?” you asked, frowning as you leaned back slightly, feeling the weight of disappointment settle in.

“Yeah.” His response came without hesitation, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your frustration simmered, but more than that, there was a growing ache in your chest. How could he be so oblivious? You stood up, pushing your chair back with a scrape that echoed through the empty room. “Jay, don’t you think someone might not give this kind of stuff to just a friend?” You didn’t care if you sounded angry now—hell, you were angry. Angry, hurt, and confused.

Jay met your gaze, his expression unreadable. He didn’t flinch. “I know.”

You blinked, your frown deepening. “You know?” The words felt like a punch, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “Then why are you leading me on?”

Jay lowered his head, his hair falling slightly over his eyes as he let out another sigh. His voice was quieter when he spoke, tinged with something that almost sounded like regret. “I know that you like me,” he admitted. “But… I don’t think I want to love anyone anytime soon.”

You froze, the air between you thick with unsaid words. The way he said it was like a door closing—a gentle but firm rejection. He wasn’t even trying to keep you there, to stop you from walking out. He just sat there, looking down, his hands resting on the table as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest, but then curiosity took over. “Why not?” you asked, stepping closer. The hurt was still there, but now there was something else—an ache to understand. “Why don’t you want to love someone?”

Jay looked up, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before they darted away again. He hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper when he finally spoke. “I’m afraid of loving someone… and getting hurt.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. There was a vulnerability in his tone that made you hesitate, but you pushed that aside. Instead, you took a deep breath, letting the silence stretch for a moment before you stepped even closer, a sudden idea forming in your mind.

“Then…” You paused, feeling the weight of your words. “How about you date me until graduation? And once the spring comes, we’ll part ways.” You smiled softly, the sadness lingering behind it as you met his eyes again. “Love me only until this spring.”

Jay’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by your proposal. You could see the conflict in his gaze, the way he wanted to say no but hesitated. He looked down at the pile of gifts again, his fingers brushing the edge of one of the boxes before he finally sighed, shaking his head softly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he murmured, his voice unsure.

You bit your lip, stepping even closer. “Oh, c’mon! Please?” You knew how desperate you sounded, how much like a lovestruck fool you must’ve appeared. But you didn’t care. You couldn’t let this chance slip away—not when you were this close.

Jay looked up at you, really looked at you this time. His eyes searched yours for something, and after a long pause, he let out a resigned sigh. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice soft but clear. “I’ll love you… only until this spring.”

And as he spoke, he gazed at you, his expression unreadable as his eyes flickered to the gifts on his desk—reminders of the fleeting nature of the affection people offered him. You couldn’t help but wonder if, just maybe, this was the start of something that could last longer than a single season.

LOVE ME ONLY ‘TIL THIS SPRING — Spring had barely begun to unfurl its vibrant colors, but you already felt the weight of an unspoken clock ticking down. Two months remained until graduation, and with it, the end of your deal with Jay—no strings, no lasting attachments, just a fleeting experience of dating. But for you, it was never just that. You had been attached long before this "spring romance" ever started, yet here you were, clinging to his arm like a lifeline, trying to savor each moment despite the cold reality of an expiration date.

Walking down the crowded hallway, your grip on his arm tightened. The judgmental glances from other students followed you both, sharp and filled with disdain, as though they couldn't understand why Jay, the untouchable, mysterious boy, was with you. You knew the looks well—they stung, but they didn’t surprise you. This whole thing was supposed to be temporary, just a silly experiment. Yet, the knot in your chest told a different story. You were already in too deep.

Jay, on the other hand, remained indifferent. His usual stoic expression hadn't changed much since the two of you began this strange arrangement. He didn't stop you from holding his hand, from clinging to his arm, but he didn’t make any gestures that suggested anything deeper. He had agreed to this—dating until spring, no more, no less—but you couldn’t help but wonder: Was this all just a façade?

“Don’t you dare hurt her.” Semi, your friend, shot Jay a warning glance as the two of you passed by her near the lockers. The sharpness in her voice cut through the haze of your thoughts, bringing you back to reality. You almost winced at her words, remembering how you’d bragged about dating Jay. What would she say if she knew this was all temporary?

Jay glanced down at you, sensing your discomfort, and squeezed your hand gently. It was a small gesture, but one that momentarily eased your embarrassment. For a second, you allowed yourself to imagine that this wasn’t just for show, that maybe—just maybe—he felt something too.

The walk home after school was quiet, as usual. Jay walked beside you, his hands in his pockets, while you clutched your bag, the silence between you growing heavier with each step. Even though you had been dating for a month, it was nothing like the relationships you’d imagined. There were no sweet goodnight texts, no surprise visits, no real affection beyond holding hands. He never let you into his world—into his home or his heart.

Finally, when you reached the school gates, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. The words spilled out before you could stop them.

“Jay...” You called his name softly, biting your lip, your hand clutching your bag tighter.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable. “Mm?” was all he hummed in response, his voice low and casual.

You felt your heart race, unsure if you were being too bold or foolish, but you pressed on. “Can you kiss me?” The words came out rushed, your face heating up instantly. You almost couldn’t believe what you’d just said. “I mean—I'm your girlfriend, right... So, can you kiss me? A peck is fine too.”

Jay froze, blinking in surprise. His eyes widened slightly as if he hadn’t expected such a request from you. “Huh?” He coughed, nearly choking on his breath, clearly caught off guard by your sudden boldness. The corner of his lips twitched as though he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or be serious.

You immediately regretted it, feeling your face burn even more. The silence that followed felt agonizing. You could practically hear your own heart pounding in your chest. “Nevermind,” you mumbled, waving it off as you turned away, your shoulders slumping in defeat. Why did I say that? Embarrassment flooded through you, and you started to walk ahead, putting distance between the two of you.

But then, before you could take more than two steps, you felt a sudden tug on your wrist. Jay had grabbed you from behind, his hand firm yet gentle as he pulled you back toward him. You barely had time to turn around before he was there—his lips crashing onto yours.

The kiss was sudden, forceful, and filled with an intensity you hadn’t anticipated. His lips were soft, warm against yours, but there was something almost desperate in the way he kissed you, as if he was letting out something he had been holding back for too long. You were momentarily stunned, eyes wide in shock, but your body responded instinctively, your hands coming up to gently hold onto his shirt for support.

Jay's other hand slid to the back of your neck, his touch delicate but firm, pulling you closer as though he needed to feel your presence, to make the moment real. The world around you seemed to blur, the whispers of students, the hum of cars in the distance—all of it faded as the kiss deepened. You could feel your heartbeat hammering in your chest, but it wasn’t just because of the kiss—it was the realization that, in this brief moment, something shifted. This wasn’t the kiss of someone merely fulfilling a temporary deal.

After what felt like an eternity, Jay slowly pulled back, his breath warm against your lips. He gazed down at you, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. His hand lingered on your wrist for a second longer, as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

“I... I didn’t expect that,” you breathed out, still dazed from the kiss, your cheeks flushed as you stared up at him.

Jay didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes searching yours, as if debating whether to speak or to leave things unsaid. Finally, he muttered, “You asked for it.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

He shrugged, his lips quirking up in a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe I wanted to.” His voice was low, almost as if he hadn’t meant for you to hear it.

For a moment, you stood there, staring at each other, the weight of the unspoken emotions between you heavy in the air. Maybe this spring wasn’t just a fleeting experience. Maybe, just maybe, something real was growing between the two of you. But neither of you dared to say it aloud.

THE DAY THE LILAC FLOWERS FALL — The weekend sun shone brightly, casting a golden hue over the bustling streets as you wandered aimlessly with Semi by your side. It was a rare day of freedom, a chance to escape from the chaos of school and simply relax. Laughter filled the air as the two of you shared stories and jokes, weaving through the crowd in search of the next spot to explore.

But then, everything shifted in an instant.

Distracted by Semi's teasing, you hadn’t noticed the tall figure walking toward you until it was too late. Your shoulder brushed against his, and before you knew it, the man was glaring down at you with a look that sent a shiver down your spine. “Sorry,” you muttered quickly, lowering your head in hopes that your apology would be enough to diffuse the situation.

It wasn’t.

“Girls like you always do this.” His voice was a low, menacing growl, filled with disdain. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he suddenly reached out, grabbing your wrists with a force that made you wince. The sudden, painful grip startled you, your breath catching in your throat as fear surged through your veins.

Semi, ever the protective friend, immediately rushed forward. “Hey, let go of her!” she demanded, her voice firm despite the obvious tension. But even she hesitated slightly, clearly aware of how much stronger the guy was.

You struggled against his hold, trying to pull away, but his grip only tightened, making you feel more trapped with each passing second. Panic set in, and just as you were about to call out for help, a blur of movement caught your eye.

A sharp, powerful punch connected with the man’s face, and the sound echoed in your ears, causing everyone around to freeze. You gasped as you realized who had thrown the punch—Jay.

Your eyes widened as you watched in stunned silence. Jay had appeared out of nowhere, and now, he was standing protectively in front of you, his fists clenched and his expression dark, far more intense than you’d ever seen before. The guy stumbled back, groaning in pain, but Jay wasn’t done. He lunged forward, landing another punch, and then another, each hit more brutal than the last.

“Jay, stop!” you cried out, rushing toward him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. You had never seen him like this before, this fierce and angry. He was relentless, and the guy, now bleeding and terrified, tried to shield himself, but Jay didn’t let up.

You reached out, grabbing onto Jay’s arm from behind, desperately trying to pull him away. “Jay, please!” you pleaded, your voice shaky. “That’s enough. Please…”

At your touch, Jay finally froze. His body stiffened as if suddenly aware of what he had done. The guy on the receiving end of his punches scrambled to his feet and fled, not daring to look back, his face bloodied and bruised. You stood there, still gripping Jay’s arm, your breath shaky as you tried to process what had just happened.

Before you could say anything else, Jay turned toward you. In an instant, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. The suddenness of it made your heart skip a beat. His embrace was tight, protective, almost as if he was trying to shield you from the world. One of his hands gently stroked your hair, his touch surprisingly tender considering the fury that had consumed him moments before.

“You could’ve gotten hurt,” he muttered, his voice low and filled with concern as he buried his face into your hair, breathing deeply as if needing to calm himself down.

You stood there in his arms, completely speechless. This wasn’t the Jay you were used to—the distant, indifferent guy who rarely showed emotion. This was different. The way he held you, the way he had rushed to your side without hesitation… it felt real, it felt genuine. For the first time, he felt like a real boyfriend, and the warmth that spread through you at that realization was almost overwhelming.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile as you wrapped your arms around him in return, hugging him tightly. His scent, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—it all made you feel safe, like nothing in the world could hurt you as long as he was there. You wanted to stay in that moment forever.

But then, of course, Semi broke the silence with a loud, exaggerated cough. You could hear the barely-contained giggles bubbling up in her throat, and when you looked over, she was smirking, clearly enjoying the display of "live romance" that had unfolded before her eyes.

You felt a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your cheeks heating up as you quickly pulled away from Jay’s embrace, though part of you didn’t really want to let go. Jay cleared his throat, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he glanced between you and Semi.

“Um…” you started, but you weren’t even sure what to say. How could you even begin to explain all of this?

Semi, however, wasn’t going to let you off that easily. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a mischievous grin. “Well, that was… something,” she teased, folding her arms across her chest. “Didn’t know Jay had it in him to be a knight in shining armor.”

Jay rolled his eyes, though there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I wasn’t trying to be anything,” he muttered under his breath, but his hand found its way to yours again, fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt so natural, it made your heart flutter.

“You definitely looked the part,” Semi added, winking at you. “Seriously though, you okay? That guy was a creep.”

You nodded, still a little shaken but grateful. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks to Jay.” You glanced up at him, unable to hide the soft smile on your face. He looked down at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Good,” he said quietly, his eyes lingering on you for just a second longer. There was something in his gaze, something unspoken that made you wonder if this moment had changed things between you two—if maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t just for show anymore.

CLIMAX OF OUR WHITE SPRING DAYS — Graduation day had arrived like a ticking clock you couldn’t silence. The weight of finality pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. You stood in the sea of students, watching the world pass by in slow motion as the sun bathed everything in warm light, but inside, you felt cold.

Your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your gown as you glanced over at him—Jay—standing with his friends, laughing about something that seemed distant and unreachable. The end of your three-month dating experiment loomed over you like a dark cloud. It wasn’t just the end of school. It was the end of him, of being close to him, even if it was just pretend.

“Go talk to him.” Semi’s voice broke through the haze as she nudged you, her eyes filled with that encouraging spark she always had. But you didn’t move. How could you? You weren’t his girlfriend anymore, not even in the superficial way you'd been for these past few months.

You had no right to approach him.

Your chest tightened as you tried to steady your breath, but your eyes betrayed you, drifting back to him once more. The laughter, the movement, the noise—it all blurred, dimming around the edges until it seemed like everyone was fading away, disappearing like smoke in the wind. And then there was just him.

Only him.

The background turned white, stark and empty. The vividness of the graduation, the bright colors of everyone’s robes and caps, the cheerful chaos—all of it vanished, leaving you standing in this surreal silence.

Jay stood alone now, the only one left in this strange world that suddenly felt more dream than reality. He started walking toward you, every step deliberate, but there was something different—something ethereal.

You blinked, unsure of what you were seeing. There was a faint shimmer behind him, something soft and luminous, like wings. Wings? You blinked again, and there they were, delicate and translucent, fluttering gently with each step he took. His face was calm, serene, almost unrecognizable from the boy you'd dated. He was... otherworldly.

Your heart pounded in your chest, confusion twisting through you. “What…?” you muttered to yourself, trying to make sense of it, but nothing made sense anymore.

Jay stopped in front of you, his gaze soft and yet so intense, locking onto yours with an emotion you couldn’t place. Slowly, as if afraid he might shatter the moment, he reached up and grazed his fingers across your cheek, his touch light as a feather.

“You need to wake up now,” he whispered, his voice deeper, gentler than you'd ever heard before. “It’s been too long since you’ve been in the dark.”

His words cut through you, leaving you more confused than ever. Wake up? What did that mean? What darkness was he talking about?

You flinched at his touch, stepping back as your breath hitched. “What are you saying?” The tremor in your voice betrayed your panic. You looked around, desperate to find something familiar, something to cling to. But all you could see was the white, stretching endlessly around you. You couldn’t make sense of anything. Nothing was real.

Your hands flew to your head as a sudden pain pulsed in your temples. Flashes of light blinked before your eyes—images you couldn’t fully grasp, memories or maybe dreams, flashing too fast for you to catch. You dropped to your knees, the weight of it all crashing down on you, confusion and frustration mixing until you couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t—” Your voice cracked as you clawed at the air, scratching your head as if trying to tear away the confusion. “What’s happening?”

The ground felt soft beneath you, like clouds, but the pressure in your chest grew tighter, heavier, as if the world itself was closing in.

Jay knelt down beside you, his movements slow and calm, his eyes filled with something deep, something almost tender. He reached for you again, but you flinched, not wanting to feel the foreignness of his touch.

“Shhh,” he whispered softly, his voice like a lullaby, as his hand hovered over your head. He didn't push. He simply waited, his presence both grounding and terrifying at once. You wanted to push him away, to demand answers, but at the same time, a strange comfort wrapped around you, like a blanket in the middle of a storm.

The world flickered around you, the white light growing brighter, almost blinding.

Jay leaned closer, his face inches from yours. “It’s time to say goodnight,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. Before you could protest, before you could even think, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips gentle and reassuring.

And then, just as quickly as he had appeared, the world around you shifted. The soft white light began to darken, curling at the edges, growing darker and darker until it swallowed everything whole. The last thing you felt was Jay’s warmth before it, too, faded into the blackness. You were alone.

Your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes as the darkness wrapped around you like a heavy blanket, pulling you under.

THE END OF LILAC SPRING — The world felt like it was spinning, even though you were lying still. Blinding light from the overhead lamp above your hospital bed seeped into your barely-open eyes, burning your retinas. The persistent beep of a heart monitor echoed in the room, in time with the erratic pounding of your heart. But the voice that broke through it all— Semi's voice—was frantic, pulling you back to the surface.

“Wake up! Wake up!”

Your eyelids fluttered open fully, only to meet the concerned face of your best friend, Semi. Her hands hovered just above your blanket-covered arms, as if afraid to touch you. Her wide eyes, framed by disheveled strands of hair, looked both relieved and shaken. This wasn’t the Semi you’d known for years. There was something different about her—something less familiar, almost like she was a stranger. And that strange feeling twisted in your chest like a knife.

You blinked, trying to adjust to the light, to the sudden rush of sensations hitting you all at once—the smell of antiseptic, the sound of footsteps outside the door, the faint chatter of doctors and nurses.

But none of that mattered. Where was Jay?

“W-where’s Jay?” you gasped out, sitting up too quickly, causing a sharp tug on the tubes attached to your arms. You barely registered the IV drip dangling beside you or the oxygen clip on your finger. Your mind was racing, your heart thundering against your ribcage as you searched the sterile, white room. He had to be here. He always was.

Semi blinked, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Jay?” she echoed, her voice hesitant as she sat down on the chair beside your hospital bed, shifting uncomfortably. You could see the confusion written all over her face, like she was trying to solve a puzzle but missing the pieces.

Your heart lurched. Why wasn’t she answering? Why wasn’t he here?

“Jay!” you nearly shouted this time, the panic rising in your throat, making your voice crack. “The class leader! He was in the history club too—he was my boyfriend!” Your words tumbled out, desperate, almost pleading with her to remember.

But Semi’s expression only grew more puzzled, her lips parting slightly as if trying to find the right words. She didn’t know him.

“There’s no Jay,” she said, her voice flat, her eyes searching yours as if waiting for a reaction. “What are you even talking about? You’ve been in a coma for almost a year, and the first thing you ask about is some guy?”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. No Jay? No Jay?! You stared at her, wide-eyed, the room tilting dangerously around you. Your breath caught in your throat, and you glanced around again, your head pounding as if your brain couldn’t process what she was saying. You could barely hear the doctors' voices outside, your parents’ relieved murmurs from the corner of the room.

“I—I don’t understand.” Your voice trembled, and your fingers clutched the thin hospital blanket in a white-knuckled grip. How could Jay not exist? How could she not know him when every single day had been filled with him? “We were together, Semi. He was real. He was real!”

But Semi wasn’t budging. She leaned back, crossing her arms, frustration flickering in her eyes. “You were in a car accident. Do you remember that?” she asked, her voice softening slightly, though there was still a hint of disbelief. “A car crash. Blood everywhere. That’s why you’ve been in a coma.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as her eyes flickered to the tubes attached to your body. “That’s why you’re here.”

Your body went cold. A coma? Blood? The words bounced around in your head, but they didn’t stick. Your hands trembled as they reached for the bed’s railing, trying to anchor yourself. You could still feel Jay’s presence, still remember his smile, his touch, the way he’d whispered goodnight to you... before everything went dark.

A cold shiver ran down your spine, and your throat tightened as you managed to ask, “W-what date is it?”

“September 20, 2024,” Semi replied, her voice barely audible, but it hit you like a tidal wave. September.

Your eyes widened as the pieces began to fall apart in your mind, crumbling like ash in your hands. The school year, the three months with Jay, the spring—none of it had been real. None of it.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the weight of it all settled in your chest like a boulder, pressing down, squeezing the air from your lungs. A quiet tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, turning to look out the window as if the outside world could give you some semblance of reality.

Beyond the glass, the sky was painted in soft shades of pink and orange, the setting sun casting a warm glow over everything. Lilac flowers fluttered from a nearby tree, caught in the gentle breeze. They swirled in the air, delicate and fleeting, just like the memories of Jay.

You watched them fall, your heart aching with a bittersweet pang. Was it all just a dream? Had Jay been nothing more than a figment of your comatose mind, created to fill the emptiness while you lay in the dark? The thought was unbearable, but the more you tried to hold onto him, the more he slipped away—like the lilac petals, fading from your reach.

But somewhere deep inside, beneath the confusion and pain, a small part of you hoped—hoped that he was real. That maybe, somewhere, in some other world, Jay existed, waiting with that final page of your story. And though you couldn’t be sure, you held onto that hope, because the goodbye—his goodnight—had been too sweet, too tender to be nothing at all.

With trembling hands, you let the last tear fall, watching as the petals danced in the wind, disappearing into the horizon. Even if it was just a dream, you wished for one more chapter—one more part in the story that had been left unfinished.

Riri’s note: idk what I even wrote but here it is, all based on iu’s lyrics of lilac—

© enreveriee | tumblr

oh man oh fuck oh shit

everyone is SO MEAN TO MC 😔😔😔😔 i genuinely just want her to get away from everything. to go settle somewhere nice and enjoy life!!!

but idonno if thats going to happen😔😭

and by the looks of it, mc is rlly starting to,, kind of give in :((( i would say that it is better than mc wanting to die. but staying with yoongi??? that's kind of like death😫😭 i do hope that she gets to talk to more ppl, like jungkook :( it seemed like those two had kind of a connection? or started developing one.

ALSO FUUUUUUCK TAE !!! oml that bitch is TESTING ME! like he KNOOOWS mc isnt okay nd is trying his damn best to do anything to take away from the guilt thats eating him alive. and i kind of hope it does ! also namjoon and mc?? they used to be a thing? or was it a fwb situation?

yoongi,,, yoongi can die ! honestly the amount of jokes hes made about mcs lack of sight is. so uncomfortable,, like bro pls, pls let her be. nd it seems like? yoongi knows more about mc than we do rn. which is- exciting honestly. its giving the tension between much more meaning (?) like well find out through their conflict more about the other. its thrilling rlly.

i hope mc doesnt get punished or anything like that:( LIKE PLS YOONGI UVE PUT HER THROUGH SM LET HER BEEEE

thank you so much for posting and sharing your story with us author❣ have a nice day and stay safe!!!

Dark&Wild (4) When You Realized No One Was Coming To Save You

You are an interpreter for international idols, but you soon realized their lavish lifestyle came at a cost, and somehow you became the price. The man who came to collect had a special kind of vendetta, and you, so foolishly, sparked his interest.

Sorry for the delay, I was on my last edit and literally that night I tested positive for C0VlD :') but I'm back now and feeling a lot better

yandere loan shark!Yoongi x blind!reader x bodyguard!Jungkook x idol singer!Jimin x idol rapper!Namjoon x idol singer!Taehyung x detective!Hoseok x detective!Seokjin

TW: 18+ only, violence, guns, hostage, dubcon/noncon, reader manipulation, mind break, drugging, blowjob, reader is blinded before events that take place in the story, Jimin is an addict, Yoongi is a sadist

---

Namjoon laid sprawled out on his bed, a pen twirling between his fingers, as you listened to his unfinished songs. He was always impressed at how you could pick up even the slightest changes in the melody. Tonight was no different, Joon was working on a couple of different beats, rapping over the high and punchy part of the melody, his deep voice acting as such a unique contrast. He’s repeated the same bars so many times, you start to whisper the last word of each bar with him.

“Cute.”

“Hmm?”

“Last show is tomorrow,” he grunts, scribbling lyrics down in his notebook.

You hum, “What’s wrong? You don’t sound happy about it.”

“You know how everyone is so excited for tour to end, but I...” he pauses, “can’t help but start feeling sentimental. This show could be our last…ever.”

“Hmm, yeah, but I doubt it,” you laugh, “If that song is going to be your next release, you’re going to have another amazing tour to look forward to.”

“Thanks,” Namjoon hesitates. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” he asks accusingly.

You snort, “Nah. Whatever makes people stars, you’ve always had it. You’re that good, Joon,” you smile. 

Namjoon closes his laptop, taking a seat next to you on his couch instead. He stretches out, arm lying over you. You lean into each other, not for anything other than comfort. It’s late, and you both should be tired, but jitters were always too high the night before a concert, and as neither of you liked using pharmaceutical or even herbal means to find respite, you relaxed with each other. 

His finger ticks and touches your cheek, staying, arm pulling you in. “You’re being sweet,” Namjoon says, not fully convinced, “Jimin finally confess his undying feelings for you?”

You laugh, “Yeah right.” Jimin is probably holed up with a groupie as you speak. “I guess I am just feeling sentimental.” You tease, cuddling into his side. 

Namjoon hums the melody in his head, fingers tapping on his cell, working through more lyrics. Having your warmth by his side relaxed him enough to work through the complicated rhyme schemes even on nights likes these. He would never admit it, but you were his muse.

“If that next tour does happen, I think…I’ll finally have enough,” you whisper, hopeful. Your quiet elation does not go unnoticed by Joon.

“I could write you a check for what you’re missing tonight, if you would just let me-”

“I want to earn the money on my own.”

“I want to earn the money on my own,” Joon teases at the same time, repeating the line you always say when he offers. You hit him playfully. “I know, but you’re so close! And then you’ll finally be able to see us perform!” Namjoon gets excited for you at the thought.

You laugh, leaning your chin on his chest. You wish you could see his face when you look up. “I would love that. But you also know I can’t do that.”

Namjoon sighs, you were too prideful of a woman. He couldn’t help but be enamored, it was one attribute in long list of things about you that annoyed him and made him admire you. But Namjoon had some tricks up his sleeves, you deserved a couple of “bonuses,” especially after such a successful tour, and especially because Namjoon couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t use some of his newly acquired wealth at his disposal to help out a friend.

That is where your memory of that night ends, you fell asleep against him, lulled by his soft humming, feeling safe in his arms. But your dream kept going…

“Once you get your sight back, what did you want to see first?” Namjoon asks.

You think. “I want to call my little sister, see what she looks like now,” you smile sadly.

“It will happen,” Namjoon holds you tighter. You nod.

“Is it conceited that I want to see what I look like now too?” you laugh into his embrace. “Actually see how my makeup looks like…see how bad I’ve been doing it all these years,” you giggle.

“No. Y/n...you’re beautiful.”

You laugh again, softer this time in disbelief. “Okay, now you are trying to make me feel better.”

His other hand moves from the couch to your thigh, surprising you. Namjoon shifts himself against you, head moving closer until you feel something soft against your lips-

You flinch, awake.

Yoongi’s hand pulls away from your mouth. “Good morning, little mouse.”

Sixty-three meals you’ve eaten alone in this room.

That meant it was twenty-one days without anyone to talk to, without sunlight, without a proper bath...

“Mr. Min?”

WHEN YOU REALIZED NO ONE WAS COMING TO SAVE YOU

“He says he’s honored that you came on short notice, Thailand welcomes you.” 

‘Who is this man who thinks he speaks for an entire country?’ you think, already annoyed. No matter how upset you are, you are a professional. You keep the emotion out of your voice, translating exactly what was being said.

Yoongi grunts, walking with you loosely holding his elbow. “You’re not going to say anything back?” 

You’re met with silence. 

‘Ugh,’ you suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Translating for Yoongi was worlds apart from the charismatic idols. 

‘Whatever,’ this is not a broadcast appearance, you didn’t have to impress anyone, especially not Mr. Min and his accomplices. 

You listen to the stranger speak about the expansion of his establishments, how grateful he is for Yoongi’s loan, and his plans to open more locations across Thailand. You translate with minimum enthusiasm, quite the contrast to this stranger’s cloying excitement. 

“Each new location will meet your requirements for trade,” you say in a monotone voice, ready to get this over with.

You walk through another room and are immediately assaulted with the thick smell of smoke, you grip his arm tighter. “And the border issues?” Yoongi asks.

“It’s been taken care of. You have the support of-” you swallow, stuttering while translating the man’s words, “-the Prime Minister.”

You hear the scrape of chairs and Yoongi abandons you, pulling out his own chair and taking a seat. You reach out for him until your fingers graze the familiar material of his jacket, holding onto his shoulder. His hand lands on top of yours squeezing in Morse code. Not only does his hand never leave yours, he interlaces your digits together. 

You hear glass clinking together, the pour of alcohol while the men drink. “A few of my men will stay here to make sure the operation goes smoothly during our transition.”

“Jeon?”

“Just translate, girl.”

Even if you were angry, hated him, wanted to grab whatever bottle was on the table and smash it across Yoongi’s head, you were always the professional. You repeat his words in Thai, waiting for the man’s response.

“He says of course, great idea,” you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Hold it.”

“I can’t-”

“You will regret it if you don’t shut up and just translate.”

The man looks between the both of you exchanging tense words, noticing Yoongi’s growing annoyance. “Is um everything okay?” he asks in Thai. “I have to go to the bathroom,” you answer him in Thai.

“What did you just tell him,” Yoongi’s tone changes only slightly, but enough for you to know he’s furious with you.

“Oh! Yes, my men can escort you there,” he stands up, snapping his fingers to hurry his men to move. Yoongi’s fingers tighten around your own.

“He says his men can take me to the bathroom,” you translate, feeling triumphant. Just get away from him, if there is even a one percent chance of escape, take it, y/n! C’mon, Yoongi should have known, really, that you would never go along with his plans…

Yoongi has a choice to make and very little time. He could tell Jungkook to go with you, one of the few men Yoongi trusted would be able to handle you without causing a commotion, but Jungkook was also one of the few men Yoongi trusted with his life, Yoongi needs him by his side. 

Yoongi’s paranoia, which only grew stronger and vindicated the more powerful he became, was not going to let his most loyal man follow after a belligerent blind girl. 

And Yoongi’s reputation is on the line. If he loses his temper and starts fighting with you how would that look? Yoongi has to tread lightly, he has to remain in charge.

He looks over to Choi, a young and ambitious recruit looking to prove himself to the man in charge. All Yoongi has to do is tilt his head and the man rushes towards your side along with a hesitant bar employee. 

This establishment was not only a popular tourist bar but provided an ideal cover for moving money in and out of the country, a way for some notable politicians to embezzle their finances into offshore accounts controlled by Yoongi’s company. If you had the connections like Yoongi, it all became a pretty efficient operation.

Yoongi was building an empire and a little blind mouse wasn’t going to scurry her way in the middle of it and scare away the elephants in the room.

“You have five minutes.”

You will regret this.

---

“What’s this place called?” you ask in Thai.

“Moonlight Blue.”

You feel something sharp against your side and a man speaking in Korean to keep quiet and keep moving. The bartender brings you to the bathroom, wearily offering you instructions, surprised when Yoongi’s man follows you inside. He could only assume they were being overprotective of you because you were a woman.

“Can I not get any privacy at all?” you hiss.

“Don’t act like you aren’t up to something.”

“What am I going to do, huh?” you wave your hands dramatically in front of your face.

You hear the cock of a gun. You’ve lost count at how many times you’ve heard it since being taken. “Use the bathroom or I will shoot a hole in your head.”

“Shoot me,” you reply, knowing him killing you would go directly against what Mr. Min wanted. “You think I want to be here translating? Do it, please, I rather die than have to deal with men like you-”

You’re pushed backward, hitting wall and porcelain. You try to reorient yourself too late, crashing onto the ground, and before you can stand back on your feet, Choi is doing it for you, hitting you hard in the stomach so you double forward, with another hard jab against your cheek.

You inhale sharply, your lungs burning as you suck in air. You must be in a one of the stalls, the way the walls feel like they are closing in on you, the way Yoongi’s man shoves you into a corner, his hand squeezing your wind pipe.

He lets go, stepping away to close the stall door on you as you gather your bearings, coughing out blood. 

“There’s your privacy, Princess.”

You take a shaky step backwards, sitting on the toilet, trying to think, trying not to cry. 

As you unzipped your pants, wincing as you touch your stomach, you ask yourself once again, how are you going to get away now? 

And you have no answers...

...but you do know the words for taken and person and help in Thai.

...and there was blood dripping from your lip.

You open the door, holding onto the handle for support, covering your name and those three words behind your back.

---

“Is she okay?”

-

You were part of the entourage that moved with JTJ through airports, you remember the dangerous trek through the public to your cars. During their rise to fame and before the company had created a solid security protocol, you would experience what it was like to be overrun by zealous fans, the way they would push and shove you to get to the idols. It’s bad enough for everyone to try to navigate with lights flashing in their faces, but you, walking through unknown and unseen territory, all your other senses overwhelmed by screaming and pulling and shoving, it was terrifying. 

The worst that has ever happened to you while working was pulled hair, the uncomfortable feeling of being pressed together like sardines, tripping and shoes crushing your fingers.

The first time it ever happened to you, you went through a full blown panic attack. But back then, you had Namjoon who gave you some water, let you curl up on the floor of their van, rubbed your back and told you to breathe. He apologized for his own fans, told you not to worry, that they’ve all experienced the overwhelming anxiety that comes with stardom. That was the worst thing that’s ever happened to you on the job until-

-

“I tripped, my apologies,” you speak in Thai, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth and licking off the blood from the cut where Choi’s knuckles hit.

You stood behind Yoongi again, translating in Korean what was asked and your response to Yoongi.

-

After about the fifth interview in a long shooting day with JTJ, you would start to run on autopilot. Translating took all your energy, and if you didn’t solely focus on each word, you would easily get lost. It happened once during a television interview...

You turned your head to the spot where Namjoon sat beside you and started talking in Tagalog instead of Korean. Due to the hosts and the idols speaking a mixture of English, Korean, and Tagalog, you were interpreting all three and made a silly mistake. You played it off with an apologetic giggle and head scratch and the audience laughed, the idols made fun of you, and you corrected yourself promptly. It became a cute viral moment, and that was that. 

You got better at quick translations, it became easier to detach yourself and become like a machine, a well oiled part in the cogs that helped push the idols toward successful endeavor after successful endeavor. You knew how to ‘turn’ yourself off and on when you needed to-

-

“Eighteen mil baht projected,” you repeat in Korean.

“It should triple easily once the other locations are operational.” Yoongi responds and you repeat the phrase in Thai.

You try not to wince as you shift your weight, coughing to hide the pain. You hear happy murmurs, the man rattles on shameless compliments which you translate, remaining stoic, keeping your emotions off, on autopilot. You’ll worry about escape later, right now, you just wish to leave this situation, feeling as suffocated as you were in those crowds, as scared.

---

There is still a metallic taste in your mouth and a throbbing sensation at your temple as you find an empty seat in Yoongi’s plane.

The plane is still escalating when someone unbuckles your seatbelt, pulling you gently to your feet. You can’t help but grimace in pain. It must be the cabin pressure, sitting for so long and having to stretch your muscles as you stand again, you wobble as you’re pulled to the back of the plane.

Jungkook helps you sit down, and when you’re finally settled, you shove his hands away, pushing him in the chest away from you, tired of being manhandled everywhere you go.

Jungkook stumbles back, his eyes going wide, disbelief and anger flashing through his otherwise collected features as he looks to you and then his boss. Yoongi clenches his teeth, holding up his hand for Jungkook to just let it go for now. 

You hug your body reflexively, waiting.

“How did you get that cut on your lip?” Yoongi’s deep voice asks.

“I tripped,” you say, repeating what you said before.

Of course Yoongi knows you’re lying. Choi had told him everything without hesitation. He will deal with him for touching you without Yoongi’s permission, just like how he’ll deal with you for trying to challenge him during a deal. But why are you lying?

“Why are you protecting someone who hurt you-”

“I’m not protecting him,” you huff. You just did not want any attention being brought to that bathroom, at least not until someone can find your message, and hopefully contact the authorities. “What do you want me to say?”

Yoongi catches himself before he starts screaming. “You are a good translator, the deal went smoothly, you’re lucky.”

“Great,” you say mockingly.

There is it, Yoongi thinks. “Things would go so much better for you if you would just listen to me.”

You stay stubbornly quiet. Yoongi sighs, “Is that so hard?”

“Yes,” you grit out.

Yoongi steps in front of you, standing over you. His hand cups your jaw, tilting your head upward, studying your bruised face. “Choi shouldn’t have touched you without my permission.”

You stay quiet, wincing when his thumb goes over the cut on your lip.

“You belong to me, y/n. Every drop of blood in your body. Every drop.” The way he whispers his last words sends a chill down your spine. Did he…

Did he know?! “You should rest, we’ll be in Korea soon.”

---

Shoes click on tile flooring, you’re not in the airplane anymore, you’re not anywhere near it. You wake up so tired you can’t lift your head. You realize not only are you being carried, but you can’t move your arms or legs. You grunt, too tired to speak.

The water you drank on the plane right before falling asleep, is that why you can’t move? 

You murmur a barely audible no, unable to clench your fist when hands drop your body down. A pillow is put underneath your head, your chin is moved to the side by a light and feathery touch. You fall back asleep despite your overwhelming desire to escape.

-

“You drugged me,” you croak out, voice hoarse from sleeping all day. Is this how it’s going to be now? Are they going to carry you around like a pet that knows one really good party trick?

Yoongi ignores your accusation. “I’m going to be gone for awhile. You’re going to stay here. Plus, I think some time alone might help you adjust to how things will be from now on.”

Your muscles still feel heavy. “You’re going to lock me up like a criminal?”

“You did stab one of my men,” he jabs.

“For how long?” Yoongi stays silent. You swallow, blinking away tears. You push yourself up, sitting. “W-Where are my clothes?!”

“You’re wearing clothes.”

“T-This is nothing!” you pull the sheet over your body higher, realizing you were only wearing underwear and a bra. 

“We had to make sure your bruises weren’t serious. You’re not going to be leaving this room, you don’t need anything else. This is your punishment. I did tell you not to try anything earlier, didn’t I?”

You try to control your escalating breathing, unable to comprehend what’s happening. “Mr. Min,” you swallow, “Please-”

“Take this time while I’m away to reflect on how you want to live when you’re in my company,” he says apathetically.

How could he be so cruel? So inhumane?! “Give me clothes, j-just give me clothes.”

Yoongi exhales. “I am being so nice to you, y/n. Do you know what Choi lost because of what he did?” Yoongi yanks your hand away from you, pulling the digits out, his fingers gripping your pinky. He holds it still to emphasize his point while you begin to cry. “So you’re going to sit here like a good little mouse, for however long it takes, in whatever I decide to let you wear, until you can learn to behave,” he hisses.

You inhale one shuddering breath after the other, feeling disgusted by his hold on you. “P-Please don’t do this, p-please give me my clothes, m-my things, you said y-you would if I translated for you!” 

He lets you go with a shove. You’re left shaking, listening, hoping for Yoongi to change his mind. “Please!” you cry out.

Yoongi sighs at your crying. “If you want to use that pretty mouth to beg me, I don’t want it in words.”

“What?”

“Don’t act stupid.” He waits. “Goodbye then.”

His foot steps move across the carpet and you fumble out of bed, sheets pulled tight to your body.

Yoongi clears his throat and you orient yourself to face him.

“What do you want me to do?” You shiver, barely holding yourself together, already expecting the worst kind of answer.

Yoongi steps forward slowly, you feel his hand graze your cheek, wiping away your tears, only causing more to fall. His hands land on your shoulders…

Pushing down…

You hold in a sob, shaking even harder as your knees hit soft carpet.

You wanted to tell him wait, slow down, to stop, to scream, but how could you when it was taking all your energy to keep from falling apart, holding down cries threatening to spill out of you.

You wince listening to the rigid clicking of metal as Yoongi undoes his belt buckles.

His fingers touch underneath your chin and you fall backwards, shutting your eyes out of reflex. 

Yoongi laughs dryly. “Well I guess Tae was right, those three never touched you, did they?” He crouches down, “Did you want them to?” Yoongi tuts, “Blind girls not their thing, I guess.”

You bite your tongue, resisting the urge to defend yourself, taking in his digs instead, his patronizing tone, shaking even more, not out of fear, but anger.

“You want clothes? Your things from your apartment? Better start answering when I speak to you.”

“Please Mr. Min, give me my things.” You let out shakily, managing to barely hide your detest behind your words.

“Did you want them to?” he repeats

You breathe through your nose. “...n-no.”

“See, how can I trust you if you still won’t be honest with me...or are you just not being honest with yourself?”

Finally having enough, “Taehyung was wrong.” You say, raising your eyebrow, voice low and condescending matching Yoongi’s haughty demeanor.

Yoongi inhales sharply. Interesting. He knew Tae was full of shit.

“They fucked you? Did they pass you around? Or did they stuff you full all at once?”

You clench your jaw at Yoongi’s crude line of questioning, holding the sheet around you tighter. “It was a long time ago,” you whisper.

“Stand up.” You stand up on shaky legs. Yoongi smirks. “Y/n, your life doesn’t have to change, you could be traveling with me, the same as you did before. You just have to let me take care of you. When you listen to me, you get rewarded.”

“Or I could strip you of everything,” he snaps, yanking you forward by your bra. 

“O-Okay...okay.” you swallow, putting your hand on his chest to feel his steady heartbeat and give yourself some space. 

If that is what it takes to make all this a little less miserable…

Your foreheads touch as you shake against him.

Until you can escape…

You softly touch his lips.

He doesn't kiss you back. Yoongi watches your blank stare when you quickly pull away, studying your features with doubt, you are being surprisingly compliant. Let’s see how far he can push you before your compliance breaks…

He places his hand over yours, lowering it down his body slowly, until it rests on his opened belt buckle.

You fumble with his button and zipper while Yoongi drops his head, lips against your neck, he nudges you with his mouth to test your reaction, his actions so teasingly slow compared to your frantic movements.

You yank his belt swiftly out of his pants loops as he pulls on the sheet between you letting it drop at your feet. Goosebumps bloom against his lips and under his fingertips as he runs his hands down your arms.

Don’t think of his lips on your shoulder, his tongue dragging across your skin, his hands groping your ass…just get this over with, you think, pulling out his hardening cock.

He yanks you closer, strong hands gripping you in a way that is so possessive and passionate your body can’t help but react. His deep grunts pierce through you, shaking the foundations of your steadfast mind, crumbling your thoughts away.

You move to rest on your knees, wanting to stop his unforgiving mouth on your neck, but his arms snake around your waist, holding you up still, moving you backward to press you against the room’s wall while he unclasps your bra away.

Yoongi holds your chin in between his fingers. “Open your mouth for me,” he says, hot and heavy, voice dripping with desire, dominating.

His fingers press down on your tongue to open wider.

“Get on your knees.” he pushes you down as he says it, giving you no other option than to obey.

Replacing his thumb with the tip of his cock on your tongue, he pushes in, your head stuck against the wall and between his hard frame.

Yoongi closes his eyes, leaning his head back, enjoying your warm open mouth. His jaw goes slack as he slowly pulls himself out and back in until you choke, your nails digging into his thighs as he sets a slow steady pace. He grins, looking back down at your compliant body as he thrusts his cock down your throat, your mouth getting more and more sloppy as he forces you to take the full length of him over and over again.

You catch your breath in those small moments he is pulling away from you, concentrating on those opportunities, until he gets closer to his release, his movements sporadic and rougher, filling your throat deeper with short thrusts that leave no room for breathes and scare you, and even when you kick out, and try to pull free, he holds your skull, nails digging into your hair, with no way to move backward or away.

He pulls out completely, leaving you gasping for air. You rest against the wall defeatedly, waiting until he bursts, his cum landing on your face and chest. Yoongi leans his head against the wall, catching his breath. Yet you still feel suffocated by him, his frame still over you as he comes down from release. 

You cover your breasts, clenching your jaw tight, so you won’t cry. You feel sticky and dirty and disgusting. “My clothes, my things,” you grunt, voice raspy from his deep thrusts.

Yoongi looks down at your ruined appearance, a sick sense of satisfaction creeping inside him now that he was back to his senses. Momentarily giving into his urges was fun, but you at his feet covered in his cum had been a better outcome than he could have imagined. The things you would do to get what you wanted.

He moves to the door, unlocking it with a key. “You’ll get some of your things.”

When he leaves, you bang your fist into the wall, finally allowing yourself to lose composure. Angry, sad, hurt, alone.

---

Braille books. You smile passing over the ones Namjoon bought you. Your withering plants. You use sink water in your bathroom to rehydrate them. Your albums, you check each raised label you added to the sleeves to make sure every single one was there, but you can’t find your player. Your clothes aren’t here, your jewelry isn’t here. There are your old stuffed animals, some from fans, some from friends. What’s this? You forgot you owned this, a braille typewriter that must have been in the back of your closet. No paper, you frown. 

“I want my clothes,” you say when the door opens. There is soft clanging as a tray is deposited and the door shuts quickly before you can say anything else.

Fifteen meals, almost a week here, by yourself, no one to talk to. You were given dresses that weren’t your own. The thin fabric and shortness of them left little to the imagination, especially with your bra gone now too.

Twenty-seven more meals. It’s two weeks. With no contact. You can’t take it. You missed everyone so much it felt like you were being split apart through the center of your chest, torn from the inside out. Every day passed meant less of a chance that people were looking for you. Did anyone give a shit about you anymore?

Pacing around the room, you knew every inch of it now. There was no window, only a toilet and a sink, a bed and a table. You’re tired of reading your books and you can’t listen to your records, you can’t type, every request you ask falls on deaf ears, a door shut in your face no matter what you say or do.

You had nothing to do but slowly lose your mind. 

You thought about your life and all the things you took for granted, all the chores you hated to do that you missed now. You thought about friends, you thought about Namjoon and Jimin and Taehyung and what they were doing now. But most of all you thought about killing yourself and all the ways you could accomplish that. But the thing that kept you from falling off the brink of insanity was the thought of killing Yoongi with your bare hands.

---

Every morning you are greeted with bread and water and a different kind of fruit. But this morning, instead of one knock on the door and then a breakfast tray, the door swung open quietly as you slept.

“Good morning, little mouse.”

“Mr. Min?”

His voice was the first voice you heard in twenty-one days. The elation you felt was twisting, turning in the pit of your stomach knowing it was Yoongi who was the cause.

“What are you wearing?”

“The ‘clothes’ you gave me.” You were wearing the rags he called dresses. All of them.  One you used as a skirt, and you fashioned three into a top. 

“Get up.”

“Why?” you ask, still pulling your feet from under the covers.

“You’re accompanying me to an event. But first, a shower.”

A proper shower? Not cleaning yourself in that bathroom sink… 

You hold your hand out.

-

You could stay under the showerhead all day, it feels so good. This bathroom was three times the size as yours, warm, inviting. The steam hugged your body, the cascading water washed away your tears, the dirtiness you still felt inside you that couldn’t be scrubbed away.

When you were finally clean and dry, you allowed yourself to smile, hugging the warm plush robe to your body, a far cry from the small worn towels given to you before.

Yoongi gives you your dress for the night, the tiny bag you had left in your hotel that held your makeup, and sits you down in front of the table of food he has been eating while waiting for you.

There’s so much of it, and all so good tasting, you don’t know what to eat first, picking food up with your fingers.

“You can’t act like that when we’re out in public.”

“Yeah, okay,” you dismiss, food still in your mouth. You have the urge to throw the rest at him.

“If you can prove yourself tonight, you can stay in this room instead-” He drinks chilled whisky. “-with me,” he finishes.

You slow down, reaching for only one roll instead of two. “Okay,” you nod, head down. You refused to go back into that room.

---

“You know clothes are supposed to ‘cover’ your body?”

There were so many people around you. Laughing dinner guests, music playing, waiters stopping you every so often, offering you drinks, a party for important people.

“They cover what’s important to me,” he says dismissively. The dress you wore was cut low, very low, showing off your back. At least the train was long, but difficult to walk in…difficult to escape in…

You held onto Yoongi’s arm as he spoke to people. They all spoke Korean, there was nothing for you to really do except be annoyed, listening to small talk that meant nothing to you.

“What are we doing here?”

“Enjoying the night.”

You repress the urge to scoff. Being locked alone in silence for so long to this…dealing with the background chatter all around you was not easy, and was not fun. Your head hurt from the noise, your feet hurt from wearing heels you were not used to. The thing that surprisingly did not hurt right now was your heart, what hurt you the most when you were locked in, thinking of all your loved ones.

You were too preoccupied now, curiously listening to every conversation in the vicinity. It was mostly dumb shallow small talk, but it was infinitely more entertaining than talking to yourself.

Yoongi’s arm snakes around your waist.

“What are you doing?” you whisper.

“Kiss me.”

“What?!”

“Kiss me now, if don’t want to end up back in that room for another month…and make it convincing,” he whispers.

What is this? Is he trying to piss off an ex? This is so ridiculous, this is what he wanted you for? To pretend to be his girlfriend at a party? How pathetic. But the thought of being locked up again-

You put your arms around his neck, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek.

“That’s not-”

“You said make it convincing,” you whisper, hand moving to his other cheek, tilting his head towards yours. You press your lips against his softly, then more forcefully until he’s moving his mouth against yours, mirroring your actions.

You fake a smile. “Happy?” you whisper in a biting tone, breaking the spell.

But Yoongi’s not ready to end the act, pulling you back in with his hand against your neck, giving you one last shameless kiss, drawn out, with tongue, turning your legs to jello.

He moves you through the party again, disappearing into the crowd. “See, she’s fine, I guess,” Taehyung says, watching as you move further away, sipping on his drink to lessen the shock.

Namjoon downs the rest of his champagne. “She’s not fine,” he whispers. There’s too many people around them, all itching to be the next to speak to the trio. Jimin is taking pictures, already buzzed on alcohol, laughing too loudly at his own jokes, not a care in the world, especially not about the girl who sacrificed her life for his. ‘Can he not be a fucking self-centered ass for one night?’ Namjoon thinks. “I’m going to talk to her-”

Taehyung pulls Namjoon back. “Are you crazy? He could ruin all our careers-”

“Mr. Kim?” Both Namjoon and Taehyung turn to the excited industry professional speaking. “Oh, Mr. Kim Namjoon, I wanted to introduce myself, I’m-” Taehyung pats Namjoon on the back, giving him a look that says, ‘See? You’ll never get to them without causing a scene.’

You rest your head on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Tired? I thought you would be excited to get out for the night?”

“I’m fine,” you offer him a fake smile, lying.

“Mr. Min, this is for you,” a man speaks to him, handing him a large purse. Yoongi nods, putting it on your shoulder, the bag is so heavy the strap digs into your shoulder. He pulls off his jacket, putting it around your shoulders to further conceal the bag, but not before adjusting your dress, hands raking over your exposed cleavage. 

“What’s in the bag?” you mumble, your body heating up.

He holds you close, lips against your cheek. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Wait, did you just turn me into a drug mule?” You hold onto his forearms, nails tightly pressed into his skin. He matches your aggressiveness, twisting your arm and pulling you close so no one notices. “You want me to be honest with you? Then you be honest with me,” you argue.

“It’s not drugs. Did you forget who I am? My business?”

“Money-”

“Not money, not really. Hard drives.”

“Hard drives?” you stutter.

“Yes.”

“What’s on them?”

Yoongi sighs, letting you go. “A few digital wallets, some videos. Sometimes, secrets make the best collateral.”

What kind of secrets could be worth so much? “Secrets…like a dating scandal?” you think out loud.

“Clever little mouse. Not this time, no. You know there are certain establishments men sometimes like to…indulge in? Parlors? We have one bugged.”

“So these are bad men...”

Yoongi smirks, finding your righteousness amusing. “Yes, they are.” 

You nod in understanding, gripping the purse strap. Yoongi lays his hands on your hips. It’s like he always has to touch you, feel you, make sure you’re there with him, even though he is the one who can see you and you can’t. 

He’s always touching, like now, running his hands across your curves, thumb under the fabric of your dress to caress your skin, holding you like a lover would, and you can’t push away, tell him no, and worst of all, you’re body is becoming accustomed to his hands, used to his touches. It should revolt you…he should…but he doesn’t, and that makes you feel disgusted with yourself.

You’re in a room full of people, and Yoongi is the only person you know. It is an ironic cruelty to feel safer in his arms here.

You lean against him, unable to concentrate on anything else other than his hands. You should scream, you should kick him and run away. But how many secrets of yours did he hold? What would his hands do to you, if you tried to escape?

You can’t stand it, the way he makes you feel. “H-How much longer?”

“Do you want to go home?”

More than anything, that’s what you want, but the home you are thinking of is not where he is referring. You nod against his chest.

“Y/n!”

You lift your head abruptly. Did someone call your name?

Yoongi drapes his arm around you, leading you away.

You heard it again! Your name spoken so clearly through the chatter of people. You try to slow your pace, but Yoongi’s hold on you is too strong. Your heartbeat pounds through your chest as you try to hear it again, just to be certain. But you never heard it, the ghost crying out to you, Namjoon might as well have been a figment of your imagination.

“What’s wrong?”

You wait for valet to bring Yoongi’s car. Your heart rate won’t go down, you felt rattled still, sure you heard your name. “What was the reason for that celebration?”

“A slew of rich people with too much time on their hands, they come up with a different reason every weekend to hold one of those things. Today it’s a charity so they can use their philanthropy to make themselves feel better than the rest of us, tomorrow it’s a premier party of some sort. Why?”

“Curious, I guess-”

“Yoongi!”

“We were just leaving. Right, y/n?”

“A quick smoke then?” Taehyung holds out a cigarette for Yoongi, hoping to entice him. Yoongi nods, taking it.

Taehyung just wanted to make sure you were okay, see you up close so he could convince Namjoon to cool it, the rapper was going to send himself into an early grave if he did not stop blaming himself for what happened to you. But one look at your wide shell-shocked eyes, the fear and hope and pain he saw etched across your features, and Taehyung knew he had made a terrible mistake. He could lie to Namjoon and Jimin, but he couldn’t lie to himself.

“T-Tae?” you whisper in disbelief, holding out your hand, which Yoongi grabbed promptly, shutting down any physical touch from the idol singer.

Taehyung swallowed, saying your name so softly you wanted to burst into tears, if Yoongi’s hand denting into your wrist did not remind you of the snake wrapped around you, ready to strike if you did something wrong.

“A-Are you okay?” Taehyung asks, knowing deep down you weren’t but hoping desperately you would prove him wrong.

“She’s fine,” Yoongi answers for you, taking a long inhale of his cigarette, his other arm still draped around you, holding you firmly. “Didn’t she look like she was having a good time?”

Taehyung nods stiffly. You say his name again, your voice breaking, so tiny and full of emotion Taehyung feels his chest clench and his stomach turn. 

“I’ll check in on you again, to make sure you’re okay, so don’t worry,” Taehyung whispers hurriedly, noticing Yoongi’s vehicle approaching.

“Oh Tae, you don’t need to act like the good guy in front of her, she already knows,” Yoongi says dryly, flicking his cigarette butt on the ground.

Taehyung looks to the ground, unable to meet Yoongi’s eyes for too long, scared of the loan shark. Yoongi pulls your stiff body away, into the back seat of his car with him.

Taehyung watches as his driver pulls away. Taehyung pulls out another cigarette to calm his nerves. Why would you kiss Yoongi like that, hold him like that, and act so terrified now?! Whatever Yoongi was doing, was much more calculated than Taehyung ever thought possible. But Taehyung knew for certain, that there would be no convincing Namjoon now.

---

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter: New Life (Update Goal: 250 notes)

Regarding the update goal, I am just trying something different to help engagement, I was hoping it would encourage reblogs lol but I love your comments as well, very cute. Yay and thank you to my readers! Boo to those who like and then unlike once I update, that's a good way to get blocked, a warning.

Me: "I watch the Vernau films for the plot"

The plot:

Bonus:

Sun Chien in The Plot (1991)

Sun Chien in The Plot (1991)

Sun Chien’s Solo Works

shahrukh khan and kajol in kabhi khushi kabhie gham (2001)