Oh Man I'm Gonna Miss Him In Equipe De France So Bad. This Hurts So Bad.

im not crazy for saying that i found comfort in this chapter which fucking titled HURT. im so glad yoongi saved oc and helped her and jk as well. and JIMIN..... he's turning to kinda good guy??? i really dont understand whom he's scared of. i cant fucking wait for the next chapter. you did a really really good job on this sibi ♡

↳ Index [Chapter 20 - Hurt]

Warnings: sadness, signs of trauma, slight violence, but also sweet healing moments 

Wordcount: 11k

a/n: i know there is lots of plot in this chapter jfajsd i hope it’s not confusing

Is that your mother singing? And is that her hand caressing your hair? Those sheets, they feel like the sheets of your childhood bed. Soft, warm, cotton. That smell. Is that your father’s cologne? It smells like his hugs. Why can’t you open your eyes? You want to see them. You haven’t been back in your childhood home in years, not after the fire burned everything down. Paws on wooden tiles. No way. Is that Cookie? She is alive again? You laugh, but nothing comes out. You want to open your eyes and look at her, but you can’t. She barks, it makes your father laugh and soon your mother laughs too. Mama? Papa? 

You sit up and gasp, ripping your eyes open. This isn’t your childhood home, this is a forest. This isn’t your childhood bed, this is the wet, cold ground. And who is that shadow sitting in the dark?

“Took you long enough”, he grumbles and steps into the light of the full moon. Min Yoongi.

“You?” you gasp and it is not long that realisation washes over you. You reach for your neck. It is dry and doesn’t hurt anymore. You pull your hand away, staring at your clean palms, “what?”  

“I fed you my blood”, he says calmly.

You gasp, throat constricting. Your hand is on your chest, feeling for a heartbeat. 

“No you aren’t dead”, he says dryly. He stands up and closes the distance between you and him. He squats down, red eyes racing over your face, “although I did think you would die on me for a second. You’ve been out for five hours.”

“Five hours?” you gasp, blinking in confusion, “Yoongi what is going on? What is-“, you stop talking when you watch Yoongi’s head snap up in alert. He sniffles then growls.

“Okay we gotta go”, he whispers and wraps his strong fingers around your wrist.

“What?”

“We have to go, didn’t you hear me?” he spits angrily, pulling you to your feet.

You are dizzy and the world is nothing but a blurred mess. You wobble and stumble, head pounding painfully.

“I’m so dizzy. Yoongi wait.”

“There is no time to wait”, he barks, faltering only a second later when he sees how your eyes flutter in exhaustion. He sighs, “fine, I’ll walk for you.”

He throws you over his shoulder afterwards, ignoring your squeaked out complaints. And then he runs. He runs so fast that trees turn into dark streaks of blurriness and the ground beneath your eyes is indistinct.

“Yoongi put me down please”, you plead, feeling your eyes tear up in the cold wind.

But Yoongi doesn’t answer you. He continues running through the endless forest. The darkness doesn’t even phase him, he manoeuvres through the thick undergrowth and high trees as if it was the brightest day.

“Please…” you plead. 

“Quit it”, he hisses, dodging a family of low trees.

“I’m so confused, what happened?”

“Quiet.”

Oh your stomach aches so much. Yoongi is way too fast, you will throw up if he doesn’t slow down.

“Yoongi, please slow down.”

“Oh my god”, he stops, picking you up like a little baby so you would be facing him, “if I tell you to be quiet then be fucking quiet. You want to tell every bloody vampire in a radius of fifty miles your location?”

“What?” you gasp.

“Their little feeding stupidity alerted others of our kind, they smelled blood. Don’t you get it?” he spits.

“I- holy shit.”

“Now you get it”, he throws you back over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, “so be quiet until I tell you that you can speak.”

And so Yoongi runs again, through the forest until he reaches the gates. Down the empty streets and quiet alleyways. And you stay quiet, cursing your heart for racing so loudly and your brain for slowly coming to its senses. 

Feeding stupidity. 

Yoongi told you so himself. Someone fed on you, used you as their own blood bag, almost ripped you to shreds. It was them. Park Jimin and Kim Namjoon and… Taehyung. Your love, the man who swore to protect you. He led you to your demise.

“Stop sobbing”, Yoongi hisses, taking a sharp turn to the right.

“They killed me”, you sob. It hurts so much. You want to cry for hours.

“You’re not dead, we’re almost there”.

“Why did you heal me? Why? I could have been like you, I could have been like you.”

“You don’t want this, trust me”, he mumbles, unphased by your continuous sobs and cries.

He betrayed you. He gave you promises of safety and he forced you into danger. You trusted him and he allowed them to kill you. It hurts so much, it’s so unbearably much.

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I've decided to write this for the mere possibility of saving someone's life, not just from Ukraine, these guidelines will help you if you ever find yourself under bombing/rocket/missile threat.

1. It is important to know where the attack is coming from, that is, the general direction (north, south, east etc.), and, if known, how much time do you have in order to reach safety. This information will be helpful for the next steps.

2. Your best option is always A SHELTER. Some European underground railway stations classify as ones.

3. If you don't have a shelter/can't reach one fast enough - find a stairwell, like the one in multi-story buildings, climb at least two floors up from the entrance or two floors down from upmost floor. STAY AWAY from windows, glass coating or any openings.

4. Can't get to a stairwell? Opt for the innermost, most window-less room of your house. If your know the direction of the attack find the room that meets the requirements above farthest away from that direction. Again, stay away from windows, glass objects or anything that might fall or shatter in case of explosion.

5. If you are out in the open and can not reach any of the above, lie flat on the ground, facing away from the direction of the attack, hands over (protecting) your head. It is important to remain like this even in a case of nearby explosion - explosion wave thrust goes up, lying on the ground might protect you from debris and projectiles.

6. If you find yourself under attack while driving, safely pull over and follow options 2-5.

7. DO NOT. Under no circumstances. Emerge from your place of shelter before official state authorities gave a clear.

Some of these instructions are very simple, but can and will save you! Stay alert, be prepared, follow official authorities' guidelines, and most important, protect yourself and stay safe.

im sobbing pls pat me rn

sometimes it’s best to remember the past is just a memory…

pairing | kim seokjin x reader genre | angst, suggestive content, mention of a miscarriage words | 6,411

inspired by | Haruki Murakami’s short story “A Folklore for my Generation…”

listen to | Epiphany, Autumn outside of the post office and Tonight/This night

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don rafaaa

forgive me lord for I have imagined a life far more soft and tender than the one you created for me

once in a blue moon, at breakfast in the middle of august, the old friend group is taking a sweet trip down the memory lane, hyperventilating over some stupid shit one of us did two summers ago, recalling the same crazy story from five different perspectives. and then out of the blue, as we catch our breaths from the laughing pains, someone drops the most destructive "good old times" bomb. it hits like a train: nothing had to change, yet it did.

hate to admit that im feeling this way rn

lonely

I hate weekends

listening to sad songs

craving companionship

mentally scolding myself

for being fucking pathetic

while I try to summon

the energy to write.

I'm lonely.

I want a hand to hold

I want someone to talk to

because I can't pretend

that my art is filling the hole

anymore.

For so many years

I read

to pretend I wasn't alone

but I am.

I am so alone today

crying blood

and strangling on sadness because

I'm fucking lonely.

he’s just the prettiest ✨✨✨

+ bonus: jimin’s thighs enthusiast

we gon’ change. happy birthday taehyung ♡

Cooking For Two (KSJ x F!Reader)

pairing: ex-boyfriend Seokjin! x reader genre(s): just angst... i'm sorry au(s): exes to exes word count: 1.3k warnings: lots of regret, pining, misunderstandings, mentions of a past fight, Seokjin gets burned, both literally and figuratively rating: PG15

summary: based on this tweet, "seokjin the type to make too much pasta after a breakup because he's used to cooking for two" T_T

a/n: i was itching to write some good angst... and my muse (aka Jin) responded! this is sad, and i made myself cry. tagging @beckysworld7 because you encouraged me hehe <3 this is pretty unedited btw

Seokjin's ears fill with a loud hiss, tearing his gaze away from the soft patter of rain outside his window, and back to the boiling water on the stove. His eyes widen as he takes in the sight of the water overflowing and sizzling on the hot stove top. Cursing internally, he chastises himself for not remembering to put a wooden spoon over the top. It was a habit he rarely forgot, until, of course, his life had been tossed so far afield that he had lost all sense of familiarity.

And so, he continued on, fighting tooth and nail to hold on to the parts of his life that defined who he was before it had happened. However, the breakup had left him broken, empty, watching you take the best parts of him, of you both, and throw them away like they’d never meant anything at all.

He reaches over to pull the frothing pot off the stove, yelping as the blistering heat of the hot metal kisses his bare skin. Shaking his hand, he yells in pain and runs cold water over the burn, searching for some sort of relief. The taste of ash coats his mouth, and he’s not sure whether it’s from the pasta he’d nearly burnt, or the acrid memories that have begun to rise up from the deep place he’d buried them so many months ago.

Pappardelle with homemade bolognese sauce. He’d made the dish a thousand times before. It had been your favorite after every night out, every big celebration, even on rainy days, like today, when you weren't feeling well. The fresh, al dente noodles and the simmering hearty sauce were irrevocably tied to the memory of your relationship, each bite creating a different snapshot in his brain of times that had passed long ago.

Every Friday night since the last time he saw you, Seokjin made two bowls of pasta, sitting alone at the dining table, breathless and begging for you to walk through the door. Waiting until the steaming bowls ran cold, he finally accepted that you weren't coming today. After finishing one bowl, he'd put away the other one, sneaking bites of the cold, rubbery dough throughout the weekend; coming home from another failed date, or right before bed when the longing was at its worst.

He heard Namjoon’s voice in the back of his head, chastising him that the way he was living wasn’t healthy, that it’d been too long since you had gone. Seokjin knew his friend was right. But Seokjin didn’t know how to live his life without you, just like he’d never known how to only make one serving of your favorite recipe. And so he sat there, in the oppressive loneliness of the apartment you two had once shared, and lost himself.

Shuddering from the cold, he gazes over to the warm, calm flames that burn in the fireplace. At the end of it all, he hadn’t even remembered what caused the fight that ended it - all he remembers was the rage, the inferno that had erupted between the two of you. It was like nothing he had experienced before - hot, angry, and scathing. Blazing down everything in its path. The bitter stench of regret had settled deep inside his lungs as your footsteps ran out and closed the door behind you.

The doorbell rings, followed by the distinct sound of three rhythmic knocks, and Seokjin freezes.

Swinging the door open, his dazed mind wonders if it’s all been a dream. Because it’s you, cheeks red from the cold, bundled up in the plaid scarf and red mittens he’d gotten you for your very first Christmas together. You look beautiful, and Seokjin’s heart hurts all over again. Because you’re not his to love anymore.

You look towards his downturned gaze, and immediately think to yourself that it was a mistake coming here. The two of you stand on opposite sides of the threshold, forced into an impasse of your own doing.

Deciding to break the silence, you clear your throat, and Jin’s glassy eyes meet yours, pain contained within their umber depths.

“I’m so sorry for showing up like this,” you gasp, not realizing the words come out as a sob. “But I was making a dish, umm, the pappardelle with bolognese. And I realized I left the Le Creuset pot with you.”

Taking a deep breath, you force air into your lungs, mustering up the strength to continue while feeling the tears prick your eyelashes.

“You probably don’t want to give it back,” you mumble in the smallest voice you can manage. “And it’s unfair of me to ask for it, but I needed to make something for a thing I have to go to and I remembered you, uhmm, I mean your recipe.”

Peering through your lids at Seokjin, you watch him gulp as he tries to force a response, struggling to get the words out.

“I have the pot,” he garbles, voice hoarse. “Take it, and don’t worry about the pasta. I made some. You can have it too.”

Looking your ex-boyfriend in the eyes, the man you thought you’d have forever with, a sob escapes your throat, and your heavy breaths echo in the frosty air as he waits for you to respond.

“W-what do you mean take it?” you whimper, fingers itching underneath your mittens to reach out and brush a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

“I make it every Friday,” he whispers. “Two bowls. You can take the other bowl with you.”

You watch him disappear into the apartment, coming back out with a sizzling pot of pasta in his hands. He pauses, visage lost deep in contemplation, before the lines in his face disappear and he gives you a soft smile.

“Or,” he goes on. “You could come in and have some with me? There’ll probably be enough leftovers for you to take home with you.”

You feel a pit in your stomach at his proposition, glancing over at his pretty eyes and parted lips as they hopefully await your response.

Looking away, you stare down the hall of the apartment complex, not wanting to meet his gaze as you push your red mitten to the side and Seokjin catches a glimpse at your blanched fingers.

A sparkling, oval-cut diamond sits on your left ring finger, and through your pounding heartbeat, you hear Seokjin let out a pained whine.

“I-, I’m so sorry, Jin. I never should have come,” you weep, knowing that if you looked him in the eyes one more time, you’d fall in love all over again.

Turning on your heels, you leave him devastated, thoughts swimming with uncertainty about the fiancé waiting for you in the parlor of his parents’ house. Knowing deep in your soul that part of your heart would forever belong to the man you left at the threshold, clutching the steaming dish in his hands.

Slamming the pot onto the counter, Jin chokes on his tears, heaving in between deep breaths as he watches you run away through the window.

Lifting the spoon to his lips, he inhales a large bite of the dish, hoping to nurse his broken heart, only to have a dull flavorless bite coat his tongue. He’d forgotten the salt. Mourning the loss of his finesse for the dish that had once warmed his heart, he can’t help but remark at the forfeit of his love for you as well.

He feels rage overtake him, throwing the pot against the wall. The tasteless rubbery mess along with the shattered remnants of the last item of yours he’d kept painting a gut-wrenching portrait as he slumps to the floor.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, tears leaking from his eyes as his whole body shakes.

When the clock strikes midnight, Seokjin rises, picking up the bland mess in his hands and throwing it in the trash. For good.

A/N pt. 2: Thanks for reading! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜