#bts angsty

[carryoncastiel]

Something I noticed while swapping around clothes, is that besides the very obvious scars Wyll has on his face he also has

a big nasty scar that seems to run from one side of his stomach up to his right arm

one mark that looks like maybe a stab wound on the left side of his chest

various little scars on his back and also on the right side of his chest (which all kinda look like claw marks to me)

Wondering what the stories behind those are. With the claw marks I'm always thinking Mizora because we know Wyll has disobeyed her orders before and clawing up his skin as punishment seems like something she would do. Don't know about the other two but they would've been really bad wounds from the locations on his body alone but also how deep they would've been to leave scars like that...

[nnn-ooo]

[daegudrama]

Daegudrama’s Spicy Festa Special D-5

Title: Daylight

Pairing: Reader/Kim Taehyung

Summary: After years apart Taehyung and Reader spend a night together and finally confess their truest feelings.

Word Count: 4003 words

Warning: Brief mention of enlistment

He’s sitting on your sectional with a goofy smile on his face as he watches cute animal videos on his phone. It’s his last night here before he has to go back to Korea. Before you both have to go back to real life and stop living in this fantasy. You knew this day would come. You knew it all along. How did it come so fast?

You sit beside him curling into his side. Every passing moment brings you closer to Taehyung leaving with no idea when he’ll be able to come back. He wraps an arm around you pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His warm hand rests on your waist as the calming scent of his cologne engulfs you. 

Trying to explain what the two of you have to normal people doesn’t really go over well. He isn’t your boyfriend but he isn’t just your friend. Maybe if you lived on the same side of the world he would be, but the cards are not in favor of that. Taehyung is a man you will drop anyone for the moment he touches down in your country. You hope he would do the same if you ever found your way to Korea. The words he’s said to you make you believe he would.

Taehyung sets his phone down and turns his attention to you. He lifts your chin with one hand cupping your cheek when you meet his eyes. He leans forward pressing a soft kiss to your lips. His lips taste like the strawberries you were eating a few minutes ago. You wish your heart wouldn’t flutter so strongly because when the daylight comes he’ll have to go. The two of you will be on your own again in just a few hours. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go.” he whispers sadness glazing over his beautiful eyes. “I wish you could come home with me.”

You kiss him, desperately trying not to let every word bubbling in your chest out. He doesn’t need to know that you wish more than anything in the world that you could follow him. Taehyung doesn’t need to hear how hopelessly in love with him you are. You’ve told him all the reasons you can’t just pick up your life. He respects the life you have built here, but just like you he wishes this could be something else.

He responds positively to the kiss pulling you closer until you are sitting on his lap. Taehyung pulls away from the kisses and hugs you tightly to his chest. You feel him take a deep breath as his head bows against your shoulder. He pushes the strap of your tank top to the side with his nose and kisses your skin.

You don’t want to talk about why you can’t leave again. You don’t want to talk about why he has to leave you. This time should be spent making each other feel things that will be remembered long after his plane leaves in the morning. 

Your fingers card through his dark hair while he sucks marks onto your neck. A reminder that he was here if even for just a fleeting moment. Taehyung’s hands creep up your top brushing his fingertips against your bare skin. No matter how many times he touches you there is still electricity. Every time you meet it has been so long it’s like starting over at square one. You wish he never had to leave. You don’t want to start all over. You don’t want to sleep because you know when you wake up it’ll be time for him to leave.

Taehyung lifts his head when you give his hair a slight tug. He smiles softly before his eyes slide shut. You copy the movement and lean in to kiss the most beautiful person you’ve ever met. His long fingers grasp your waist trying to pull you impossibly closer. Taehyung deepens the kiss, letting his tongue lick into your mouth. Your hands work the buttons of his white shirt open until his whole chest and stomach are exposed. He guides one of your hands to his pec and you rub your finger against his nipple. Last time you were together you learned he likes it when you play with his nipples.

He breaks the kiss to pull your top off and you push his shirt off his shoulders. Taehyung stares for a moment with a soft expression before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You grind your ass against his crotch and feel his cock getting hard. This is probably the best way to forget about the impending morning.

A moan escapes your lips as his other hand squeezes your breast. You trail your fingers across his smooth skin lightly. He shivers from the sensation and that makes a smile find its way to your face. You stir your hips against him until you can feel he’s fully hard. He swirls his tongue around your nipple. Taehyung takes the perky bud between his teeth and carefully scrapes his teeth against it before releasing it. He knows that he’s driving you insane. Even after all this time he hasn’t forgotten the small details. 

Taehyung kisses you again, gripping your hips so he can flip you on your back. You are impressed you didn’t clack teeth like the last time he tried that. To be fair the two of you were in a much smaller space last time. His smile is genuinely happy when he pulls away and you wonder how he can smile like that when he’s about to leave. Does being with you make him that happy? Or is he just happy there are boobies in his face?

He leaves a trail of kisses from your neck to your belly button. You nod your head when he looks up with his fingers against your waistband. You don’t want to speak. You want him to show you how he feels. Taehyung removes your shorts and underwear in one go, tossing them to the side. 

He kisses your mound while his hands grasp your thighs. Taehyung lies on his stomach between your legs as he continues to plant wet kisses around your pussy. He knows to leave marks on the inside of your thighs where your skin is so sensitive it sends a shiver up your spine. No one has ever spent the time to memorize you except him. 

Taehyung’s warm fingers spread your lips and he draws in a deep breath before flicking his tongue across your clit. Your muscles involuntarily lift your hips into his face. He pins your hip down and licks up and down your slit in long strokes. There is no rush he’s savoring every second he has left with you. 

He zigzags his tongue chuckling when you search for somewhere to place your hands. Taehyung only likes hair pulling in certain positions and this is not one of them. You settle for squeezing the cushion. He looks like perfection licking your cunt like it's the greatest delicacy he's ever tasted. Taehyung keeps eye contact with you as he teases your hole with one finger. Your stomach flutters, feeling almost shy as he demands you to watch. 

You can’t hold back the moan he earns when he slips one finger into your already dripping pussy. Taehyung sucks your clit into his mouth while pushing his finger all the way into you. He curls the digit inside you pulling a strained moan from your mouth. He is pleased with himself, pulling his mouth away from your cunt to kiss your thighs again. Taehyung adds another finger when he thinks you are ready. The truth is you are never ready for anything to do with him.

He pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy quicker than before. You clench around his fingers and he dives back in to lick your clit. Taehyung’s name passes your lips several times as you watch him please you. The only thing more beautiful than this is watching him perform. You are trying to make every cell in your body corporate, but you fear if he doesn’t stop you will cum soon. He knows just how to touch you a little too well and you can’t let this moment end this quickly.

“Tae, let's go to the bedroom.”

He looks up with your lust on his chin and you sit up wiping it away. Taehyung pulls his fingers out of you and sucks them clean before kissing you. He stands, unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, and offers you his hand. Your heart reacts wildly to the small gesture, but you take his hand and he leads you to your room.

You sit on the edge of your bed watching Taehyung take off his boxers. As soon as you see his cock you kneel in front of him. Your lips press against the tip of his length letting your tongue snake out. Taehyung says your name watching you take more of his fat cock into your mouth. You look up through your lashes to see his mouth opened and brow drawn together. You cave your cheeks in, running your mouth up and down the length of his cock while you grab the back of his thighs with your hands. 

Your goal is to drive him crazy. Who knows when the next time you’ll be able to suck someone’s dick is? In the past you’ve tried sleeping with other people but it’s very hard when you are in love with one person. It’s hard to make it through sex with other people and not think about the man in front of you who holds every piece of your heart. Which is why you haven’t had sex since the last time you saw him.

With one hand you fondle his balls adding to the sensation of his first blowjob in a long time. You circle your tongue around his tip paying extra attention to the sensitive area. Taehyung never holds back with you and you are grateful to hear his sweet moans. When you swallow around the head of his cock you think he might lose it. His hands grip your hair, something you really like, and tugs. You can’t hold back the moan you release around his cock. He pulls you off his cock tilting your chin up with his hand.

“Can I please fuck you?” He asks, pulling you from the ground and hugging you to his chest.

“Yes, please.” You pull him onto the bed lying on your back. He kneels between your legs about to push himself inside of you when you stop him. No matter how awkward this question is you have to ask him. “Have you been with anyone else since we saw each other last?”

“I’m clean.” He responds from his position sitting back on his feet.

He gave you the answer you were looking for but somehow it makes your heart drop. He avoided the actual question you asked which means he has been with other people since you saw each other the last time. There is no reason for you to feel like this. Taehyung isn’t yours and you aren’t his. It’s been two years since you last saw him in person. Of course he would see someone else. He has needs too. Honestly, it’s a miracle that you were home when he was here. Your busy lives get in the way to the absolute extreme.

He notices the cold look on your face and his eyebrows raise. Taehyung scrambles to your side and takes your face in his hands. His eyes are very serious when he speaks.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to avoid the question. I thought that’s what you wanted to know. There was one guy a few months after LA, but something felt really off.” He pauses looking away and you can see his cheeks getting red even in the dim light. The dull ache in your stomach leaves. “Sex with other people doesn’t feel right. It only feels right when I’m with you.”

“I feel the same way, but you were the last person I was with.”

Taehyung leans forward and kisses you while you take his cock in your hand. You don’t want to talk about this further, you want to feel his dick deep inside of you. Thankfully, he does exactly what you want. He pushes your legs apart and slaps his cock against your slit. The man you are hopelessly in love with doesn’t tease you for long. 

You swear fireworks play behind your eyes as Taehyung pushes inside of you. Both of you curse in unison. No piece of silicone can compete with Kim Taehyung slowly rocking his cock into your ready pussy. He leans over you watching your face for a moment before he kisses you. This feels so intimate you almost think Taehyung might feel exactly the same way you do. Of course, that’s crazy to think because he’s an idol and you are just chief editor of a magazine he happened to be on the cover of one time five years ago.

You focus on the feeling of Taehyung’s lips against your skin and his cock thrusting into you. He’s being tender, pushing himself as deep as possible without slamming himself into you. If only you could stay in this moment forever with no worries.

You grip his shoulders trying to pull him even deeper into your pussy. His soft groans must be the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life. You wrap your legs around his waist holding him inside of you. He nips at your collarbone but doesn’t fight to move. You use your legs as leverage to move yourself on his cock.

After a few moments of that you want more. Sweet and sensual is lovely but you want to make the most of this. Who knows when you’ll see each other next. You deeply hope it won’t be two more years, but it very well might be. 

“Let me ride you.” 

Taehyung raises an eyebrow with a smile covering his face. He catches your lips with his as he pulls out of you. You deepen the kiss as you sit up holding the back of his neck. Fluttery heat rises to your chest and you can’t believe how truly insane he makes you feel. 

“You’re so perfect.” He says looking in your eyes with a soft hand on your cheek. Heat travels up to your heart before dropping straight to your pussy. Why would he say that? He knows how praises effect you.

He lies on his back before you can respond. Not that you have any idea what to say. You fear you might spill all your truest feelings if you speak. So you don’t, straddling his legs and sinking down on to his waiting cock. His eyes lock with yours for only a second before he watches his length disappear inside of you.

Taehyung grabs your hips, sighing when he’s fully inside you. His fingers dig into your skin as he tries to stop himself from thrusting. He lets you stir your hips completely on your own. Taehyung’s mouth falls open and a string of pretty but filthy words fill the air. Every move of your hips sends a flutter to your stomach. Being connected with him like this after so long adds to the pleasure of his fat cock deep inside you. 

The man you are in love with seemingly loses any self control when you start bouncing on his cock. His words nearly drown out the sound of your soaking pussy taking his cock. He doesn’t remove his hands using them as leverage to meet you with his thrusts.

“You ride me so well. Why are you so good at this?” He groans but something feels off in his tone as if he’s saying it in a regretful way. “You make it so hard to see anyone else. I wish you could come home with me forever. No one compares to you.”

Wow, you never imagined your pussy was good enough to make him say things that will get your hopes up. You lean down, silencing him before he can say something he can’t turn back from. There’s no reason to say that when it can’t happen. What’s the point in saying it when he’ll be gone with the sun rising? You wish you could spend every sunrise with him forever.

Taehyung thrusts into you, moans growing louder when he pulls his lips away from yours. He holds the back of your neck looking into your eyes. There isn’t a waver in the eye contact. Something about this feels a thousand times more intimate than the times before. It’s like he’s scared he might miss something. You try to empty your mind and focus on what is happening. This moment needs to be savored, but it’s hard with a tsunami of emotions pooling in your chest. 

You press another kiss to his soft lips before pulling back and leaning back to brace yourself against his thighs. His thumb finds your clit and rubs circles while you continue to fuck yourself onto his cock.

“Please, Taehyung.” You whine riding him despite the burning protest from your legs. The pleasure outweighs the pain. “Please, make me cum on your cock.”

He flicks his finger faster against your clit building and building your high until his cock hits just the right spot inside you. Your head falls back and Taehyung is all you can say. There is no other word to say. There is no other word you want to be saying. The man takes you into his arms, slowing the thrust of his hips to pepper your face in kisses. Unexpectedly, he cums inside you while he is gently patting your hair. For a moment you stay connected. You wonder how it’s even possible that he came while caring for you. 

“You make me so happy.” He whispers so softly you aren’t sure he really meant to say it. 

On shaky legs you get off of Taehyung and head to the bathroom to clean yourself. By the time you return he is lying on your bed in his boxers looking at the ceiling. His hands are folded behind his head and your heart skips a beat. Maybe there’s another timeline where he’s not an idol and the two of you can be happy just doing laundry and taxes together. 

Taehyung throws you one of his shirts from his luggage and you put it on with a pair of comfy underwear. You rest your head on his bare chest and his arms wrap around you tightly. There’s no place you’d rather be. 

“You make me happy, too.” 

Neither of you say anything for a while enjoying your last moments together. You listen to the steady beat of his heart as he strokes your hair. Every once and awhile he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. You wish your heart would stop soaring. Maybe that would make this easier. 

“Come home with me.” He mumbles like it just slipped out without a thought.

“Tae, can we not do this? I’d rather enjoy the last few hours I have with you.”

He takes a deep breath and doesn’t say anything for so long you think he might actually listen to you. Of course, you can never have what you want. You wish life was simple enough that you could just leave for Korea and not worry about anything else. Your friends are here. Your family and your job and all your favorite things, except Taehyung, are here. 

“Y/N, please you don’t have to uproot your life. Just spend a month with me first. No one has ever made me feel the way you make me feel.”

You pull out of his arms looking into his eyes that are pleading for you to accept his offer. Your heart stings. What would you do at the end of the month? You wish you could live in a fantasy where there’s a chance that you could wake up beside him every morning. 

“And what happens at the end of that month when I want more than anything to stay and I can’t because my life is here?” You don’t want to say the next thing but it’s all you can think about when he’s asking this of you. “In a few months you are leaving for 18 months. You are the only reason I would want to be there. If I can’t see you, what's the point?”

Tears fall down Taehyung’s cheeks and you rush to wipe them away. Seeing his tears makes your own fall and you hug the man tightly. This conversation always ends like this. You never want to have it again, but until something changes it’s going to keep happening.

“Then I can’t see you for two more years? I would make sure you can see me in the military. What about when I’m out? Are we going to be held in this same loop forever? I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

“When you’re out you are going to release an album with your members then go on a world tour. You are going to be too busy for me again.” Your voice is shaky. “I don’t know what I’ll be doing by then but the universe isn’t on our side.”

“What if I don’t do that?” He asks softly and you crane your head back to look into his eyes.

That is the wildest thing he’s ever said in his entire life. There is no timeline in the universe where you would allow yourself to be the reason he doesn’t go back to his members. Because of how much you love Taehyung you would never ask that of him. Music and his members are his whole life.

“Don’t be stupid.”

He huffs but doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the night. He doesn’t let go of you. 

You fall asleep in his arms dreading the moment you wake up and he has to leave. When his alarm rings your heart drops and you can’t stop the tears from flowing. You hold him tightly against your chest and he holds you back.

“There’s something I wanted to say last night but it didn’t feel right with what we were saying.” He pulls away to take your face in his hands. “I don’t want another two years to pass without saying this.”

“What is it?” Your voice is barely above a whisper but your heart is racing with worry.

“I love you.” You can’t stop yourself from gasping when you hear that. Taehyung continues as if you didn't interrupt. “I’ve known I love you for three years, but it never felt right to admit it.”

You’ve been in love with each other this whole time and both never felt like you could admit it? Both of you have said things that practically spell out the feelings you hold but neither of you has ever uttered those three words. Something about those words makes it feel so much more serious.

Taehyung’s eyes are soft like he’s not worried about what you will say. You would be freaking out if you said that first. He must know you are in love with him. Taehyung is the first person you tell all your accomplishments about. He’s the first one you speak to when you are upset and he always knows how to comfort you even from thousands of miles away.

“I love you too.” You take a deep breath saying the thing you never thought you would give a chance. “When you get back from enlistment, let's talk about us again.”

You’ve never seen a happier smile grace his face before. He surges forward and kisses you like it’s the last thing he might ever do.

[namjoonboo]

Hiii! Could you do a bit of angst with fluff at the end with Taehyung

I'm sorry, taehyung

Taehyung x male reader

Warnings: angst and fluff, a few cuss words(?), overall lots of fluff:)), short, pissed off! Male reader

A/N: I'm always glad to do fluff/angst, its something interesting I can write about. Also, happy 2023 guys!! I personally had lots of fun in 2023 :D

.....

"I love you?" Taehyung said to Y/N. But Y/N slammed his door in front of taehyung.

What happened is that, taehyung was too busy working on this song that BTS was making. So he didn't have time to text Y/N.

And taehyung didn't understand why Y/N was so pissed at him. "Babe please! Unlock the door!" Taehyung said while knocking on Y/N's door

"Please tell me what's wrong!! Please!!" But Y/N didn't answer.

Meanwhile with Y/N, he was sitting on his couch mad. How did taehyung not know what he was mad about?

Y/N was actually worried if something happened to him. 'Fuck.' Y/N thought to himself and was thinking about his life choices.

He did feel kind bad for taehyung when he thought about it more. Y/N got up from his seat and walked to his door and opened the door to see taehyung sitting down crying.

"Hey." Y/N said to taehyung. Taehyung turned his head around to see his boyfriend looking at him with a concerned face. But taehyung didn't say anything to him.

"Babe?" Y/N said to get taehyung to talk to him. Y/N decided to sit next to taehyung. "Hey, I'm very sorry. Maybe I overreacted. I was just worried if something happened to you" Y/N admitted to his boyfriend.

Taehyung looked at Y/N in the eyes and wiped his tears. "I dont know how to feel. I'm sorry that I didn't contact you. I'm so sorry that I made you feel like that." Taehyung said looking down.

"I'm glad that you forgave me, tae." Y/N said and put his hand on taehyungs jaw line, and then passionately kissed him on the lips. "Mhmpp!!" Taehyung said not expecting a kiss but he wasn't complaining.

"Let's just, get inside already. I see some rain coming" Y/N said grabbing taehyungs hand and both of them went inside.

"I love you Y/N." "I love you too taehyung."

♡

....

Made by namjoonboo on January 2th 2023.

[rantingravingliving]

Shut up, fuck off and just listen to this with your headphones on. Park Jimin sounds fucking amazing.

So fucking amazing all I am hearing (and seeing) is how great his debut is despite people trying to drag him for almost anything.

Well, you know how karma works, right?

Anyway, Alone is my fave FACE track, but SMF Pt. 2 will always make me gasp whenever I hear it and more so when I see Jimin performs it.

So you, fuck off your opps. Jimin has shown what he can do, and the world responded with applause and praises.

[whatwevegot]

[pricelessemotion]

my favorite thing about matt murdock is that he is canonically a terrible boyfriend

[miscelunaaa]

in the midst of the earth | knj

pairing: doctor!namjoon x eastern orthodox novice nun!reader

genre: angst.

summary: After your grandfather is hospitalized following a massive stroke, Namjoon watches you pick up the pieces and try to hold them together all by yourself.

rating: 18+/M for dense, mature themes

word count: 5.7k

warnings: Hospitals. Athiest!Namjoon. Strokes and associated adverse medical events. Probable medical inaccuracies. Religious themes. Difficult family dynamics. Grief. Emotional fixations. Inexplicable tension. Minor character death. Meltdowns. Author knows nothing of what it is like to be a doctor or how treatment works behind the scenes. Author is also not a nun in any religious tradition, so there’s likely inaccuracies in that regard as well. Meltdowns. A single moment of weakness; kissing. Lofty science metaphors. Ambiguous ending.

notes: Hi. Welcome to Nun Fic. This fic has haunted me for like six months, and it’s taken almost as long to draft it. The idea first came to me during fic name game I did ages ago; the title has since changed but the motif that stemmed from the title does make an appearance a few times. This story is rooted in enough of parts of myself (probably too many in the first place) that to run over them here would take too long, and likely weaken the integrity of what I want this story to do. There are very likely some inaccuracies around how the medical or clerical parts of this fic work together. This is all to say perhaps have some discretion when responding to this, if you choose to do so? It remains that something doesn’t have to be wholly correct in order to be true. Some notes that may help you along as you read, or confuse you even further:

St. Kassia (Wikipedia)

Salvation is Created (YouTube), the eucharistic hymn from which I yoinked the title. For background on the piece, here’s a link to its Wikipedia page.

Also like, this is technically inspired by an Elvis movie??? Which I do not make a habit of watching ever but I was raised by a late boomer-aged white man who lives for cheesy romance so um … yeah like idk do with this but here’s yet another Wikipedia link if you’re curious.

Anyway, I have no excuses other than idk what the hell this is, just that it’s so excruciatingly important to me that I hardly know what to do with it now that it’s done. It’s not for everyone, and that’s okay. If you do read it, I hope you find it valuable in some way :)

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

There’s something about you that bothers him, Namjoon decides. It’s not the fact that you’re a nun, though the overt piety of your very existence does in fact bother him more than he’d care to admit.

It’s the fact that you’re the singular quiet person in your entire family.

He’s met some jovial ecclesiastics in his time, so it’s seems incredibly strange. The other sisters he’d met at some time or other were far more talkative than you, and this is to say nothing of the numbers of priests and pastors he’s witnessed giving service at bedside. You’re so shockingly quiet that the only way he knows you’re around is the faint scent of incense coming off your clothes.

More than once you’ve startled him, sneaking up behind him like some strange, half-real shadow. He’s read about why you wear all black, why even your hair is covered with a weird little cape that looks like a black Christmas tree skirt. You’re supposed to be dead to the world.

You’re quiet enough to be, but the dead don’t smell like incense.

&&&

There’s a lot about Namjoon’s job that he likes, and there’s a lot that he dislikes. The feeling of first walking into the room when he’s had a new patient assigned to him is one of the things he dislikes the most. Now that they have this new patient stabilized, they have to look at next steps as they find out more information; he’s the one who has to convey all of that to the family.

The wide eyes of the each member of your family turn to him all at once, even yours. The room falls silent, each face looking at him with varying levels of hope and exhaustion.

And then the hard part of his job comes. It’s never pretty.

There’s so many people here for one person; it almost makes Namjoon sick. He’s watched patients rot away alone, with no one but a friend or a disinterested child to watch over them. It’s not uncommon for a patient to have no one at all. And this guy gets ... What, like ten people? Twelve? There’s so many that they sent him to a waiting room to discuss what’s happened to your grandfather.

A murmur passes through the family as he tells them that their patriarch has had a massive stroke. It’s unclear, he says, what the prognosis is. Only time will tell what the damage is, and that will dictate what happens with treatment and rehabilitation.

And then the questions start coming. Everything is run of the mill, and everyone, it seems, has something to say or ask. Everyone, that is, except for you. When you’re not looking at him intently, making the hair raise on his neck, you’re glancing at the clock or at the face of whoever among your people is talking. Even as the questions die down, you say nothing.

You simply reset your jaw, and keep your head down, brushing your fingertips over a dark coil of rope wrapped about your hand.

&&&

It would seem you have no where else to be. You’re the one Namjoon sees most often at your grandfather’s bedside over the next few days. It’s so odd that even the nurses have commented on it. Some think it’s sweet that you sit at his bedside in constant prayer, others are concerned for your health. Not once does anyone see a member of your family ask if you want to leave and do something else, and the nurses have noticed.

And still, you ask him no questions. You just look at him calmly, never rising from your seat in the corner, never saying anything, hardly acknowledging him or others who come and go. A placid nod, nothing more.

He wonders, at that point, what it must be like to hide your emotions from the world like this. He wonders what you’re feeling, if anything at all. And yet the tight set of your jaw tells him that even still waters run deep.

Whatever you’re feeling, you’re bent on keeping it between you and your god.

&&&

It’s been a week since he took on this new patient, and you’ve been around just a little less. Namjoon’s glad for it, mostly because he feels like he’s no longer being haunted by your constant presence whenever he comes to talk about new findings. It’s still not looking great; the patient is going to be in the in the ICU longer than Namjoon would prefer.

On day nine, the doctor realizes that, contrary to his initial opinions, he’d rather deal with you than any of the other people on rotation at the patient’s bedside. It’s almost embarrassing that he’s not sure whose offspring you are, but with such a limited look at your appearance, he’s accepted it. After speaking with your grandmother and a handful of people in the generation before you, he realizes that he’d prefer your stoic silence to the barrage of strangers who seem to think they know his job better than he does.

It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. When it comes down to it, there’s nothing he can do for the families of his patients aside from remaining honest and forthcoming. What this patient needs the most right now is someone to wait for him to wake up. You seem to know that too, and Namjoon hates that he only now sees that you know more than he would have expected at first glance.

&&&

It bothers him, the way your family treats you. He’s heard their snide remarks, seen their wayward glances, felt the ceaseless expectation that your mild manners will benefit them. He didn’t notice it at first, too quick to draw conclusions he knows now to have been unfair. And now he can’t unsee what he’s noticed.

“Oh, Y/N will do it, you’ll stay here won’t you, Y/N?”

And his ears prickle at the careful tone you reply with. He doesn’t look up from his computer screen, but he imagines your jaw is tight as it so often is. “I can stay here, yes. It’s no trouble. But please, use my rightful name.”

The original speaker huffs a little, and another speaks up, trying to be kind but sounding patronizing instead. “Of course dear, what’s your adopted name again?”

“Kassia.”

Namjoon’s mind wanders as the conversation veers away to other things. It’s no wonder that your were present at your grandfather’s bedside more than anyone else. He finds the way they treat you shocking, to be honest; your complacence with the way they treat you shocks him even more.

&&&

He’d been surprised to walk by you in the hall minutes later, but then, the look of reined in anguish wasn’t much of a surprise, given what he’d witnessed mere moments ago. You probably feel stifled, he thinks, and who wouldn’t? He feels stifled by the family and he’s not even related.

He glances back to see that you’ve stopped in front of the map of the hospital near the elevators. You’re biting your lip, eyes glassy, your fingers twisted together with the black coil of rope you always have at hand. With an inward sigh, he turns back down the hall.

“Sister, is there something I can help you find?”

His sudden appearance startles you, but only just. Beneath your black clothes, he can see that you’ve tensed up.

“Doctor Kim.”

“Yes,” he says carefully. “Do you need help finding where you want to go?”

He shouldn’t have asked, shouldn’t have gotten involved in what ever business you have wherever, but he’s always been bad at ignoring upset folks. You’re just another person on the list, or at least that’s what he’s telling himself.

Your voice is quiet, but steady. “I’m trying to find the hospital’s chapel on the map but it’s a bit convoluted …”

“I’m on my lunch right now, I can just show you where it is, if you’d like.”

Namjoon could kick himself for meddling in your affairs like this, but when you assent, he shoves the regret down in favor of being cordial.

&&&

The walk had been quiet. He found it strangely pleasing that you kept up with his long strides. Namjoon supposes he expected you to walk timidly, and instead he found that you walked with purpose, but without the intent to draw attention. You faded away, just like you did at the patient’s bedside; it’s not a monastic’s job to be noticed.

And yet he’d noticed you, in spite of your spectral presence. Namjoon’s noticed so much about you that he wants to notice no longer. He can’t help it at this point; there’s just something about you that draws him in. He feels like he sees too much when he sees you, and yet it’s still not enough.

He doesn’t like it. It makes him feel obsessive.

Now, as he stands at the back of the little chapel and watches you approach the altar, he can’t help but think that maybe it’s just wonder. How is it that you are so young, but so dead to the world? Invisible to everyone but him?

Namjoon watches as you approach the altar, crossing yourself as you bow. The chapel is simple, it has none of the trimmings that the one would find in the churches you’re used to. Somehow, it seems this is enough; you take a seat in the front row and he watches as your shoulders slump a little. Underneath the humming quiet of the space, he hears a your sigh shake from your lungs.

It strikes him suddenly.

He feels like he’s intruding on a moment between you and your god.

He sighs and checks the time. He’s needed elsewhere, and he knows it. But the longer he stays in the little chapel, with its dim lighting and thick silence, the more alone he is with you. It’s suffocating.

It requires more effort than he’d ever care to admit, but he finally tears his eyes away from your hunched figure. He doesn’t feel your gaze follow him out as he leaves the chapel.

&&&

Since showing you where the hospital chapel is, Namjoon’s noticed his mind trailing to thoughts of you as he goes about his days. He makes his rounds, visits patients in intensive care, look over files that all seem the same; each moment is accompanied by the memory of your eyes meeting his own.

When he finally visits your grandfather’s room, he expects that seeing you again will leave him unaffected. After all, he’s been constantly haunted by the press of your gaze. If only wishing made it so. He walks into the room, and sees you sitting at the patient’s bedside, alone as always. When you look up from your prayer rope, it’s the same as it’s always been. It’s as if you see right through him. Like you see all of him all at once.

You nod silently, your features hard, your jaw tense.

Namjoon chews on the inside of his mouth. Is there even a reason he needs to be here? There’s been no change in the patient’s condition, and he’s not yet well enough to move to a different unit. He’s just toeing lines of unprofessionalism at this point by lingering without saying anything.

“Dr. Kim, may I ask you a question?”

It’s been days since he last heard your voice. He feels disordered. He feels like a man lost in a desert finally stumbling upon an oasis at which to rest. He feels like a prisoner seeing light for the first time in years.

“Sure,” he says. He thrusts his hands in his pockets so that they have something to do besides twist and fret with nerves. Why is it that you’ve begun to affect him in this way?

“I want you to be honest with me,” you say quietly, your eyes falling to your grandfather’s frail figure. “I know you’re not sugar coating it with the rest but—” You raise your eyes to Namjoon, and he finds himself holding his breath. “—I feel as though you’ve not been allowed to be forthright with them somehow.”

You’re not wrong. Your family is so large and loud that he’s hardly been able to get his points across about your grandfather’s condition. Shit, he’s surprised you’ve been able to hear anything he’s said over their raucous, emotional reactions to each bit of news.

He crosses his arms and meets your eyes, and he tells the truth. It’s not looking good. He should have been able to wake up by now, he should have been able to get moved to a different unit, he should already be on the road to recovery. And yet, none of that has happened. Your grandfather’s looking at only ever being half there for the rest of his life, however long it may last. And it may not last long. There’s only so much they can do.

To your credit, you hold up an excellent front. Your features are finely schooled, your gaze still and cold as you regard him steadily. But when you glance at your grandfather, Namjoon notices your fingers twitch in your lap. The rope in your hands is the only thing that betrays how disquieted you are.

&&&

When one works in medicine, sometimes one just hopes to be wrong. Namjoon wants to be wrong every time he has to give a patient’s family bad news, and yours is no exception. Relaying the outcomes to patients, while depressing and difficult, is always hard, but it gets a little easier each time.

Personally giving you the news himself made him want to believe in miracles.

When he sees you the next morning, you’ve already heard from whomever he’d talked to over the phone hours ago. Overnight, your grandfather experienced another stroke.

It was a rare moment, in some ways. No family had been with him, but Namjoon had been the doctor on call for the unit over night. He’s gotten little rest, he’s had little time to collect himself and stay grounded. He’s not been able to prepare himself to face you or anyone else. Chance is funny like that; you still ask him yourself and do it with that soft voice (the one that’s started to haunt him at ungodly hours) to tell you what happened and what the options are.

It’s not pretty. The patient has already started to experience massive organ failures and he’s comatose anyway, so it’s not like his systems are operating in a way that can keep him alive. For some reason he’s not letting go. Darkly, Namjoon wonders if he and his patient have something in common.

Before his thoughts can inspect that thought further, Namjoon forces himself to watch your reaction to the news. The steady, cold gaze with which you regard the world is cracking at the edges. He can see it. It’s there in the shadows under your eyes, the set of your jaw, even in the way your hands fidget in your lap as you sit at the patient’s bedside.

It’s only a matter of time before the cracks give and whatever you keep behind them comes crashing out.

&&&

After having to explain to the patient’s family—your family, all gathered in that stifling waiting room—yet again what the prognosis for this latest stroke event is, Namjoon’s feeling strung out and exhausted. It’s been a late night, he’s gotten very little sleep, and if he has to sit through another emotional moment with the family of any of his patients, he’s going to fucking loose it.

He finds himself walking briskly through the halls of the hospital over his lunch just to keep himself alert. He’d tried to resist the urge, but he even decides to walk in areas that he normally doesn’t frequent, including the wing the chapel’s on. It’s fortuitous, then, that the there’s a light shining through the frosted glass panes set into the heavy wooden doors.

Namjoon walks by once. And then he rounds back and walks by a second time after a few minutes. His curiosity gets the better of him when he sees the light still shining through the windows, and he finds himself carefully pulling the door open and ducking in.

You’re sitting in the front row, just like the last time he saw you in this room. It’s quiet—almost hauntingly so. The thick carpet and heavy doors deaden the bustle of the building. It feels like he’s stepped into another world; he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the sensation.

You don’t turn, not even when the door swings closed behind him with a thick thud. Not even as he deliberately shuffles to the front of the chapel and sits precisely where he sat days ago, the last time you and he were alone like this.

Namjoon regards you for a moment. Your eyes are cast low to the floor, your lips pressed tight, your jaw tense, the set of your shoulders beneath your habit somehow defiant. And still, your hands are tangled with that damned prayer rope, as if all you need to do is ask and your grandfather will magically be well.

When you don’t look up to meet his gaze, he settles back into his seat and looks at the altar. It’s plain; just a cross wrought out of wood and finished with a walnut stain on a wood-paneled wall. Two staves, not the four your church so often venerates. No icons, none of the brilliant gilding, no vats of sand for candles, no incense, none of the trappings you must be used to. And yet, you’re still here, alone in the silence.

“What do you need?”

His words surprise even himself. He never does this. He never reaches out to members of a patient’s family like this. Never one on one, never so isolated from the rest.

Namjoon watches as you shift in your seat. Air rushes from your lungs as a shaky sigh. When you meet his eyes with yours, all he can feel is your gaze and the feeling of his blood rushing through his ears and the itch to pull you closer to him. He speaks again.

“What can I do to help you?”

There’s something ablaze in your expression, something hot and heady buried deep within you, making your facade crack still more before him.

“I don’t need anything,” you say. The facade holds, it seems, but only just. Your eyes flicker from his and trace his face. He thinks they might linger for a moment on his mouth, but perhaps he’s just tired, or thinking wishfully.

It irritates him that you insist you need nothing. “Kassia, please. I—” The name tumbles from his mouth like it’s nothing. He has to fight reaching forward to touch you. “The hospital has grief counselors, they have social workers that can help you. You’re getting pushed into so much of your grandfather’s care and it’s wearing you out to do it all alone. It’s not good to internalize all this.”

Your face remains anguished, your posture rigid. You seem so fragile now, as if a light breeze might make whatever wall you keep between yourself and the world—and, by extension, Namjoon—will make it fall to pieces.

And then quietly, your voice hoarse with emotions you refuse to show, you say, “This is none of your business, Doctor Kim. How I choose to be there for my family is none of your business.”

Namjoon sighs, falling back into his seat. He can’t look at you now. He can’t make himself watch as more pieces of your front fall away.

“Can I reach out to the chaplain for you? Do you want me to see if he can arrange for you to see a priest?” He hardly recognizes his own voice; the low murmur feels at odds with the authoritative tone he always uses for this job.

“No, thank you. I can manage fine by myself.”

&&&

It’s hard. Awful, really. The trickle of guests in and out of your grandfather’s room over the next few days is so typical of what Namjoon has seen during the final acts of similar cases. This case is so utterly normal in his line of work, and yet it’s nothing like anything he’s ever had to handle before.

You’re still a shadow, sitting in your corners, standing behind your family members; somehow always there but never seen, never acknowledged. Namjoon himself tries to forget you’re there, but that faint smell clinging to your clothes pierces through the static scent of the hospital. Sometimes he thinks he feels your eyes on him while his back is turned, or perhaps on his face when he’s not looking. He also thinks it’s in his head, a bias looking to be confirmed because he can’t escape you, even once he’s gone home and scrubbed the hospital from his skin in the shower.

Does he linger in your mind as you do in his? Do you see him in your dreams as he sees you? He’s never seen an inch of your skin and yet he’s seen it all, just not here, not in this reality. He can’t be rid of your presence. You cling to him somehow, like the scent of smoke clings to clothes.

Like the incense clings to your habit, even now.

&&&

It finally happens, just as his night on call is ending. The sunlight is trickling over the tops of buildings and trees, through a sterile window. The chime of equipment gently signals to nurses and himself that something has gone wrong and then, as suddenly as it all began, it all stops. The patient is gone, and the paperwork that Namjoon was given after the last stroke event means that he can let the old man leave in peace. He can’t bring himself to look at you as you stand to the side, pressed back against a wall, shaking silently as you process what watching a person drift away looks like.

&&&

It’s been a little while. Namjoon was supposed to go home hours ago, but he’s stuck around to help inform the patient’s family about what the next steps are. Assorted aunts and uncles and cousins are milling around in that same fucking waiting room. It’s strangely quiet, for once; there are few questions or comments as he explains what happened. Nothing breaks the silence but sniffles and small, piteous wails that make him feel numb and dead inside. This sort of thing only gets so much easier with time; dealing with it effectively comes down to fortitude and lots of counseling for the compassion fatigue.

You’re there in the corner until the very end, when Namjoon suddenly realizes you’re not. Like a ghost, you’d managed to sneak off, and he’d not even noticed. Neither, for that matter, had your family. As he leaves the room, he hears someone ask another where you’ve gone. They use your birth name, and not your given name, and it takes all he has to not return and correct them as he walks away.

His feet carry him to the chapel without his agency. It’s automatic at this point; he finds himself wandering by this part of the hospital on his breaks all the time anymore. Instead of walking by, he stops in front of the doors.

He’s sure you’re inside. And he’s sure you’re in anguish. He’s not sure, however, if it’s him you want to check in on you. He’s not sure how much he cares.

With the press of a palm, he opens the door and slips inside the chapel.

The door settles shut behind him. That eerie, velvet silence settles around his shoulders like a cloak. It’s still so thorough and surprising for him that he almost misses the quiet sobs creating texture in the space. The wall between you and the rest of the world appears to have finally crumbled, leaving you alone in the wreckage, without a care for the damage its dissolution has done.

As he nears the front of the chapel, you tense and cast a glance over your shoulder.

“For Christ’s sake, Doctor Kim,” you laugh wetly. “Don’t you have a patient or something you should be attending to?” If you’re supposed to sound sardonic or bothered or even put out, it doesn’t work. You only sound hollowed out and broken.

“My shift’s finished actually,” he murmurs. “You weren’t with the rest of your family.”

“So you came here,” you sniff. “To what end, Doctor Kim? You can’t honestly be here to pray.” You’re on your feet now, rounding on him like some wounded animal fighting for the chance to be left alone. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, you hardly know what to do with someone like me.”

Namjoon takes the tirade in stride. You’re finally allowing yourself to feel something, and he’s not about to stop it. And you’re not wrong, not entirely.

“The nun has fucking feelings, a shock to everyone I’m sure,” you cry, words falling from you bitterly, like you can’t stop it. “I’ll be fucking damned if any of them give a shit about how I feel in all this. They got to go to work and live their lives and I was stuck here, watching him suffer.”

Namjoon watches as you start to crumble right before his eyes. He might have missed your walls coming down, but some part of him is glad he’s here for you to fall apart. Someone needs to pick up the pieces. It may as well be him.

“I’m the one who told him it was okay to go. I—” Tears are filling your eyes, spilling down your cheeks. “I held his hand j-just hours ago. I told him it was okay t-to let go. That it was t-time to just f-face whatever the fuck is out there when you die.”

He watches as you bring hand to your face to brush tears away, but instead the sobs wrack your body and you bare your teeth as you cry anew. He doesn’t know what to say. What could he possibly say to make any of this better for you?

Instead, Namjoon steps closer and holds his arms open. You fall into his chest unbidden, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his body as close as he can. The way your warmth feels against his own is strange, because it feels far better, far more natural, than it has any right to be. You’re supposed to be dead to the world, and right now you’re anything but that for him in this moment.

You clench fistfuls of his shirt in your palms. This ache, this hurt … this isn’t something he can fix, and yet it seems he’s the only one who’s ever cared to even fucking try. It breaks his heart more than loosing any of his doomed patients ever could. He finds himself trailing his fingers over your back in what he hopes are soothing circles.

He’s not even sure you’re really with him to hear him say, “Shhh, it’s alright, you’re okay, I’m right here for you,” until you suddenly raise your head to look him straight on. Tearstained cheeks, shining eyes that are starting to look a little swollen, just like the lower lip you’ve probably chewing on nonstop. And yet, Namjoon can’t help but feel drawn in by your gaze, still magnetic and haunting as ever.

Your fists tighten around the fabric inside them as you glance between his eyes and his lips. Namjoon realizes, suddenly, coldly, that your faces have become close, that he can feel your shuddering breath creeping across his skin.

He’s not sure who moves first. He’ll never be sure. It’s so instantaneous that it feels almost inevitable, like this is what the movement of the universe has been leading to all this time. His entire life feels like it hinges on the moment your lips meet his own and fit together as if your mouths were never meant to be parted.

His hand is suddenly cupping your face, tilting it so that he can slip his tongue against yours. You don’t just open to him; you draw him in, nipping at his lips, sucking at his flesh, finally allowing yourself a moment to be greedy.

Namjoon can’t get enough of your hot skin against his palm. His nails brush against your habit and god, he just wants it gone. He wants it out of the way. Something primal has taken hold of him, he knows it, even as he finds himself pressing forward against you. The small whine that escapes your throat makes him long to pin you against the chapel wall and let you take from him as he wants to take from you. With the way you’re pulling at his shirt, at his hair, his heart, you feel it too. Whatever this is is so massive that neither of you will ever be able to escape the tug of its gravity.

As quickly as it all started, it’s over.

His front is suddenly empty and cold, but for the blood stirring in his heart with bitter bile in his abdomen. He’s not sure who steps away first, just that it’s perhaps the most unnatural thing he’s ever experienced. Your eyes are wide, aflame with more emotion than any person should ever have to hold within themselves. Over the silent hum of air circulators working, he hears the sound of you breathing in time with himself, panting as you both come down from the high of indiscretion

Before Namjoon can say anything, an apology or an explanation or just fucking anything to keep you from hating him, you walk away. It’s as if he’s sprouted roots as he watches you walk away and out of the chapel. The stoic curtain has been drawn around you again and he’ll never get the chance to pull it away. Just as it felt inevitable to kiss you and be kissed by you, this feels just just the same. It’s inexorable. There’s nothing he can do to stop you.

He just watches you leave before sinking into a seat in the front row of the chapel and putting his head in his hands.

&&&

It’s been a long week. For months it’s felt like Namjoon’s had nothing but long weeks, but this one seems so particularly bad in a way he can’t describe. Patients making strides and then loosing all the ground they gained. The families of patients becoming aggressive and distraught when they learn the news that their beloved kinsperson will not be making whatever recovery they envisioned for them. Nurses and medical assistants being berated and then taking it out on each other, or sometimes him. Other doctors shirking their duties. And of course, he’s nothing if not a self-loathing workaholic, so he shoulders every ounce of slack until it’s close to breaking him.

It takes a more senior doctor asking to speak to him in the hallway for him to realize how fucking bad he’s been internalizing his stress. He almost snaps like a twig in front of five people, just because the man asked him for a moment of his time.

“Take a walk, Doctor Kim. I don’t want to see you for an hour.”

Namjoon doesn’t realize he’s wandered to the chapel until he’s looking at the heavy wooden doors. They stand before him like an immovable barrier. He hasn’t been here since you left. It wasn’t so long ago, he knows it’s only been a month or three, but it feels like it’s been an age. Long enough that he’s lost track of the time, but not so long ago that he’s forgotten the way your flesh fit against his.

The memory stirs in his throat as he gently reaches to pull the door open and step inside.

The chapel’s preternatural silence settles over him like a blanket. In the past, it’s been an uneasy sensation, but now it’s welcome. He could use some quiet, some space to just feel and decompress. He sits a few rows back from the front and listens to silence ring in his ears, letting time slip by without registering how much of it goes.

Abruptly, Namjoon hears the doors behind him close with a thud. He turns to see a priest, smiling sheepishly as he gives him a little wave. He’s got a bulky briefcase in his hands and a sweater over his black shirt. At his throat is a priest’s collar.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you, doctor,” the priest says with a warm smile. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here this early before the service.”

Namjoon finds himself rising before he can even think about it. “No, please, don’t be sorry. I just needed somewhere quiet to be for a moment.”

“Well, this is the perfect place for that,” the priest says, glancing down the chapel’s center aisle at the altar. “I don’t believe I’ve met you before! I’m Father Herman.”

The doctor grasps the priest’s outstretched hand to shake it as he give his own name. “I’m not usually around this part of the hospital but it’s—well, it’s been a week,” he laughs nervously.

Father Herman nods, as if he understands Namjoon’s struggle completely. “The church is a place of healing, first and foremost. Whenever a soul ails, we always pray that they finds their way here.”

Namjoon thinks about you sitting in the front of the chapel, with your prayer rope and silent suffering. He thinks about the unending way his life has stretched before him since you left. He says nothing, however, as he watches Father Herman walk to the front of the chapel and set his bag in one of the chairs.

He must sense the doctor staring at him, but he seems unperturbed. Maybe he’s used to getting stares. “Was there something else you needed, Doctor Kim?”

The words are kind, but they rattle around Namjoon’s brain for a moment before he can really let them sink in. He hasn’t thought about any of his needs for what feels like weeks. No one’s asked about his needs for much longer.

“Um, yeah, maybe. I think I might have some questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Absolutely, son. Fire away.”

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work. Thank you.

posted: 11.2.2022

[soraviie]

Angst?

Aesthetic wallpapers Pinterest. This one is cute. So is this. You scroll mindlessly through the plethora of both colorful and monochrome options, saving the ones that speak to you.

You'll do it.

You'll have the courage to do it.

Today.

Right now.

But after pressing the home screen button, the now long familiar know in your throat doesn't fail to appear as you're inevitably confronted with the image of your boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend.

Who by now probably doesn't even remember your name. You grind your teeth, to stop the tears from leaking, trying and failing like numerous times before, to get angry. To hate him. But you can't.

You simply can't make yourself hate him.

The reminder of the downloaded pictures mocks you as the screen is littered with the information. How many kilobytes of data they store. You wonder how many kilobytes of fond memories are stored in this one singular picture you weren't yet strong enough to erase like all the rest.

You sigh and lock the phone, promising that tomorrow it'll be the day. Tomorrow you'll change your lockscreen and with it the life that was never meant to be.

send in a picture of the boys and I'll write a scenario

[aizawasanie]

What’s the angsty(est?) BTS x Reader story you’ve ever read? Can be any member. But what story have you read that hurt you so bad that you legit cried to. Looking for recommendations. :-) thanks friends.

[midnightship]

[sadistpet]

<< happy sunday. raikov moaning in your muses mouth while they sloppily make out and he begs them to fuck him. ok? >>

It was just a dream, but the possibility keeps him alive. Possibility keeps him here, listening to their American nonsense, babbling about whatever secrets they can tease from his old flesh. Easily, he can tear down these walls and go about his way, and then… what, exactly?

It was the money, you fool. Everything became possible when that bastard choked, and you found it.

He may no longer be a man of means, but the world must think he is dead, a smug notch for that filthy dog’s belt while the elite vultures of the world picked over the greatest prize of them all — that damned microfilm and everything that came with its impossible wealth. Should he have left this place, he would have nothing but the presence of the dead, a living ghost. A clean slate, perhaps.

Not with a face like mine.

But, that was alright; fear was delicious. His face would evoke more than fear when he found him again. Possibility. Beyond these walls, beyond whatever containment they thought could hold him, he knew he was out there. If he could not run his fingers through those silvery locks again, he would bless his sun-bleached bones. Hell would not come to claim him until, in this world, he knew.

Nude and curled on the insulated floor of his cell, he squinted up at the sickly, sterile light that signified “daytime” hours and then defiantly tucked his face back into a massive arm. It was endless boredom punctuated by spikes of anxiety and pain, a tiny space colored by a mockery of day and night cycles, leaving him to electrically-frayed watercolor dreams of the time before, and the feeble future he imagined after this.

Vanya.

[luvismenu]

Three Way || Maknae Line

chap: 15 (move on)

index

previous / next

note! — that one conversation with yoongi was jimin's pov

a/n: sad?? happy?? how are you feeling pookies 👽

[latenightdecaf]

I don't know if I can write anymore, but I had this idea of a plot this morning.

Something about being in a relationship with Namjoon, where he thinks he's all healed from the past. Thinking that he's finally in a relationship where he feels love, but ends up sabotaging it because he doesn't know what a "stable" relationship looks like. That he probably loves the idea of it but doesn't know what to do now that he has it.

Probably write the first part, showing how odd a stable love is for Namjoon sometimes. How he doesn't know what to do when the girl he loves knows how to properly communicate, addresses his needs, gives him quality time and space and makes sure he's the priority. Because he was used to the opposite.

And the girl is just mature not necessarily older but maybe an old soul. Loves the way he loves her, completely mesmerized by the fact that she's with someone like him. She's very patient by nature and loves art but sees it in a different way than Joon, loves to read too and would never admit that she's probably smarter than him because she looks at Namjoon like warm sunlight. Like a need, a necessity. Something to hold on to on a cold winter day, something you're thankful for every day even when it's raining.

Hmmm anyway. Just a brain dump.

Looking forward to his new album tho!

[royalmedani]

Related next KBE Model Post @bridgeportbritt

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Gavyn: “So Atlas, I know this is supposed to be a big deal and all but what is the point exactly of this? Did she make that cloth? It does look like an impressive weave.” 

Atlas: “Oh I do not know, I think it is more about what she is wearing? I just know she really wanted everyone to watch it." 

Gavyn: “Well if that is all it is about, I say our Doma wears it well. I have no doubt she will drown them all in the wake of her beauty.”

[searchingforshinies]

The soulmate au makes a comeback lol