→ pairing: min yoongi x reader
→ genre: minor angst
→ warnings: potentially anxiety-provoking (?)
→ word count: 1.03k
note: this is a personal vent piece i wrote a couple months back, but i thought i’d post it to let you guys know i’m still here. this might not make any sense to people, but the background is that i suffer with severe intrusive thoughts that interrupt my daily life. this is a little insight as to what it feels like. i’ll most likely take this down at a later date.
The second you flutter your eyes closed and lay your head on your pillow, they begin.
It’s too quiet, and your thoughts are far too loud as they blare in your innocent ears. You’ve managed to keep them at bay for a short while, but they continue to resurface against your will. You should know by now; you should know what to do in order to rid them from your weak and vulnerable mind, but you spiral, as you always do.
Tossing and turning, your heart rate picks up, stable breaths becoming shallow and frantic. The hyperventilation starts, and you whimper into the void. Silence has a sound, and it’s utterly deafening.
→ pairing: min yoongi x reader
→ genre: minor angst
→ warnings: potentially anxiety-provoking (?)
→ word count: 1.03k
note: this is a personal vent piece i wrote a couple months back, but i thought i’d post it to let you guys know i’m still here. this might not make any sense to people, but the background is that i suffer with severe intrusive thoughts that interrupt my daily life. this is a little insight as to what it feels like. i’ll most likely take this down at a later date.
The second you flutter your eyes closed and lay your head on your pillow, they begin.
It’s too quiet, and your thoughts are far too loud as they blare in your innocent ears. You’ve managed to keep them at bay for a short while, but they continue to resurface against your will. You should know by now; you should know what to do in order to rid them from your weak and vulnerable mind, but you spiral, as you always do.
Tossing and turning, your heart rate picks up, stable breaths becoming shallow and frantic. The hyperventilation starts, and you whimper into the void. Silence has a sound, and it’s utterly deafening.
Don’t indulge them. You’re always in control. They’ll pass, you just have to allow them to run their course.
But it’s so hard. If you’re thinking it, how mustn’t it be true? You’re so weak that you’re not in control of your own fucking thoughts. Your vulnerability is laughable. What have you done to deserve such an ill-lit and polluted mind?
“Yoongi.” You sob, the body laying next to you emerging from the depths of the darkness.
He stirs in his slumber, sighing deeply as he rubs his tired eyes. He’s not quite there yet and it sends your body into a panic. Is he even here?
“Yoongi,” you sob again, louder this time as a single tear rolls down the side of your cheek, “they’re back.”
At this, he wakes, eyes shooting open as he cranes his neck to face you. It’s so dark, but the concern radiating off of him can be seen even through it. He’s here.
“_____,” he rasps, shifting closer to you and reaching out to touch your shaking hand, “I’m here.”
You can’t see; it’s always dark, and your tears only make it harder. You close your eyes, relying on your other senses to guide you towards him.
Your dainty fingers find his and you run them over Yoongi’s prominent knuckles, tracing the lines of raised veins on his hand from memory. You could say you know his body like the back of your hand because you love him, but this fact is continuously and painfully interrupted.
“I-I’m s—“
“Shh,” he shifts closer again, wrapping his arms around your frame, “don’t ever apologise.”
He’s warm; present. Your trembling hand snakes around his bare back, index finger residing on the twelfth thoracic bone of his spine.
Your whole body shakes with every beat of your heart, the messy strands of flyaways slightly aquiver as silent tears stream down your swollen cheeks. The sound of your blood travelling through your veins is tuned out and you focus your attention on the steady beat of Yoongi’s heart along with the quiet whistle of breaths he inhales and exhales through his nose.
Using his relaxed state as a guide, you attempt to align your breathing with his, starting off with a deep inhale. He smells of subtle mahogany teakwood and shampoo, the remnants of the cologne he wore today clinging onto him despite his shower.
He rests his chin atop your head, his large hand moving up and down your back as he applies light pressure in a comforting squeeze of his fingers. He doesn’t let you go.
“I love you.” He whispers, voice cracking the tiniest bit when his deep voice breaks through the silence. “You’re okay.”
The last words evoke fresh tears, and you shiver in his hold with another sob.
“No matter what, I love you,” he reiterates, nuzzling himself further into you, “and I know you love me.”
“I love you.” You cry into his shoulder, tightening your arms around his thin frame.
“I know, baby. I love you even more.”
“You deserve so much be—“
“You’re the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, _____.”
“But—“
“Whenever you drift, I’ll always be here to bring you back.”
With that, he unwinds his arms and pulls back to look at you. You can’t bear to return his gaze, but his index finger curls under your chin and lifts your heavy head. A headache is rapidly forming and you can’t breathe through your nose. You feel horrible.
“I’m sorry.” You apologise to him, voice broken as your eyes water once more. Will you ever get better?
He doesn’t say anything, cupping your wet cheeks and pulling your face closer so his plush lips can collide with yours.
His thumbs caress your face and you feel him frown into the kiss, moving as close to you as he possibly can while your hands rise up to wrap around his wrists. He’s everything you feel, smell, see and taste and you want nothing more than to freeze this moment in time and remain in it forever. He comforts you like no one else can, and he’s the only person on the face of the planet that hasn’t disowned you or distanced themselves after realising the severity of your situation. The only one who supports you. The only one you love.
You feel his large hands travel from your face, to your neck and down to meet your own when you release his wrists, holding you so gently it’s as if he believes you might crack in his hold. After entwining his fingers with yours, he tugs at you, motioning you to straddle his waist. Your lips never part from his as you drop your weight on him, allowing yourself to melt into his calloused touch while his hand trails under your shirt and his bony digits spread over your trembling back. He’s here. He’s always going to be here.
The way he touches you is electrifying despite the fact that he stays away from your most private areas. The only touch he offers is a touch that grounds you; a touch that helps you realise he’s not going anywhere and a touch that helps you remember they’re just thoughts. They’re merely something your constantly panicked and melancholy mind constructs to cause you grief. They can’t hurt you; acknowledge them, and let them go. The voice isn’t real. Everything will be alright.
Your mind is a maze and the only thing that can escort your conscience to the exit is him.
you are the serenity of the moon and the stars. your voice is the lullaby we seek to fall asleep to. you are the quiet of the ocean and it’s fever. you control the waves with your marvellous treachery, your searing passion. you are a tiger flourishing in water. you put the embers into love. you put the devotion into dedication. you make us want to reach the sky, to chase it’s infinity. our love for you is as endless as the galaxy, min yoongi, our supernova dawning upon us.
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