Warnings: Sexual tension, symptoms of hallucinations, stalking??, steamy dreams, hints of manipulation, Oc thinks she going crazy
Word count:
Pairings: Vampire ot7 x oc black Female
A groan slipped past the lips of the Korean beauty as she lifted her coffee cup, fingers curling tightly around the warm ceramic like it held the cure for her misery. A pair of oversized sunglasses perched on her face, shielding her tired eyes from the harsh morning sun. Her head throbbed with every step, the dull ache behind her temples a cruel reminder of the previous night's antics.
"I feel like a bus ran over me a hundred times," Jennie muttered, her voice hoarse from too much drinking and not enough sleep.
"You did drink a lot," Marsai pointed out, sipping from her own coffee with a look of amusement.
"Yeah, and we had to carry your ass home, unnie," Lisa grumbled, rubbing her temples as she walked alongside them. The usually energetic girl looked just as worse for wear, her own hangover evident in her sluggish movements and the dark circles peeking from behind her sunglasses.
The three girls trudged down the crowded university walkway, weaving through clusters of students, most of whom looked far more awake than they did. The crisp autumn air carried the scent of fresh coffee and fallen leaves, but even that wasn’t enough to revive them.
Lisa, never one to stay quiet for long, perked up slightly as she remembered something. "I heard the professor is sick," she announced, lowering her sunglasses to glance at her friends. "Apparently, his old teaching assistant is taking over for now. And get this—they’re supposed to be, like, a genius. Maybe it’s Namjoon."
Jennie scoffed, finally managing a sip of her coffee. "No way. Namjoon isn’t even a senior yet."
"Doesn’t matter. He’s crazy smart," Lisa countered with a dramatic shrug. "You know they’d make an exception for someone like him."
Marsai hummed in agreement but remained skeptical. "I don’t know… I mean, yeah, he’s basically a walking encyclopedia, but why would they put a junior in charge of a whole lecture?"
They continued their trek to the lecture hall, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten as curiosity took over.
As they rounded the corner, an unexpected sight greeted them. A small crowd of girls—many of whom didn’t even belong to this class—stood gathered outside the lecture hall door, giggling and whispering amongst themselves. Some were even trying to peek inside through the slightly cracked door, their expressions filled with barely contained excitement.
Lisa stopped in her tracks, a knowing smirk curling at her lips as she shot Marsai a triumphant look. "Told you," she mouthed before nudging her way past the group of onlookers.
Jennie and Marsai exchanged glances before following suit, squeezing past the swooning girls and stepping into the lecture hall.
And there he was.
Kim Namjoon, in all his glory, stood at the front of the classroom, looking completely at ease as he flipped through some notes on the podium. His posture was relaxed yet commanding, his sharp gaze scanning the room as he waited for the rest of the students to file in.
The overhead lights cast a subtle glow on his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline and the way his neatly rolled-up sleeves revealed just enough forearm to make the gathered girls outside lose their minds.
Lisa let out a low whistle under her breath. "Damn. No wonder they’re all freaking out."
Jennie, still nursing her coffee, let out a sigh, sliding into a seat. "This is either going to be a nightmare or the most interesting lecture of the semester."
Marsai chuckled. "I’m betting on both."
As the room filled and Namjoon finally looked up to acknowledge the class, his lips curled into a small but knowing smile.
"Let’s get started, shall we?"
And just like that, the hungover trio suddenly found themselves wide awake.
P p
The low hum of murmured conversations slowly faded as Kim Namjoon stepped forward, adjusting the thin-framed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His presence alone commanded attention, though he never raised his voice.
"Good morning, class," he greeted, his tone smooth yet firm. "As you may know, I’ll be filling in for Professor Cho while he’s out sick."
His gaze swept over the lecture hall, sharp and assessing, as if he were memorizing each face in the room. There was something unsettling about the way his eyes lingered—too aware, too knowing.
Marsai, who had been lazily twirling a pen between her fingers, stiffened as she met his gaze.
Something was wrong.
It wasn’t just the intensity of his stare—it was the color.
A deep, rich brown at first glance, but as the light shifted, there it was: a faint but unmistakable shimmer of gold beneath the surface. Not the warm gold of hazel eyes catching the light, not the simple reflection of classroom fluorescents. No, this was something else. Something unnatural. Something… otherworldly.
Her stomach twisted.
She had seen those eyes before.
But where?
The realization tickled at the edges of her mind, just out of reach. Her thoughts raced backward, flipping through memories like pages in a book, searching for the moment that would confirm why she felt this creeping sense of familiarity.
And then it hit her.
Jimin.
Last night at the party.
Between flashing neon lights and the haze of too much alcohol, she had seen that same molten glow flicker in Jimin’s eyes. At the time, she had brushed it off, blaming exhaustion or the way the colored lights distorted everything.
But now?
Now she wasn’t so sure.
Her fingers tightened around her pen, knuckles whitening.
Could it be a coincidence?
Before she could dig deeper, a voice cut through her thoughts like a knife.
"Miss Watson?"
Marsai jolted, her breath hitching in her throat as every head in the lecture hall turned toward her.
Namjoon’s gaze was locked onto hers, unreadable but undeniably focused. There was no amusement in his tone, no irritation—just a calm, expectant patience that somehow made her skin prickle.
She swallowed hard, realizing too late that she had completely tuned out whatever he had just asked.
"I—uh—sorry, could you repeat that?" she forced out, hoping her voice didn’t betray the sudden unease curling in her stomach.
For a brief second—so brief she almost thought she imagined it—his lips quirked in the faintest trace of a smile. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that same measured expression.
"I asked if you’ve read the first chapter of the assigned material yet," he said smoothly, as if giving her a second chance was a calculated move rather than a simple courtesy.
Marsai exhaled, forcing herself to nod. "Yeah, I have."
"Good," he replied simply before turning his attention back to the rest of the class. "I hope the rest of you have as well because we’ll be discussing it in depth today."
The tension in the room seemed to reset, students shifting back into note-taking mode. But Marsai’s mind was still spinning.
Jennie nudged her from the side, amusement dancing in her voice. "You totally spaced out."
Lisa smirked. "I think she was too busy getting lost in Professor Namjoon’s dreamy eyes."
Marsai let out a forced laugh, shaking her head. "Shut up."
But even as she played along, pretending to brush it off, her pulse remained unsteady.
Because this wasn’t about attraction.
It was about the fact that Kim Namjoon wasn’t just a regular college student standing in for a sick professor.
Something about him wasn’t human.
And Marsai was starting to wonder if she was the only one who had noticed.
Although throughout class, Marsai could feel Namjoon’s eyes on her. It wasn’t just a fleeting glance—no, it was deliberate. She had caught him looking at her more than once, and each time, he didn’t bother looking away. If anything, he seemed to enjoy getting caught, greeting her with that same half-cocked smirk that sent an unfamiliar flutter through her chest.
The weight of his gaze lingered on her skin even as the lesson continued, making it impossible to focus. She told herself she was imagining it, that Namjoon wasn’t actually watching her the way it felt like he was. But deep down, she knew better.
The moment the bell rang, Marsai wasted no time. She bolted from her seat, barely sparing a word for her friends as she rushed out the door. Her heart was pounding—not just from the urgency to leave, but from something else, something unspoken that she wasn’t ready to confront.
She weaved through the crowded hallway, focused only on putting distance between herself and whatever was stirring inside her. But in her haste, she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going. Turning a corner too quickly, she slammed into a solid figure, the impact sending her stumbling backward before she crashed onto the floor. A gasp left her lips as her books scattered around her, but it wasn’t the fall that stole her breath—it was the person standing above her.
Golden eyes.
The same golden eyes that had been locked onto hers just last night. The same piercing gaze that had unsettled and intrigued her in equal measure.
Park Jimin.
He stood over her, head tilted slightly, an amused glint in his gaze as he looked down at her. Marsai felt her throat tighten, heat rushing to her cheeks as she struggled to process the moment. Of all people to run into—literally—it had to be him.
Jimin took his time before extending a hand toward her, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “In a hurry, are we?” he mused, voice smooth, teasing.
Marsai swallowed, her pulse racing. She had no idea what she had just walked into, but one thing was for sure—there was no running from it now.
Warnings: Drinking, sexual tension, kissing, steamy dancing??
Word count:
Pairings: Vampire ot7 x Oc black girl
A weary sigh escaped the young woman’s lips as she cast a longing glance at the clock mounted on the café wall. The hands seemed to be moving at a snail’s pace, each tick stretching time unbearably. Ten more minutes. Ten more slow, grueling minutes before she could finally clock out and leave this place behind for the night.
Her shoulders slumped as exhaustion settled deeper into her bones. The rhythmic hum of the espresso machine and the low chatter of customers blurred into background noise, lulling her into a momentary daze. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sickly sweetness of syrup-covered pastries, scents she had long since stopped noticing—except when they clung to her clothes long after her shift ended.
"Sai!"
A sharp voice cut through her thoughts, yanking her back to reality. She blinked, turning toward the source—her co-worker, Maria, who stood by the register with an expectant look and an impatient tap of her fingers against the counter.
"I need two mocha lattes and a chocolate-covered doughnut, ASAP!"
Suppressing a groan, Sai rolled her shoulders and forced herself into motion. Her feet ached from standing for hours, and the stiff uniform felt suffocating under the café’s dim yellow lighting. She reached for the espresso machine, moving through the motions mechanically—grind, tamp, pull the shot, steam the milk. She had done this so many times that she could almost do it in her sleep.
As the machine whirred and hissed, she stole another glance at the clock. Nine more minutes.
Almost there.
Maria was already ringing up another order, her voice a steady hum beneath the background noise. The café wasn’t even that busy anymore, just a few scattered customers lingering at tables, sipping their drinks as if they had all the time in the world. Sai envied them.
Sliding the drinks onto the counter, she grabbed a paper bag and carefully placed the doughnut inside. "Order up," she muttered, barely looking up as Maria whisked it away.
Eight more minutes.
The next order came in, and Sai let out another sigh, resigning herself to the never-ending cycle of coffee, pastries, and exhaustion.
“Good morning, guys!” Mark’s cheerful voice rang out as he bustled behind the counter, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. His usual energy was already in full swing, even though the morning had barely begun.
“Morning, Mark!” Maria and Marsai greeted in unison, their voices blending with the soft hum of the café.
Mark glanced up from the espresso machine and zeroed in on Marsai, narrowing his eyes playfully. “Mars, what are you still doing here?” he teased. “I know you’ve got classes—get out of here before I have to physically remove you.”
Marsai groaned, rubbing her tired eyes. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” she mumbled, taking a slow sip of her coffee. “Just trying to gather the will to exist first.”
Maria chuckled, shaking her head. “Long night?”
Marsai let out a dramatic sigh. “You have no idea.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and stretched. “Alright, I’m off. See you guys tomorrow—if I survive.”
Mark smirked as he wiped down the counter. “Survive? Please, you thrive on chaos.”
Marsai rolled her eyes with a smirk of her own. “Yeah, yeah. Later, losers.” She waved over her shoulder before pushing open the door and stepping out into the morning light.
Mark turned back to Maria, shaking his head. “She’s going to crash in class, isn’t she?”
Maria laughed. “Absolutely.”
The walk to her university wasn’t a long one—just a ten-minute stroll from the cozy little café where she worked. The early morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of freshly brewed coffee and damp pavement from last night’s rain. Marsai adjusted the strap of her bag, her mind preoccupied with the day ahead, when a familiar voice rang out from behind her.
“Mara!”
She barely had time to turn before a blur of blonde and blue came rushing toward her. Lisa, her best friend and roommate, sprinted down the sidewalk, her signature bunny-like smile lighting up her face. The recent dye job in her hair—a golden blonde with electric blue tips—shimmered under the soft morning sunlight.
Before Marsai could react, Lisa threw her arms around her, squeezing her tight.
“Good morning to you too, Lisa,” Marsai said, laughing as she patted her best friend’s back.
Lisa pulled away just enough to grin at her. “I saw you leave and had to catch up! You know I hate walking alone—plus, I have so much to tell you.”
Marsai smirked, shaking her head. “Let me guess, another dramatic episode in the life of Lisa Monroe?”
Lisa gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. “Excuse you! I’ll have you know, this is quality entertainment.”
Marsai chuckled, falling into step beside her as they continued their walk toward campus. Whatever Lisa had to share, it was bound to make the morning a lot more interesting.
Lisa practically bounced with excitement as she linked arms with Marsai, her eyes shining with the thrill of the latest university gossip.
“So, I heard from Jennie that— and I quote— ‘the seven gods that grace the halls of our university are throwing a party tonight,’” Lisa announced dramatically, pausing for effect before adding, “And everyone is invited.”
Marsai raised an unimpressed brow, adjusting the strap of her bag. “The seven gods?” she echoed, already exasperated.
Lisa grinned, fully prepared to launch into a well-rehearsed explanation. “You know who I’m talking about.”
Unfortunately, she did.
The so-called seven gods weren’t just any group of guys. They were a league of their own—practically untouchable, their presence commanding every hallway, every classroom, every event. It wasn’t just that they were rich, talented, and ridiculously good-looking. No, it was the effortless way they carried themselves, as if they knew the world bent at their feet.
Kim Seokjin, the eldest, was as arrogant as he was handsome—worldwide handsome, as some called him. With a face sculpted like a prince from a fairy tale and parents who owned half of Seoul, he could have any girl he wanted. But Jin had high standards, and he made sure everyone knew it. When he wasn’t basking in the admiration of his fan club, he could be found in the kitchen, whipping up dishes that tasted just as good as he looked.
Min Yoongi was a mystery wrapped in sarcasm. He had feline features—sharp eyes, a smirk that never quite reached his face, and an aura that screamed untouchable. He didn’t give girls the time of day, and yet they fell for him anyway, only to be crushed under the weight of his indifference. A musical genius, he could seduce with a single melody, but he was just as quick to turn cold once he had you in his trap.
Then there was Jung Hoseok, better known as J-Hope. With a smile brighter than the sun, he radiated warmth, but anyone who got too close knew better—because hidden behind that dazzling grin was a dangerous charm that could leave you breathless. A dancer like no other, his moves captivated crowds, and he had an energy that could electrify an entire room. He even taught dance classes, and rumor had it that those sessions were more about surviving his intensity than actually learning choreography.
Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung, the inseparable duo, were like yin and yang—one a living embodiment of grace, the other a canvas of artistic chaos. Jimin moved like liquid gold, his every step enchanting, whether on the dance floor or in front of a camera. Ethereal and otherworldly, he modeled on the side, his features so striking that he seemed sculpted by the gods themselves. Taehyung, on the other hand, thrived in unpredictability. He was a model, yes, but his true passion lay in fashion, art, and anything that allowed him to bend reality to his will. Together, they were magnetic, their presence impossible to ignore.
And then there was Jeon Jungkook, the youngest of them all—the golden maknae. There wasn’t a single thing he couldn’t do, and that was a fact. Singing, dancing, sports, academics—he excelled in everything. If he set his mind to it, he conquered it. Lately, his obsession was boxing, and anyone who dared step into the gym with him left knowing exactly why he was a force to be reckoned with.
But none of them—none of them—held as much power as Kim Namjoon, the undisputed leader of the group. With an IQ of 148, he wasn’t just the smartest man in the university; he was a genius. Books, philosophy, science—there was nothing he couldn’t master. Girls often dumbed themselves down just for a chance to be tutored by him, as if impressing him with helplessness was some sort of strategy.
Marsai had heard it all before.
She had seen the way people fawned over them, the way girls practically tripped over themselves just to be noticed. The world seemed to revolve around those seven guys.
But she wasn’t impressed.
Not even a little.
She turned to Lisa, unimpressed. “And why exactly should I care about their party?”
Lisa gasped, clutching her chest like she had been personally attacked. “Are you serious? This is the party of the semester! If we don’t go, we’ll be the only ones who missed it.”
Marsai rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll survive.”
Lisa huffed dramatically. “Oh, come on, Mars. You can’t ignore them forever.”
Marsai smirked. “Watch me.”
"Will you just think about it?" Lisa pleaded, her voice carrying a mix of excitement and desperation. "This party is going to be amazing. Everyone’s going to be there!"
Marsai let out a deep sigh, crossing her arms. "And if I say yes, will you finally stop bringing it up every five minutes?"
Lisa clasped her hands together in mock prayer. "Absolutely. No more nagging, I promise!"
Marsai studied her friend for a long moment before rolling her eyes. "Fine. I’ll think about it. But no guarantees."
Lisa grinned triumphantly. "That’s all I needed to hear!"
--------
"I can't believe I let you talk me into coming to this party," Marsai huffed, tugging at the hem of her dress as she shifted uncomfortably. "Let alone get me to wear this tight-ass dress."
Lisa smirked, clearly pleased with her handiwork. "Oh, please. You look stunning, and you know it."
Marsai rolled her eyes, but deep down, she knew Lisa had put in the effort to make her look good. The dress—a sleek, black bodycon that hugged every inch of her curves—stopped mid-thigh, leaving just enough to the imagination while accentuating everything she usually tried to downplay. She was by no means skinny, but she carried herself with confidence. Her thick thighs complemented the fullness of her hips, her stomach had a soft chubbiness to it, and her chest—well, that was a statement all on its own. The dress pushed up her breasts in a way that made it seem like the twins were ready to make their grand debut.
Paired with the dress were black and gold heels that added just the right touch of elegance and danger, making her legs look longer than they already were. Lisa had outdone herself with the makeup, keeping it natural but enhancing Marsai’s features—the perfect balance of soft glam and effortless beauty. Her long, waist-length knotless braids were pulled up into a high ponytail, two thick braids left out in the front to frame her face, adding a touch of fierceness to her look.
Marsai let out another sigh, giving Lisa a pointed look. "If I trip and break my ankle in these heels, I'm haunting you."
Lisa burst into laughter, looping her arm through Marsai’s. "If you do, at least you’ll be the best-dressed ghost at the party."
"You guys made it!" a familiar voice called out over the music.
Before Marsai could fully register what was happening, Jennie had already pulled both her and Lisa into a tight embrace. The scent of expensive perfume and excitement filled the air as Jennie squealed, rocking them slightly. "And you even got Mars to come," she said, pulling back with a wide grin.
Lisa smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, she put up a good fight, but not good enough."
Marsai rolled her eyes, but before she could throw in a sarcastic remark, Jennie took a step back, giving her an approving once-over. "Girl, you look hot!"
Heat rushed to Marsai’s cheeks, and she averted her gaze. "Thanks," she murmured, tugging at the hem of her dress out of habit.
"Alright, let's get this party started," Lisa announced, linking her arm with Marsai’s. "We’re gonna grab a drink. You coming?"
Jennie waved them off. "I’ll catch up with you guys later! Try not to get into too much trouble."
Lisa led Marsai through the crowded room, expertly weaving through groups of people dancing, laughing, and taking selfies. The energy was electric, and even though Marsai was reluctant to come, she had to admit—it wasn’t as bad as she expected.
When they reached the long table filled with bottles of every kind of alcohol imaginable, Marsai barely had a chance to take it all in before a deep, smooth voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Hello, ladies."
Marsai turned, already knowing who it was before she even laid eyes on him. Kim Taehyung stood before them, dressed in all black, exuding confidence like it was second nature. And beside him, with that signature mischievous smile, was none other than Park Jimin.
"What can we get you two?" Taehyung asked, his dark eyes scanning Lisa first before landing on Marsai.
Marsai swallowed as she watched his tongue dart out, gliding slowly along his bottom lip. His gaze flickered over her, lingering for just a second too long. Her stomach twisted at the intensity in his eyes, and she suddenly felt too exposed in the dress Lisa had forced her into.
"I'll take a vodka cranberry," Lisa said smoothly, completely unfazed by the two ridiculously attractive men in front of them.
"And what about you, pretty girl?" Jimin’s soft, honey-like voice filled Marsai’s ears, sending an unexpected shiver down her spine. His eyes raked over her figure with a look that made it clear he liked what he saw.
"I, um…" Marsai cursed herself for stuttering, mentally screaming at her brain to function. "Same thing as her," she finally managed to say, her voice not as steady as she wanted it to be.
Jimin’s lips curled into a slow smirk. "Good choice."
Taehyung chuckled, already reaching for the bottles. "Coming right up."
Marsai exhaled, barely realizing she had been holding her breath. Lisa nudged her with a knowing look, whispering in her ear, "Relax, Mars. You’re doing great."
She wasn’t so sure about that.
Jimin handed her the drink, their fingers brushing together for just a second—long enough for a sharp jolt to shoot up her arm, warm and electric, like a static spark that lingered. The sudden sensation caught Marsai off guard, stealing a soft gasp from her lips before she could suppress it. Her eyes flickered up to his, searching for any sign that he’d felt it too, but before she could make sense of the moment, Lisa’s cheerful voice cut through the air.
"Thank you!" Lisa beamed, completely oblivious to the tension crackling between them. Without hesitation, she grabbed Marsai’s wrist and pulled her away, her excitement propelling them through the crowd. Marsai followed, her heart still racing, though she couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on her. It was an unspoken weight against her back, the kind of gaze that lingered even after the moment had passed.
Lisa led them across the room, weaving through clusters of people until they reached a familiar group. This time, Jennie wasn’t alone—two other girls stood beside her, their presence effortlessly commanding attention.
"Hey guys!" Lisa cheered, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.
Jennie turned first, her signature smirk already in place. "There you are," she mused, eyeing them both before glancing over Marsai’s shoulder, as if noting exactly where they had come from.
The two other girls, Rosé and Jisoo, exchanged a knowing look, though neither said a word just yet. Instead, Rosé tilted her head curiously, while Jisoo simply raised a brow in quiet amusement.
Marsai swallowed, forcing a smile as she tried to steady herself. She could still feel the ghost of that brief touch, still sense the weight of a gaze that hadn’t quite let her go.
She gripped the red Solo cup tightly, her fingers pressing into the thin plastic as she took a big gulp of her vodka cranberry. The tartness of the cranberry barely masked the sharp bite of the vodka, but she welcomed the warmth spreading down her throat. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and faint traces of expensive cologne. The music thumped through the house, shaking the walls with heavy bass, and the sea of people swayed and moved, lost in the rhythm of the night.
Rosie leaned in close, voice carrying over the music as a smirk tugged at her lips. “Don’t look now, but that guy in the tight black shirt is totally eyeing our girl Marsai.” Her blonde hair whipped over her shoulder with each excited turn of her head, the flickering party lights catching the golden strands.
Jennie, ever the hopeless romantic, let out an excited gasp, her dark eyes lighting up. “Oh, he is cute!” she practically squealed. She swayed to the beat as she peeked in his direction, her grin widening. “And he totally has the hots for our little Mara.”
Marsai rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink. “You guys are exaggerating,” she muttered, though curiosity got the best of her, and she finally turned her head just slightly, sneaking a glance.
The guy in question stood near the makeshift bar, leaning against the counter with an easy confidence. His jet-black hair was tousled in a way that made it look effortlessly perfect, and his slightly tanned skin glowed under the dim lighting. The tight black shirt hugged his broad shoulders and muscular arms, and the way his dark eyes flickered toward her sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.
Jisoo let out a high-pitched squeal, gripping Marsai’s arm. “And he’s walking over,” she whispered excitedly, practically bouncing in place.
True to her words, the deep rumble of a voice cut through the music, catching Marsai’s attention.
“Hey.”
She turned, her gaze locking onto his as he stood in front of her, holding his own drink with a relaxed, almost lazy smirk. Up close, he was even more striking—sharp jawline, full lips, and an intensity in his stare that made her breath hitch just slightly.
“I’m Wonho,” he introduced himself, his voice smooth, deep, and laced with something undeniably magnetic. “And you are?”
Marsai swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was. “I’m Marsai.”
A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips. “Well, Marsai, would you like to dance?”
Before she could even consider saying no, Lisa, ever the instigator, nudged her forward with a playful shove.
“She would love to,” Lisa grinned, winking at Marsai before stepping back.
Marsai shot her a glare, but it was too late—Wonho had already extended his hand, waiting for her to take it. And against her better judgment, she did.
As the sultry opening notes of Naughty Girl by Beyoncé spilled through the speakers, he took her hand and led her to the center of the crowded dance floor. The air was thick with heat, bodies moving in sync with the pulsing bass. The moment the familiar melody wrapped around her, she felt a slow, knowing smile curve on her lips—this was her song.
Without hesitation, she twisted in his grip, turning with effortless grace until her back pressed flush against his chest. His hands found her waist, fingers tightening possessively as they fell into the intoxicating rhythm. Their bodies moved together, swaying, grinding, lost in the music. The energy between them crackled, electric and unrestrained, but something gnawed at the edges of her focus. A strange sensation, like a slow burn against her skin, as if someone’s gaze was locked onto her with unrelenting intensity.
Following the magnetic pull, her eyes lifted, scanning the dimly lit space until they clashed with a pair of stunning, honey-colored eyes. The world around her blurred into insignificance. She knew those eyes, had seen them before, but never like this—never with such piercing, almost hypnotic focus. Park Jimin.
The way he watched her made her pulse stutter, her breath catch. It was as if, in that moment, she wasn’t just dancing with the man behind her—but for Jimin. As if every sway of her hips, every slow roll of her body, was meant for him alone. His gaze never wavered, drinking her in, dark lashes lowering slightly as if he could feel every movement, every unspoken invitation she didn’t even realize she was making.
A rush of heat spread through her, an intoxicating mix of thrill and tension curling low in her stomach. Her dance partner pulled her closer, his grip firm, but her mind was elsewhere—trapped in the silent, electric conversation happening between her and Jimin from across the room.
Would he look away? Would he come closer? Or was he content to just watch, letting her feel the weight of his gaze as it seeped into her skin, making her burn hotter than the music ever could?
The dance was over faster than it had begun, the final beats of the song fading into the bass-heavy rhythm of the next. Marsai felt the absence of the music like a jolt, as if it had severed the invisible thread that had kept her tethered to the moment. Her heart was still racing, her skin still humming with residual heat, but as she blinked, she forced herself to pull her attention away from Jimin’s lingering gaze and back to the man standing in front of her.
Wonho’s hands dropped from her waist, his expression easy and satisfied, a slight smirk playing on his lips. His dark eyes glimmered under the club’s flashing lights, his blond hair damp with sweat from their dance.
“Thanks for the dance,” he said, his voice smooth, confident. He ran a hand through his hair, his smirk widening as he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “Would you lik—”
Before he could finish, a voice cut through the noise, calling her name over the thrum of music and chatter.
“Marsai!”
She turned toward the sound, finding Lisa waving at her from across the dance floor. Even from a distance, Marsai could see the urgency in her expression, the way she was practically holding up Jennie, who looked completely out of it. Lisa rolled her eyes and shouted over the music, “We’re heading home! Jennie’s drunk off her ass, and I’m not about to carry her alone.”
Marsai exhaled a short laugh, shaking her head as she took in the sight of Jennie clinging onto Lisa, her normally fierce demeanor nowhere to be found as she giggled into her friend’s shoulder.
Wonho chuckled beside her, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Guess that’s my cue to let you go.” He tilted his head, eyes flicking over her as if committing her to memory. “Maybe next time, Marsai.”
She offered him a small smile, though her mind was already elsewhere—already drawn back to the intense gaze that had made her body burn hotter than the dance itself. As she turned to leave, she couldn't resist the temptation. A final glance over her shoulder, searching.
And there he was.
Jimin was still watching. Still standing exactly where he had been, his eyes locked onto her with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher. Something dark. Something unreadable.
Please take a minute to read our story in Gaza, after I lost my home for the third time, we lost our work, and we are in a tragic situation.
This sums up my daughter's situation with her four siblings. She cannot continue living without your help. Donate, share the story and send it to your friends. Any small amount helps save my children's lives, share now on your account.
Dark times all around but there are still people out there who love you
Do not hurt yourself, do not hurt others, get help, talk to someone, anyone. Humanity has survived before and we can do it now if we all just support each other. My country and my people let me down and endangered my life but there’s nothing I or anyone else can do about that so let’s try to spread the love that is so clearly lacking.
Here lies Jessie. She was a very happy and sweet friend to me and her family and I hope y’all have a wonderful day and I hope you have a wonderful day and I hope you’re having a wonderful day and I’ll see you tomorrow.
(Alternately: Here lies Elodie Glass. She was a great mother and a great friend she had never been a great friend and I love her so she is a great friend mother mother of mother and a friend of mothers.)
Warnings; gore, death, yandere behavior, killing, strong language, kids murdering other kids, male on female violence (special trigger warning: if you have suffered abuse or are extremely sensitive to like-mannered scenes I want to take a moment to warn you that there is certain scenes in which male tributes will hurt and overpower other female tributes. If this will trigger you, please refrain from reading and I apologize beforehand.)
Words; 12.8k
The Capitol of Panem maintains its’ hold on it’s 12 districts by forcing them each to select a boy and a girl, called Tributes, to compete in a nationally televised event called the Hunger Games. Every citizen must watch as the youths fight to the death until only one remains.
The end had arrived.
Faintly, in the back of your mind, you could hear a doomful melody accompany your death march. Hauntingly beautiful bells and strings swam in your consciousness, making the awfully bleak scene even more gothically tragic. A personalized soundtrack for your promised annihilation.
On either side of you was a peacekeeper, each of them holding a gun to ensure your spineless obedience.
You followed them silently…wordlessly…mindlessly.
The sound of footsteps echoed in your ears as they bounced off the surface of the concrete walls. They guided you deeper into the grey, sterile and fluorescent-lighted corridor. Each pace forward only further locked in your fate. And as a slave to ruthless destiny, you continued onward.
I love how the author switch point of views from the jungkook to the main character. I love how I'm not wondering how jungkook is doing or feeling. I like how she's not just focus on the main character. The author is a really good writer and I hope she continues. Also I think maybe Joy has a plan up her sleeve. (Br)
A lone girl sat on her balcony looking up at the morning sky as her thoughts jumbled around in her head. Haven Jackson was her name born to Lauren and Jacob Jackson both now deceased. Her curly brown hair pulled up into a bun and her chocolate skin pale looking due to her lack of sleep causing her to be overly tired. Today marks the death of her parents anniversary the day her world fell apart. She was only ten when her grandma who she was spending the weekend with got the call saying that her parents had died in a car crash both dying instantly. After that day she had lived with her grandmother who took her in and took care of her. Sighing she went back inside to start on making breakfast for her and her grandmother. She followed a routine everyday she would make breakfast, clean the house, made sure her grandmother was well taken care of before leaving to work where she go and make coffee for people, and then come home at cook dinner and tried to get sleep before doing it all over again.
Once she was finished and had plated the food she took a plate and a glass of orange juice and made her way to her grandmother's room. "Grandma, food's ready." She softly said as she sat the food on the night stand
