Seven boys and one girl, they love each other of course, but maybe sometimes a little too much.
Basically a story of how they all met and love each other.
Updates (hopefully) once a month.
[eight member au] | bts 8th member | semi-polygamy
[sex...
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Although they had already hugged each other on stage, it had been a tearful speech, one that continued to make her tear up long after they had left and gone backstage.
"Baby, you okay?" Namjoon asked, throwing an arm across her shoulders, walking through the back hallways together, heading toward their private dressing room. He squeezed her shoulder in reassurance, his warmth seeping through the silky fabric of her cool blouse. She tangled their fingers together, leaning further into his side.
"Yeah—" She carefully wiped her eyes, so not to ruin her makeup, smiling up at him. Her thoughts and heart still heavy after their confession on stage. Their long nights about whether BTS should disband or not—thoughts of her leaving.
She looked up with sad eyes, his comforting smile lifting her spirits. Hani reached up on her tip of her shoes, pecking his lips. Namjoon's face dimpled and he pinched her cheek lovingly like he always did, kissing crown of forehead in return.
"Hani?"
She turned wide-eyed, growing stiff in Namjoon's arms. From behind she suddenly felt Jimin's familiar hands slither quickly and protectively around her waist, tightening his arms, hugging her left side as he was looked over her shoulder with an expression that was neither warm nor welcoming. Namjoon stepped forward, blocking her view as the rest had flocked to her aid like some shield or extra pairs of bodyguards, Taehyung was another to quickly cradle her other side, having replaced Namjoon on her side.
In their dressing room their stood Hyun—her older brother. Except for the occasional birthday texts, they hadn't seen each other in years.
MAMA 2015 ☽
Hani chewed on her bottom lip, her nerves eating at her as she toyed with the food on her plate. The coolness of the dining room and tension suffocating.
Her father sat up front, wheeled in by the nurse. He looked more wrinkled and weathered, brows framed downward, mouthed painted forever with frown it seemed. She couldn't remember the last time he'd ever smiled. Did he even know how to?
She never saw him growing up, having always been tucked away at the back of the house—alone. If her mother had it her away, she'd never been a part of this family. Still, a part of her hoped that he loved her because she loved him—he was her father. He'd paid for lessons, school—she was grateful—even if he lacked affection or was bad at showing it like Hyun said. But just once, she wished. Hani took a bite of her rice, focusing on the sound of her chewing so she could imagine herself elsewhere. They would be on stage soon.
"Why is your face swollen?" Byul giggled, her flashy nails glinting just like her eyes—fake, a smile full of practiced enthusiasm. Ignore her. "Gain weight? What will the idol tabloids say? Never mind. You're unimportant." Ignore her. "You know I've missed our sisterly talks."
