𝗚𝗢𝗧𝟳 𝗜𝗠𝗔𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 𝟮

one last time ; jinyoung

Q: What type of person are you at a party? The dancer? The photographer? The corner? The one always taking photos and selfies? The one always eating? The one who just wants to go home? 

A: okay let's admit i'm the girl that would be a bit of everything....well except the dancer, i can't dance for the life of me 

Drop me any questions, personal, KPOP, preferences or advise!

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song recommendation: one last time ; ariana grande 

'It's for your own good,' your mother said sternly, not caring about the tears that were streaking down your cheeks.

'Exactly,' your father agreed gruffly, showing no sign of supporting you.

'You can't expect me to get married at THIS age,' you cried, voice breaking in odd places, trying desperately to get your parents to emphatize with your situation.

'I still have so much left in life, Mom,' you turned to her, pleading.

'Dad please,' you said, wringing your hands together. 'I don't even know him,' you whirled, glaring at your tentative future husband to be who had been quiet ever since the news had been delivered to you.

'There'll be plenty of time for that later,' your dad said, clapping the young man on the shoulder.

'He's a fine young man (Y/N) that'll help bring up the company,' he insisted.

'So is that why you want me to get married so quickly? For your stupid business strategies?' you demanded, literally and figuratively putting your foot down. 'Do you ever think about anything but yourself or the business?!" you shrieked, words tearing at your throat.

'That's enough (Y/N L/N),' he said quietly but you knew that you had crossed a line. A fierce look came into your father's half a century old eyes and he said in a booming voice.

'You WILL get married to him and there will be no objections. If I find out that you have done anything to disgrace the family or in order to sabotage this marriage, the consequences will be very dire,' he commanded, laying down the gauntlet.

'I fucking hate you,' you whispered to the pin-drop silence that accompanied your father's sudden outburst, before turning away, tears blurring your vision, throat closing uncomfortably as you ran out of the house.

Away from all the expectations.

Away from the shattered hopes.

A Week Later

'(Y/N), (Y/N),' your mother snapped, as you glanced stared dully outside the window.

'Miss?' a shop assistant asked hesitantly, holding up another dress for you to try. Sighing, you got up and went with her to the changing room for another round of primping.

Shouldn't brides to be, have a glow about them? You asked yourself as you watched impassively as she helped lace the back of your dress which was uncomfortably tight and the lace was itching at your thighs.

Walking out, not caring if you ripped the dress or not, you stood under the scrutiny of your mother who had seen you come in and out of the dressing rooms about 10 times to assess your wedding gown.

'Well don't you have anything to say about it?' your mom asked, trying to coax an opinion out of you but you had been tight-lipped the entire time refusing to say even a word, because it would mean you had admitted defeat to your parents and you were planning to rebel all the way.