Bts Fics That Give Me Life In A Drought

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So, India is dying.

Look, I know a good number of you are from the US and things aren't amazing there either, but my country is literally on the brink of collapse. So I'd love it if we could talk about that for a minute.

If you can't do anything else, please just read and reblog.

A second COVID wave has taken out the healthcare system. There are no more hospital beds. There's an oxygen shortage. There's a critical vaccine shortage. The Central Government has thrown its hands up and is passing the baton to the State Governments to do what they can.

There are over 16 million covid cases. A record 330,000 new cases reported yesterday - comparable to the US at its peak. 187,000 dead as of today.

There is no plan.

Mass cremations are taking place. The cremation grounds are running day and night and they are short on wood. People are watching their loved ones die while waiting for a hospital bed, and then they're unable to give them the proper burial rights.

Hospitals are overwhelmed. Patients are being confined, two to a bed. They're the lucky ones.

We are on the verge of people dying in the streets.

This is the second-most populous country in the world. The largest democracy. A country that encapsulates over 15,000 years of recorded human history and has endured everything from famine to invasion to colonisation.

We might be at the end. This might be the thing that does us in.

People are dying.

People are dying.

People are dying and there is no plan.

More good news? Variants are popping up. A double mutation strain has shown up. It is resistant to current vaccines. This will not go away. This is the devastation they warned of when the anti-maskers were out protesting the minor inconvenience of covering their face in public.

My country is on the verge of an emergency state. Our government has failed us. This is as dire a situation as it ever could be.

Look. I don't do much with my life. I write fics, some of you have read them and that's pretty much it. I spend my days with my head in the clouds because that's where I like to be.

But two days ago, my grandmother tested positive, had to be taken to hospital and the ambulance caught fire.

She barely made it to the urgent care she needs.

So, here I am, using whatever meager platform I have to cobble this request together. Because I have to do something.

If you can, donate.

Or spread the word.

Help. Please.

Naked Lips

Luke Hemmings x fem!reader

Warnings: make-out, mild swearing, quite detailed stuff about kissing, mild angst

Word Count: 1794

Summary: Luke texts you a fishy message which leaves you anxious for a long time. But the message wasn’t as deep as you thought. 

A/N: I can never do anything other than fluff with Luke, SO IM SORRY but he’s just too precious in my wild imagination. Enjoy this sweetness, I did. 

Thump thump thump

Your heart is palpitating at a ridiculously fast pace as you fumble with your keys in order to open the door of your and Luke’s shared home. 

Usually you would be knocking, but you were slightly expecting that he wouldn’t be home out of hopes that what you fear might happen wouldn’t happen. 

The reason that you’re acting so nonsensically anxious and apprehensive is because moments before you left for work in the morning, you had received an ambiguous message from your boyfriend, simply stating, “I have something to tell you.” 

That’s not fishy at all.

The past week he and the rest of the band have been staying at a recording studio all the way across your home in LA, far from the loud Californian noises and all. Due to this reason, you haven’t seen him in three days as neither of you are really interested in driving over four hours in total of back and forth. With the LA traffic? That’s practically hell. 

Other than that, you also wanted him to exert his full presence and attention in writing, even if it was just only for a couple days. Besides, you were still able to go on Facetime everyday and check on one another constantly by texts and calls, so it wasn’t much of a big deal.  

But then you got that message early in the morning, and everything suddenly became a big deal.

Today is the day he returns home, and you’re practically dreading it. You kept thinking of things that the two of you would have to talk about but none ever came to mind. You were just on Facetime the night before yesterday, and everything felt fine. You even fell asleep during the call upon which your boyfriend took advantage of by screenshotting the visual and posting it on his Instagram story.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

“Y/N could you turn off your ringer? It’s distracting some of the others.” Your manager calls out.

Looking up at him, you nod your head repeatedly as you reach to grab your phone from your purse- Ding! before putting it on silent. “I’m sorry about that, Stephen.” You smile sincerely at him, by which he only responds with a nod of his head before leaving.

You stretch your neck upwards as your eyes scan the room just to make sure that your boss is out of sight before sneakily taking out and opening your phone once more in order to see why it was suddenly blowing up at- 

9:17 in the morning. 

Other than a short “Goodmorning sweet x” text message from Luke, you recognize that you had no other found notifications. That is until you remember that you’ve turned off the visual notifications for both Twitter and Instagram.

You suddenly felt nervous as you go click the Twitter app out of fear that the blasting noises were nothing more than hate.

But to your surprise, it was so much more than that. 

#Luke, ‘Y/N and Luke’, ‘Luke’, and ‘im so single’ seemed to be trending nationwide, and as you check what it’s about, a screenshot of Luke’s IG story from half an hour ago is displayed the top of your feed. 

A slow smile steadily begins to creep up your face once you see an image of a version of yourself that’s fallen asleep on top of Petunia’s belly, with the caption “My girls been sleeping without me :( haha”

Of course that resulted with you getting annoyed at him, but for the most part you only found his actions truly adorable. You neither fought nor argued about any of it. 

You couldn’t Facetime or call yesterday for the reason that he said he was feeling more exhausted than usual, and quite frankly so did you, therefore the both of you decided to skip the nightly calls. However you still did message eachother goodnight and goodmorning along with other sweet nothings throughout the day, so you truly could not pinpoint what could have possibly went wrong. 

Finally opening the door, you try your hardest not to make a single sound in case he was already home. Your heart is still beating at a rate of a million miles per minute, and your sensitive self almost felt like crying from the type of anxiety you haven’t felt in a long time - especially with Luke. 

Shutting the door close, you lean your forehead against the wooden piece as you close your eyes and attempt to steady your currently heavy breathing. 

nothing’s wrong, nothing’s wrong, nothing’s wrong, nothing’s wrong, 

-you keep telling yourself.

But something MUST be wrong if he chose to sent you that message. 

The thought alone became enough for a sob to escape past your lips as you dramatically slide down the door, slowly turning around so your back is the one against it. 

“Love?” 

A voice calls from a distance, making you look up.

The sight made you choke on air.

There stood on the stairs your boyfriend of two years, his dirty blonde hair pulled back in a small bun, eyebrows scrunched in concern of your disheveled state. He’s wearing a black tank top and a mixture of red and black plaid pants, topping it off with white a pair of high top Nike socks. He looked very good. Really good. But none of that passes your sight as you only stare at his naked lips.

Where’s the fucking lip ring? 

All of a sudden your thoughts became clouded and you forget all your previous worries. Your squint your eyes in case you only became delusional that the holiest of rings wasn’t on his lips. 

“What happened bub, what wrong?” Luke asks concerningly while going down the stairs in order to make his way to you. 

As if your guardian angel bitch slapped you in the face, you left your walls of thoughts as you stare up at you much more taller significant other, “Is this what you wanted to tell me, Lu?” You ask him carefully, slightly afraid that his answer would be a no.

“Nevermind this-” he points at his bare lips,  “bubba, you were crying. Why are you crying? Is it work?” He asks a number of sincere questions, but you only repeat yours. 

“My answer to that depends on yours. Is this what you meant by ‘something you need to tell me’?” You watch as he tilts his head in confusion before reaching out to cup your face and wipe away the single tear that’s fallen a couple seconds ago, “It is, yeah. Why?”

Feeling stupid, you push him away slightly before snorting in laughter, “Oh my God,” Luke, still in a state of confusion, only follows you. “I can’t believe I went through all that anxiety just because- I can’t.” You cover your mouth as small giggles-of-stupidity escape past it. 

Luke’s heart warms at the sight of you smiling, but he still remained curious as to why you were at a state of distress just a couple moments ago. “What are you talking about, bub? And you still haven’t told me why you were crying earlier.” 

“Oh that’s- it’s nothing, Lu. I’m-”

“Y/N.” Luke cuts you off with a sort of tone that makes your knees weak.

Swallowing your throat, you bluntly tell him the reason why, “I just thought you were going to break up with me.”

“What?!”

“-But it’s okay now, you just kind of worded it badly-”

“Wow.”

“I mean I’m still in a state of shock seeing your lips naked like this-”

“I can’t believe you thought that.”

“-but it’s still so much better than what I previously expected was going to happen.” 

You finish your words as you look up at your boyfriend, finding him staring back at you with an amused smile on his [naked] lips. “I can’t believe you thought I was breaking up with you, love.”

Shrugging, you respond “In my defense, you worded it awfully.” 

Luke only smiles and nods his head before moving closer and taking you in a very much needed hug, his head burying itself deep onto your neck. “I missed you so fucking much, Y/N.”

Grinning from ear to ear, your arms subconsciously wraps itself around its familiar place as you breathe in the scent that you so terribly missed. “I missed you so much more, Lu.”

You’re the first to pull apart from the sweet embrace only to pull him in for a deep kiss, the taste of him so familiar that you feel comforted and at home. 

He returns the kiss a little too soon, but who are you to complain, as one hand locates itself on the back of your neck and the other finds itself wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. He tugs at the roots of your hair in desperation of hearing the familiar sound that he loves.

Moaning, ‘there it is’ Luke thinks, you jump and wrap your legs around him as you tangle your hands in his locks of gold. He pinches your behind sneakily which makes you gasp, giving him the entrance he was looking for. 

The two of you are at a battle of dominance to see who could get the other turned on enough to take things farther first, a common thing that the both of you oddly play. 

Wanting to win it, you perform your legendary move, the kiss-tug-bite. 

It goes like this, 

Deep within the moment, your tongue explores his for minutes down, kissing at a ridiculously fast pace. Once you’re for sure that he’s absolutely into it, you tug on his hair which then makes him gasp and breathe out for a short millisecond, upon where you take the opportunity to swiftly bite harshly and toy with his lip ring-

“Ow, fuck-!” 

Startled at his sudden words, you pull apart and look at him with wide eyes. 

His lip is bleeding. 

“Holy shit- oh my God!” You exclaim as you lunge towards the kitchen and grab napkins. “Oh my God Luke I’m so sorry- oh, I forgot!” You sputter out quickly while trying to stop the bleeding from getting on the carpet floors. 

Luke only smiles, his teeth partially covered in blood. “It’s alright, love. It doesn’t hurt that bad,” leaning in, “And you know how much I love it when you get rough, anyway.” he whispers.

You let out a silent gasp before pushing him back and playfully throwing the napkins at him, “Clean yourself up, you nasty.”

Luke only laughs and catches the napkins before calling out your name, slightly worried at the thought of how many more times this same exact thing is gonna happen.

Phew, his naked lips is going to take a hell of a long time to get used to.

faded love | pjm

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 he doesn’t need to say it. because you can feel your husband, park jimin, falling out of love with you. 〞married couple au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: jimin x reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst (rip sorry) ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 16k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: couples therapy (is that a warning?), cheating/infidelity, some swearing, soft mushy smut, oral (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, creampie, lots of kissing, this is just v soft mushy sex, like super light softcore romantic porn

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: W H A T I S U P D E M O N S! I’m back with another instalment of the mixtape series, i sincerely hope you all enjoy it!! almost everything is read through and edited except the smut because like,,, its 4am and the sun is coming up and i’m ill and tired

⇥ part of the mixtape series

⏤ unedited

The signs were there.

Your relationship with your husband, Park Jimin, was slowly fading; slowly dwindling into nothingness. You don’t really recall exactly why you’ve been drifting apart or what caused the start of the drift. All you knew, was that one day, two months ago, your husband had come home with a changed, indifferent air around him. Within that long agonising month, you had tried everything to garner his attention. You suggested bike riding down the Han River liked you used to when you began dating, trying to rekindle some of the love and passion in your relationship. However, Jimin had refuted the offer, claiming he had a busy day at work and he was tired. When you suggested a date night, something relaxing like a movie and dinner, Jimin had rebuked that too, not wanting to leave home. But when you’d suggested staying in and watching a film, he’d turned that down too; heading straight to bed instead.

For two months you tried whatever you could. From planned days in so that he could rest if he was tired, all the way to suggesting fun and exciting things like trips to museums or the park like you used to when you were dating. But each and every single idea was turned down with some excuse or another. At some point you began wondering if you had done something to annoy him or said something that caused him to begin pulling away from you. But no matter how much you racked your brain, you couldn’t pinpoint any thing. He was just no longer interested in spending time with you.

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PLEASE AHAHHAHA

calum is the best thing that has ever happened in the whole universe

how does this not have a million interactions omg. this is absolutely brilliant and perfect in all ways. the plot???? the characters???? the writing???? phenomenal. please read this and give it the love it deserves cause holy crap im bawling but in a satisfying way.

remember me not

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> the one in which Fate has bound the two of you for eternity 

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. hoseok (with a cameo by jimin) 

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> fantasy; genie!hoseok x human!reader; heavy angst 

𝔴/𝔠 >> 14.5k (eep!)

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> sadness. just a whole bunch of sadness. there is also death, unrequited love and hoseok simply trying to do the right thing by you. 

𝔞/𝔫 >> i have a lot to say, so i’ll put the blurb at the end of the fic. i just wanted to say thank you to all who have shown me their love and support towards my writing. this is posted in celebration technically, but i couldn’t hide this anymore. as well, please indulge in the playlist that inspired me while i wrote for the complete reading experience. sending you all my love. enjoy (: 

masterlist

He yawns and places his feet on the table that is situated in the middle of the room. His golden slippers track dust onto the silk tablecloth and at his blink, the material is spotless once again. A small hum fills the room as he looks around and absentmindedly taps his finger on his arm. The power is itching to be let out, but there is nothing for him to use it on - nobody to use it for. Another yawn stretches his jaws and he hears the crackling from it in his ears. He sniffs and leans back, letting his arms hang loosely from the chair. 

Staring up at the ceiling, he catches the far away light that is but a pinpoint up above. It makes him sigh wistfully. 

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IV. Something Has to Change

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

//

Your friendship with Taehyung starts to show its cracks.

Section Warnings: language

WC: 7.5k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

Saturday October 20th

You text Taehyung before going to sleep just to confirm he didn’t die in a ditch, but it’s radio silence from him until almost three o’clock the next afternoon. When he does finally answer you - “alive but at what cost?” - you roll your eyes and turn your phone over, screen down. You’re sitting in the living room, two author anthologies open on the coffee table, bookends to your open notebook. 

Apparently he’s displeased with your silence, because your phone buzzes again a few minutes later - the longer buzz, indicating a call of some kind. With a huff of aggravation, you flip it over to see it’s a video call, his preferred method of communication. You slide the button to accept the call, but let him stare at your ceiling. 

“What?” you demand. “I can’t talk, I have to go call off my search parties.”

“I was asleep,” he defends himself. “I texted you as soon as I woke up!”

“Didn’t sleep last night, huh?” you joke, but the sting is there. Just a little. 

He avoids the question. “What are we doing tonight?”

You laugh at the audacity of his whole existence. Admitting to your face that he’d been up all night with a girl, and then calling you first thing upon waking like he knows you’ll just be there, waiting for him. What would happen if you weren’t?

Not to mention asking what the Saturday night plan is thirty seconds after waking up with a hangover. 

“I’m assuming you won’t want to go out?” you ask. 

He hums, runs a hand through his messy hair. “Depends. I could be persuaded, maybe. Wouldn’t mind just hanging out, though. What about a movie? We have that one we’ve been saving?”

We.

You’re not sure why, today, it’s bothering you so much. The truth is, Taehyung’s acting and speaking the same as always. So what’s different?

You don’t want to examine the answer to that, so you focus on the plan instead. “I like the sound of a movie,” you agree. “Wanna see if anyone else is interested?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. “I’ll text everyone.”

“Sounds good. See you around eight?”

“Should we order dinner before that?” he asks.

Something in your stomach turns. You don’t want to. You don’t want to keep getting your heart stepped on. You don’t want his metaphorical scent on all of your clothes, so that you can’t go anywhere or do anything without him lingering on you. 

And at the same time, he’s your best friend. He’s your family. You love him, in multiple ways.

It feels like being tugged in opposite directions. It feels like lose/lose. It feels like there’s no right answer, nowhere to turn, no option that doesn’t hurt.

“Not tonight,” you hear yourself say. “I have too much homework.”

“Okay,” he says easily. “See you around eight, then. I’ll let you know if anyone else is coming with me.”

You try to return to homework after you hang up, but your focus is shot. You lean onto the cushy back of the couch, closing your eyes. You’re still sitting like that when you hear the front door open. Namjoon hadn’t been home when you got up, had been out the whole time.

“Hey,” you say, eyes still closed.

He gives a chuckle. “Everything okay?”

“I think my brain is broken,” you tell him. “Can Edna write about something besides death?”

He huffs out a laugh, and you hear him drop his keys onto the counter. “I think she does,” he says, coming closer and peering at the anthology you still have open on the table in front of you. “Nature. Rebellion. Men. Women. Love. Sex.”

Your cheeks burn, like you’re thirteen damn years old, just from hearing the word sex in his low, steady voice.

Get a grip, you scold yourself silently. 

“I guess so,” you admit. “But today everything I read is about grief.”

“Take a break,” he suggests, moving into the kitchen. You hear a cabinet open and the sink run, and then he comes in carrying a glass of water. He sits down a few feet away from you on the couch and copies your pose, leaning back against the cushions.

It occurs to you that you’ve never sat on the couch at the same time as him before. In fact, your Uber ride last night was the closest your bodies had ever been. 

“We’re gonna watch a movie tonight,” you find yourself telling him. “That new one with what’s-his-face, Raven’s Prophecy? Around eight. If you want to join.”

“Yeah,” he says right away, surprising you. “Sounds good.”

–

The movie’s good  - really good. You’re all crowded around the living room - Namjoon on one end of the couch, Yoongi on the other, you and Taehyung and Jimin on the floor. The coffee table has been pushed to the side to make room for you, the lights turned down. Taehyung is sitting with his back against the couch, legs extended in front of him, and you have a throw-pillow leaning against his knees, laying perpendicular to him. Jimin sits next to Taehyung, one of his legs resting lazily over top of yours.

It feels normal, and it feels nice, and everything weird from earlier seems to float away. Maybe you had just been tired. 

“That’s totally foreshadowing,” you pipe up, raising a hand to point at the screen. “Because when he-.”

“Hey,” Taehyung says loudly, reaching over to flick the back of your arm. “No nerd talk. Just enjoy the movie. No one asked for a literary analysis.”

“But, look -.”

“No,” he repeats firmly, and Jimin giggles, used to this exact squabble. “This is fun, not school.”

“Foreshadowing is fun!” you protest, laughing, but you let it go. 

A second later, your phone buzzes in your hand. 

[9:37 PM] Namjoon: 🤯

You bite back a smile, turning off your screen before the light can catch anyone’s attention, and then you cast your gaze up at the couch to find Namjoon looking right at you, a sheepish smile creeping up on one side of his face. 

You’re thankful for the dark of the room, the light shifting and changing with the scene on the tv screen, as you feel yourself blush. 

God, you think to yourself. Get it together. Two days ago, it hadn’t been like this, where every met glance cues up a shy smile, and each tiny smile elicits a flush. You don’t know who this girl is but she is un-fucking-recognizable. 

You wait a minute or two, then turn your brightness down and send back, “but am i wrong?”. Then you glance back up to watch Namjoon read the text. He gives a laugh, one shake of his shoulders as he sees it, and then he meets your gaze. That same half-smile on his face, he shakes his head imperceptibly. 

Behind you, beneath you, Taehyung shifts and you turn back to the tv quickly, feeling something akin to guilt simmer in your gut. You don’t see his eyes bounce back and forth between you and Namjoon, curious. 

Monday October 22nd

Monday brings bright sunshine despite the chilly air, morning light illuminating the deep reds and oranges of the trees down the block. 

Namjoon finds you in the kitchen, staring listlessly into an untouched cup of coffee. 

“Good morning?” he greets you, a question.

You startle. “Shit!” you yelp and then laugh, heart pounding. “I didn’t even hear you getting ready in there. ”

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says apologetically. “I’m heading to campus in a bit… how about you?”

“Yeah,” you say glumly. “I have work and class.”

“Same,” he says, moving around you to rummage for some breakfast. “Class first, and then I’m TA-ing all afternoon.” 

You give him a little smile. “I don’t think I’ll be needing your services today.”

“No?” he asks mildly. “Last few submissions went well?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume I’ve written anything worth submitting.”

He laughs, his back to you, and then settles against the kitchen counter. “I can help you brainstorm, too, if you’re stuck.”

You bite back the prideful I don’t need your help that rises to your tongue. He’s being nice. Instead, you say, “Hopefully I’ll make some progress on my own. Have fun, though. You still have that office to yourself? If I had that, I’d be so productive. Nothing to distract me.”

Namjoon shakes his head, smiling ruefully. “I find ways. I still have my phone. And a window.”

You laugh at this, and then rise, draining half of your mug of coffee in one go. “I need to head in. Are you leaving now, too? Or, later?”

“I can make now work,” he says, something warm in his tone. “Let me just go grab my bag.”

Out front, you blink against the sudden brightness, holding up a hand to shield your eyes as they adjust. Namjoon locks the front door and comes down the steps at a light jog, stopping next to you.

“Ready?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you tell him, and you start off towards campus in silence, the only noise around you the calls of birds and the hum of car engines from nearby traffic. 

You stop at an intersection, watching the orange hand tell you to wait. “So,” you say, glancing up at him as the cars whiz by, “what’s your book about?”

He looks at you completely blankly, like he has no idea what you’re talking about.

“For the grad program,” you clarify. “You said you were in fiction, right?”

“Oh,” he says, as if he forgot. “Yeah. Um, I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“Try,” you say dryly.

“It’s a coming-of-age, I guess,” he says, rubbing his chin as he thinks. He’s wearing his glasses today, and you have half a mind to tease him that he’s just trying to look like one of the professors so they don’t kick him out of his hijacked office. “And a bit of an unrequited love story.”

“The good kind or the bad kind?” you ask, a little absently. When he doesn’t answer, you look at him to determine why, and he’s looking at you like you’ve asked the most ridiculous question in the world.

You huff out a sigh. “Like - unrequited because the other person doesn’t know, or because they don’t return the feelings?”

“One of those is the good kind?” he asks, raising a brow. 

“The first one,” you say, as if it’s obvious. “It’s… it always exists only as the idea of love, it’s untarnished, it can remain a beautiful and pure thing. It never gets messed up.”

“But you’re alone,” Namjoon counters. 

“You still love someone,” you insist. “The meaning of life, and all that shit.”

Namjoon shakes his head as the stoplight above you changes from green to yellow, and then to red. “It’s not the same as loving someone and having them love you back, building it together and working to sustain it,” he says firmly. “That’s real love.” And then he heads for the crosswalk, his long legs carrying him swiftly away. 

You hurry to catch up, feet following his without question.

–

The first leaf falls, a warning. Now the rest will follow. I watched them sway all summer. Autumn leaves me hollow.

There’s a promise in the air, I turn towards the icy bite. If autumn can’t make me happy, I wonder if winter might.

Aren’t those frozen days so dark? Isn’t catching snowflakes strange? Perhaps this could be something. Perhaps something has to change.

You frown at the page. Half of you is tempted to take Namjoon up on his offer to workshop during his TA hours, but you’ve got a good reason not to let him see this one. 

“Y/N?” Kris calls from the register at the front of the store. “Did I leave my phone back there?”

Their voice brings you back to reality, pulling your focus from the page of your notebook open on your lap. You’re hiding in the stockroom, sitting on an unpacked box of what you hope are books, trying to cram in some coursework. 

Kris’s phone is indeed on a table behind you, where you sling your bookbag when you come in to start a shift. You rise, slipping your notebook back into said bag and grabbing the phone, walking it out to them. 

You’re alarmed when both phones buzz in your hands, a long, repeating pattern that you aren’t accustomed to.

“What the fuck?” you utter, even though if your boss heard you cursing on the floor you’d get a written reprimand for the first time in your life. 

“Storm alert,” Kris says, reaching one grabby hand out for their phone. You pass it over and press your thumb to your own screen. Sure enough, it’s a severe weather alert. 

You groan. “Great. I walked here.” You try to pull up the radar, but your shitty service takes too long to load it so you switch over to the hour-by-hour. 

“See if your knight in shining armor will give you a ride,” Kris says with a twisted chuckle. 

For a second, you aren’t sure if they mean Taehyung or Namjoon, and that fact is startling. Obviously they mean Taehyung, they know a lot of your history with him and they don't know anything about what’s happening with Namjoon. Nothing is happening with Namjoon, you correct yourself sternly. You had a weird desire to scoot closer while drunk in an Uber and had one sort of deep conversation. It’s not a thing. 

And, actually, texting Taehyung for a ride is a pretty good idea. Outside, it’s not even raining yet, but the clouds hang low and the leaves that have managed to cling to their branches this late into autumn are flipping and shimmying in the harsh wind. 

There’s a long line of students waiting to check out - probably grabbing last minute snacks and drinks before the rain starts, so they don’t have to go out later - so you slide next to Kris at the second register and swipe your access card. You work like this for at least an hour, the rain starting a pace outside the windows as steady as the flow of students trying to get what they need and hurry back to their dorms. 

When you catch a minute, you send a text, holding your phone down under the counter and typing with one hand, as if it isn’t painfully obvious what you’re doing. When the answer comes in, you tap the screen quickly.

[4:22 PM] You: are you still on campus?

[4:31 PM] Namjoon: just finished work. can’t wait to walk back in this…

You giggle and Kris looks at you out of the corner of their eyes.

“That him?” they ask. They mean Taehyung, and you’re too damn aware of the lie as you answer, “Mhm.”

[4:34 PM] You: i’m done in 25 min if you want to suffer together

[4:36 PM] Namjoon: yeah sounds good you can make sure i dont drown lol

An “lol”? Oh, goodness.

[4:37 PM] Namjoon: you’re at the bookstore right? i’ll come there and wait for you

Oh, lord, Kris is going to have a field day with this. You don’t have time to focus on this, as your boss finally sweeps out of her adjoining office, announcing that you need to shut down the second register and finish everything in the back room before your shift ends. She’ll be the one to close the store tonight, as she does on Mondays. 

When you emerge from the back room at 4:59 on the dot, your backpack on your back, Namjoon is loitering near the registers, and Kris is shooting you looks that are somehow mischievous, delighted, and wounded. You have a feeling you’ll be interrogated during your shift on Wednesday.

Outside, the rain isn’t that bad, but it is steady. The wind blowing makes it look like it’s raining left to right, in sheets. 

“We’re gonna be drenched,” you groan. You follow Namjoon out of the bookstore, waving a goodbye at a still-disgruntled Kris, stopping at the glass doors that lead outside. 

“It’s not that bad,” Namjoon tells you, voice a little fond, like he thinks your complaining is cute. “We’ll just go quick. I’m mostly worried about my laptop.”

“Ugh, same,” you lament. “We’d better be fast, I fully cannot afford a new one.”

“Let’s go,” he tells you, and leads you outside. Just like that morning, your feet follow his, like it’s natural. You walk in silence almost halfway home, the pace too clipped to really carry on any kind of conversation. 

You’re practically panting for breath when you hit the major crosswalk, stopping to wait for the signal to walk. The rain seems worse when you’re stopped - sticking your hair to your head where it lands, raising the hairs on your arms as your body gives one dramatic shiver against the chill. Namjoon looks down at you.

“We’re almost there,” he says, reassuring. 

“Mhm,” you manage, rubbing your hands over your arms to fight off the goosebumps. The light changes and you start across, following Namjoon and his naturally long stride. You keep your eyes on the ground, dodging puddles, watching the white stripes pass beneath you. 

You’re just across, stepping up the curb onto the sidewalk, when it happens.

The sky opens. 

One second it’s raining hard enough to be a nuisance, the next second it feels like someone dumped a bucket of water over your head. The sound goes from a soft patter to a sudden roar, like the rain is alive and it is pissed. You splutter, actually blowing water away from your lips, reaching up to wipe your eyes. 

“Fucking shit,” Namjoon swears, and then he grabs your hand and tugs. “Come on!”

He’s not running that fast but there’s still a few seconds where you feel uneven, your gait awkward, trying to match his. Eventually your feet settle into the rhythm and you run just behind him. His hand, so large in yours it's almost swallowing it, is warm and solid and sure. His grip is tight - like he means it. He doesn’t look back as he runs, just squeezes your hand in his and trusts you to keep up.

When you round the corner of your block, together, you try to pull back, try to slow down. Your lungs hurt, your legs are burning, and you just want to admit defeat and walk the block letting the rain know it won.

Namjoon doesn’t let you. He slows his pace to more of a race-walk, gives your arm another playful tug. Not for a single second does he loosen his grip on your hand.  

“You can make it,” he tells you over his shoulder. His hair is flattened from the rain, his face a little flushed from the run, but his dimples wink at you through the deluge.

When he reaches the front of the apartment, he finally drops your hand and takes the steps at a clip. At the top, under the safety of the awning, he turns to see why you haven’t followed him.

You can’t help it - it’s all so ridiculous you have to laugh. Your hair sticks to your face like cooked spaghetti, your shirt clings to your arms, your backpack is dripping water like there’s a faucet in there, and even your socks are wet, making each step you take squelch like mud. Still cackling at the absurdity of this moment, of having been completely defeated by the season, of running all the way home and still ending up half-drowned, you look up at the sky. The rain slides down the sides of your face and you let it cool the heat that’s there from either running, or Namjoon’s touch.

You feel a little drunk from it. 

“Y/N!” Namjoon scolds from the top of the stairs, but he’s smiling that same fond little smile he’d had on movie night a few days ago. “Come inside! You’re going to get pneumonia.”

You look back at him, the rain still assaulting you from above. There’s a second where you feel something. Something like… you’re half-drowned and chilled to the bone, but you feel warm with his affectionate gaze on you. Like you don’t want him to look away and leave you cold again. Like the rain was penance and now you’re all paid up. 

Like for at least this moment, right now, the rain has washed away your histories and left you clean and empty, a blank page waiting for a new story to tell - where before, your pages were full of scribbles and scrawls that held such heavy meaning there was no room for anything new.

You’re thinking too much.

You’re standing in the rain, Namjoon is looking at you like you’re nuts, and you’re thinking too much.

 Watching your feet, you head up the stairs, going through the front door that he’s holding open for you.

You squish your way upstairs, neither of you talking. Inside the apartment, Namjoon flicks on a few lamps.

“I’m going to grab a shower,” he tells you, voice quiet. “You should, too.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “That was my plan.”

You stand beneath the spray of hot water, tapping on the faucet to work it hotter by degrees, not wanting the temperature to jump and scald you. You feel drained, like your limbs are noodles. You lean your forehead against the tile wall, closing your eyes and just breathing.

“What the fuck…” you whisper to no one, “is going on?”

You wish you had a friend to talk it out with. Kris would go overboard, exploding with glee. Lin isn’t a talk about boys kind of person, or even a talk about your feelings kind. That leaves Taehyung, and the idea of trying to talk to him about your burgeoning feelings for Namjoon makes you laugh out loud, the single syllable echoing off the shower walls, echoing back to mock you. 

When you finally make it back into the living room, hair blow-dried and wearing your fuzziest joggers and a hoodie, Namjoon is tucked away in his own room, the door open that familiar four inches. 

You get settled on the couch and pull out your phone and realize practically with a gasp - you hadn’t even tried to text Taehyung to drive you, nice and dry, back from campus. Your brain had thought but I walked here with Namjoon and the option of “dry” went right out the window.

You cover your face with your hands, sliding down on the couch a little bit. What is the matter with you? 

You feel right now like it’s all happening too much, too fast. What even is “it”? Do you like Namjoon? Despite barely knowing him? Despite having to live with him? 

Despite the years and years of experience you have with loving Taehyung, and Taehyung alone, out of everyone in the whole wide world?

Luckily, Namjoon stays in his room for the rest of the evening, sparing you from any more self-reflection, any more soul-searching. 

You still kind of wish he’d come out. 

Tuesday October 23rd

One of the steady things that you and Namjoon share, that works for you as roommates, is that neither of you cooks. A whole kitchen of pots and pans just to heat up water for tea and ramen and to occasionally cook an egg. 

So when you get home from class on Tuesday so late that it’s already pretty dark out and you hear the clanging and banging from the kitchen that indicates a meal being made, you genuinely wonder if you’re at the wrong door. 

As you push the door open, the noise only gets louder. You round the corner and see the kitchen in chaos - two unmanned pans on the stove, bowls and whisks and colanders and cutting boards all over the counterspace. Namjoon has his back to you, a large kitchen knife in hand. 

You ease around him, not wanting to startle him until the knife is set down. He spots you anyway, and gives you a sheepish grin.

“What… exactly… is happening here?” you inquire. 

“It depends on the scope of your question,” Namjoon answers, because of course he can’t just fucking answer you like a normal person. “If you’re referring to the stove, I am burning some sauce on the left and burning some meat on the right. If you’re referring to the cutting board, I am -.”

“The stove is on fire!” you shriek, pointing, your spare hand flying to cover your mouth in horror. Flames crawl from underneath the pan of meat, over the top, devouring what’s in the pan and leaping into the air. Namjoon drops the knife with a clatter and whirls around, eyes wide. 

“What do I do?” he cries, hands in the air like he’s going to swat the flames like gnats.

“Turn off the burner and smother it!” you cry, not willing to enter the kitchen and get closer to the danger. 

“Smother it?” he repeats, the words a little wild as he screams them. Smoke has filled the kitchen, blurring your view of him, and the smoke alarm over the front door begins to blare. 

“The lid!” you scream, trying to be louder than the alarm. “Turn off the burner and put the lid on the pan! Be careful!”

You add this last part in a shriek as Namjoon follows your directions, reaching towards the flame to twist the burner and then slam the lid over the top of the pan, hissing a little as he does. 

The flames vanish almost instantly, but the smoke remains and the alarm keeps screaming. Namjoon looks at the pan, then his hand, then at you. 

“Go run cool water on that,” you tell him firmly, and you cross the apartment to open the windows and turn on the fans. 

You return to the kitchen to find Namjoon running the sink over his knuckles, brows furrowed.

“Is it bad?” you ask loudly - again, to be heard over the smoke alarm - as you open a drawer and get a kitchen towel, moving to stand in the kitchen’s doorway flapping away, trying to send the smoke towards the open windows. 

“No,” he tells you, pulling his hand out of the stream of water to examine it more closely. “It’s just a little red.”

“Keep it there for a little bit,” you tell him, still flapping away. “I might have burn cream in my bathroom, I’ll check in a second.”

Eventually the alarm quiets and you both heave a sigh of relief. The cold air coming from the open windows chills you down to your toes, but smoke still clings to the room, blurring your vision just enough to wonder if you’re imagining it. 

You find the burn cream in your medicine cabinet and return to the living room. Namjoon is looking at the ruined remains of his dinner with something like heartbreak on his face.

“Come here,” you tell him, sitting at the breakfast bar, ointment in your hand. “Come sit so I can do this.”

“I can do it,” he protests, but he heads your way.

“Sit,” you repeat, pulling out the stool next to you.

He does, silently and obediently, sliding his hand over to you. You can see the redness over his knuckles, middle and index the most. You uncap the tube and squeeze a little onto your fingers, then take his hand in your spare one to hold it steady. Gently you press the cream into his skin, making sure to cover each bit of redness. Namjoon watches you solemnly, wincing a little when your fingers touch his middle knuckle.

“See if that helps,” you tell him, his hand still resting on yours. “Want help cleaning up?”

He sighs heavily, and you both look at the kitchen in defeat at the mess of pans and bowls to wash.

“Do you ever just… miss your mom?” he asks plaintively, not looking at you.

The thing about grief - long-term grief, lifetime grief - is that you can go days, maybe even weeks at a time without noticing it. It’s kind of like a bruise in a hard to reach spot. It just takes one bump in exactly the right place, and it hurts just as bad as day one all over again. Namjoon’s words pierce you, and you take a slow breath. You were just caught off-guard, that’s all. You can be fine. You can be normal.

“Sure,” you say, trying to sound casual. Failing. 

He narrows his eyes at you in suspicion. “Why’d you get weird?” he asks. “Do you have a bad relationship with your mom or something? I didn’t mean to -.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, but you rise and head for the kitchen, starting to pick things up just to do something with your hands. “It’s just… I don’t have my mom anymore. She passed when I was little. My dad too.” Might as well get it all out there. It felt weird to let someone only know half.

It’s easier to handle this moment with Namjoon in another room. You don’t have to watch him react, don’t have to translate his silence and his body language. You slide all the chopped onion onto a plate just  in case Namjoon still wants to use it, and turn to rinse off the cutting board in the sink. 

He appears behind you, silently lingering in the doorway. “Y/N,” he says softly. 

“It’s fine, Namjoon,” you tell him, scrubbing at the cutting board vigorously. You don’t turn to face him.

“I wouldn’t have been so blase about it if I’d known,” he says apologetically.

“I know,” you say. You turn - away from the doorway - to put the cutting board aside to dry. You grab the pan with sauce in it - all congealed and unappetizing now - and move to scrape it into the garbage can. 

He comes up beside you; his fingers touch your elbow, feather-light, like he’s afraid he’ll spook you.

“Y/N,” he implores. “Look at me.”

You do, glancing sideways up at him, the pan heavy in your hand. “I’m not upset,” you assure him. “People just get so weird when they find out. I hate… navigating that, over and over again, with new people.”

He gives you a guilty smile, but there’s relief in it as well. “I will stop being weird immediately,” he promises. “I just felt like I stepped in it, you know?”

You shrug. “It happens to the best of us. It really is fine. It’s been a long time.”

You arm tingles where he’d touched you, but he stays put when you move back to the sink, running the water hot enough to steam before you put the pan under it. Then, wordlessly, he moves next to you, grabbing a cloth and starting to dry the cutting board you’d washed.

You carry on that like that, a perfectly synchronized dance, in silence until the countertop is empty. All that remains is the pan that had been alight about half an hour ago.

“Can I ask you something personal?” he asks, leaning against the counter as you scrape the remains of the charred meat into the garbage with a grimace. “I’m just curious. You can tell me to fuck off.”

“It’s so jarring when you swear,” you tell him.

He grins at you. “Hobi says my surprising potty-mouth is one of my best charms.”

You laugh at this. “I can see that,” you agree. “It is surprising.”

“Not charming?” he teases.

You shrug, feeling that blush rise up again. “No comment. Anyway - what did you want to ask?”

He lets you get away with evading the flirtation. “If you were little… who raised you?”

“Oh,” you say. You aren’t sure what you thought he’d ask, but it wasn’t that. “My grandma, until she couldn’t. Then my Aunt Lin took over, but she’s more like a big sister than anything.”

Namjoon nods. Then he asks, carefully, “Did Taehyung know your parents?”

The question makes you smile at the memories it pulls up - you and Taehyung as kids together, goofing off around your house, back when it had been filled with people.

“Yeah,” you say softly. It doesn’t occur to you to wonder why he’d ask that. It doesn’t occur to you to mask the tiny smile, that it might jostle his feelings even a little bit.

You look over at him when you realize he’s gone quiet. “Are you close with your family?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He nods, eyes on the pan lid that he’s drying. “Very. I was a lost soul when I first moved to campus. I couldn’t do anything.”

“You burned dinner tonight,” you point out. 

“I can do laundry now,” he retorts, smiling at you as you put the last of the dishes away. “I’ve come a long way.”

“Still room to grow,” you tease, reaching out to give his arm a playful nudge.

You’re giving playful touches now. That’s a thing that’s happening. 

You ache, again, to have someone to tell. 

Wednesday October 24th

You both love and hate Wednesdays - on one hand, you have your thesis double-feature, and you actually enjoy it. On the other hand, you go straight from double-class to closing shift at the campus store, and you don’t get home until dark. The day is long, and you’d rather be home. For several reasons. 

Your morning goes as you expect - you make it through the lecture part of class, updating Professor Jemisen on how your research segment is going. During the break, you eat some leftovers you’d thrown in your backpack, and talk with Gloria and the other girls. After the break, your group helps you workshop your latest poem, the one about the season changing, and you do the same for them.

The season changing is happening in real life, all around you. Fall fades quickly, the days darkening, the chills lasting longer, becoming more pronounced. Gone are the autumn days that change their mood and become summer again for hours at a time. 

You normally go straight to the campus store after class, but this week you’re hungry - the leftovers you packed weren’t enough to keep you until you get home. Instead of heading down the main paved path to the student center, where you work, you head for a large academic building you pass on the way there. You know there’s a little sandwich station on the lowest floor, tucked away past the mailroom like a well-kept secret. 

You take a hallway off to the side, passing some open classrooms on your way to the staircase. You’re walking mindlessly, head thinking only about the sandwich you’re going to order. You slow your steps when you hear a familiar voice, low and calm. 

“All I’m saying,” a girl is saying, and you stop in the doorway, listening, “is that while the idea of going to live alone in the woods is actually extremely appealing, Thoreau as a whole kind of sucks.”

“I might agree with you, but you need to frame that more academically,” Namjoon corrects gently.

A circle of students - freshmen, if you had to guess, maybe eight of them, are sitting at desks, their bags all forgotten on the floor by their chairs. Namjoon perches on the edge of the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, legs casually stretched out before him. He’s listening intently as the students debate.

“We have to specify the problem,” someone else in the group points out. “I’m all for metaphorically dragging down statues of the patriarchy and everything, but we need a solid argument.”

“Or,” a different girl says, voice just barely loud enough for you to hear from the hallway, “maybe instead of giving more attention to ‘classics’ we see as undeserving, maybe instead we should focus just on the underprivileged voices that we prefer to be amplified?”

“You mean pick a lesser-known author and shed light on their work instead?” Namjoon clarifies, and the girl nods. 

The group begins to debate this passionately, and Namjoon lets them fight it out, taking a second to glance at his phone. You become aware of the fact that you’re just standing in the hallway staring. You’re about to move on when Namjoon notices you. He looks away quickly at first, and then it registers that it was you standing in the doorway like a weirdo, and his gaze flies back to you. 

Caught, you have no choice but to lean into it. You give him a tiny smile, raising a hand in a guilty wave. He smiles back, just barely. You stay there another minute, smiling at each other, while the freshmen continue to argue. Then your feet spur you on, and you give him a little nod before heading down the hall. But the stupid fucking butterflies stay in your stomach the whole time you wait in line for your sandwich.

When you get to the bookshop, you toss your backpack behind the counter and slump onto a low stool that’s stashed back there. You lean your head on the counter next to the currently unmanned register and let out some unhappy grumbles.

Kris comes out from the stockroom - you can tell it’s them by their footsteps.

“What is happening here,” they say flatly, not exactly a question.

“Kriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis,” you whine, not looking up. “I think I need to talk about… my roommate.”

“Bitch!” they utter indignantly. “He has a name! What grade are we in right now?”

You stomp your feet lightly, needing to display your crankiness. “I am feeling very confused and conflicted and I need you to be nice to me about it,” you say petulantly, finally picking your head up so you can pout better. 

“Okay,” Kris says easily, leaning against the wall. The shop is devoid of customers, so you don’t bother to lower your voice. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you continue to whine. “It’s just how I feel.”

Kris gives you a level stare. “I need the whining to stop, like, yesterday. If you feel conflicted, there’s a reason. So, figure out what it is.”

“I already said I don’t know,” you tell them, still pouty, but sitting up straight now.

“Dig deep,” Kris deadpans. “Do it for the dimples.”

“Oh my GOD,” you say, unable to even make eye contact. “Never mind, conversation over.”

They shake their head, not letting you off the hook. “What’s the problem, Square?” It’s a nickname they gave you last year when you wouldn’t go partying - because… apparently you’re a square.

“You know the problem,” you grumble quietly, making them lean closer to hear you.

They lean back, something knowing in their eyes. “Ah. It’s the Taehyung factor.”

“Shh,” you scold, glancing around the empty store like someone might have materialized without you noticing. When you return your gaze to them, Kris is just staring at you plainly, waiting for you to elaborate. 

“I don’t know,” you say, and then more emphatically, “I don’t know! If I… start something else… does that mean giving Taehyung up? Because I can’t say I want to do that. Not if I’m being honest.”

Kris nods silently, letting you work it out. You meet their eyes, suddenly feeling the squeeze of anxiety around your chest, like your lungs have something heavy they have to push every time you inhale. 

“If I lose him,” you say in practically a whisper, “I will quite literally die.”

Kris scowls at you. “You will not.”

“I will,” you retort. 

Kris gives you an eyeroll. “So dramatic,” they scold. 

“He’s my family, Kris,” you try to explain. “In a lot of ways he’s my only family.” Your voice breaks as you ask, “What if I lose him?”

Now Kris softens, lips pulling together into something like a very pursed frown. “Maybe you should talk to him,” they suggest quietly.

You hate that idea a lot. “Maybe,” you say loudly, slapping your hand on the counter and standing as the bell over the door chimes and a group of lacrosse guys (the sticks are a give-away) enter the store with a burst of noisy chatter, “I should never talk about any of this ever again.”

Kris sighs heavily, practically doubling over. Now who’s dramatic? “You’re so self-destructive,” they complain.

“Don’t be mean,” you say, going back to pouting.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kris waves a hand at you. “Go write a poem about it.”

“And what if I do?” you demand, but you’re both laughing now, unlocking the registers as the lacrosse dudes line up to pay for their snacks and drinks.

–

Taehyung texts you near the end of your shift - “we haven’t hung out in five billion years :(“.

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and text back, “come get me from the bookstore then and hang out for a little”.

You’re pleased when he agrees. He shows up a little bit before closing, knocking on the already locked glass doors. You hurry to let him in, ignoring Kris staring knives into your back. 

“Hi,” you say happily as he slips into the store, and you lock the door again behind him. “I’ll be done in about four minutes.”

“‘Kay,” he says easily, striding over to the checkout counter and leaning against it. 

“Taehyung,” Kris greets him, nodding their head as they lock the register. “How’s it going?”

He sighs dramatically. “The usual. Classes. Parties. Trying to figure out why Y/N doesn’t love me anymore.”

You freeze halfway to the stockroom, your eyes wide, air catching in your throat. 

Luckily, Kris is and always has been way more slick than you. They cock their head quizzically, letting a playfully concerned frown settle over their features. 

“Y/N doesn’t love you anymore?” they echo, the poor baby pronounced in their tone. “What on earth do you mean?”

Taehyung shoots you a mischievous look; luckily, you’ve gotten your act together since he said those words. 

“I had to beg for her attention tonight,” he says, clearly loving this bit. “I’m beginning to think she has a secret boyfriend she’s not telling me about.”

He’s teasing and you know it, but after a lifetime of friendship with Taehyung, you know this too: there’s a little sliver of him that must be hurt, or at least bothered, or he wouldn’t tease at all.

You feel both caught - despite not having a secret boyfriend or anything like it - and guilty. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “I just got busy with my thesis and everything. I promise I’m not out with other people and not you. Even Kris only sees me at work these days.”

“And Namjoon,” Taehyung adds plaintively, and your blood runs cold.

“Namjoon?” you echo, not sure you can form a different word.

Taehyung’s pouting now, which means he’s not too serious. “Yeah, he has no choice, you’re in his living room every day.”

“Oh,” you say, relief flooding through you. “Yeah.”

You don’t see the point in telling Taehyung that there’s a teeny, tiny something starting with Namjoon. Not when it’s so… unformed, insubstantial, uncertain. You don’t know which word fits best. It’s a maybe at best, and it just doesn’t seem worth rocking the boat over it. 

What would happen if things started for real? Would you tell him? It shouldn’t have to be a secret… it shouldn’t stay a secret, not if you mean it. What would happen?

You’re afraid to know the answers. 

You finish up in the store and you all head to the parking lot together. You tell Kris goodbye and drop down into Taehyung’s passenger seat. 

“You’re gonna stay at the apartment for a little?” you ask. 

“Mhm,” he says, fiddling with the heat until he gets it how he wants it. “Can I work on homework with you?”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I have so much shit to do. I wasn’t kidding when I said school is eating my life. Senior year sucks.”

Taehyung isn’t looking at you - he’s watching the road as he waits for an opening in traffic so he can pull out of the parking lot. But something crosses his face - relief, maybe. Something softens, anyway. Maybe he really had been hurt that you hadn’t been hanging out as much.

When you return to the apartment, Namjoon isn’t home - his door hangs open, his bedroom completely dark. 

You and Taehyung settle in the living room, dragging out your laptops. It’s nice, hanging out like this again. You hadn’t realized how long it had been - over a week - since it had been just the two of you, like old times. Everything falls right into place. You swap snacks, hands brushing as you both reach into crinkling chip bags. You reach over and type nonsense into his paper when he isn’t paying attention, letting out peals of laughter when he figures it out and starts spluttering at you in outrage. You tell him about the customer at the store who argued with you over - of all the stupid things - a used copy of The Odyssey. 

When he hugs you goodbye at the end of the night, swaying you playfully back and forth like he might drop you, both of you giggling wildly, you’re reminded of just what the stakes are. You’re reminded of just how much you have to lose. 

<- Prev || Next ->

ahhhhh what do we think??!! there was hand holding!!!! are we clutching our pearls??!!!

as always thank you all so so so much for being here, i appreciate every one of you so extremely much!!!

when the camellia blooms | pjm

park jimin x kim! reader | 1 | 2

sypnosis: diagnosed with the hanahaki disease, you had only two options - accept a deathly fate, or never love again. 

genre: au, angst, fluff, humor, friends to lovers? maybe.

warnings: many talks of death and dying, minor character death, pain, unrequited love, swearing, talks of past sexual experience while intoxicated, pining, longing, really sad reader, and lots of angst.

word count: 7.2 k

“you would die for her, for him.”

“You’re dying.”

The two words escape past his lips steadily and breathily as your widening eyes linger on the way his hands fiddle with one another out of habit. He sighs deeply and resists the urge to avoid screaming at you and maintain eye contact out of professionalism, pushing back his slipping glasses.

“At this rate, you won’t have any more than a month. Had you told me this sooner, y/n, the results wouldn’t have been as scarce. But because you waited after almost a year of this, I’m afraid there’s not much to do.” He pushes his desk lightly to pull away from it, creating a mere distance between himself and the papers which finalized your future’s passing. Reaching his collar, he tugs on his tie to loosen it before unbuttoning the first stitch as he looks at you with seemingly stray and angered eyes mixed with sympathy.

Suddenly, his sight wanders the room as he shakes his head repeatedly, scoffing in disbelief. He then smiles, dimples prominent, lip tightened, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes broken, piercing straight at its target - that being you.

Standing up, he takes off his glasses and slams his fist onto the chair’s arm rest before running a hand across his hair, softly hissing.

The professionalism is now out of the drain, “You’re an idiot, y/n.”

Keep reading

Angsty af recs that made me cry like a bitch:

Disclaimer: Some of these fics deal with pretty heavy and dark topics so trigger warning!

Okay so my emo phase never left me and I love reading stories that have some real girthy pain in them cause I love suffering like the masochist I truly am. Even better if they have sad endings. So I’ve collected and recorded all the fics that have literally made me stay up at night while crying and have really, truly ripped my heart out and I wanna share this pain with ya’ll cause these fics, while sad af, are honestly really well written and I want people to know that these masterpieces exist!

So without further ado, here’s me list lads:

A Lionheart’s Oath (M) by sugaxjpg Jungkook x Reader

So lemme just start off by saying that THIS FIC is what made me wanna make this list in the first place cause I am pretty sure this is the first fic that made me cry. It’s a 36k long story and it’s a Royal!AU to boot, with lovely descriptions of scenery and a couple of intense scenes, this will always be one of my all-time favourite JK fics out there and my go-to to break my heart *sad uwus*

Tears of a Villain by jimlingss Yoongi x Reader

Ok this fic deserves a warning before you read it cause you gotta emotionally prepare yourself for this one fam. It’s about 15k long and it’s also a Superhero!AU but I swear to you, I did not expect it to be so utterly heart-wrenching in the most depressing ways. However, don’t let that scare you because the way jiimlingss captures those emotions and writes them in a way that’s so tangible and makes the pain all worth it. Another favourite of mine too.

Strain by evangelene  Taehyung x Reader

Oof our first series on this list and it’s a Hanahaki!AU as well! Of course a sad bitch like me adores any Hanahaki AU’s weather they’re sad or happy but this one in particular has excellent pacing and the most relatable, and dare I say coolest OC I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading. I also really like the relationship between the characters (especially the relationship between certain two people but I don’t wanna spoil anything). It has about 5 chapters in total and each part has made me cry so grab a tissue and maybe some popcorn too. It’s a ride hon! 

Bad Guy (M) by sweetbunnykook Seokjin x Reader

Omg god, holy shit, omg. Can I just say how much I adore sweetbunnykooks works? Like the stuff they write about is really dark and I LOVE it! In saying that, another trigger warning because we are dealing with a Mafia!AU folks! This is also a series and It’s about 6 parts long and still on-going too. The thing about this one here is that you instantly get flung into the deep-end and everything is so bloody intense and every part hurts and you might need to take breaks between each part because holy shit. H O L Y  S H I T. Bunny really doesn’t hold back any punches with this one.

Only You (M) by sweetbunnykook Jungkook x Reader

I’ve told ya’ll about how much I love Bunny’s fics so it’s no surprise that they’re on here the second time in a row. This time however, it’s a Yandere!AU just not your typical “Yuno Gasai” Yandere. No, the Yandere characterization in this AU has more of a baby boy nature and it’s a refreshing take to the genre but the fic still holds that intensity that Bunny has a natural talent for. Oh! and the smut scenes are nothing to gloss over as well, and there are many smut scenes throughout the series. Another 6 chaptered story that’s still on-going. 

Cut by chimchimsauce Namjoon x Reader

This fic here bois. This one here HURTED. It’s a Soulmate!AU but a very sardonic one that takes a cynical point of view until the end where it’s just… oof. And the ending, OH THAT ENDING. God I remember crying until 2am cause of how well everything was placed to pull that ending off and the way chimchimsauce manages to make me feel a flurry of emotions in a short amount of time is *chefs kiss*. Like my heart was played like a fucking fiddle rip. 

Let Me Stay Close to You by 9uk Jungkook x Reader

Imma be honest with you fam, this isn’t gonna be everyones cup of tea because I think this fic will hit a little to close to home for a lot of people. It deals a lot with bullying and trauma and it’s like… really anxiety inducing lmao. I love it personally for that fact though and it makes you empathise with the pain and emotional turmoil OC had to put up with throughout their years. It’s a completed series with 8 parts plus a spin-off. 

Tales of Greyria by cutaepatootie OT5 x Reader

These are a small collection of what I’ll say are some of the saddest fics in the fandom lol and I honestly couldn’t even pick one story from the five presented cause they all made me emo as all hell. I still get misty-eyed from reading the Prince of the Red Rose, like thats a major oof fic. Though, these stories include some of the most prettiest descriptions of scenery I’ve read as they paint a vivid picture that I wish was real.

Small by seokjincoffee Yoongi x Reader

Dang, Small really stuck true to it’s title and no, I’m not making a “Yoongi is short” joke what I meant was that I felt small and insignificant when I was reading this fic. There is this kind of depressing/realistic undertone to this 3 part series where it was really easy to imagine yourself in a situation like this. A sort of heavy-ish fic but 100% made me feel good despite what transpires. It’s a lowkey hurt and comfort AU pretty much.

I’ll Never Be Her (M) by anon-luv Jimin x Reader

I’m not ashamed to so say how utterly wrecked this series left me. Like I felt so fucking bad for OC while reading at I honestly just wanted to wrap them up in a blanket rip. Ever wondered what it’s like to have deep insecurities or low self-esteem issues? Well anon-luv brilliantly writes an accurate portrayal of what it feels like over 5 chapters and I’m lowkey tearing up just remembering what the OC must of felt like oof. Good game anon-luv. Good game.

Slight Changes (M) by chiminiemoans Taehyung x Reader x Jimin

Ah okay so I’m gonna cut to the chase, this is an Infidelity AU. i know a lot of people don’t like that sort of thing so just a heads up. It’s also emotional suffering at it’s finest and I vividly remember shouting “Fuck you Taehyung!” out loud through tears because of a particular scene. It doesn’t help how visceral chiminie narrates the emotional pain that all the characters are dealing with and being able to consistently hold this throughout 8 chapters as well as sprinkling a few life lessons in the mix. It’s still on-going as well I think? So I just hope it ends happy for OC. Poor baby :(((

I’ll Drive you to the Hospital by gggbtswillbethedeathomeggg Jungkook x Reader

ALERT! Very heavy themes that deal with self harm and mental illness. Please don’t read if these are triggers to you :( make some hot coco instead :). Alright so if you can handle these topics then I also wanna say this fic has no romance in it. ggg doesn’t romanticise these topics AT ALL so this 10k fic hits hard and real. It also follows a Sibling AU theme and I think ggg manages the heavy themes quite well which is why I like it so much. Yea I have a personal attachment to this fic. 

So ye. This was it. This is my heavy angst collection. Might add more if I find other fics that murder my heart and soul but in the meantime, I’m going to listen to latte ASMR to relax.

i was bored and had writer’s block so i made this instead. enjoy ^o^