Sav

An aspiring author

[savtheauthor]

I'm always annoyed at a person who talks about dieting until I'm the one on the diet. Now I'm just eager to hear all about it, so I have someone else to suffer with.

[savtheauthor]

Why is it so taboo to eat at a restaurant alone? I don't need your sympathetic side glances. I chose to be here by myself.

[savtheauthor]

Nostalgia |Kim Namjoon|

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Brothers who share no blood are the brothers who stand together in the face of all adversity.

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Namjoon exhausted frame sagged against the balcony railing, rolling his neck to the side to release the tension. The foreign night sky sneered down on him, so hauntingly familiar to the sky of Seoul yet lacking in all of the comforting qualities. The United States was a nice place, but he missed hearing a language he didn’t have to think twice about. He supposed that was the reason his mind refused to shut down, even as the others slept soundly in their hotel rooms. The responsibilities of leader, idol, and translator piling up on his shoulders made it impossible for him to rest soundly, even as the rest of his body cried out for it.

The city was as restless as he was.

Seoul was no different, always alive with life at any given time, but something about the honking horns and shouting pedestrians grated on his ears.

Namjoon slipped the headphones from around his neck and onto his head to drown out the noise with something that made sense.

His nimble fingers flipped to a random playlist without much thought, and a soft smile dimpled his cheeks when the first notes of “No More Dream” filtered through his headphones. Namjoon let his mind slip back into the days leading up to their debut, still new but not naive to the trials they were up against. Their songs always carried under and overtones of confidence, but it was a way they reminded themselves in times of self doubt that they were better than the words people tossed from vulgar, thoughtless lips.

The lyrics of their songs carried him across a mountain of memories, some good and some bad, but he didn’t regret a thing.

It wasn’t until he pressed play on “Sea” did he realize how their music evolved, how he evolved.

These six men who started out as strangers in his life, wormed their way into his subconscious. Everything he did now, he did while thinking of them. These strangers who slowly became his brothers each played a hand in the creation of the man Namjoon was today. His parents started the mold, and his friends continued it.

“Where there is hope, there are trails.”

Namjoon let an ache take hold of him for the briefest of moments. It was an ache that kept all of them up at night at some point or another: a mixture of homesickness and not feeling strong enough. This song meant a lot to all of them. It demonstrated a part of them that, despite how high they climbed, still remained with them. That light at the end of the tunnel was still surrounded by darkness.

They clung to optimism and hope like a lifeline because without it Namjoon wasn’t sure where they would be. Optimism and each other is all they have at the end of the day.

He was grateful for all of their awards, fans, and recognition.

He was thankful for his brothers.

Maybe he’s capable of the rise to fame on his own, but he doesn’t want to find out. All of this is worth nothing without them by his side.

"I see ocean. I see desert. I see the world. Everything’s the same thing with a different name. It’s life again."

[savtheauthor]

Person: *goes in for a kiss*

Me: *ducks in asexual panic*

[savtheauthor]

Eucatastrophe

A platonic Namjoon x Seokjin drabble because their friend dynamic is literally everything I could hope for.

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The frigid autumn wind bit at Seokjin's skin in a way that made him want nothing more than to be back home where he was originally: warm with a hot cup of coffee sitting on the table before him as he poured into the latest book he picked up from the library. Instead, he was half carrying, half dragging a completely smashed Namjoon down the street to his apartment. Seokjin wasn't sure how his friend ended up at a bar halfway across Seoul on a Thursday of all nights, but right now he was too busy mentally pleading with the man to refrain from puking all over him.

He'd save the scolding for tomorrow, when Namjoon would no doubt be harboring a vicious hangover.

"You're a lot heavier than you look," Seokjin muttered, stopping a moment to catch his breath.

Another mumble accompanied by a hiccup was all he got in reply.

The elder man shook his head before proceeding up a flight of stairs, and all but throwing Namjoon onto his couch once he got them into the apartment. Breathless and exhausted weren't effective enough adjectives to describe how he was feeling, but he couldn't just leave his friend like this. People did dumb shit when they were drunk.

Grabbing a bottle of water and a chair from the kitchen, he set them both down beside the couch and fell back into the chair preparing to spend the rest of the night making sure Namjoon didn't, well, die. The clock on the wall across from him read Midnight, and Seokjin let his head fall back with a groan. Tonight would be eternal.

A muffled groan filled the silent room. "Hyung?"

"What is it, Namjoon?"

Seokjin could see the younger man squinting into the empty space on his opposite side, but he made no move to draw his attention in the right direction. "Are you upset with me?"

Seconds passed before Seokjin answered, "Not in the slightest. Disappointed, maybe, but certainly not upset."

Namjoon's head turned in the right direction, and he took this opportunity to shove the water bottle in front of his face. One and a half bottles later Seokjin could see that he was beginning to sober up, enough to move from his sprawled position on the couch to sitting up and staring blankly at the wall before him.

"Do you believe that tragic stories can have transcendent endings?"

Seokjin blinked once and then twice at the suddenness of the question. He should have expected Namjoon of all people to ask such inconceivable questions with ungodly amounts of alcohol running through his bloodstream, but it caught him off guard nonetheless. "Um, I suppose. Lots of fairy tales start off pretty tragic."

"No, not fairy tales, hyung. Real life stories."

He didn't know where this conversation was going, and he was too tired to deal with Namjoon's in depth questions. "Yeah," he conceded. "Sure."

It would seem that dropping the topic was out of the question. "I learned this English word last week. It's called eucatastrophe. It's a bit silly, really. The root word catastrophe means a disaster or great suffering, but eu comes from the greeks as a combining form meaning good or well. J.R.R Tolkien came up with it. Can you believe it? A word that means good suffering or good disaster. As if bad things happen for the good of something else."

A sigh escaped the older man as he attempted to wrap his head around where this conversation was going, "Okay, what does this have to do with anything?"

A goofy smile erupted across Namjoon's face, "Life. It has to do with life."

"I'm not following."

It was Namjoon's turn to sigh, "It means that maybe we suffer in life so we can do great deeds with those sufferings. Maybe all the pain we experience only helps us achieve better things in the future."

"Okay," Seokjin nodded. "But where is all this coming from?"

That smile came back, bigger than before. "They picked me, hyung. The entertainment company saw my potential."

The news startled him, effectively shaking away his drowsiness and drawing his full attention to the talented man before him. "You mean-"

"Yeah," Namjoon laughed, almost as if he couldn't believe it. "All of the pain I poured out into my music finally paid off. I start in a month."

"So you got drunk to celebrate, huh?"

The question was suppose to be light hearted, but Seokjin couldn't keep the despondent edge from his tone. His brother, the only one he could count on, was moving up in the world without him.

Even a drunk Namjoon could notice that his happiness wasn't reflected in the eyes of the man he trusted the most.

"Hey, don't worry too much, okay? I'll still be around, just busy."

Guilt consumed Seokjin when he realized how selfish he was being. This was what Namjoon had been working so hard towards, and it wasn't fair of him to be acting so selfishly.

"You're right," he finally said, offering him a small smile. "I'm sorry for not sharing in your joy. I am happy for you, Namjoon, but I fear that you will leave me behind while you are off chasing dreams. I can't follow you there, but I don't expect you to stick around for the sake of my happiness."

The younger man smiled back, reaching out to squeeze Seokjin's hand. They would remain brothers, Namjoon promised himself as he began to drift off again. After all, tragedy brought them together, and if J.R.R. Tolkien was right, the goodness of that suffering would continue to keep them together.

[savtheauthor]

Who decided that holding hands had to be a romantic thing? Why can't I just hold hands with my home girl in the grocery store because I feel safer knowing someone can't kidnap me without kidnapping her? You just wanted one girl? Sorry sis, now you got two.

[writing-prompt-s]

For the last few days, you’ve been getting ominous messages written in blood on your bathroom mirror. Turns out, they’re from an awkward ghost who’s crushing on you, hard.

[savtheauthor]

Converse High |Kim Namjoon x OC|

(A short little romantic drabble I wrote for my friend who loves Kim Namjoon and the song Converse High.)

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Don’t look. Stop looking.

He couldn’t help it. Namjoon was totally looking.

It was difficult not to when less than five feet away from him was a pair of endless legs attached to bright red converse. Modest jean shorts did nothing to hide her figure, and that white shirt falling off her left shoulder-

Namjoon stopped his thoughts before hiding an exasperated smile behind a slender hand. He didn’t even know the mystery girl’s name, and she was already knocking him dead.

“Yah! Are you even listening to me?”

Seokjin’s voice broke him out of the creepy staring he was no doubt was partaking in. So much for subtlety. He attempted to direct his attention back to his Hyung, but almost immediately he was distracted again.

His friend’s laughter rang in his ears, “You know, if you keep drooling like that, people might assume you’ve contracted a disease.”

Fiery embarrassment raced through his veins and blazed across his face as he reached up to wipe a completely dry mouth. The glare he threw in Seokjin’s direction could have drawn blood, but the older man just continued to laugh, drawing the attention of a few passing bystanders. He peeked once again in the girl’s direction, noticing that she was staring back, effectively spreading the embarrassed pink down his neck. He hoped Seokjin’s obnoxious laughter was the only reason she bothered to look over.

“If it makes you feel any better she’s returning the favor. Go talk to her,” he nudged.

Namjoon shook his head fiercely, “Are you kidding me? And say what?”

“Definitely not that she has great legs,” he snorted. “I don’t think she’d take kindly to that.”

With a shake of his head and a harsh exhale of air, Namjoon left his friend’s side to approach the girl who seemed all too interested in a crack on the sidewalk. His hands were sweating, and he took a moment wipe them on his jeans before calling her attention.

“I like your converse.”  

Her head shot up, ethnic eyes widening slightly. Namjoon suddenly felt stupid. Introducing himself was a smarter move, or maybe noticing that she wasn’t from around here. She probably didn’t understand anything he was saying.

“Oh, uh. I’m Kim Namjoon,” he stuttered out in English.

A smile lifted the corners of her lips “My name is Marian,” she responded in his native tongue. It was hesitant and heavily accented, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

He decided to try the compliment over again, “I like your converse.”

This time that smile stretched across her whole face, brightening those foreign eyes and further bringing him closer to his grave. She was an addiction, he decided quickly, an addiction he hoped to never be sober from.

“Do you also like coffee?”

It was his turn to smile, ducking his head slightly.

“I do.”

[savtheauthor]

In retrospect, I should have realized I was asexual the day my fourteen year old self received her first dick pick. I genuinely believed it was a disfigured arm, and when my mom told me otherwise, I decided then and there that I never wanted to see another penis again.

[savtheauthor]

I'm a hoE for platonic relationships in stories. Sue me.

[savtheauthor]

My ex: She's just a virgin who doesn't know how to kiss

[asexualslikememestoo]

Other people: *describes their sexual experiences in excruciating detail*

Aces:

[savtheauthor]

The first time I realized that I was probably asexual was when my first boyfriend kissed me and I actually wanted to vomit afterwards.

[saybyebus]

Them: Are you straight or gay? Me: No. Them: ??? Me: *smirks asexually*

[savtheauthor]

That vomit inducing feeling of walking in on an extremely detailed sexual conversation.

(the following awkward feeling when everyone else is laughing about it and your just....)

[savtheauthor]

Malefic |Jimin x Female Reader|

Part 2 of 2

Read part 1 of 2 here

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Jimin: The big oak tree on campus?

Y/n: Yeah, sounds great. See you soon.

Y/n squinted a bit apprehensively at the phone in her hand. The boy she met at the party contacted her the next morning, innocent greetings and awkward trail offs began their conversation, but soon it morphed into phone calls that left her giggling for hours into the night air, long after every normal person fell asleep.

Park Jimin.

His social medias checked out, and she even caught sight of him in the hallway with those six friends he mentioned, every last one of them as rambunctious as he was. Nothing about him was out of the ordinary, and he was just as cute as he was kind. No red flags, no warning bells, absolutely nothing.

Why did she still feel like something was wrong?

Maybe it was the compliments. He gave quite a few of them, but if she remembered her mother’s lessons correctly, lots of guys in pursuit of a girl give compliments. Y/n wasn’t stupid, a relationship was what he was after. Through a semi mutual friend she discovered that Jimin was very much the boyfriend type and not at all a player. His last girlfriend lasted two years before she packed up and moved to the US. The mutual friend said he was heartbroken for a while, but that was more than a year ago.

Perhaps it was just because he was after a relationship with her.

Y/n didn’t date, and the only sort of boyfriend she ever had lasted two months, which was full of awkward hand holding and a seriously weird kiss. All of this hesitation she felt was probably coming from her past experiences. Overthinking was a talent she mastered, and right now she really needed to stop.

Dropping the phone on her bed with a tired huff, she plopped into her desk chair and ran a hand through her messy hair.

“What’s a matter with you?” Her roommate snapped from her lounging position on the bed, another hangover clouding her mood.

“Nothing,” y/n bit back, “Just a little apprehensive about my date with Jimin.”

The girl rolled over to face her, her eyebrows furrowed, “What’s to be nervous about? Park Jimin ain’t the type to notice someone like you, and if he stuck around this long, it’s not likely he’ll be runnin’ off anytime soon. Put on somethin’ nice and get a move on.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her roommate rolled back over, “It means brush your hair for once.”

Y/n stared at the girls back for a long time before grabbing the outfit she laid out on the bed and storming out to the bathrooms, anxiety dissipating under her anger and the semi encouraging yet completely rude motivational speech. If all went well, a bottle of painkillers would be conveniently placed by an anonymous cup of water on her roommates night stand next Saturday morning.

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Jimin suggested hiking.

It wasn’t a typical first date, but after a week of talking he knew all about her thrill seeking tendencies. To her, this was ideal. She would be comfortable and at an advantage if things went south. She knew these woods well and would leave him stranded if he started to get handsy.

The sound of approaching feet on frozen grass alerted her to Jimin’s arrival.

“Hey,” he greeted after she turned around. “Ready to go?”

Y/n nodded, “Definitely.”

They embarked into the cold forest, dead and frozen leaves crunched beneath them as they avoided the sharp, bare branches. The chatter between them was steady like the half frozen brook they traveled by, and all the anxiety she previously felt drifted away in the frigid wind. They maneuvered well on their own, but when Jimin took the lead to help her over a fallen log or across a large rock, she didn’t hesitate to take his hand, her frozen fingers relishing in the warmth of his gloved ones. It was getting dark by the time they reached their destination, but dusk was her favorite time of day.

The clearing wasn’t vibrant with color. The approaching evening made the shadows loom in an ominous way that made her awareness peak. The blood rushing through her veins sang with unspoken danger. Her adrenaline kicked in, and her smile grew wide.

“Thrilling enough for you?” Jimin chuckled from his place beside her.

She thought she heard a double meaning behind the question, but her mind was too wrapped up in the scenery, “Yes.”

A gloved hand took hold of hers once again, drawing her farther into the open space. The clouds, now blue and purple, cast a diluted light on the world around them. It was almost ethereal.

Jimin glanced down at her hands, “They must be freezing. Why didn’t you wear gloves?”

“I don’t own them.”

The smile that formed across his lips was soft, but there was something different about his eyes, “Maybe I can help.”

He brought her hands up to his mouth, one by one, blowing warm air from his lips until her hands regained some color. Y/n only watched, unmoving as he did so, unused to the simple act of tenderness that seemed so intimate. Jimin caught her stare in his own and leaned closer.

“What is it?”

That off feeling came back, and the anxiety she felt returned. His eyes that once looked so wide and curious, swam with a darkness she didn’t notice before. Suddenly, she felt as if she was drowning, unable to pull away or fight against the inevitable.

What is happening?

“Y/n,” Jimin whispered, “can I kiss you?”

All the warning signs she was looking for, the red flags she didn’t find, the alarm bells that refused to ring, rushed to the forefront of her mind. He was perfect. He was too perfect. That was the give away.

Run

Her mind screamed for her to run, move away, do anything, but instead her head nodded, the voluntary action completely involuntary on her end. The soft smile he wore turned sinister, tilting farther on one side than the other, a peek of teeth gleaming in the darkness.

”Thank you.”

His lips closed the distance between them, the soft pressure coaxing her frozen ones apart. With a tilt of his head, he deepened it, and the edges of her vision began to fade.

Each kiss drew something out of her slowly, tendrils of her existence seemed to seep from her lips and into his own. Her body grew impossibly colder, unable to pull away from him or scream into the night. Who ever Jimin was. What ever he was…

He was taking her soul.

”Thrilling enough for you?”

[savtheauthor]

Advesperascit |Park Jimin x Female Reader|

Part 1 of 2

Read part 2 of 2 here

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College parties were on the list of those things you had to try once, kind of like cliff diving into the ocean.

Except she’d rather drown than be anywhere near a college party.

Adrenaline rushing adventures were more y/n’s thing. Large rooms filled with sweaty, drunk twenty-something year olds did more to activate her gag reflexes than her adrenal glands. Most weekends consisted of impromptu road trips to absolutely anywhere, but this Friday was the last before they all muddled their brains with textbooks and lecture notes instead of alcohol. Dead week had a way of invoking fear into top of the class and deadbeat students alike.

Where she would like to be is stuffed in her dorm room with pizza and music blasting in her headphones, becoming one with the “I have responsibilities but I’m avoiding them productively” mindset. Instead she was stuck as the DD for a roommate who was going to die of hypothermia or alcohol poisoning, and considering her dress was dancing the line of a high end stripper and not existing at all, y/n was betting on the former.

She debated briefly on giving up her jacket, but remembered that nice wasn’t an adjective she often associated with when it came to her grave digging roommate. Y/n would be the first to drop dirt in the casket if anything.

“Let loose and have fun!” She wailed over the music vibrating in her bones before promptly ditching her. Unfortunately getting hammered in freezing temperatures wasn’t Y/n’s idea of fun, so she quickly found a quiet tree to sit under. She would grab the girl out of the nearest bathroom in an hour with enough time to get back and binge watch the second season of Supernatural. Then she could enjoy the final night of freedom.

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Thirty minutes in y/n was five seconds away from leaving her roommate to the wolves.

Her hands were numb, there wasn’t an unspiked pop can in sight, and two guys attempted to approach her with their idea of a “good time.”

“You look like you could use a warm drink.”

The voice startled y/n out of her intense staring contest with a patch of dead grass, causing her to bump her head on the tree behind her. A string of muttered swear words escaped her mouth as she looked up at the intruder with squinted eyes. “No thanks. I’d rather be cold than warm myself up in whatever concoction you’ve no doubt put together to get me drunk.”

The aforementioned intruder threw his head back, hot puffs of air dissipating inches from his laughing mouth. Instead of walking away like the other two men before him, he sat down across from her and held out the styrofoam cup. “It’s hot cocoa. Unspiked and completely safe.”

Y/n was still wary, “How do I know if I can trust you?”

“You can’t,” he shrugged, “but you can at least hold it to warm your hands.”

She wrapped her frozen hands around the cup with a bit of reluctance, but sighed in relief as the heat of the drink began to thaw her fingers. “Thanks.”

He smiled widely before lifting his cup to his lips. “No problem,” he said after a sip. “I’m Jimin.”

She returned the introduction a bit hesitantly, but Jimin didn’t seem phased by it. He began to talk amiably about his love for the cold weather and how nice the campus was this time of year. Eventually, she relaxed in his presence, enjoying his effortless communication skills. He was a music major with dreams of a world wide singing career. She told him of her love for all things adventurous and was too busy wandering an endless circle between five different paths to choose a major yet. Jimin’s dark eyes twinkled in the firelight from the bonfire they had migrated to sometime after her untouched beverage turned lukewarm. As he filled the space between them with ramblings about his misfit years with six of his close friends, y/n found herself admiring the way he covered his mouth when he smiled and how laughter seemed to come from his entire body.

Suddenly, Jimin’s ramblings came to a halt, and he raised a hand to the back of his neck in embarrassment, “Ah, sorry. My friends tell me I talk too much.”

“No, it’s okay. My friends tell me I don’t talk enough. I guess it works out,” she laughed.

Some yelling took place near the door of the house they were at, drawing both of their attention to the scene, and she watched as her roommate stumbled out, held at arm’s length by some guy. Taking that as her cue to finally leave the party, y/n turned back to her unlikely companion with a grimace.  

“That’s my cue to leave.”

A look of confusion passed over his features, “Why?”

She sighed before gathering her bag, “The girl making a fool of herself is my roommate, and I’m the DD.”

Jimin seemed to understand and nodded his head. She started walking in the direction of her roomate, but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist. “I don’t usually do this, but can I have your number?”

She gave him a skeptical look, which forced him to elaborate. “I genuinely enjoyed talking with you tonight. I would like to meet again under less...juvenile circumstances.”

Something in her told her to refuse, but he was so nice and easy to talk to. After a long pause she decided to give in. What was the harm in innocently getting together for another chat?

“Okay,” she agreed. They exchanged numbers before she took off to retrieve her roommate without a backwards glance.

Jimin watched after her, the firelight revealing the transformation of his expression. Something changed behind those dark brown eyes.

If only she had listened to her intuition.