What the fuck goes on in the hybe building? Their sub-labels are all fucking up.
BTS, the biggest group they have, is under controversy, as per usual, but this time for their album, that isn't even out yet, by the way.
Katseye, arguably their newest rising star, put their already controversial member on a hiatus, and then a member's dad made racist and weird comments about the girls.
Enhypen... well, this is what we're all crying about, heesung left, by his own accords as they're showing but the announcement being five hours after they release a new ot7 merch line, a lot of shit planned ahead, and the contract renewal being literally next year makes it feel like there is something up.
ILLIT, they've been suffering and possibly will keep suffering.
(+newjeans)
TXT, recent trailer was made using AI, BigHit doesn't learn.
Cortis, the comeback dates colliding with both TXT and BTS. Again, BigHit doesn't learn
synopsis: when their kid goes missing, an unlikely alliance forms between the guardian angel namjoon, the monster under the bed y/n & the favourite plushie taehyung.
˚₊⋆genre: fantasy crack au, found family, guardian angel & monster tropes, cozy chaos, dramatic overthinking, unhinged
˚₊⋆word count: 2.1k
˚₊⋆a/n: swear i'm not on crack. shoutout to my lovely @matchastwb for the beautiful banner, ily <3 if you're reading tysm and i will really appreciate any comments and reblogs or feedback (bare in mind this is hardly edited though). i enjoyed writing, hope you enjoy reading. much love <3333
˚₊⋆𓏲﹆ series masterlist ﹆ main masterlist
˖°࿐pilot: the unlikely alliance ˖°࿐
Namjoon was freaking out.
Not the dignified, angelic kind of concern they teach you in orientation—the calm, glowing, “it is what it is” sort of thing.
No. This was the sweaty-palmed, wide-eyed, “oh my God, I am going to get fired from Heaven” kind of panic.
He had looked away for two minutes. Two bloody minutes. One hundred and twenty seconds. The time it takes for a kettle to almost boil or for Park Jimin to cause catastrophic levels of chaos. And in those seconds… his kid disappeared.
Like—poof.
One second she was there, happily reading, breathing, existing. The next second she was nowhere. Not behind him. Not beside him. Not even doing the little kid thing where they hide and giggle behind curtains.
Gone.
This had never happened before. In his 200 years of existence—two centuries of guarding babies, toddlers, teenagers, and once a 35-year-old man-child who skateboarded without a helmet—he had never lost a kid. Not once.
And yet here he was.
It was all because of that sneaky, pink airhead Park Jimin. Namjoon was sure of it. He was the root of all his problems. Always.
Jimin had come floating in, smelling of strawberries and disobedience, distracting him with some “urgent celestial paperwork” (which turned out to be a doodle of a duck in a suit). And during that tiny distraction—gone. Kid lost. Record ruined.
Bet he plotted this, Namjoon thought miserably. Busy Namjoon with nonsense so his sparkly clean record gets dirtied by irresponsibility. Then Jimin will finally be able to say, “See? You’re not that perfect.”
No. No. Absolutely not. This could not be happening.
He needed to find her. Before his superiors found out. Before his perfect file got a red line across it. Before… before his kid got hurt.
He swallowed. His wings twitched behind him—they always did that when he was nervous. They were big and white and glowy and completely, infuriatingly useless.
Think, Namjoon. Think.
Where could a little seven-year-old have actually gone?
He pictured her—tiny ponytail, mismatched socks, eyes too big for her face, the way she always stuck her tongue out when she coloured. She wasn’t the type to go running off recklessly. She was a good kid. A really good kid. She said please and thank you and “good morning, mister angel” even though he told her not to call him that.
So where would she go?
Well, there was only one way to find out.
Namjoon started searching.
And when Namjoon searched, he really searched.
He checked every public restroom in a three-mile radius—even the ones with scary graffiti and no toilet seats. He cleared out a museum because he thought he saw a tiny shoe in the Ancient Egypt section (it was not her; it was an exhibit). He stopped an ice cream van mid-drive and interrogated the ice cream man like a detective in a crime drama.
“Have you seen a little girl? About this tall? Smells like cotton candy?”
The man blinked. “This is a Mr Whippy, mate.”
He looked through parks, toy stores, and libraries. He questioned street performers. He asked a pigeon. He even looked through every trash can along his way—every trash can—because kids can be weird and sometimes they crawl into places they shouldn’t.
The thing about Namjoon—the guardian angel—was that although he had wings, they were only for show. Purely decorative. Like the gold cutlery humans bought but never used. He couldn’t actually fly. So he had to do all that searching on foot.
And by the time he was done looking through every trash can in the city, five whole days had gone by.
Five. Days.
His kid was still missing.
To make matters worse, if she had been kidnapped—which he was now strongly starting to suspect, because what normal disappearance lasted five days—then he had completely missed the golden hour to get her back. Angels had guidelines about this. There were PowerPoints. There were seminars. He’d missed it.
Namjoon was truly, fully, heavenly-committee-level fucked.
His brain started going to the worst places. Angels were supposed to be composed—but Namjoon was a soft one. An overthinker.
Oh my God, what if his kid was somewhere tied up and her kidnappers were requesting a huge ransom?
He didn’t even have money. You didn’t get paid to be an angel. You got grace points. You couldn’t trade grace points for cash. He’d tried.
Or worse… what if they were forcing her to eat broccoli? She hated broccoli. She once cried because it was “a tree and trees are friends.”
No. No. No.
This could not be happening.
What if… what if… what if she was dead and lying in a pool of her own blood?!
He slapped his cheeks. No. He refused to let his brain go there.
There was only one place remaining for Namjoon to look.
He had left it for last on purpose. Like when you do a maths exam—you try every possible formula and leave the question you’re certain is definitely wrong for last. This was that kind of scenario.
Her house.
He didn’t want to check there because if she wasn’t outside, she should be home, and if she wasn’t home… then something was really wrong.
So Namjoon took the bus—because once again, he could not fly—and headed to the kid’s house. He sat stiffly in the plastic seat, wings squished and folded as much as possible, trying not to glow too much so humans wouldn’t stare. A toddler across from him waved. Namjoon waved back weakly.
When he arrived, he expected noise. Crying, at least. A distressed mother. A panicking father. The butler yelling into a phone. Police tape. Something.
Instead, he was met with silence.
The house—which was usually alive with footsteps and vacuuming and the distant sound of cartoons—was still. Too still. Like it had taken a big breath and held it.
Bewildered, Namjoon checked every room. Kitchen. Study. Guest room. Even the wine cellar. Nothing. He opened a bathroom door very slowly, thinking, If I see a human corpse, I will simply pass away, but it was empty too.
Not a single living soul.
No parents. No annoying butler. No housecleaners. No bodyguards. Not even the house cat.
Something was not right.
He rubbed his chin, wings rustling, and made his way to the place he knew best: his kid’s room.
The moment he opened the door, her smell hit him—that particular mix of cotton candy, bubble bath, and clean laundry. The curtains were drawn halfway, letting in a soft afternoon light that made the room look warm and quiet. The bed was freshly made, which was strange, because she was not a bed-making child. Toys were thrown in a messy-but-organised way in one corner, like she’d been playing some elaborate game and then vanished mid-story. Her books were in a pretty pile, The Jungle Book left open as if she’d only looked away for a second.
Namjoon sat on the edge of the bed.
It was too big for a little child.
Just like this world.
Where was she? This world was too big for her. Too sharp around the edges. He thought of all the things she could be exposed to—cold, hunger, people who didn’t care about her favourite plushie. He thought of her small hands. He thought of the way she always shared her snacks with him even though, technically, angels didn’t eat.
He felt himself sink into a sad, dramatic pity-party. He was good at those.
He stared at the floor.
He did not stare at the bed.
He should’ve stared at the bed.
Because from under the bed, two long, green, sharp claws shot out and grabbed him by the ankles.
Namjoon looked down slowly, like a man realising too late that he, in fact, should have looked down sooner.
He screamed.
Then, he passed out.
“I told you I should have been the one to approach him.”
“I didn’t think he’d get scared!”
“Obviously he did. You’re hideous. I would get a heart attack every time I see you—only I don’t have a heart.”
“You’re so mean.”
Namjoon’s eyes fluttered open. His head was pounding. His wings were splayed out awkwardly. He was on the floor now. He blinked… and the first thing he saw was claws.
He nearly passed out again.
“Oh, he’s awake—wait, wait, please don’t faint again!” you—the hideous creature, apparently—yelled, scooting back on your… tail? Limbs? Whatever monsters under the bed used.
“So,” Namjoon said slowly, voice full of utter disbelief, “you’re telling me you’re the monster under the bed… and you’re not actually a bad monster.”
You straightened up a little. Up close, you were… well, monstrous. In a cute way. Too many teeth, too many eyes, claws a little too long, but your expression was very much please don’t hate me.
Before Namjoon could process that, someone very small and very fluffy marched forward and planted himself between you and the angel like a bodyguard.
“Hey,” he said, voice deeper than a stuffed toy had any right to have. “Don’t keep looking at her like that. We can’t help how we look.”
Namjoon’s eyes went even wider, which should not have been physically possible. “And you’re the talking favourite plushie?”
“The name’s Kim. Kim Taehyung. A pleasure to meet ya,” Taehyung said, and held out a soft, stuffed hand like this was a business meeting and not a supernatural crime scene.
Namjoon slapped himself with both hands. “I am going crazy.”
“Maybe he’s a little shy, Taehyung. Let’s give him a bit of space,” you said, lowering your claws so you looked less like a threat and more like an anxious roommate.
“Oh my God, I am going crazy,” Namjoon repeated, rubbing his temples. “A talking plushie and an ugly monster.”
You were personally, deeply offended. “He didn’t have to call me ugly,” you muttered.
“Hey!” Taehyung shouted, turning on Namjoon. “That’s funny coming from you, walking sparkly man with wings!”
“Exactly,” you said quickly, seizing your moment. “Having wings is not that normal, you know. And—and for the record, they’re not very pretty!”
Taehyung nodded like a judge. “Burn.”
Namjoon exhaled and tried to sit up. “Alright. I think I can get my head around you… abnormal creatures. I’m not very normal myself to be rational.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung said, folding his little felt arms. “Your shiny white wings and glittery aura helped us figure that out. Let me guess—guardian angel?”
Namjoon’s mouth fell open. “How—how did you know?”
“It’s Taehyung’s cur—” you started to explain, but Taehyung whipped his head toward you with such a deadly plushie glare that you shut your mouth instantly.
“Right…” Namjoon said, looking between the two of you. A frown pulled at his brows. “Why do I keep feeling like I forgot something?”
“Me too,” you said, blinking all your eyes.
“Yes,” Taehyung said, slow and dramatic, “it feels like I’m forgetting something extremely impor—”
He froze.
You froze.
Namjoon froze.
“KIRA!” all three of you shouted at the same time.
Namjoon looked at you like he’d just found comrades in stupidity. “What, you guys are looking for my kid too?”
“Well, of course,” you said, claws twisting shyly. “My job was mostly to scare her into being a good girl, but I did really like the kid.” Your voice wobbled.
Monsters under the bed had feelings too. Namjoon nodded immediately, because he got that.
“And I—” Taehyung tried to say.
“You don’t need to explain,” Namjoon interrupted, turning to Taehyung. “You’re the favourite plushie for a reason.”
Taehyung’s little stitched mouth twisted. “Do not patronise me, birdy. I am more than a favourite plushie. I am the ultimate plushie.”
“Birdy? Who are you calling birdy, you stuffed little—”
You jumped in before you had to watch an angel bicker with polyester. “Well, if we’re all here for the same purpose, why don’t we form an alliance and search for Kira together?”
You fiddled with your hands, looking at the floor. It was a good idea. Monsters could be shy about good ideas.
Namjoon tilted his head. “I mean, it’s not a bad idea, but how will you two even walk out of here?” he asked, glancing pointedly at your claws and Taehyung’s very obvious plushie-ness.
“That’s true,” Taehyung said, looking down at himself like he’d just remembered he was 80% fluff. “How will you walk out?”
You blinked. “I can just say I’m cosplaying?”
They both gasped.
“What a genius!” Taehyung cried.
Namjoon’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Alright,” he said, trying to look authoritative again even though he’d fainted twice in front of you. “So we have an alliance.”
mention your top 3 all time favourite fic writers here !
LETS SPREAD LOVE AND APPRECIATION FOR THE PEOPLE WHO ENTERTAIN US 🫶🏼♥️
omg i have so manyyyyyyyy, 😭 and I absolutely love them all. but I've been reading alot of Cortis fics lately.
@jeonlic - her fics EAT, actually her whole blog. AND SHE FOLLOWS ME?!! LIKE WEIRD ME?!!
Second place goes to my MOOTIE @meeoowchi she writes amazing Cortis fics and RIIZE. i love her 💗
@pbananalover is another of my favorite Cortisblr writers 💗💗 Much love for her and definitely waiting for updates.
@wintrbears i know you said 3 but i couldn't but add her, her blog is so amazing and she says the most relatable things ever. HER FICS THO MASTERPIECE. I LOVE YOU.
I genuinely love all fic writers, they all so kind, patient. They write the best fics. THEY ALL MY FAVORITE AND I HOPE THEY GET MORE LOVE ON THEIR FICS!!💗❤️💕.
Hey I saw that you did a reading on whether BTS would date a black or Latina women, can you do one for South Asian or desi women as well?
Thank you for your work.
Would BTS be interested in a South Asian.
Disclaimer(This is for entertainment purposes only, I do not claim to be 100% accurate because I don't know these men, all based on energy and my intuition.)
Namjoon: Wheel of fortune upright + Two of wands upright + ace of pentacles upright .
With this spread the energy I'm getting is kinda going with the flow so if the universe guides him to someone and they are South Asian he would take the opportunity, he is very open minded.
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
Seokjin: 8 of cups reversed + King of cups upright + 3 of wands upright.
Overall I'm seeing him sticking with Korean women, king of cups upright yeah he is determined, he is standing on business with dating within his group, but with three of wands upright, I see him admiring South Asian women for their beauty.
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
Suga: Page of wands upright + Ace of pentacles upright + Queen of pentacles upright.
Page of wands upright this is adventurous energy, with the ace of pentacles if he ever kicks it with someone who happens to be South Asian he will go for it, especially if they are independent, grounded, and secure with their career, home life.
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
Jhope: Two of cups upright + six of wands upright + Eight of pentacles upright .
Short answer, Yes, again kinda like yoongi, if he meets someone and the connection is strong he will date them, he definitely has respect and admiration for South Asian women, and eight of pentacles upright is confirmation for me of determination in the relationship/connection.
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
Jimin: Five of wands upright + three of swords upright + The high priestess upright .
No lie I'm low-key confused by this energy, I think right now Jimin is not ready for a relationship in the moment he may have been heartbroken in the past and is just healing, he has his own battles to fight, the high priestess is telling me this is secret and to just mind my business lol.
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
Taehyung: Knight of wands upright + Six of pentacles upright + five of pentacles.
If Taehyung wants someone he is gonna get that someone, probably by smothering them with gifts, etc, with the five of pentacles I'm low-key confused, I think he is maybe struggling with something I'm not sure.
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
Jungkook: Ten of cups reversed + page of wands upright + five of cups upright.
Well, it's a maybe, Jungkook is emotionally distant, unfulfilled, he is searching for himself, he may have lost something idk, I'm not clicking with his energy.
breaking my hiatus to talk about this but genuinely who’s smart idea was it at bighit to have bts, cortis, and txt all comeback around the same time???? that’s a schedule of genuine doom and despair and also each comeback is very special in its own way so shouldn’t we give them that respect? i mean, it’s txt’s 7th anniversary, cortis’ 1st comeback, and bts’ comeback after what like 4 years? these are all huge things and i feel like they should have been spread out instead of clumping them all together like this. but idk just my opinion.
you : you're..small moments and genuine laughter, jeongguk..like, the word defiance. like the word bittersweet.
jeongguk🌙: you think im some troublesome guy?
you : i think you're everything that i can't put into words
jeongguk🌙: oh
jeongguk🌙: yeah..i think it's valid
jeongguk🌙: because no one can describe the way I see you through my eyes
you : what??
jeongguk🌙: not even myself.
Jeon Jungkook One-shot [drabble]
•♡•
"I think, people carry ashes in their heart.
Not the cunning kind, never the cruel kind.
Just..a quiet ache
You know, the quiet after the storm? That kind.
And I realize that..a part of their fond memories are completely burnt by the flame of this harsh society and they just..carry on with their life,
Pulling that smile, calling it optimism
While I'm here—
Wincing over the littlest spark of that flame."
Jeongguk listens to her,
He observes the light lilt to her voice when she talks something delicate.
Her words pull a part of him to the surface— something he couldn't name.
Perhaps, a tender vulnerability.
He always hated being weak.
"Shouldn't a spark be a supportive thing?"
He questioned, tilting his head, trying to understand her musings.
She smiled, the way she always does when someone is being genuine.
She felt thankful that he was true in the way he spoke,
Instead of giving empty nods and emptier promises.
"This, is where we differ.
You think it's something that motivates you
I think it's a weight that I'm forced to carry.
And in a way, it's right for a person to say that perspective matters a lot."
He chuckled at her reasoning,
And he wondered, he always wondered—
God, this girl is something.
Someone he could never figure out.
"My brother once told me"
She exhaled, gazing back at him, eyes holding that weight she muttered.
"That..we can't really understand people.
Atleast, in all circumstances."
She laughs at her own words, as if it's an amusing thing
"I was offended back then. I was a child, you see.
A child who blindly believed that she could love anyone and everyone and achieve everything with no insecurities.
But..yeah, I get it now. You can not really figure out people, not all the times."
He falls silent at her conclusion, thinking it over
He notices the way her fingers trace mindless patterns over her pants, silent.
"Doesn't that mean we should just..be there for people?"
He says it simply, life it's one another day, like it's a familiar thing.
Y/n halts her gestures and gazes back at him, pondering on his words,
Wondering how he could find solutions that seemed obvious to him but oblivious to her.
She smiles, the tender kind once again,
With eyes holding the same weight.
"And how's that possible?"
She questioned, trying to be simple for once.
And he smiles at her, the way he does when he's fond of a person.
"It is possible."
He pauses then,
Takes her hand, drawing a small, small heart on her wrist with his thumb.
"Because I'm here for you right now. I could make you laugh, i could simply be with you, I could hold you close. Maybe I won't be there to exist beside you all the time. But that doesn't erase this warmth, it doesn't erase the connection we share."
Y/n exhaled, her eyes so still as if he said something ethereal.
Maybe, he did.
Jeongguk chuckled, shaking his head at her expression.
"Isn't it hard?"
Her question makes him tilt his head,
his eyes holding that mirth she doesn't know to hold in her own.
"Isn't it hard to just..be simple?
At this point, I feel like..
It's becoming easy to be a hard person. A complicated person.
Because people are out there, suffering from real problems
While I'm battling with things that don't exist, that are in my head."
His eyes soften, the mirth in his orbs melting into gentle understanding.
He doesn't deny her words, but he couldn't bring her any significant comfort either, because it's an endless loop of questioning your own perspective. And he understands it. He understands where she comes from.
"Maybe it's hard because..you give little importance to your suffering."
He pauses, catching her questioning expression.
"You say that there is a lot of problems out there, yes.
It needs a closure, a proper solution and..
So do you."
He exhaled,
Lifting her palm to hold it against his cheek.
"You acknowledge the society's flaws and deem yours as nothing
because it taught you to brush away your pain in the name of being independent.
That's not growth, Y/n.
That's merely a facade many put on.
So you shouldn't feel sorry to be saddened by your problems.
Seek happiness. Choose it once again."
He pauses, breathing out the next words
"Choose yourself."
Y/n stayed silent, the warmth of his skin against her palm grounding her,
Before she exhaled a shaky laugh, her gaze dropping to her lap with a soft murmur
"Now that's the real hard thing..."
He didn't laugh.
Instead, his free hand reached out to stroke her head, muttering gently—
"I'm sorry situations and society made you think like it's hard to love yourself."
He sighs, says those words as if they were entirely hers to hear,
His lips finding her temple, deciding its his solace for the entirety of his life
And he whispered softly against her skin,
Coloring his love with the soft exhale, softer words, safest embrace
"Because loving you is the easiest decision I've ever made.
I'm madly, stupidly, fondly in love with you, Y/n."
