Imagine With Me

Born Singer

A/N: Rap Line biased, where you at?

Unedited as fuck

~IMAGINE~

You glare at each at every one of them, daggers shooting through your eyes. You give all of them the stink eye. They glare back at you. You look away from them, for if you glared even more, there will probably be holes on their foreheads. You look down at your attire and cringe and fume in anger at the same time.

It was a dark red evening gown, with revealing, very much revealing slits on both sides. You wore red pumps to go with it. Your hair was elegantly tied up in a beautiful braided bun and you gripped your sequened clutch so hard that it might as well pop off. You looked pretty, sexy even, but you hated every bit of it. You hated being there, forced by them.

You were surrounded by people talking about politics and statistics and you felt like you were being suffocated. No one was talking to you though, they weren't allowed to. Everyone was ordered to ignore your complete existence. But you didn't mind, you were used to it. If only they would've ignored your existence too....

Just then, you felt the air conditioning in the room drop further, and felt your legs freeze from underneath that stupid excuse of a gown. You bit your lips as you shuddered when a chill went down your spine.

"Fuck you, Namjoon." You cursed underneath your breath for he had been the one to choose the dress for you.

~Start song here~

Speak of the devil, you hear Namjoon's voice booming through the speakers.

"Bighit exclusive.." He says and everyone cheers, except for you. He smiles at everyone before glaring at you. You wanted to shove your clutch up his ass when you see him smirking at you.

"I'm a born singer, just a belated confession, I swear.. " Your head whips back into the direction of the voice of one of the seven people whom you completely loathed. Jungkook looks straight at you, as he swirls the mic around in his hand. You grit your teeth, hating his existence and quite frankly even yours. Taehyung joins him, with an even wider smirk than Namjoon's while looking at you, and you wished you had a brick in your hand that you could throw onto his stupid grinning face.

Just then, Yoongi comes outta nowhere and starts rapping at your ear. You gasp and fumble backwards as you see his dark gaze on you. He was wearing a dark, rich purple suit, his hair a tousled mess of silver. He takes menacing steps towards you and you back off, your eyes and attention alert on him. Your back finally hits the wall and you whip your head sideways to see that you've hit the wall.

Shit. You groan in your mind. Yoongi stands right in front of you. You try to look all brave and macho but fail miserably when looking into his dark eyes. It scared you. It made you feel inferior and low. Yoongi raised his arm and brushed away a strand of hair from your face. You glare at him at that. Finding your unknown and hidden courage, you slap his hand away and storm away from him. You were thankful, in a way. At least he hadn't put you in the oh so cliche trapped-between-me-and-the-wall-lock. You hated that, yuck. As you were storming away from him, you see big and bulky dudes blocking your way. Bodyguards.

You curse at them to move and they don't budge. You look back to see Yoongi still making his way to you, only to be blocked by one of the guests at the party. He looks down at the girl who was trying to start up a conversation with him and yanks himself away from her clutches. He looks back again and raises his brows. You were missing.

You tried your best to quieten your fast breath. You clasped a hand over your mouth. You were currently taking homage under the protection of the one and the all mighty buffet table. You raise up the table cloth to look for Yoongi. You slowly peek it open and see no trace of him there. You let out a sigh of relief. No way in hell were you sitting your ass here any further. You were out, you don't care whether Bangtan's gonna whoop your ass over it. Mad Yoongi = get the fuck outta here.