... i am so sorry

Killing Me Softly

Genre: 70s!AU; Angst; Fluff

Pairing: Woozi x Black Reader

Warnings: Drug Use, Violence

Author’s Note:  That picture had me shook af.  I had to write something. I wish he had a piercing and more rings though.

     “I just need you to bang out another hit.  Y’know something real groovy- that’s what you kids say nowadays, right?,” the middle-aged man chuckled.  “Yeah, something like that,” Jihoon sighed, running a hand over his face in a mix of annoyance and exhaustion.  “I know you can do it.  That’s why I hired you, and you’ve done it before.”  “But my heart’s just not in it.  I didn’t sign on for disco, Mr. Jamison.”  

     The man looked at him with a smirk before taking a long drag of his cigar.  “You signed on for whatever the fuck I tell you to write and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it ‘long as I’m cutting you a check.  Now get to work,” he sneered before leaving the studio.  Jihoon watched in anger as Jamison exited, causing him to accidentally snap his pencil in half.

     About an hour later, he balled up yet another piece of paper, throwing it into the overflowing bin on the other side of the room.  “Shit,” he mumbled, dropping his head to the wooden desk.  ‘Washed up before thirty…Who would’ve thought…?’  His eyes drifted between the clock on the wall and the blank pages of his notebook.  “Fuck this,” he said defiantly, grabbing the book and a pen before making his way out of the studio, as well.

     “Another scotch on the rocks, please,” Jihoon requested, punctuating the sentence with a slight hiccup.  “I don’t know, Man…I think I might have to cut you off,” the bartender replied, slightly amused at the hazy look in his patron’s eyes.  “C’mon, just one more. I swear I’m okay,” he pleaded with only a slight slur to his diction.  

     Their banter was interrupted by applause as another singer took the stage at the front of the bar.  Jihoon turned his attention to the bronze-complected, demure woman that stood in front of the microphone.

     “How y’all doin’ tonight?,” she began.  “I’m not really one for introductions, and most of you know me already, so I’ll just get started with a number by good ‘ol Miss Flack. Y’all dig?”  Noticing the crowd’s positive reaction, he wondered what made her so special.  

Then she opened her mouth.

“Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song”

     At that moment, Jihoon knew that this was the sound he had been searching for.  The harmonies he couldn’t hold on to.  The melody he’d been missing.  This woman’s voice, so soulful and sultry, was exactly what he needed.  

     “Who’s that?,” he asked the bartender.  “Oh, that’s _____.  She’s a regular here.  Performs every Friday night for open mic.”  Jihoon nodded, deep in thought.  

      After finishing her set, she took a bow, humbly accepting the applause that rang through the air.  “Much love, much love,“ she smiled.  “Enjoy the rest of open mic night, and I’ll catch y’all on the flip side.“  With one final wave, she walked down the stairs at the front of the stage.  

     “Great set, as always,” the bartender said as she walked by.  “Thanks, David,” she smiled.  Figuring it was now or never, Jihoon stopped her before she could leave.  “Uh, excuse me.”  She turned to look at him with a pleasantly curious expression.  “You were amazing up there.”  “Thank you.”  “I’m not sure of how to say this, but basically…I need you.  Wait, that sounds terrible.  I need your voice.  That’s not much better,” he muttered the last part under his breath before inhaling deeply.  Exhaling, he inwardly cringed at the confused look on her face.  “My name is Lee Jihoon and I’m a musician.  I write and produce for Copasetic Records.”  

     She nodded, skepticism clear on her face.  “You don’t believe me.  It’s okay, I wouldn’t either,” he says, handing her his card.  “Anyway, I’ve been banging my head against the wall trying to find a new sound and I think I just did.”  “And that sound is…me?”  “Yes.  Money’s no object.  I just need you to record a song for me.”  She skimmed over the card before handing it back to him.  “No thanks.”  “What?”  “I’ve heard the stuff you produce and it’s not my style.”  “But this song would be different.  With your voice and my lyrics, we could make a hit.”  “With your lyrics?,” she scoffed.  “Ooh baby, do it real groovy,” she recited humorlessly.  “Okay, so that wasn’t my best song, but-Wait!,” he exclaimed, following her as she walked out of the bar.  

     “Look, I only saw ‘Foxy Brown’ once, but I’m a fast learner.  Keep following me and I’ll have no problem kicking your ass.”  “No need,” he raised his hands in defense.  “I’m just asking that you take my card…In case you change your mind.”  “Fine, but that’s not likely to happen.”

     Jihoon became a regular at that bar over the next few weeks.  Drinking numbed the pain of him having sold his soul to Copasetic Records, and seeing _____ revived what little hope he had left in the music industry.       

     “You’re pretty damn persistent, aren’t you?,” she asked, taking a seat on a bar stool before ordering “the usual”.  “No, but I’m pretty sure I’m becoming an alcoholic,” he chortled.  David placed a martini in front of her and Jihoon stopped her before she could pay for it.  “It’s on me.”  “I don’t accept drinks from strangers,” she simpered.  “Well, I don’t think I’m that strange, do you?” 

     She thought for a moment before speaking again.  “What’s the catch?”  “No catch.  Just buying a drink for a beautiful girl.”  “Thanks, but drinks and compliments don’t get me into bed or the studio,” she said in a slightly teasing tone.   

Well, she was half right.

     Soft smoke clouded the air in Jihoon’s bedroom as they found themselves tangled in a mess of bare limbs and plush sheets.  

     “…And so I found a gig at the bar and just…never left,” _____ exhaled, smoke flowing throughout her words. “But you could be doing so much more,” Jihoon sighed.  “Pass.”  She handed him the blunt and he took a long drag before continuing to speak.  “Don’t you wanna see your name in lights, _____?”  “Not if it means being a puppet with a record exec’s hand up my ass…Sorry,” she laughed, noticing Jihoon giving her a blank stare because of her comment.  “Look, I came to LA hoping for something different.  Something worthwhile that would make me happy.  Then I experienced hunger…I did what I had to do and then I got used to the money.  Figured that if I just played along for a while, I’d eventually get to create what I wanted…but I guess I was wrong.”  Realizing that this was clearly a sensitive topic for him, she placed a hand on top of his.   

     He smiled softly at her before putting the roach out in the ash tray on the bedside table.  Without another word, he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, tasting mint, hemp, and bliss. 

     The next morning, Jihoon woke up to an empty space in his bed and the sound of his piano in another room.  After sliding on a pair of boxers, he made his way into his living room to find _____ sitting at his grand piano, his red flannel loosely fitting around her small frame.  

     “You’re pretty good,” he smirked, leaning against the door frame.  She jumped a bit, immediately removing her hands from the keys.  “I’m sorry.  I just couldn’t resist.”  “She’s a beaut, isn’t she?,” he asked, walking over and gliding his hand across the wood.  “You ain’t never lied,” she smiled, still mesmerized by the instrument.  “Play something for me,” she grinned, finally looking at him.  “Alright.  Any requests?”  “Surprise me,” she shrugged.

     He nodded and began to play the tune of “Killing Me Softly”, causing her to laugh a bit.  “Of course you picked this song.”  “Sing for me,” he beamed, fingers gracefully tapping.  

“Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song”

     “Beautiful,“ he complimented before adding, “Oh, and the singing was good, too.“  She giggled a bit before leaving a sweet kiss on his lips.

About two months had passed before Jihoon showed _____ his song book. 

     “I have a surprise for you.”  “What is it?,” she asked, rolling another blunt.  He pulled out a small notebook and handed it to her as she placed the herb on the table.  “Back page.”

     She smiled and opened it, landing on a page with her name on it.  He watched her expression nervously as she read.  “Jihoon, this is beautiful,” she gushed, eyes trailing along the words of adoration and love.  “Did you write something to accompany it?”  “Of course,” he smirked, standing to go to the piano.  Cracking his fingers, he played the first few notes.  “Sing for me?”  “Of course.”

     They ended up recording that song, not through persuasion, but of _____’s own suggestion.  Soon after, the two found themselves sitting in a mess of velvet and leather, Mr. Jamison’s office.  

     “I really think we’ve got a hit on our hands, Sir,” Jihoon said.  “Play it,” he responded stoically.  Jihoon followed his orders before sitting down next to _____ and holding her hand tightly.

     As the song came to an end, Jamison laughed bitterly.  “What the fuck is this?  This isn’t disco.”  “We know, but we feel that this is better.  Soul is going to outlive disco, Mr. Jamison.  It has a timeless sound that’ll carry into the 80s without a doubt.”  “Jihoon, I don’t pay you to feel.  I don’t pay you to think.  And I definitely don’t pay you to bring no-name sluts in here with their demos.”  Jihoon’s blood boiled at his words and _____wanted nothing more than to leave, but she refused to leave Jihoon there.  “I pay you to write.”  “Not anymore,” the younger male calmly stated.  “What?”  “You heard me.  I quit.”  “Your contract binds you-”  “As long as working conditions are satisfactory.  And they’re not. I. Quit,” he said through his teeth before standing up and grabbing his girlfriend’s hand.  “Good luck keeping your fucking company from tanking.”  

And that’s where their hustle began.

     By 1981, a few years later, disco had, in fact, died. Copasetic Records had gone bankrupt and closed, giving rise to a new company.  One owned by Jihoon and _____.  After years of struggling through performing, networking, and negotiating, they had created a label consisting of various soul artists.  Some even began to branch out into some new genre.  Jihoon believed it was called hip hop or something similar.  _____ swore that in time, it would catch on.

     “Jihoon, we’re gonna be late to our own party!,” _____ exclaimed, walking into their bedroom.  She frowned, noticing him hunched over the bedside table.  “Jihoon, I thought you said you weren’t doing that anymore.”  He quickly stood up, wiping his nose.  “I know.  I just…I’m really stressed right now and- _____, wait!,” he called after her as she left the room.  Following her out, he grabbed her arm.  “I’m sorry, okay?”  “You shouldn’t be sorry for me; you should be sorry for yourself.”  “And why is that?”  “Well, for starters, your nose is bleeding,” she said, ripping her arm from his grasp.  “Shit,” he muttered, going into the bathroom to clean it.

     A few hours later, the two were greeting guests at a party for the label’s first anniversary.  Setting his wine glass down on a nearby table, Jihoon searched the room for _____.  Once he spotted her, he quickly made his way over and pulled her to the side.  “I’m done for good,” he said.  “You’ve said that b-”  “I know, but this time i mean it.  I’ve seen so many people go after fucking with that shit, and I know you’re terrified that I’ll be next.  But I won’t be. I’m not leaving you any time soon.”  “I love you,” she smiled, placing one hand on his cheek.  “And I love you. ‘Ya dig?,” he chuckled.  She nodded, laughing before kissing him softly.   “I should get back out there.”  “Go.  I’ll meet you by the stage,” he smiled.  As she walked off, he reached in his pocket, clutching the tiny velvet box with a grin.

     “And to think that it all started in a bar,” _____ said, causing everyone in the crowded room to laugh.  Jihoon smiled as she told the story of how this all came to be.  In that moment, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.  As she invited him to come up and say a few words, his hand gripped the box tighter.  “Well, before I talk about the label…I want to- no, I need to say something.”

     Just then, a shot echoed throughout the room, launching everyone into a panicked frenzy.  _____ screamed as Jihoon fell to the floor, clutching his bleeding stomach.  Rushing to his side, she lifted his head and yelled into the crowd, “Someone call 911!”  As she looked around, she noticed a familiar face in the crowd.  Mr. Jamison, who stood in an almost dazed state as people rushed towards him.  

     “Jihoon, stay with me, okay?  Everything’s gonna be alright,” she said, trying to stay composed as he coughed up blood.  “You said you wouldn’t leave me any time soon, remember?”  “I love you,” he struggled to say.  “I love you, too,” she cried.  Her watery eyes met his lidded ones as she felt his heart begin to slow down.  The small velvet box caught her eye, having fallen out of his pocket, and she could’ve sworn her own heart stopped as realization hit her.  “No no no…,” she repeated, shaking her head.

He stopped her by speaking.  “_____…Sing for me…one last time.”

“Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song”

Hi Guys!! It’s been a while but let me explain!

 I am so sorry that I’ve disappeared for a while  and without notice …but I started University a couple of weeks ago and I’ve been so tired because I get up super early (to be exact 5:35am) also because I’ve been so busy. I am not officially back, not until next Friday because again I am assisting the University to take an obligated summer class and I don’t finish until next Thursday. So to answer your question; yes I am going to still be on Hiatus just until I finish this summer thing. My apologies to all of you! but thank you for supporting me and loving this blog!. 

~With so much love, T

Originally posted by moonstruckgirluniverse


I love tao so much and i feel so bad not making any posts about him or not being able to support him fully right now or watch his latest activities because my laptop is having problems ugh i swore i would post more about him as soon as my exams end but its so sad i am living reblogging stuff over my cellphone… Not that I am a very creative content maker or anything but i want to do what I can i am right now unable to do so I am so sorry to you all.. .

Harry: *regaining consciousness after a minor Healing procedure* What’s goi– *sees Draco sitting next to him* 

Draco: Hello, there.

Harry: *awed whisper* Oh my god. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

Draco: *flatly* Is that right?

Harry: *still gaping stupidly* Are you a Veela? 

Draco: No, Harry.

Harry: *gasps* You know my name?!

Draco: Oh, I know a whole lot more than your name.

Harry: *delighted* We know each other?!

Draco: *holds up hand* We’re married, love. *points out Harry’s matching ring*

Harry: *gasps at own hand* Wh–?! *drugged flailing*


Namjoon: *speaks English*

Jungkook: That’s my father ladies and gentleman. I am his son. I am Kim Namjoon’s son. I will make him proud one day.

Seokjin: Bitch, that’s my husband. Look at him go. Look. At. My. Man. Go. When will your faves fucking ever?

Hoseok: Just smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave.

Yoongi: Man, the fuck are you saying? I was the one with the tongue technology… Kumamon would never disrespect me this way.

Taehyung: H-h-human? What is this godly tongue in which you speak? How has thou not graced us with this commodity? Teach me your ways, savior. I shall forever be indebted to your kindness.

Jimin: Yeah, boi. Watch dat tongue go. Dat man so damn f9. Bitch, my panties droppin’ over here, c’mere and give me some lovin’