all rights reserved. no part of my work is allowed to be reposted / translated / used in any kind of platform without my permission.
DISCLAIMER: all the stories below are a work of fiction. names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
KEY
♡ - fluff
⚤ - smut
✥ - angst
✓ - completed
⭑ - one of my faves
series
none yet!
scenarios/drabbles
don’t leave me in which you can't live without him ✥
you’re a sexual assault survivor trigger warning✥♡
you go on a date the night before his tour ♡
you’re struggling with money ✥♡⭑
he’s a f*ckboy but he falls for you ♡
he's a f*ckboy but he falls for you pt.2 ♡✥
breathe in which motherhood isn't all you thought it would be ✥
he becomes your boyfriend ♡
series
none yet!
scenarios/drabbles
none yet!
series
none yet!
scenarios/drabbles
he helps you with an eating disorder ✥♡
he fucks you in his studio ⚤
always you in which yoongi could never love anyone else ♡
series
none yet!
scenarios/drabbles
fallout ✥ in which you and hobi are falling apart
you get attacked onstage
you have emotionally/verbally abusive parents
rut ♡✥ in which you and hobi fall into a rut
series
none yet!
scenarios/drabbles
anniversary in quarantine ♡
series
russian roulette ♡ ⚤ ✥
one
two
scenarios/drabbles
lose control ⚤ in which you make tae lose control
you fight and then get into a car accident ✥
you fight and then get into a car accident pt 2 ✥ ♡
the one that got away ✥ in which taehyung marries the other girl
he's your bf ♡
series
you belong with me ✥ ♡ ✓
you’ve been in love with jungkook since the moment you first saw him. he’s always seen you as a friend. watching him date other girls and having to pretend you’re not in love with him is killing you.
one two trigger warning three trigger warning four five six
scenarios/drabbles
pillowtalk ♡ in which kook takes good care of you after sex
he cheats on you ✥⭑
he cheats on you pt.2 ✥⭑
he cheats on you pt.3 ♡⭑
he realises he’s in love with you ♡
in another life ✥ in which kook realises he never should've let you go
breaking up is hard to do ✥ in which losing jungkook drives you a little crazy
———————————————————————
REACTIONS
you get into an accident ⭑
spending lockdown together
your first time
you have an eating disorder
you’re tall
there’s a complication in your pregnancy
there’s a complication in your pregnancy pt.2
morning after your first time together
you have cancer
you have social anxiety and are easily overwhelmed
you're their ex and you've moved on
their dating styles
ALTERNATE UNIVERSES
the last | bts zombie! au ✥ ♡
your entire world flips over when a strange series of events sets a zombie apocalypse into place. every day is a struggle to survive, and you’re gonna need all the help you can get.
of course, you met in a bookstore. what other meet-cute would suffice for the world's biggest pair of bookworms?
you brushed hands while reaching for the same book. you backed off, but he’s a gentleman.
‘go ahead, you have it. i guess you’ll just have to tell me all about it later.’
he handed you the novel and strolled into the back of the shop.
you stood where he left you, smiling. a little dazed. then you realised he’d slipped a piece of paper with his number on it, right on top of the book.
your first date was in the cute little café opposite the bookshop.
‘so, do you always slip your number to unassuming girls in cosy bookstores?’ you teased, nudging the marshmallows that floated on your hot cocoa.
he chuckled throatily, the laughter reaching his warm eyes as he clutched his steaming mug. “No, of course not. I made that trick up just for you.”
'charming.'
you dated casually for a few months, through books and poems and songs.
that was how namjoon communicated best, recommending you his favourite collections of words. he would lend you well-worn novels, which you treasured like jewels, tracing late-night dog-ears and rings of coffee. or he’d make you a playlist, crammed with beautiful songs that you’d never heard.
you fell in love with him on a summer’s day, sipping lemon water, sprawled over minty picnic blankets that crushed the grass. you were reading his softened copy of Pride and Prejudice with your head in his lap. he was humming, gazing across the meadow. the air smelled of candied fruit and pines.
you turned the page. pressed flower petals fell out - roses. you were about to ask him about them before you were distracted by a spritz of neon.
namjoon had highlighted in his book. he never did that. at most, he annotated faintly in pencil. highlighting was savagery, a faux pas in his literary world.
your eyes narrowed as you read the section in question.
‘In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
it was so lovely, and you wanted to cry. namjoon was watching you as you tried to recollect yourself. you finally mustered words.
‘did you really wait for me to get to all the way chapter thirty-four, so i could see this?’
‘what can i say? i’m a romantic.’ namjoon grinned, the sun pouring onto his bronzed skin.
you laughed freely, rolling your head back.
‘come here,’ namjoon grins, knocking the book off your lap and pulling you onto his chest.
the little ruffles of your yellow sundress tickled against his skin and all he can think about is how lucky he is to be here with you.
‘you know elizabeth rejects him after this, right?’ your quip, your lips brushing against his.
he rolled his eyes. ‘let’s skip to the end of the book.’
you fluttered your lips against his. your head was all fuzzy in a good way and you could feel every single pulse of your heart and your bodies were melting warmly into each other like lemon curd on, well, a summer’s day.
it isn’t always sunshine and rainbows, though.
you had your first fight in the apartment you bought together.
you loved how contemplative and intelligent your boyfriend was, but sometimes he was so engrossed in his work that you felt like he forgot about you.
“you never listen to me!” you snapped, as you tried to explain to namjoon for the nth time how you hated it when he left coffee cups on every surface. they would always end up getting knocked over, and the remnants had ruined several white shirts and treasured books of yours.
but what upset you more than material things was that you felt ignored.
“i’m sorry, babe. i’ll get to them after i’m finished writing this.”
he didn't even look up from his laptop.
you stormed out of the apartment, wanting to leave before you made a snarky comment you'd regret. you were a hothead like that.
he knows you too well, so of course, he found you sitting on your favourite park bench, staring at fluffy white ducks cresting the murky water of the city pond.
he sat next to you, sheepishly tucking his hands into his pockets. 'i'm sorry.'
'for what?' you asked.
'for being so distant. taking you for granted. you deserve better than that, and my work isn't an excuse to neglect you. you're the most important thing in my life.'
you smiled. 'okay.'
namjoon would make more mistakes, and so would you, but it was okay.
summary: yoongi is always going to be in love with you.
warnings: mention of racial microaggression
word count: 1K
author's note: i've never written specifically with a black girl in mind as y/n but i had this cute idea in class! sorry if there's typos lol but I haven't written for 6 months so bear with meee.
You winced, darting your hand away instinctively as your pinkie made contact with the hot plates of the hair straightener. "Oww," You groaned, blowing on your finger and pouting. Yoongi, brushing his teeth in the bathroom, stuck his head around the door, wide-eyed.
"You okay?" His voice was adorably muffled behind the sudsy bubbles of toothpaste.
"Yes," You laughed, shooing him to go and finish up. You tried to move your hands as quickly as you could without burning yourself again. You'd almost finished straightening the last section of your hair when Yoongi climbed onto the bed with a conspicuous sigh. He watched you gloomily.
"What?" You asked, making eye contact with him in the mirror.
"You rarely straighten your hair. Why are you doing it now?" He asked.
You shrugged, leaning over to pull the plug out of the extension cord. "I don't know. I guess I don't want your parents to be too shocked by me." You tucked your now pin-straight hair behind your ears, smoothing out any wayward strands with gel. Yoongi didn't say anything. He was looking up at the ceiling, a small frown on his face. Maybe he was considering the real possibility that his parents would reject you. After all, it wasn't every day that Koreans married foreigners, let alone black ones. What would he do, if they did? What would you do?
Yoongi opened the door to his car for you - ever the gentleman. You thanked him, lifting up the hem of your long floral skirt so as not to dirty it. He surprised you by reaching over your seat to smoothly draw the belt across you, clicking it into place before planting a kiss on your forehead. "I love you." Yoongi murmured. He swallowed and shut your door.
Yoongi drove slower than usual, as though he was trying to draw out the time until his parents would be expecting you. His fingers tapped an unsteady, staccato rhythm on the leather steering wheel. You stared silently out of the window, picking at loose threads on your sweater as the car hummed along. Eventually, you were turning down a secluded, unfamiliar road at the edge of town. Yoongi slowed even more.
"I haven't been here for so long."
You craned your neck to see as much as you could - you were curious about the place where Yoongi had grown up. Then you saw the house, at the top of a shaggy hill fringed with swollen persimmon trees and strawberry bushes. It was a small property; rust-red bricks and a jade green door with stripping paint. A little white car was stationed to one side of the entrance, beneath which a greying calico cat dozed, its head lolling.
"I love it." You whispered breathily. You could imagine a little Yoongi here, fussing over the kitty, plucking strawberries with sticky pink fingers. It seemed idyllic. Yoongi grinned. "Let's go and see Mom and Dad.'
You stood a few paces behind Yoongi as he knocked on the door, slightly hiding in his shadow. The door began to open, and Yoongi took your hand, pulling you closer to him.
His mother was a woman of small stature, with a long, twisted braid of black hair that she ran her fingers along intermittently as if she was counting the notches. His father resembled him so much that they could've been brothers, if not for the age difference. They shared same thick, low set brow, and the bright boyish smile you had grown to love.
Yoongi's mother swatted him with a dishcloth as the pair of you entered the tiny dining area, which was overflowing with food. "Yoongi-ah! How can you keep your girlfriend from us for so long? I was so curious to see her." Then she took your hand in hers, staring at your deep skin.
"So pretty!" She said, in English. Then to Yoongi, "She's very...exotic, no?"
Yoongi's cheeks flamed. "Eomma. Y/N speaks Korean fluently.'
Yoongi's mother's eyes widened in shock - you realised you had barely spoken since greeting them in the hallway. She must've assumed you couldn't speak the language.
"I'm complimenting you!" Yoongi's mother insisted. "Your skin tone is very unique."
"Thank you, Eomma." You smiled graciously - you could tell the little woman meant well. Little did she know, there were hundreds and thousands of dark-skinned people where you came from.
The four of you sat on the floor to eat the largest, most delicious meal you'd ever tasted. Yoongi's mother made several beautiful trays of gotgamssam - walnuts pressed into tender, heart-shaped halves of the dried fruit. Yoongi's father, a stoic man of few words, would shoot you small glances from time to time. You could tell he was still getting used to the idea of you. That was okay, you supposed.
You and Yoongi were standing beneath a persimmon tree at the top of the long, narrow garden where he'd spent much of his childhood. Sunrays lanced across your face, making you squint. You'd spent most of the afternoon outside in the sun, listening in on his conversations with his parents clustered around a small garden table. They spoke freely, and Yoongi's mother often addressed you, letting you in on funny anecdotes from Yoongi's teenage years that made the tips of his ears turn petal-pink.
"I'm so relieved that they liked me." You burrowed into him, wrapping your arms around his thick torso. Yoongi laughed, the deep sound reverberating from his chest and sending a ripple into the bottom of your belly.
"Of course they did. They saw how much I'm in love with you, and how perfect you are." He murmured, his cool lips tickling the shell of your ear as he held you close.
"I was really worried," You admitted, feeling a little stupid. "I thought they'd want you to be with someone else. A Korean girl. Someone they could show off to their friends, you know? I...was worried you might change your mind about me if they reacted badly."
Yoongi stroked long, languid lines along the apples of your cheeks, his eyes twinkling as he admired your bronze skin in the tangy glow of the sun. "You have no idea, my darling. It's always going to be you."
i’ve been away from writing for a while, sorry if you’ve been waiting on requests and series etc!! i feel like i’ve fallen out of love with it a bit, and i’m trying rlly hard to fall back in love with it again…we’ll see haha
PS: pls let me know which pieces of my writing you guys like the most, i think it will motivate me :)
me trying to figure out which of my 1874489392 requests to start first
summary: your entire world flips over when a strange series of events sets a zombie apocalypse into place. every day is a struggle to survive, and you’re gonna need all the help you can get.
warnings: gun violence, description of gun wounds
word count: 4.3K
Dying was not something you had ever given much thought to. You were freshly eighteen. The most important things in your life were school, cheerleading, and your boyfriend, in that order. You spent all your time studying and training and texting. You worried about whether your hair looked flat. Where you’d go to university. How many calories were in a slice of chocolate cake.
Yet in the past six months of your eighteenth year, you had been drowning in death, barely floating above its murky surface. Life as you knew it could never be the same. Both high school and your childhood were well and truly over.
six months earlier
“Y/N, have you studied for the bio test yet?” Josie Snell charged up to you in the busy corridor, her curly crimson ringlets springing up and down as she speed-walked. Ugh. You cast her an irritated look, vaguely recoiling away from her sphere of hyperactivity. She was always so keyed up before tests, and it did nothing to help your own delicate nerves. Some people just couldn’t read the room, could they?
“Yeah, I did.” You forced a cheery smile, and to your relief, Josie returned the gesture. You watched as she skipped away, the tension in your face dissipating. God, you detested small talk.
Sighing, you continued down the hall, weaving your way the sluggish Monday morning crowds until a long, familiar arm found its way around your shoulders.
“Kook.” Your spirits were immediately lifted. Tilting your head upwards, you were met with the tawny brown eyes of your boyfriend, whose mouth curved into its signature crooked smile at once.
Jungkook touched your hair affectionately, his large hand almost entirely covering the top of your head. You grinned, looping your arms around his narrow waist, and squeezing him as you walked. You’d been dating Jungkook for over a year now; it was indisputable that you were the most popular couple in school. The star quarterback and the cheer captain. It was an incredibly well-worn trope, but you’d knew it worked for a reason. You and Jungkook understood each other better than anyone else, and neither had to sacrifice social standing by dating someone less popular than themselves. Perfectly matched.
“What do you say we ditch today?” Jungkook suggested, his tone breezy as he took your hand and began to walk with you, swinging your arm up and down. You smiled apologetically.
“Sorry, babe. I have a test today, remember?”
Jungkook grinned impishly, his eyes glittering. “So? All the more reason to ditch, right?”
You hesitated, weighing it up in your head. Jungkook tugged on your arm again – an impatient toddler. “Come on, babe. You and I both know you have a perfect grade point average, and your record of unexplained absences is, let me guess…zero.”
You rolled your eyes at him, but a smile was already breaking across your face. “Ugh, fine! What’s the point of being in high school if I don’t skip it at least once?”
“Exactly.”
Clinging to the sleeve of your boyfriend’s letterman jacket, you squealed with delight as the two of you sprinted the wrong way down the hall, your sneakers squeaking against the shiny lino. A perfect moment.
“Wait, did you hear something?” You pulled away from Jungkook’s tight embrace, glancing around the storage closet alertly. He ignored you, planting a trail of scorching kisses along your neck.
“Jungkook, stop!” You wriggled out from beneath his huge, warm body and jumped to your feet, and he looked at you in confusion.
“I heard something, someone screamed.” You explained, smoothing your mussed hair and readjusting your varsity top.
“I didn’t hear anything.” He grumbled, retrieving his jacket from where it lay on the floor of the tiny, dark room. As you rushed to press your ear against the door, a group of people ran down the hall – the footfall was certainly too quick for them to be simply walking. Then, more layered screams, much louder this time.
“Run!”
“They’re behind us, run!”
You glanced nervously back at Jungkook, who shrugged as he put his jacket back on. “It’s probably just first-years messing around.”
“I don’t think so…” You frowned. Your stomach was twisting with adrenaline. Your body was trying to warn you of something…but what?
Heavier footsteps resounded along the hall. Then, a single, sharp popping sound. It was a gunshot, clear as day.
You froze, feeling only Jungkook’s trembling breath as it danced onto the nape of your neck in the staticky air. Another shot followed, and you heard something – no, someone – fall to the ground.
“Oh, my god. Some psycho’s brought a fucking gun to-”
Jungkook clamped his hand over your mouth. “Shh.” He gently knocked you out of the way, standing in front of the door.
The heavy footsteps were getting closer. Why hadn’t you locked the door? If you did it now, they would surely hear you. If they tried the door, it would obviously open. So either way, you faced almost certain death. You couldn’t survive being shot at point-blank range, could you? Maybe if Jungkook covered you with his body. You pressed your face into his back and wrapped your arms around his waist. Jungkook’s here, Jungkook’s here. He won’t let them hurt you. You held his hand so hard you thought you might have drawn blood.
The steps paused in front of the door, and you could hear the person’s shallow breaths. They sounded laboured, foggy as though from behind a mask. Your own breathing felt amplified, like blazing beacons alerting the shooter, We’re here! Come on in and shoot us, why don’t you?
All you could do was wait to see if you would die. You thought about the people you loved; your boyfriend, your parents, your sister. Your sister! Where was she? If she hadn’t gotten out… Your stomach lurched.
The footsteps were moving away. Whatever relief you felt was tainted with the knowledge that whoever they met next would not be so lucky. Several more gunshots echoed across the halls, followed by the thudding of bodies. You reeled backward as shallow, uneven breaths escaped from between your lips.
“Jungkook, we need to find Elkie.” You whispered, struggling to remain upright. Adrenaline was coursing through you, rippling through your veins.
“It’s not safe outside,” Jungkook said with his back to you, his voice hard and unfeeling. Your eyes bulged.
“I don’t care, we have to go!” You hissed. “It’s Elkie!’
He turned around suddenly and looked down at you, an angry expression on his face. “People are dying out there. You’ll be shot the moment you step out of the door.”
You faltered, but only for a moment. “I have to go. You can come or not.” You ducked under his arm and grabbed the door handle before he could stop you.
The corridors were littered with the bodies of your classmates. You blanched as the toe of your sneaker brushed against a mop of curly orange hair, disturbingly lucid against the white floor. A wave of nausea rippled through your stomach.
There was a strong, cloying smell in the air, and you covered your mouth and nose with one hand to fend off as much of it as you could. Staying low, you approached the door of the girl’s locker rooms. Thank God they were on the ground floor; the odds of your escape seemed pitifully low if it involved staircases and elevators.
“Elkie?”
Your voice trailed off as the door swung open to reveal the same awful scene. Bodies slumped over each other, filmy, glazed over eyes, slack mouths, hands grasping at nothing. Except it was worse, because they were not your teenage classmates, they were little girls.
“Elkie.” You mumbled incoherently, dropping to your knees, You began to crawl along the floor, your movements almost robotic. You forced yourself to look at each face, each lifeless girl, and work your way around the room until you got to her. Your sister was face down, her torso covered by the limp legs of another girl. Grunting with the effort, you wrapped your arms around her narrow shoulders and pulled her onto your body.
Elkie’s face was greyish, and her small, pink lips were parted in a look of surprise. Her eyes were half-open, but still. You shook her gently. “Elkie.” She merely flopped around in your arms, her head swaying awkwardly on her neck. You stuck your finger under her nose and waited for breath. It was very faint, but you could feel it. She was still alive.
Reinvigorated with a new determination, you pulled both of Elkie’s arms around your shoulders and hoisted her legs onto your back, straining to get on your feet. A text buzzed into your phone, and you pulled it out, straining with the weight on your shoulders. Jungkook was waiting for you by the gym entrance! You needed to get to him, now.
Stepping over several of the bodies, you hauled Elkie to the door and listened intently for movements in the hallways. It was a straight line to get to the exit, but you have to would run through an intersection – the perfect opportunity for ambush. It was totally quiet all around you, eerily quiet. What if they were camped out waiting for you, their guns all lined up? But what if you left it too long, and they found Jungkook exposed, unable to defend himself? Once again, you had no choice but to go. You leaned forward slightly, so that Elkie wouldn’t slide off your back, and tightened your grip around her ankles.
Your heart was thundering as you bolted down the corridor, your eyes trained on the door ahead of you. With Elkie’s added weight, your footsteps were unmistakable in the otherwise silent building. If you were ever going to escape, it had to be now. You forced yourself to speed up, ignoring the dull ache in your shoulders and arms.
Jungkook slipped out from behind a locker and swung open the exit door ahead of you. It backed into the thick woodland that bordered the school. Even the maze-like forests were safer than being inside right now.
“Hey!”
A shooter. They had a tall, hulking figure, clad entirely in black with only two piercing eyes exposed. They were looking right at you.
“Run, Y/N!” Jungkook yelled, beckoning frantically with his arm. A bullet whipped past your ear and buried itself into the wall. You stumbled but kept running. You were almost there. Another bullet hit the glass panel of the door, shattering it instantly.
“Come on!” Jungkook reached out, grabbed your arm, and you flailed in the air as you all came tumbling down into a ditch. You groaned. There was a new throbbing pain in the side of your head – you’d hit it when you fell.
“Get up!” Jungkook had already brushed himself off and was hauling Elkie’s body onto his broad shoulders. “I’ll carry her, let’s go!”
You took off sprinting into the undergrowth, still a few paces behind Jungkook despite his load. You concentrated on dodging the haphazard scattering of trees, but every now and then you tripped over a thick root, slowing yourself down. Behind you, the crackling sound of branches splintering with bullets became more and more distant.
“They’re gone.” You yelled ahead, panting with breathlessness. Jungkook slowed to a stop, and you shuffled towards him, bent over at the waist. You reached for Elkie, but he stepped away.
“Let me.” Jungkook easily placed her on the floor, and you knelt by her side at once, holding onto her hand. It was perfectly warm. “Do you think she…?”
“No.” You stroked Elkie’s ashen cheek with your finger. “She’s breathing, look.” You pointed to her ribcage.
Jungkook watched the rise and fall of her chest, his eyebrows furrowing. “Where was she shot?”
“I don’t know.” You looked carefully over her body for the wound, examining her chest, arms, and then legs. Just above her knee, the fabric of her jeans was torn. Gently, you rolled the denim up past the tear, and let out a little gasp. Perhaps the size of a fingernail, a piece of glinting metal was embedded into her flesh. Fanning out from it were several writhing, tail-like projections, also anchored to her. The skin that surrounded the bullet was an odd shade of greyish-yellow, and you could see each pulsing vein beneath it. Worst of all was the smell. It was the same smell from the corridor, and you identified it now with odd accuracy. Rotting flesh. You’d smelt it the time your dad left a fish on the counter on a summer’s day. You’d smelt it the time you came across a dead deer while walking your dog two years ago. And you were smelling it now.
“What is that?” Jungkook asked his expression a combination of bewilderment and nausea. In another circumstance, you might’ve laughed.
“God knows,” You whispered, softly brushing the wounded area with a tentative forefinger. In less than a second, the blue tails flung themselves at you from within the wound, driving their wriggling heads into the skin of your arm. You screamed as a painful surge of energy passed through you, the force sending you reeling to the floor.
“Y/N!” Jungkook rushed to your side, his voice high with panic.
“I’m fine,” You mumbled, clambering to your feet, wobbling as you did so. He took your hands, helping you along. On the forest floor, Elkie twitched oddly as the blue threads retracted themselves back into her skin, and your eyes bulged.
Jungkook shuddered beside you. “That is not a bullet.”
“No shit.” You rubbed the stinging spot on your arm, wincing. You’d never been electrocuted before, but you imagined it felt something like that.
“What the hell is going on?” Jungkook pulled at the roots of his hair, pacing around in the dark clearing. Dry branches and leaves rustled under his angry feet.
“Our phones! We need to call the police and our parents.” You caught up to him and snatched your phone out of his jacket while he paced up and down. “Sit by her, please.”
Jungkook nodded, walking to crouch beside Elkie’s limp figure.
You dialed the emergency number quickly, your hands trembling as you waited for the voice of the dispatcher. There was a crackly static noise, and then you could hear a woman’s voice.
“Hello?” You almost yelled down the phone. You were mostly getting white noise, but the panic in the woman’s tone was still evident.
“I’m sorry - there’s been a shooting – I’m sorry! I can’t help you-” The dispatcher’s voice trailed off, and then the line cut out.
Blinking in disbelief, you went to your contact list and pressed the most recent number.
“Dad? Dad, there was a shooting at school, and I don’t know where I am, and Elkie…”
You pulled the phone from your ear and looked at its screen in horror. It was his voicemail - he wasn’t there. You tried your mum’s number, and it was the same result. Your arms flopped limply to your sides, and you stared blankly ahead. What?
“What happened?” Jungkook asked.
You turned around stiffly, your face towards the dirt floor.
“No one answered.” You dropped into his outstretched arms, and the both of you fell clumsily to the floor.
“What do you mean, no one answered?”
“Nobody picked up the phone! Not even the 911 dispatcher! Well, she did, but then… what’s happening, Jungkook? All of our friends are in the halls, just – just lying there, and Elkie, I don’t know what that thing is doing to her-”
“Shh, Y/N. It’s gonna be okay. Maybe we should call again?” Jungkook rubbed your back as you hyperventilated, your mind racing a mile a minute.
“No, I know something’s wrong. Something happened to them, all of them. Something huge. I can feel it, I just know.”
Jungkook looked warily at you, scanning your face with his wide umber eyes. Looking into them usually called you, but right now you couldn’t be more agitated.
“What do you think happened?” He asked, furrowing his brow. You shrugged weakly.
“Maybe they’re terrorists…attacking schools, shutting down the emergency phone lines?”
He nodded slowly at your idea. “Could be.”
You pulled out your phone again. “I’ll check the news, see what it’s saying.” Your phone screen was black and unresponsive. You smacked it angrily. “It’s not working. let me try yours.”
Jungkook handed you his cell, and you found it the same, too. “Nothing.” You mumbled, passing it back and burying your head in your hands. “What should we do?” You looked over at Elkie, who was still breathing steadily.
Jungkook took your hand. “We can’t go back – they might still be looking for us. I say we continue through the woods and try and get into the town. I think I can get us there, my dad used to take me fishing near here.”
“Okay. We need to get Elkie to the hospital, soon.”
You both got up, and you brushed the dry leaves and twigs off your cheer skirt as Jungkook began to carry Elkie again. Far in the distance, you could hear the rushing of water. You let it drown out your thoughts as you walked, zombie-like.
You were completely and utterly lost. The sun was beginning to droop in the sky, and you were pretty sure you’d seem the same fallen tree on about three separate occasions.
“Guk.” You muttered. “We’ve been walking all day. I can’t go much further.”
Jungkook slowed his pace so that you were shoulder to shoulder. “You can lean on me a little.” He offered, showing no sign of fatigue.
You frowned. “You’re already holding Elkie.”
Jungkook snorted incredulously. “She’s twelve years old - she weighs like eighty pounds. I think I can handle it.”
“Okay.”
He put one arm around you, somehow shouldering most of your body weight. You walked in silence, both still trying to make some sense of the bizarre situation you were in. After another half hour or so, you could clearly make out the river nearby; glistening slivers of moonlit water began to emerge through interruptions in the lush, ivy-laden overgrowth.
Suddenly appreciating just how thirsty you were, you rushed down the bank and knelt by the rushing water. Cupping your hands, you drank fervently, sighing as the cool liquid glided past your lips. You splashed water onto your face when you had quenched your thirst, blinking it out of your eyes.
You then turned to call Jungkook and found him nowhere to be seen. You stood up and squinted across the sandy riverbank, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Guk?”
You shook the water from your hands as you headed back into the covering of the trees. A few feet away, Elkie was laying beside some bushes, as though she had just been dropped there. You swallowed. “Jungkook?”
There was a rustling behind you, and you turned around, adopting a defensive stance in front of Elkie’s body. The rustling continued, and then something – or someone – emerged from the trees.
It looked kind of like a person, and moved kind of like one, but it was most certainly not. The non-person's face was almost falling apart – the little skin it had was limp and rotten. A large, bloody gouge in the side of their cheek exposed two rows of yellowing teeth, and their eyes rolled frantically in their sockets, the whites a muddied shade of beige. Jaundice, you mumbled, remnants of the first aid class you’d taken last year bubbling to the surface of your mind. But none of the preliminary life-saving measures you’d been taught in school could help the grotesque creature in front of you.
The not-person slowly trudged towards you, making low, guttural noises with each lumbering step.
You abruptly realised what it was. Something you’d only ever seen in films and the pages of cartoons, something you did not believe existed in this world…until now.
“Zombie.” You breathed, shuddering in disbelief and disgust.
The creature took another step towards you, groaning loudly and reaching for you with its arm.
“Go away!” You shrieked, your heart rate picking up. You were backed into a corner, surrounded by bushes and trees. The space was too tight for you to run without the thing grabbing onto you. Keeping eye contact with the creature, you picked up a fallen branch from the forest floor and brandished it over your head.
“Get back! I’ll hit you with it!” You knew zombies could die from simple blunt force trauma. You just had to give one good strike hit to the head, and then this nightmare would be over.
Just do it! You told yourself, trying to muster up the courage. Your whole body was vibrating with fear and adrenaline. The zombie was only getting closer, and you moved backward, tree branches jutting into your back. It raised its arm again, and you balked; the branch slipped from your grasp, and you cowered into the bushes. You waited for the attack, but it never came.
Peeking between your fingers, you saw the zombie lying on its back, motionless. Was dead? You stepped out, spun around, and immediately walked into something solid. Stumbling away, you managed to get a better look. Someone – definitely human this time – gripped your wrist, steadying you.
It was a young man, maybe three or four years older than you. He wore dark, baggy clothes: black combat trousers and boots, a grey hoodie, a charcoal-toned windbreaker. His hair was bright green. The man let go of your wrist and tucked a pistol into the waistband of his trousers, paying no attention to you. You glanced back at the zombie on the ground. There was a fresh, circular wound right between its eyes, which were directed lifelessly upwards.
“T-thankyou, sir.” You skirted around the corpse – if that’s what a dead zombie was called – and rushed over to your sister, who was still unconscious on the floor. The sound of footsteps came from your left. To your relief, it was Jungkook – but he wasn’t alone.
Two men, dressed similarly to the one who’d saved you, had hold of either of his arms and were dragging him towards you. They dumped him at your feet, and you immediately ran to his side. “Are you okay?” You hissed, scanning his body for injury.
Jungkook nodded but said nothing. The man who’d saved you joined the others, and you realised that they must be affiliated with one another.
“What do you want?” You asked, slowly pulling Elkie’s body into your lap. One of the others pointed at her with a gloved hand.
“Her. She’s infected.” His voice was low and hard.
You blinked. “Infected?”
He rolled his eyes. The one who’d saved you stepped forward. “You’re from the high school, aren’t you?” He appraised Jungkook’s letterman and your skimpy cheer uniform. You suddenly felt self-conscious and tugged down at the hem of your short skirt.
“Yeah,” Jungkook answered.
“The shooting at your high school. They weren’t shooting to kill. They were shooting to turn you all into-” He turned around and gestured at the dead zombie on the floor. “those.”
Jungkook gawked at the creature, as though he couldn’t quite believe what his own eyes were seeing. You felt the same way. Staring at the odd device embedded in your sister’s leg, your eyes widened. It would…turn her into a zombie? How? Why? So many questions were racing through your head.
“Can you help her?” You asked, looking at all three men with pleading eyes.
The one who saved you gave a single, solemn shake of his head. “There’s nothing you can do. She’ll become one of them. The ‘bullet’ can’t be removed.”
“I know, I tried.” You muttered. They all grimaced, clearly aware of the nature of the device. Looking at Elkie with tears in your eyes. you forced yourself to ask, “How long? How long until she…”
“It could be any moment now.” The one with the deep voice spoke. “She’ll wake up, and then in a few hours, the decaying will have taken place. She won’t know anything but hunger.”
You choked on nothing, your face aghast. There had to be some way to save her. Your only sibling.
Jungkook put his hand over yours. “It’s okay.” He whispered to you. How could he say that? It wasn’t okay in the slightest. You were losing her, and you couldn’t do anything about it. You were beginning to fall apart. Like the zombie’s face.
“How do you know this?” Jungkook asked them. “Who are you? You’re dressed like the shooters.”
The one who’d saved you held up his hand as if to demand silence. “No questions. Give me the kid.”
“No!” You clung to Elkie tighter. “She’s my sister. She stays with me.”
He sighed impatiently. “She’s not your sister – not anymore. Her brain is dying as we speak. Give her to me, I’ll make it quick.”
“No!” You screamed, stumbling to your feet with Elkie still in your arms. The smell of her rotting flesh was making you gag. The green-haired man gestured to the others, who immediately seized Jungkook again. You’d barely even tried to run before the man caught you, grabbing your shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” You spat in his face. He smacked your head with the butt of his gun, and you fell.
“Ah!” You scrambled on the floor, your vision blurring a little. You could hear Jungkook grappling with them behind you. Then, the sound of a gun cocking. Then, everything was cool and white, and you were pulled further and further down into a long, feathery silence.
will b re-uploading ‘the last’ soon! i just wanted to polish it a bit and make it something i would be motivated to continue :) i didn’t make any major plot changes though so dw :)
two brand new series that are coming soon! first i want to post the last ybwm chapter, and a few of your requests :) but i’m super excited about these two and i think you’ll love them!
summary: you love your husband and daughter more than life itself. yet, the daily stresses of being a mother, compounded by the general absence that comes with your husband’s career choice, have left you feeling overwhelmed and abandoned. you don’t know how much longer you can go on like this.
pairing: namjoonxreader
genre: angst, fluff
warning(s): none
word count: 1.5K
author’s note: felt inspired to write this after reading the novel ‘kim jiyoung, born 1982’, it was so good and i'd recommend it to everybody. also after i read the book i found out that namjoon has read it too, we love our feminist king :)
“Please, stop,” You mumbled, trying to retract Dayeon’s sticky fingers from where she had ensnared them into your long hair. She squealed in delight, her short, chubby limbs latching onto your torso, covering your clean clothes in whatever kiddie arts-and-crafts project she’d been up to while you had briefly showered and gotten changed. “Kim Dayeon!” You snapped. The child froze immediately, and her lower lip began to wobble dangerously. She tucked her arms into her chest and pouted.
“Mummy didn’t mean to shout.” You were already trying to do damage control, lifting her off the sofa and putting her on the ground, stroking her hair sycophantically. “She’s just tired and not feeling well. Don’t cry, okay?” You pleaded.
“Who’s crying?”
Namjoon’s voice resounded from the front door, and you looked up in surprise. It was a rarity for your husband to be home this early; the kids were normally fast asleep by the time he would show up from work. Your five-year-old girl seemed to have forgotten about her waterworks; at the sound of her father’s voice, she had already scuttled off to find him. You sighed and rubbed your aching temples, going into the bathroom to fetch your third aspirin of the day.
As you swallowed the capsule, you stared blankly at the interior of the medicine cabinet, which almost overflowing with products. Your eyes stalled on the boxes of tampons and pads. They were unopened; you hadn’t touched them for what seemed like months. Months? The large, round pill got caught in the back of your throat, choking you.
Namjoon walked into the small room and closed the cabinet, standing in front of it. “Are you sick?” He asked.
You began to cough violently, bile rushing up your throat and emulsifying the disgusting pill into white glue that dribbled past your agape lips. You rushed to the toilet bowl and vomited until you were just dry heaving. Namjoon knelt beside you, silently holding up your hair, his face stricken with worry. Weakly, you raised your arm, flushed the toilet, and rose to your feet, stumbling to the sink to rinse the awful taste out of your mouth. Once you were done, you continued to stare at the gushing faucet. Water splashed around in the sink.
“Y/N.” Namjoon turned off the water aprubtly and put his hands on your shoulders. “Are you alright? Why did you just throw up?”
How? How could this have happened? You’d been careful. You barely kissed him anymore, how could you be…aw, shit. It was his birthday a few months ago, and he’d accused you of holding out of him. You gave in, let down your guard for one night.
“What are the chances…” You mumbled, wringing out your hair. Your husband looked confused, scared, even.
“I think…that I’m pregnant.” You whispered; the louder you said it, the more real it would feel.
Namjoon broke into a grin and hugged you suddenly, almost knocking you over.
“Ow.” You muttered inaudibly.
“God, that’s amazing, babe. I’m so happy right now. I love you so much.”
You cradled your arms against your chest as he crushed you to him and began to shake with tears. You didn’t want this. He was clearly ecstatic, but you felt like your world was crumbling down. You had been locked into more and more years of motherhood. Cooped up in the apartment, surrounded by nappies and dishes and laundry and infants all day, waiting for your husband to come home from work. You had raised Dayeon alone, and you would raise this poor baby alone, too.
“Y/N? What’s wrong?”
Your crying had become sobbing now, and you were wetting his shirt.
“Honey?” Namjoon gently unentangled you from his body, cradling your head like a child.
You shook him off, and his hurt was well-concealed; only the minute tightening of his eyes and mouth gave him away.
“I feel like I can’t breathe in this house.” Your throat felt like sandpaper as you spoke.
“What are you talking about?”
“The baby.” You sighed, and looked at your stomach. “And now this one.”
Namjoon frowned. “Are you too stressed at home?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You snapped. “You think because I don’t get up for work every day, that I don’t get tired? That I don’t work hard looking after your daughter?”
He looked hurt. “Our daughter. And I’m not saying that, I’m asking you a genuine question.”
You shook your head. “Trust me, you have no idea what it’s like. What it does to your body, to your mind, your whole sense of self. I’m not me anymore. I’m Dayeon’s mummy, and your wife. I want to be myself again. I hate being pregnant. I don’t want to be.”
Namjoon stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t know you were feeling like that.”
“You never bloody ask how I’m feeling! Just what Dayeon did that day, or whether I’ve fed her, or whether she was fussy or not. Guess what? She’s always fussy, she never wants to eat what I cook for her, she pukes on me, she shits like nobody’s business, and you – you don’t ever help me with her! You kiss her goodnight at bedtime, and that’s the most of your parenting.” You spat the words out as quickly as you could, afraid you’d never get the courage to say them again. Then you worried you’d said too much, but Namjoon’s tone remained even and calm. “Do you want me to take on less hours at work? Take more days off?” He asked.
“You can’t do that.” You grumbled. “You have a contract to fulfil and projects to complete. Some of the other members are married, but they don’t get to slack at work.”
He chuckled quietly. “So, what do you want me to do? I’ll hire a nanny if that’s what you prefer.” You could tell by the look in his eyes that he hated that idea. He didn’t want a stranger bringing up his child.
“No,” You sighed, sitting on the floor and burying your face in your hands. “I don’t know what I want anymore. I don’t know who I am.”
Namjoon sat beside you. You gasped as he pulled you clumsily into his lap - winding you a little- and nuzzled his face against your neck. You peered down at him in surprise, watching his Adam’s apple tremble with emotion.
“My love. I understand you, truly. When Dayeon was a newborn, I noticed changes in you, but I didn’t release how difficult you’ve had it until now. For that, I’m sorry. I hope you can accept my apology.”
You shook your head. “You don’t need to apologise, Joon. We wanted to have a family. I just didn’t realise how hard it would be for me, that I would have to leave my career…I know it sounds selfish, but sometimes I want to go back to before. Before Dayeon, back to when we first met. We had no responsibilities, we could do whatever we wanted…I miss it.”
Namjoon wove his hand into your hair, cupping your head, and slid his lips onto yours. As you kissed, he moved your arms so they were slung around his neck, coaxing you closer to him. Eventually, you got dizzy and broke the kiss, laughing to yourself.
“I miss that. That look in your eyes.” Namjoon murmured, going in for another peck on the lips.
“No,” You scolded. “That is what got us here.” You nodded pointedly at your stomach.
Namjoon’s expression turned serious, and he held your hand. “Are you really worried about a new baby? If you’re definitely pregnant, that is.”
“I’m sure I am. It all makes sense now, the headaches, the irritability, the missed periods, the lack of sex drive. What else could it be?” Your shrugged your shoulders.
“You should take a test to be sure.” Namjoon was always so calm and logical. That’s why he was good for you.
“I will. And…I’m not sure how I feel, yet.”
“How about a plan?”
“A plan?”
He nodded. “We can plan everything out. The arrangements for before the birth, during, afterwards…so it’s not all on your shoulders.”
You frowned. “I don’t want you to take time off work.”
“I want to. I want to be home with you more. I want to help you more.”
“Okay.” You smiled, not yet fully convinced.
“Come here.” He said this in Korean; it was something he’d done a lot when you were dating in your teens. You giggled, and buried your face in his neck, sighing as his strong arms massaged your knotted back.
Just as your eyes were closing, there was two fast raps on the bathroom door. “Mummy, I’m hungry!” Dayeon squeaked, stamping her little feet up and down.
You made eye contact with your husband, who immediately got to his feet with you.
“Come on, Dayeon. Daddy will help you find something in the kitchen.” He took the little girl’s hand and carefully guided her in the direction of food. You sighed. Perhaps things were really going to change.
a/n: so many ppl asked for this, finally decided to just write it loll. also, i’ve been watching too much grey’s anatomy…but watch this be very medically inaccurate lmaoo.
word count: 1.7K
Heat. Everywhere. The palms of your hands, the sides of your face, your hair…singed. It was suffocatingly intense, swathing your body – and then, whoosh, you were gone. You were flat on your back, frozen, flying.
You blinked and let blinding light trickle in; irritating fluorescents that could only belong to a hospital. Your other senses were coming back, too; you could smell polished floors, and a general scent of sterilisation. You could also smell the gasoline that clung to your skin like a second one. You didn’t realise how silent it was until your ears popped, and then you flung your hands over them in surprise as you were thrust into panic.
“He’s coding, he’s coding! We need an OR right now!” One of the paramedics flitted from your side, rushing across the loud, white corridor to something – someone – you couldn’t see. They were important. You needed to remember why. Who was it that was so important, so vital to your own existence that your entire chest seemed to be ripping itself apart, that your frantic eyes were burning with tears, that your stomach churned with vomit? Who couldn’t you live without?
Taehyung. You almost leapt of the gurney; the nurses and paramedics had to hold you down as you writhed uncontrollably.
“Taehyung! Let me see him! Tae!” You strained your neck to see him behind the wall of medics, who seemed dead set on blocking your view.
“Miss, please. You need to lie down before you hurt yourself any further. You have a broken leg, and several other fractures and injuries. You can’t help him right now.” A stern young woman brought her face close to yours, forcing eye contact.
“Promise me he’ll be okay.” You sobbed as you spoke, crushing the woman’s hand in yours as the parallel stretchers flew down the hallway.
“Just calm down, okay? We’re doing everything we can.” She pressed her lips together as she speed-walked beside you.
You turned away from her, focusing on Taehyung again. “Taehyung! Can you hear me? Please let me see him!” You thrashed on the cot.
“Ma’am, we need you to lie down.” Another nurse scolded you, but you ignored them. Then Taehyung’s stretcher began to veer in the opposite direction from you, and you panicked.
“No, Taehyung! Don’t take him away from me! No, ow!” Your defiant shrieks waned. The nurse from earlier had just stuck a needle into your right arm, and she pushed down on the plunger, a grimace on her face. “Stop, what are you doing?” You mumbled, looking in the vague direction of your now tingling limb. Your eyelids were starting to droop and feel heavy; you were beginning to forget why you were so upset in the first place. You let your head drop back on the stretcher as your muscles slackened.
“You’re awake.” The serious nurse rose from an uncomfortable-looking chair and wrapped a cardigan around herself. She took a cup of water from a small trolley and offered it to you. You took it, albeit warily.
“I hope you haven’t spiked this.” You muttered, wincing at the aches that rocketed across your body.
She laughed wryly. “Just H20.”
You froze with the cup halfway raised to your lips. “Taehyung? My boyfriend, he was wheeled in at the same time as me. Do you know where he is?”
Her cold blue eyes softened ever so slightly, and she checked the pocket watch that was slotted into her tunic pocket. “If my timing’s right, he’s just come out of surgery. They won’t let you see him for a few hours.”
You chewed nervously on the inside of your cheek. “Do you know how badly he was injured? What was the surgery for? God, I really need to see him. This is all my fault.”
The nurse flashed her eyes around the ward cautiously, before leaning over your cot. “I’m not meant to tell you this, but I felt a little sorry for you, okay? He’s in room 106. Leave in three minutes, go via the lifts to the 2nd floor, take a right, and tell Nurse Jeon that I said it’s okay. You’ll have ten minutes until someone comes to check on him again, make sure you’re out by then, or it’ll be me that gets it.”
You nodded vigorously, trying to soak the information into your foggy brain. “Thank you, so much.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s whatever, just go, before you get caught.”
“Wait, what’s your name?”
“Sol.”
“Thank you, Sol!”
Sol helped you into a wheelchair, and you rolled out of the room, sending her a grateful smile. Your smile faded as you snuck out of the ward. Your mind jumped to disturbing conclusions about Taehyung’s physical state. You hadn’t seen any part of him as you were both wheeled into the hospital. You didn’t know anything. You tried your best to recall the details of what had brought you here. You were driving home from his place, upset about Seolhyun…and then you only knew that you were thrown from your car, cold and wet, and then the flames began. They were everywhere, engulfing you, and then your memories just petered out like a stifled cigarette.
Ducking out of the lift, you moved quietly along the ICU, still catching the attention of more than a few drowsy patients. A large, blinking digital clock flashed the time at you above several notice boards; it was coming up to six in the morning. You scanned the large room, till you caught sight of the nurse you were supposed to go up to – luckily she bore a large name tag attached to her scrubs. The young woman appeared half-asleep, keeping watch outside a private cubicle in which you assumed they were keeping Taehyung.
“Nurse Jeon?” You whispered, pulling to a stop where she was leant against the wall.
“Hmm? You’re the girl from earlier, right? Um, shouldn’t you be in bed right now? That leg break looked pretty nasty.” She eyed your bandaged limb.
“Oh, it doesn’t hurt. I’m all drugged up, heh.”
Nurse Jeon smiled warmly.
“Anyway, is it okay if I go in? Nurse Sol said I could.”
“Sol did?” She was surprised. “Well, okay then. Just ten minutes.” She opened the door wide enough for you to roll in, and shut it softly behind you.
Taehyung was lying supine in bed, looking up at the ceiling. Your hands were frozen stiff over your wheels. The little of his body you could see was covered in bandages. His face was mostly unscathed, apart from a long scar that glided from his ear up to his brow. His hair had been cropped short, military-style – you assumed it to have been burnt in the inferno.
“Tae?” You croaked, your voice thick with tears. You desperately wanted to cry, but that felt disgustingly selfish right now. His eyes widened when he caught sight of you, and he made a feeble effort to sit up.
“No, don’t move. I’m coming over.” You fumbled with your wheels – it was still quite awkward using the wheelchair – and rolled up to the side of his bed.
“Where can I touch you? Where doesn’t hurt?” Your voice cracked as you made a miserable attempt not to start sobbing.
Taehyung looked at you and smiled, before stiffly taking your hand in his bandaged one. “I’m okay, Y/N.”
You shook your head frantically, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “No, you’re not. This is my fault. I never should have left.”
“Shh, shh. It’s not your fault. It’s the fault of the idiot that crashed into you. Did they tell you that he was killed?”
Your tears stopped – you were in shock. “W-what?”
He nodded slowly. “I can’t say I’m in bits about it. He could have killed you. I don’t know how you’re alive right now, but I’m just so glad you are.”
You sighed and laid your head on Tae’s pillow, so that you could feel his warm breath tickling your hair. “I don’t know either. I got hit so hard- I remember that now.
“Mhhm. Are you in pain? Your face is all bruised up. Your leg!”
“Shh. I can’t feel a thing, I promise. Morphine is a gift. It’s you I’m worried about. The nurse said you had surgery…”
He groaned and closed his eyes for a long moment. You lifted your head, alarmed. “Tae? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. The surgery…was for a skin graft. I got a really bad burn on my, uh, left arm.” He gauged your reaction carefully.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned.
“I’m waiting for you to freak out.” He smiled nervously.
“I’m fine.”
“You do realise what this means, right?”
“What?”
“I can’t be an idol anymore.”
Your mouth popped open. “Wha-why?”
He nodded to his wounded arm. “It’ll leave a scar – a big one. You really think the company would be fine with it? No way. They’ll let me go. Wait, Y/N, why are you crying?”
You buried your face in your hands and sobbed. “Oh my god, Tae. I’m so s-sorry. I don’t want this for you. You don’t deserve it. I don’t-”
“Shh. Babe. It’s okay. I’m really fine. I’ve had a bit of time to think about it, and it’s really not so bad. I’m ready for a change in my life. I want to spend more time with you and try new things, meet new people. I’m okay with it. Look at me, babe. I’m really okay.”
You dropped your hands from your face and kissed him as gently as you could, your tears splashing onto his cheeks as you did. “Okay, Tae. I just want you to be okay. I don’t care about anything else, I don’t care about Seolhyun, or anything, just you.” You stared into his large eyes, cradling his face with trembling hands.
Tae kissed you again, and he was smiling the way he always did, and it felt like maybe, just maybe, things could really be okay again.
what people think writing is: worldbuilding, churning out entire chapters in one sitting, metaphors, character building, finishing novels, flawless plotlines
what writing actually is: random 1 am thoughts, zoning out into fictional worlds, associating songs with characters, writer’s block for six weeks at a time, coming up with plot twists at the most inconvenient times
