Bts Scenarios - Tumblr Posts
two types of flowers in these pics
can he marry me please
I'm so whipped for this man
there he goes again, making me love him even more ~
yayy it's my birthday today!!
I'm suffering he can't be real
man, taehyung with curly hair hits different
I'm in love with this human being
absolutely SICKENING
I'll miss the curly black hair
ON era Taehyung 🥵
Kim Taehyung at the 2020 Grammys was fine as hell
you ever read angst so beautiful it feels like you’ve put your heart on a stick and watched it beat in the best way possible? Now you have !
Yet another amazing piece of art from my (and yours very soon) favorite author. As I’m posting this (08/18/2022) there is only part one out, but the author says that part two is in the works !
Read this and be prepared to be literary-ly kicked in the chest and beg for a punch too
…𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙞𝙢…
• type: bts x f! reader • masterlist • about: angst! discusses themes of abandonment and inadequacy
• tagging: @introlxv; @pinkcherrybombs • pictures taken from Pinterest
• a/n: It's raining a lot here today so I was just lingering around what comparing yourself feels like
NAMJOON: "There's honestly no way to undersell your influence," the woman gushes on and it's like you don't exist. Joon is giving her the trademarked, polite smile, one of neutrality. It means nothing. But also at this moment, you mean nothing.
"You went to the White House and the UN, and now you're visiting my little gallery! Gosh, it's such an honour."
"Ah, it's...it was unprecedented. I'm just doing what I love, it's the people I should be thankful for. They helped me to get to these heights."
"Don't be so modest!" she pats his arm, perhaps lingering a tad too long but where once there would be a kindling flame of jealousy, there's nothing now. Her words have poured a bucket of ice-cold water soaked with a certain realization, washing away all happiness of the day.
You can't compare.
You won't ever compare.
"I have a private screening of the latest works. Usually, I wouldn't reveal such a thing, but you're Kim Namjoon!"
He takes a step back, sporting quite the awkward stance. Because this is Namjoon. He's polite. Tries to not show judgement upon anyone else. Like you, for example.
"I was actually preoccupied -" he waves at where you've been standing mute and unmoving whilst whatever this was unfolded.
"Oh, your secretary!" all too confident the owner of the gallery calls out and you can only muster to stand there. No strength left to argue.
"She's not my se-" Namjoon fruitlessly sputters but the lady waves his indignance away.
"Are you familiar with the work of contemporary artists?"
"No," you truthfully reply. They were but colours to you.
"Oh, not very educated in this field, are you?" she coos in a farce of sympathy and blankly you shrug.
"No."
"Well, then, let's go. This level of art needs viewers of...worldly inhibitions."
Her long red nails sink into Namjoon's beige shirt, one you gave him on his birthday, like a reborn harpy of old tales. He looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed in million confused questions but you quietly wish him to have fun. His educated, smart fun, remaining to stand there in the middle of a fancy art gallery. And you can't stop thinking about that shirt and laughing dryly to yourself. A multimillion pop singer, donating his money to art galleries, collecting masterpieces, visiting presidents and here you were gifting him shirts because that's all you could afford.
"What are your thoughts on this piece?" a stranger approaches you all of a sudden probably thinking that just because you were here you belonged here, that you earned your spot here when in truth you were just someone Namjoon dragged along.
And with a carving, empty feeling you don't see any reason at all why would he do such a thing.
"It's beige," you breathe thinly, glimpsing at the painting on the wall and he leaves upon hearing the simplistic answer. Figures.
YOONGI: "Already thirty and still unmarried? Is there no one in your life?"
He looks almost apologetic into the camera. A glimpse lasting a second, travelling through infinite miles as if he knew you were watching.
"No," he lies. "No there is no one."
He lies for your safety because it's what he has to do. It's what you agreed to but right now you couldn't name a worse feeling to have than to be called nonexistent. A ghost. A void, not a living human being occupying space and deserving it.
"No way," your cousin laughs loudly across the table. "No way this guy is dating you!"
"It's true," you object poking at the plate of dinner you have no intention of eating anymore. Her words have created a gaping hole in your stomach, that honestly had been churning away for longer than you had noticed.
"What's he doing with you then? A charity?"
"Keep your mouth shut!" her mother hisses sharply but bolstered by the many wine glasses, she drones on.
"What? I'm just stating what we're all thinking. This is what? Just a reprieve, a cleanser! He'll have his fun with you and then will marry a supermodel or a singer. Cause it's what they all do. No rich person marries a commoner."
Yoongi is not like that. You knew he was not like that. He liked to eat tangerines by your side and fix the broken shelves, night upon night he'd cried how he just wanted to make music but be that as it may his life was set.
And a quiet librarian was in no sort of way part of cameras and red carpets.
And he'll have to say it time and time again that you did not exist.
And you feel like you don't.
The night is empty and cold with the house gone deathly quiet. The water runs underneath your hands as you scrape the dishes - to have something to do, to not be consumed by the gaping wound of being hidden away. Like a scab almost.
A phone rings.
"How was the dinner?" he immediately asks, sounding a bit rushed. "Sorry, I couldn't make it this time."
Or the time before that and the one before that, and a hundred others in the past, making you seem like a lonely ghost wailing false moans that you were loved by a star. He was an innocent idol onto whom you had delusionally pushed your need of companionship, pictures could be downloaded, and lies could be spun.
And as far as most people knew - you did not exist.
"It was fine," you answer monotonous. There's a wobble in your lip so you have to really frown to not let it spill.
"I didn't mean it. None of what I said. It's just something I have -"
"- to do," you finish for him and your voice wavers. "Yeah, I get it. Listen I have to go, alright."
"Wait, no-!" you drop the phone and lean over the sink, swallowing down tears. Pulling a determined breath, you wash the remaining dishes in complete silence and no one calls or talks to you anymore.
JIN: "Yeah, right," the front desk lady sneers. "Get out of here, freak."
"I'm literally handing you my ID. You saw me before!"
If only any proverbs were ever listened to. A wise saying once claimed to not judge a book by a cover. What a wonderful world would it be if it was actually listened to.
Dripping rainwater and mud, you scoffed, frustrated and just wanting to lie down. It had been an exhausting day. The kind where you regret ever waking up.
"Do you not have a register or something? This guy literally is vouching for me."
You point at the gardener of Jin's apartment building and he nods, eyes full of compassion. He was a good guy.
"It's true she was here and the day before that."
"So, you're a hooker. I'm not letting you up. Just look at yourself."
Look at yourself. Those words were like an axe to your head. A dull blade swinging time and time again as you bent your knee at the podium.
Wherever you went they reverberated like ripples in a lake.
"Just look at yourself," one woman sneered while you went to the bathroom at a party with Jin.
"Really look at yourself. You must think you have some sort of inner beauty? People like you make me sick! You're all delusional," and she had stormed off, face warped in such contempt as though you'd done something wrong. But you just stood here.
"Don't listen to her," you told your reflection but the eyes looking back were tired. "You did nothing wrong."
You can only insist that you did nothing wrong but no one listens. Certainly not the cops shoving you in the van on the charges of stalking.
The holding cell is very cold and you're freezing, wet hair seemingly lowering your body temperature even more.
"HOW DARE YOU?" Jin's voice rings even down the hallway. "WHAT SORT OF COUNTRY IS THIS WHERE INNOCENT PEOPLE GET ARRESTED?!"
"We apologize, sir, but the front desk worker phoned in as it was susp-"
"IS SHE THE CHIEF OF THE POLICE?! YOU JUST CARRY OUT THE ORDERS OF SOME RANDOM WOMAN?! LET MY GIRLFRIEND GO THIS INSTANT!"
The doors open and stiffly you clamber out, immediately swarmed by Jin's warm embrace.
"Don't think I'll let this go so easy," he growls at the nearby officer before guiding you away.
"I'm so sorry, honey, it won't ever happen again," he strokes your head all the way home but the cold doesn't dissipate. It's all a blur and you're just so very tired.
"What are you doing?" Jin asks gently opening the bathroom doors where you finished taking a warm shower as he had ordered. You wipe the steam off the mirror. The shoulders are hunched and there's no spark. Just another face in the proverbial crowd.
"Just looking at myself."
HOSEOK: It's nothing that anyone says. They think it, you can certainly tell by the snide glances occasionally thrown at where you're standing, but they don't dare to say it. The rest of the group is here and they wouldn't tolerate any off-hand remarks just as much as Hoseok himself.
But they don't need to say it. No one needs to do anything. You just have to look.
He's swarmed by celebrities, the A-listers, the top of the top, all celebrating the genius of his album and they blush as he pays they some attention. Because he's not just a celebrity, he's the top celebrity, he's what the people above aspired to be. And he wants this, he wants more of this.
And you don't belong here.
You don't belong here at all.
Like a piece of furniture or a fallen decoration, you stand in the corner invisible. The scarce attempts of talking all ended with an awkward side glance. The one given to friends, saying: "who invited her?" They excuse themselves with gritted teeth, sometimes just simply walking away and you stand by the side, admiring and not participating. How could you when this was not your world? But it's his and amidst all the fans and all the meetings, even Hoseok has forgotten you're here.
You don't belong here. You don't want to be here. Didn't want to see anyone ever again.
"Where are you off to?" a voice asks and you peek underneath the table, surprised to see Jin's head poke through. His phone light illuminates the hiding spot with flashing bright colours of a nameless webtoon.
"Just need some air," you answer emptily before pointing at the device. "You're having fun there?"
"Ah, I don't want to meet anyone," he whines and you offer a small, meaningless smile.
"I get that."
He glances up and you think he sees something in the way your eyes gaze grayly around, observing but not seeing. Though in the end, he says nothing and you're free to walk on the street. The music of Hoseok's album party pours out even there but at least it's dull. Another world now.
You push your hands deep into the jacket and not wanting to return to an empty apartment, end up in a 24/7 convenience store. It's cheap and common. Your spot, a planet familiar.
"Rough night?" the guy at the counter asks as you quietly slurp a cup of noodles on a rickety chair nearby.
"You probably had it rougher," you point out at the 2 am flashing on the clock hung behind him. He only shrugs.
"Not really. People leave me alone during night shifts and to be honest during day shifts as well. It's like I don't exist."
You frown at the red noodles and there's nothing but an empty pang in your chest. It's not one of hunger you realize now.
"Yeah. Me too."
JIMIN: The day is long and weary. Your legs ache and your apron is stained with dry milk. You're trying very hard to not cry in the break room and then you see him and you want to cry yourself to death. Be the princess that drowned in her own tears.
He's beautiful, the literal "It" boy of the nation. Kind, gorgeous, determined and you're crying in the break room.
The TV shoved in the corner has no sound but you don't need it. It's plenty enough seeing him laugh generously on the main story of the day, one discussing his success.
"Good day, sir, how ma-"
"Iced espresso," he interrupts and doesn't spare you even a single glance. You're just a machine here to obey. Nothing more.
"Damn, ________, you're still here?" a coworker asks, tying her apron hastily around. "I thought you applied for that new job?"
"Yeah, well, they rejected me," you explain lifelessly, face turned away.
"Is there no one else?"
"Yeah, and they rejected me as well. And all the other thirty places I applied."
She sucks in a breath through her teeth.
"Damn, that sucks. Still, don't keep your nose low, you might end up staying here forever."
Yes, that's just what you might end up doing. Someone had to be at the bottom of the barrel. Someone always had to do the dirty job you just never assumed it'd be you. That it'd be you who'd be the failure.
"She's a surgeon, you know," your mother says on the phone and you scuff your shoe against the tile ground.
"Yes, I know."
"Since this degree of yours didn't work out, you might apply to study something useful you know like a lawyer."
"Mom, I don't want to be a lawyer."
"Do you want to be a barista all your life? Because this art degree is certainly accomplishing that. And you're not marrying a rich man."
"What if I did?" you snap back spitefully.
"Well, then I'd be embarrassed to have a daughter whose such a liability."
"I have to go."
You're trying really hard to not cry but it's not quite working.
"I'm not a liability," you mutter underneath your breath but it feels like a lie in your mouth.
"Hey,______, we need you out here. It's a madhouse!" the frazzled head of your coworker pops in and all you can do is wipe your face and raise your aching legs once more.
"Good evening, ma'am! What would you like-"
"Iced espresso," she orders without looking up from her phone. You nod.
"Can you take the register?" you whisper to your colleague switching places.
"Why?" she furrows her brows.
"Just don't want to talk anymore."
Thankfully, she only nods curtly and you're free to do what is needed, alone and unbothered.
It's evening already but Jimin is still on the news and he smiles brightly as the sun. You don't even remember when was the last time you met him in real life, held his hand in yours. Last time he felt like a real person and not just someone you can look at through the screen.
"This dude really has it all," your coworker mutters underneath her breath whilst counting the register once there's no one in the sight.
"Yeah, he does."
TAEHYUNG: It's nothing but the truth to call jealousy a disease, a fatal one at that. Uncurable, unstoppable rot wrecking you from within. Never before had you looked at a video of your boyfriend and felt...felt bad. If bad was even a word to describe the awful hollow that washes the world grey.
The entire Paris screams for him, hell, maybe the whole of France. They talk of Lisa, Park Bo Gum and V. The infamous V. And they talk of Lisa, the A-lister, the star, the face of the fashion, the top girl of the top.
"You just have to work hard, okay," your mother always said. "You work hard and you can do anything."
It was such a comforting lie. Because you did work hard, you worked so hard it nearly crushed you and all it did was land you in an office cubicle, creating documents day upon day. Just like millions of others before you and like millions after you. Just an expendable tool.
You can't help it, because it's a disease, it's wearing down all the kindness in your heart, all your confidence and reducing you to a husk slumbering on the bed. What did they have that you didn't?
As a sick sort of punishment, you continue watching the video. V is getting quite cosy with the other celebrities, the 1%, the people not doing the office jobs, not doing the sowing of the fancy clothes they wore, not serving the drinks like the nameless waiters people treated as mindless robots. You ponder how horrible they must feel, how tired. The video suggests you want this, this is the world everyone should aspire to but it leaves a sour taste in your mouth and the fact that V is there makes it only more appalling. Because that is the fact. He was your boyfriend, Taehyung, the guy from a line of farmers, a simple guy who respected everyone but it's hard to see that Taehyung in V. The fashion icon, the creme de la creme sipping champagne far far away from you. He seems happy. Happier than he was when you parted.
Coincidentally, it's your birthday the next day and there are only three calls - your mother, your best friend and for some reason Jimin. Jimin who remembers it's your birthday before Taehyung or should you say V.
You get yourself a cake. It costs a pretty penny but it's cute and just this once you want to have nice things. Just this once. You take a picture of it, almost upload it on Instagram but then think better of it. Who cares what you post. It's there that you scroll upon a video of V cutting up a cake and you just know it's much more expensive than yours will ever be. This cake he seems almost bored with costs more than your life and it's given to him. Even if he would get it himself he wouldn't have to worry about the cost. It didn't matter how much you work hard, you will always have to worry about the cost.
In the end, you blow out the candle right there in the bakery and the girl working the register is the only one who claps. She asks what wish did you make, you answer none but secretly you just wish he would call. That he would remember of his girlfriend at home as low as she was.
He doesn't call but at least a video floating around the internet tells you he has a grand old time spinning around the pole with Lisa.
JUNGKOOK: "I don't like dispassionate people, I guess. I can't imagine how can one live without a goal. I'd rather die than live without passion."
It wasn't like Jungkook to be cruel and he probably didn't intend to be one as well but it still is cruel. Your own boyfriend just told everyone on national television that he doesn't like you. You're everything he loathes - the dreamless drifter, people who are just here.
"Why are you frowning?" a voice asks and you turn to look at him standing in the doorway with a frown. He must have said something before this but you hadn't heard. The mop in your hands lays still as you finish sweeping. Bam is there as well, his big brown eyes flickering in between both of you.
"Nothing," you reply quietly.
"No, it's something," he insists. "Don't lie."
"Why is passion so important to you?"
The frown on his face deepens and Bam begins to whine from the surging tension.
"I don't know," he laughs, sound falling strained and awkward. Because it's not funny. "It just is. I mean what's the point of life then? Hanging around? That's useless, isn't it?"
"I'm useless?"
His eyes widen for a fraction the second he understood his own words.
"I didn't mean you," he corrects but whether or not it's real or just in your perception, you don't think they sound sincere enough. It's just something he has to say.
"You just haven't found your passion yet."
"Because it doesn't exist!" you don't mean to yell. It upsets Bam, upsets you and most importantly it upsets Jungkook but he's never understood this. Never grasped that it's not the matter of you not finding your special devotion, it's because you simply didn't have one. And you're tired of trying to explain yourself over and over again.
"I don't care for jobs! I don't care about hobbies! I just want to live!"
"Okay," he brushes off passively. Not that he believes you, not that he listens to you at all, he just doesn't want to fight.
"Why is it so hard for you to comprehend that I don't have any aspirations? Yoongi -"
Abruptly he rolls his eyes, arms tightening around his chest.
"Again with Yoongi. Would you stop bringing him up?"
"Because he makes me feel heard! I don't have goals, I don't have great dreams and aspirations! Does that make my life meaningless?"
"What do you think?"
For a while, the only sound are the whines and the scraping of Bam's nails against the linoleum.
"You think my life is meaningless?" you echo breathlessly. Jungkook merely scowls at the floor.
"Right, who are we commoners against the mighty Jungkook? The millionaire, the young idol, right?"
"It's what my passion led me to," he mutters obstinately and for all intents and purposes, he might as well just have punched you in the gut.
"You won't achieve anything if you're just hanging around."
Exhaling a shaky breath you gather the most strength you ever needed.
"I have a dream, Jungkook, it is to live happily. And I'm not happy with you."
There's really, absolutely no way of knowing now either whether the flash in his eyes is out of fear or anger. They remain only as assumptions but what is an indisputable fact are the words spoken out loud.
"Well, I'm not happy with you, either."
The floor dries as you stand in front of this man, a stranger suddenly, one to whom you're too exhausted to defend yourself anymore.
"No, you can't come with me," you whisper to Bam who tries to squeeze the nose in through the door gap, tail wagging behind him. He must think you're going on a walk. How lovely animals were, they didn't care how you looked, who you were, or what you lived for. They simply were, and enjoyed life at its face value.
"You have to stay."
Bam is a sweetheart through and through but above all he's well behaved. His eyes are brimming with sadness but he does as he's told and steps away.
"I'll miss you, buddy."
"Enjoying the weekend?" the man at the local bakery friendly questions and you cast him a smile.
"Yeah, you know, appreciating the day."
"Ah, preach! It's nice to just enjoy yourself, isn't it?"
As you pay, your phone lights up and a picture of Jungkook flashes in front of you. Briefly, you break and zone out in his eyes. Weeks have passed, you should change it.
"Does that make my life meaningless?"
"What do you think?"
You shake yourself out of it and lock the phone.
"It is," you agree with the baker.
© soraviii, 2022
[8:54 PM]
imagine taehyung wrapping his arms around you and pouting so that you’ll stay the night
all i need—
written by: 🥺
genre: fluff, angst
pairing: jungkook x female!reader
warnings: mentions of anxiety, crying (does that count??)
summary: sometimes, when the world becomes too much, all jungkook needs is you.
thanks to @alle-rtse for requesting this!!
you're used to jungkook coming home late from work. he's always been one to push himself far too hard, to practice the same dance over and over again until he can barely move. he's nothing short of a perfectionist, always dissatisfied, always convinced that he has to work harder—to just get that timing dead on, or that one note perfect.
he never does. nothing is ever good enough for him. it's always one more hour, one more practice, one more missed meal. which is why you're used to your boyfriend working into the early hours of the morning, coming home and sleeping for a few hours before repeating the same routine once more.
what you're not used to, however, is him seemingly forgetting about you entirely. he always makes a point to reply to your texts and wake you up just to kiss you goodnight, but that doesn't happen this time.
all of your messages are left unread, your calls unanswered. you eventually give up, moving into the bedroom and tucking yourself into bed, trying to ignore the tears forming in your eyes and the painful swelling in your chest. did you do something wrong? is he mad at you?
is he coming home at all tonight?
the sick feeling in your stomach persists until you fall asleep. but even as you stir awake at the sound of shuffling, it's still there.
"jungkook?" you whisper. you catch a glimpse of the digital alarm clock on your bedside table. it reads 3:18 AM.
in the quiet you discern the sound of sniffling, but he doesn't speak. you sit up against the pillow, watching as he pulls a spare t-shirt on with his back facing you.
"why are you home so late?"
he shrugs this time, proving that he's heard you. the anxiety ripples at this—he's definitely mad.
and then he turns around, head bowed so that his brown locks obsure his face. he climbs into bed and lays on his side, facing away from you.
you could go to sleep and leave it to the morning. you're tired, goddamnit, and if he's not going to talk to you, there's no point in trying. two years of dating him has taught you that if he doesn't want to talk about whatever's running through his head, he just won't.
but the feeling is still there, and you think that maybe it's not such a bad thing anymore, as it urges you to reach a gentle hand out and touch his shoulder.
he doesn't jerk away like you feared he would. instead, he exhales shakily.
"look at me, baby," you whisper.
he hesitates, then slowly flips onto his other side. even in the dim moonlight that pokes through the gaps in the blinds, you can recognise his swollen face and glistening eyes.
"oh, baby." you slide down next to him and run your fingers through his hair, the way that makes him shudder and melt at the same time. "talk to me. what's wrong?"
he shakes his head. briefly, you wonder if he's going to refuse, but then he says, "everything."
there's an unmistakable hitch in his voice. that one word seems to strike a nerve within him; his face scrunches up and more tears slip out of his eyes.
"everything's wrong?"
he nods and a muffled sob leaves his mouth. you pull him closer, hand moving to his nape and gently massaging the skin. shaky hands grip your waist, as if he's afraid that you might slip through his fingers if he were to loosen his hold.
"i just want to rest," he says, voice barely audible, "but i can't. i won't let myself. i just... i'm so exhausted, y/n."
something about his words makes the tears from earlier spill over. you take a deep breath, willing them away, and hold him with tender strength, now sharing the same worry that he might disappear the second you let go.
"i know, baby. i know. i'm here for you, alright?"
he only cries harder. you take his face in your hands; flushed cheeks, bloodshot eyes, damp skin. a pearly tear escapes from his eye and rolls down his cheek. you lean forward and capture it with your lips before it can reach the pillow.
jungkook giggles a little at this, the sound sweeter than any melody he could ever sing. you repeat the action, watching his eyelids flutter shut and long, dark lashes brush against his cheekbones as you kiss there, collecting the tears on your lips.
when you pull away, he's smiling. just a little, but it's a start. with a new sense of determination, you press pecks over every part of his face, then finish with a swift kiss to his lips.
"my lips are all wet now," you complain with mock annoyance.
jungkook giggles again. his eyes begin to slowly close, the smile still playing on his moist lips. "i'm sorry if i worried you. i thought i could do this by myself but i can't. i thought all i needed was me but... but all i need is you."
"that's so cheesy."
he pouts, but his sad expression quickly morphs into one of amusement. "you're so cheesy."
"i'm always here if you need me. you know that, right?"
he nods, eyes still shut. "i know."
sleep takes jungkook in a matter of seconds. you stay awake, listening to his steady breaths until you're assured that he's okay. everything he said echoes in your mind, but you try to push the worries out. words and concerns and tears can wait for later, all he needs now is you by his side.
and all you need is him.
appreciate—
written by: 🥺
genre: fluff
warnings: none
pairing: namjoon x reader
summary: on some occasions, love isn't a strong enough word
thank you to @ofrosesandteacups for requesting this!! (not this kinda becoming a metaphor for army and the energy we put into loving them?? idk i see it but tell me what you think)
it feels as though you've been here before, although you are entirely certain you haven't. miles away from home in a foreign country, surrounded by speakers of a language you have yet to master - and yet it feels more like home than america ever could.
"do you miss your family?"
you do. not seeing them for five years is bound to create that feeling, equal parts longing and forgetting. but that same longing compelled you to seek out a new family, one that seems more like your flesh and blood than those who actually are.
"sometimes," you settle on. "i see them most days."
"just through a screen, though."
"are you trying to make me cry or something?"
namjoon laughs; lower and more hushed than usual. there's no reason for it, and yet you can understand why - it just fits the atmosphere.
laying between the ground and the sky, - somewhere that is also nowhere - it isn't like anyone could hear you besides the stars and the trees, and they are loyal; nature never spills the secrets that are whispered between humans when they think they are alone. secrets are too precious like that, too easily shattered. nature knows better.
but he whispers anyway, "of course not. just asking."
you turn your head to study him. his skin glows in the moonlight, eyes shining like stars reflected in a dark pond. a rush of warmth floods over you and stirs a thought that enters your head frequently: this is where i'm meant to be.
"you're my family."
a smile stretches over namjoon's lips. it's quiet, soft, and you start to wonder if that's just him, rather than an unspoken rule formulated by the setting.
"i know."
he's used to this. you tell him it frequently, tell every one of the boys that you love them as much as you possibly can, because with their busy schedules and the pressure that comes with fame, it's easy to forget that you're loved - truly, unconditionally loved - sometimes, and you want to remind them of that.
maybe that's why he doesn't act surprised when an 'i love you' slips through your lips next. that's okay, you don't need him to react, just feel the weight of your words, how much you really mean it.
"i appreciate you," he says.
you're used to this. the other boys have no qualms about returning your love, some less than others, but again, that's okay. but with namjoon, he hasn't said it once. he shows it in other ways, sure, this particular phrase being one of his favourite methods.
it was okay at first. up until the point you realised your feelings for him extended past friendship, and at the same time realised that it would, inevitably, end in a broken heart on your part.
he must sense this, as he quickly follows it up with, "and i don't say that to put you down, by the way. i just think that appreciation can be a lot stronger than love, you know?"
"no, uh, i understand that."
he doesn't stop there. "no, really. i could tell you i love you, because i do, but it wouldn't be able to express what i really feel."
he turns and locks eyes with you. his gaze is soft, soft, soft, but at the same time it burns, like gentle, slow heat on a summers day. you can't help but look away, instead focusing on the space between you two, where your fingers idly pick at individual blades of grass.
"y/n?"
you hum in response.
"i mean it," he states, now switching to english. maybe that's why you feel the most comfortable with him - you can relax in his presence, not having to worry about honorifics and conjugating verbs. "i appreciate the way you never hesitate to speak your mind; the way you treat us like you treat everyone else; the way you're always there when we need you."
you bite your lip, the confidence you usually hold dissipating into the atmosphere to join the clouds that roll overhead. "thank you," is all you can think to say. it's true, though. he's never usually like this, and you're grateful that he's finally confirmed it, even if its only in part.
a gentle hand touches your chin, prompting you to look upwards. you can't escape the warmth of his eyes now, and it's almost suffocating.
"you put your all into us. we appreciate it, we really do. but please remember to look after yourself once in a while. please?"
you nod. apparently, it isn't enough. "promise me. promise me you'll appreciate yourself as much as you appreciate us, and as much as we appreciate you."
a sigh escapes your lips. the light breeze caresses your skin, but namjoon's blanketing warmth is enough to keep the cold from settling into your bones.
"i promise."
Masterlist
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Block B Masterlist
Got7 Masterlist
Monsta X Masterlist
Pentagon Masterlist
Misc. Masterlist