your english is flawless!! better than mine ㅆ … and english is my first language.
v ; taehyung would probably just never leave your side, holding you as close as possible (and taking a thousand selcas with you), steering you as far away from them as possible. if they actually made a move, he would be fearless in stating his profound love, but then chicken out if the guy was looking for a fight (but he would definitely drag you along)
ilhoon ; ilhoon would be a little more verbal, i think; a more of a “what are you looking at?” type. he wouldn’t threaten or fight them, though; he’d eventually just say “this beach sucks, let’s go somewhere else. like alaska.” because then you’d be covered up with many layers of clothing (not that ilhoon minded, but it would lessen the chances of someone stealing you away)
that moment when you realize that you wrote the entire story without mentioning a single name… oops.
you said you two, so i assumed first person ㅅㅅ but it’s written originally in third person, so if it sounds funny, that’s why~
sorry it took forever!! oh my god ㅠㅠ school has been REALLY tough lately, so it isn’t my best work, but please senpai, accept my heart~~
(ALSO, BTSCOMEBACKBANGTANCOMEBACKBTSCOMEBACKBANGTANBOYS sorry)
It’s kind of comical, in a sense, that one wrong step can send me tumbling down. One wrong word sparks the fire that licks at my fingers, burning me in the heat of the moment. When he’s yelling at me, it’s all I can do to keep from withering into worthless ash. All I can do is fight back, words possessing as much venom as his voice carried, my tone just as acrid. The yelling bounces off of the walls, echoing back to me with a loud rumbling sound that only acted as fuel for the rage that we both couldn’t contain. I can’t even remember what we’re screaming about anymore, and I doubt that he does, either, but it doesn’t stop our voices from reverberating throughout the house and wearing us down relentlessly.
I look back at it as a moment of hysteria, a moment of unqualified rage, when I break up with him. It’s the look on his face that sticks out in my mind, making me reel with the consequences of my rash decision. He grabs at my wrist, as if that could change something, anything, but I retch away from him like his touch burned, and he flinched as if I had slapped him across the face. Perhaps he wished that it were that instead. Perhaps he just wanted me to throw punches and scream at him, because then, at least, he’d still be able to hold me in his arms, rocking me until me sobbing finally quieted. Silence was the most painful weapon, leaving room for thought, leaving room for hatred to grow and passion to rise. I leave him on his knees, praying both against his tears and his actions.
He came to me with bloody knuckles and broken smiles, the irony of the situation forcing laughter, of all things, to come forth. He laughed between his descriptions of himself; “stupid”, “hurt”, “broken”, “lost”. Closing the door in his face was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and I couldn’t help but cry along with the boy who was already shattered in my hands, sharp edges digging into the soft pads of my fingers.
He was still outside the door in the morning, hood pulled over his head to shield out the bright lights of the early morning sun. I bent down to push his hood back, seeing if he had gotten any sleep. Grabbing my wrist as soon as I got close, he kept me there, not kissing me or comforting me like he normally would, head bent down, his face nothing but shadows. “Don’t,” he begged, voice strained as if something was constricting it. “Don’t leave me.”
I need you.
i have added two new groups!! you can now request vixx & btob. see the taglist here; thank you!
hi!! gosh, i took forever for this story! i’ve been a little busy lately, what with room redecoration and so forth… but here, i’ve finally got that story for you!! thank you for your request!! (the story isn’t really oriented around the plot twist of him dying so i’m just going to post it right here)
How remarkably fast tears can fall, cascading down trembling cheeks and dripping past the lips that do nothing but scream, yelling at the one who stood with his head bowed in guilt, as if apologizing, albeit silently since he wasn’t saying a single word. No matter how badly she craved to hear some kind of excuse, something that might mend what has been broken, he doesn’t open his mouth to say anything, not even to beg for another chance the way that she so desperately wishes that he would. It was then, as her voice gives out and all she can do is whisper a hoarse final goodbye, as she stands with a body that’s shaking so terribly that one touch could send her falling down, that she realizes that she is broken. Akin to an irreparable toy, perhaps similar to the cheap ones that wouldn’t last a day under the pressure of the small, chubby fingers of a child, she is nothing. Was that all her existence was? Did she set her roots deep into her relationship, using him as a foundation for the happiness that she quite possibly crafted herself? Was that all she was- just a girlfriend, just a minor character in a bright red shirt? What does that make her without him?
Chanyeol told her not to throw away the pictures. It makes it seem like he’s won, or that’s what Chanyeol said. That’s what he thought, at least, but what does he know? Wasn’t he also friends with Baekhyun, the scumbag, himself? She let the pictures crumple into dust, into ash and into smoke, wavering behind the protective case that the furnace adorns. She can’t bear to see his face anymore, let alone hers with it. Was that happiness? Was that genuine laughter, honest smiles? Did he find that same love with the other girl, the one that she caught him with? How many times had his hands touched her just to return to his current ex-girlfriend for seconds? Was that all that she was? Just the leftovers that no one ever really desired?
It’s impossible for her to forgive him, she’s stated that fact over and over. Time and time again Chanyeol has begged her not to use those words, to leave it in the past and bury the hatchet as far into the ground as his casket would be. Chanyeol scared her when he talked like that. She thought that it was just another metaphor, perhaps just another game that Chanyeol plays with her, but this time the look on his face sent nothing but dread down her veins, injecting into her like venom might, with all the pain and all the worry that it was plagued with. It wasn’t until she got the letter that she felt her heart truly stop. There’s a phrase for that, for how she feels, isn’t there? There’s definitely something. “Her heart dropped down to the floor, Ripped straight out from her very core, Shattered as if a hand had squeezed it too tight, The pieces drifting off in the wind in flight”, to go about the situation in a more poetic manner. Stage four? Was that the terminal stage? Was that the end all, be all? Were those the final words that she would ever get to hear- or rather, read- from him?
Funerals aren’t exactly how she prefers to spend her Friday nights. Wasn’t that the day it happened? Friday? She thinks so, but honestly, it physically pains her to think of the exact date. Hell, it was torture just to think about the situation. Is that really the proper way to handle dying? She doesn’t think it is, but what does it matter what she thinks anymore? He’s dead. Four letters haven’t meant so much to her since the day he confessed, but they leave her with a contrastingly empty feeling. He was cremated, much like the pictures she foolishly cast aside, body floating off into the sky, gone forever and never to return. If she could hold him one last time, could kiss him one final time….
But life isn’t full of ifs. It’s not based on promises, and it doesn’t run on fantasies. The cold skin against her fingertips is the only reality she can truly rely on, the only thing that matches the despair that consumes her, and they even took that away from her. All she has left are lost pieces of her own reality. All she has are hastily written letters forming words that have long since lost meaning to her, floating around in her mind at a constant that blurs them into a mush of intelligibility.
It was the final note that read:
"How was I supposed to make up excuses for the act I had purposefully committed? I loved you, and I love you, if there’s a life after this one. Maybe you won’t hate me in that life. Maybe I’ll get lucky enough to breath your scent once again, to keep you in my arms. Even if there’s a Heaven, I’m sure my (after)life will be Hell, for what I did to you. I didn’t want to. I loved you too much for that. By now, you know. You know that I was a glass item dangling on the edge of the counter, and I didn’t want you to cut yourself trying to pick up the jagged pieces of what I once was. If you hate me now, and hate me forever, I did my job. I can die an accomplished man, and a lucky one at that, to have seen you smile just once. I loved you, and I’m so sorry.
-Byun Baekhyun, fallen toy soldier”
hi, sorry for taking so long!! ah, finals really take everything out of you, huh?? ㅅㅅ;; here you go!! thank you for the request, and thank you for the compliment, too!
It was more than difficult to hide such peculiar behavior, you’ll admit, but it was certainly better than him finding out the truth. What if it ruins his career? After all the hard work he’s put into it, you don’t want to see it crushed for something so trivial as this.
But that’s just the thing: it wasn’t trivial. It was harsh reality, and decisions like these aren’t the same as the “ultimate struggle” of choosing to watch dramas or studying to get better grades in school (because honestly, it’s become something of reflex to say “dramas, definitely dramas”).
After the test read “positive”, and again after the initial shock of the results, you decided to do what has inevitably failed in the past, but it felt right at the time: you lied.
Well, it wasn’t lying per say… well, does not telling the whole truth count as a lie? Is lying a sin? The answers are the same, yet despite their positive connotation, you can’t help but feel sickened by them. You knew that it was, quite literally, a matter of life and death, besides the relationship itself. Neither of you were ready to bring a child into this world; what were you thinking that night, anyway?! How many sex ed classes have taught you how to avoid this situation? The word wrong was making a cameo too often in your mind these days. You made the wrong decision. You were wrong about that night. You were wrong in telling yourself that the test would turn out negative and that everything would go back to normal as it always had. It’s wrong to do this, but it’s wrong not to do this. Not a single thought of right was in your mind. The word never crossed your path.
It was when he found out that you had the worst scare of all. You felt nauseous and terrified by the look on his face, the look of betrayal that was evident on his face. You could feel a lecture coming on, and you could already hear his voice raising in your head— which is strange, because he’s never yelled at you, not once. “She told me.” Your confidant, the only person that you ever trusted with the information, was naturally your very own Benedict Arnold. Naturally. That’s how these things always happen, right? That’s how these sorts of relationships always end. Your heart was racing, your head was pounding, and you weren’t sure if you just started crying or have been for a very long time now. Excuses poured from your lips, each one different from the last, all of which blamed the traitor that you swore revenge on.
You didn’t notice his hands wiping away your tears. You didn’t notice his arms around you, holding you, trying to calm you down. The only thing you noticed was his lips sealing tight against yours, because it was the only thing that shut you up.
When your heartbeat finally slowed to as slow of a pace as it could get around Minseok, he released you. “Please don’t cry,” he begged softly, looking slightly hypocritical as he looked somewhat akin to a child who lost sight of his parents in a big, crowded supermarket. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure out a way, okay? I love you.”
“But it won’t be-“
“Do you not love me?”
Xiumin is the type of guy who needs the comfort, who needs the seemingly empty words of affection. He won’t believe it unless it’s said constantly. It’s that thought that makes you laugh, a strained sort of sound but one that eases up the tension from the elephant in the room.
“Yeah. Me too. I love you, too.”
((sorry i’m not good at doing the thing but thank you so much~))
there aren’t!! it makes us jeongguk stans sad ㅠㅠ
but have no fear, i shall write as many jeongguk scenarios as requested, because jeon jeongguk controls my life.
thank you for the anon, though!! it made me happy because jeoNGGUK
i assume you want a sort of story, yeah?? if that’s not what you wanted, i’m sorry!! ㅠㅠ (also, you chose wisely, because jeongguk is my ultimate bias!!)
The lights were truly dazzling, a blissful sight that you couldn’t help but admire every time you saw it. There was a lot of hard work put into that tree (and many swear words as you tried to get the stupid lights around it), but it all worked out in the end. Jeongguk’s arms were around you, smiling as the other members of BTS gagged and pretended to be disgusted by the sickeningly cute sight in front of them (because you have to admit, you two are just adorable together!).
It was your first Christmas as a couple, so it was going to be a day to remember. He bought so many gifts that you almost had a heart attack, but he complained whenever you bought him something. It was too cheesy and cliche, but when you told him that he said “You love me anyway,” and you had no choice but to agree.
The yelling only started, for the first time ever, when you planned on going home for the holidays- home being an entirely different country. Jeongguk told you that he’d miss you and proceeded to beg you to stay, but you had to stand your ground. Your family missed you just as much as he will, you told him, and that’s when he started to raise his voice. It scared you to see him mad like that. He slammed his hand down onto the counter, making you jump back and start to stutter in fear, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just kept yelling, just kept screaming, and you eventually couldn’t take it anymore. You left without another word, booking the first available flight back home.
It was on the phone about two days into your stay that he finally apologized, and it killed you to hear the sound of his voice shaking, as if he was about to cry, or perhaps already was. He must have told you that he missed you a thousand times, and apologized a thousand more. You told him that it was okay, but to be honest, you still felt a bit angry at him, and a bit scared of ever fighting with him again.
When you made it back to Korea and he met you with a breathtaking hug (and by breathtaking, I mean it was so tight he almost suffocated you) and more apologies whispered into your ear. You felt yourself melt at the sight of the tears building behind his eyes, and you knew that you could never stay mad at him anyway.
i’m sorry, i felt christmas-y uwu sorry for really bad writing, i just wasn’t being all poetic-y tonight!! ㅋㅋ
thank you so much for the request!!
ahh thank you thank you vanessa (i’m revealing your identity ohohohoho)
suga: suga would probably be the most chill person with it. like, he would laugh it off but when it became obvious that the skinship was getting to be a little too much, he would try to calmly talk it over, but if it wasn’t resolved immediately, he’d probably get really mad and start to have this little pout and raise his voice a little bit.
taehyung: this guy— he probably wouldn’t even realize that it’s happening for the longest time, but when he did, he’d immediately become a little
key diva. he’d be like “stop it. stop touching them. stop it. they’re mine. hands off!!” and he would ignore you if you didn’t stop the skinship because i feel like that’s his defense mechanism, you feel me??
thank you again!! <3<3