"we weren't supposed to be together," he pants, distaste patterned on his tongue «a promise overdue, an arranged marriage in set. he kisses me and doesn't mean it. i kiss him and don't mean it. looks like we'll be doing that for the rest of our lives now» 4/4 - "Hyung-line series"

Formerly titled Butterfly ~~~ When former reporter Melody Tsushima was sentenced to twenty months in prison, she hadn't expected to be sent to Versailles. Cooking soups and planting daffodils, after all, was strange. But all par for the course at the so-called "Palace at Versailles," an old mansion equal parts prison and psychiatric ward for incarcerated young adults. And Melody certainly hadn't expected her own special assignment: to write the stories of her fellow patients.  A girl who truly knows what it means to be different. A young woman with wounds that run far deeper than skin. A boy whose heart is much too big for his damaged body. A young woman who sees the world as it could be, not as it is. A boy with too many souls living in him. A boy with universes in his mind.  All of them are unique, and all of their stories will change Melody.  // Note: this story was formerly a completed story in the fanfiction category. This version has been rewritten to be original fiction. Due to the request of readers, the previous story chapters have been unpublished, rather than deleted.

"sit closer to me, that guy is undressing you with his eyes." "aren't you doing the same?"

"you've chosen the right girl." - On the 69th day after meeting BTS: Namjoon is scared, Jin is quiet along with Yoongi and Hoseok, while Jimin's mad. Jungkook's a fumbling idiot with a gun, and Taehyung's unconscious on the cold ground. ...and well you, you're being a sarcastic moron not taking any of the dangerous situation seriously. How did a fun-bubbling concert end up this way? ~ Namjoon x Y/N based ~ - 2/4 - "Hyung-line series."

[COMPLETED MARCH, 2018] (방탄소년단) BTS Fanfiction: Dance With Me This is your story. This is a story about hardships and coping - it comes in many forms to others but to you, both came in the form of dancing. It was all you knew and Juilliard had always been your goal. But was it really? - you constantly asked yourself that question and many times it went ignored. In the middle of your crucial audition preparations however, you happen to win an opportunity to join BTS (방탄소년단) on their tour. How lucky right? There was just one thing though... You couldn't stand being around superficial Idols because they were all the same...so what made BTS different? Unfortunately for you, BigHit made you an offer that you just couldn't refuse... FULL SYNOPSIS IN INTRODUCTION *Please don't copy my work! Inspiration is great but copying is the an insult to the effort I put into my writings. Thanks!* NOTICE: Will be editing every chapter so sorry for the inconvenience ************** Text copyright © bangtanfamfic ™ 2017 The moral right of the author has been asserted. All rights reserved.

"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.