#seoulcheonsa

[seoulcheonsa]

M A S T E R L I S T

BTS

Seventeen

old works masterlist:  masterlist 27/05/16 

[guktwt]

if you're going for more vibrant colors, definitely go bleach! just make sure to take precaution and be open to different results. good luck!!

i will thank u for the tip!!

[lovelyyyoongi]

Oh my gooood part 24 was so good i’m trying not to scream in class ahdjshds

AJEKWKSS IM GLAD YOU LIKED IT! pay attention in class tho bb👌🏼

[daesungisbaesung]

Purple + Grey 😊

PURPLE: I don’t talk to you but I really love your blog. Thank youuuu :) (again if you ever wanna talk that’s fine)

GREY: I wish we talk more and being friend. Let’s talk more then! I’m not scary (I hope)

[deerguk]

Hi! Um, I saw the Lana Del Rey drabble prompt thing and I got kinda excited bc I love your writing and I binge read everything (even in the past) so if it's okay, can I req National Anthem x Tae? Thank youuu! :)

National Anthem |  A drabble about my muse asking someone to hold them.

“Join me.”

The echo of the croaking voice around the small, clinical room of stark white walls and fluorescent lighting has you lifting your gaze from your balled fists, finding a familiar, mischievous sparkle swirling in the coffee brown of eyes you once fell all too hard for. Reaching to his side where his palm lays facing the cracked ceiling, you bring it to your lips, kissing the knuckles, frowning a little.

“In what sense?”

Taehyung wriggles his hand out of your own, patting the thin mattress. “On here. Let me hold you, it has been too long since I last got to experience that.”

For a moment, you stare at him, scrutinising whether he is serious. But it is an undoubtedly Taehyung thing to request. And so the hospital bed creaks beneath the added weight, and Taehyung shuffles weakly about, making room for you to tuck into his side. He curls an arm around your shoulders, holding you close, and you bury your face into his throat, trying to escape the sound of the monitor that incessantly beeps with every vague pulse of his heart, smothering the sterile and underlying death scent of the hospital in the familiar, oaky aroma of his skin.

“This is probably not allowed,” You whisper into the junction of his neck, and he chuckles, a raw throat making it sound like crunching gravel.

“We’ve always been ones to break the rules,” Taehyung murmurs, pushing your hair back from your face, fingers quivering like tiny earthquakes, and so you hold onto them. “Hey, stop hiding your lips from me.”

At that, you draw back and look up at him with the first hint of a genuine smile that you have felt all day, possibly even all week. He only returns it for the slightest of moments before he closes the short distance, tasting dry and ill, but you do not mind, your heartbeat nevertheless fluttering against your ribcage while he takes the rosy flesh of your lips between his teeth, gently sucking.

“Do you think,” Taehyung continues, running his tongue over the tip of your own. “That we would get away with making love right–“

Laughter cascades from your lungs, and soon, Taehyung is shaking with you, grin pressed to grin. “No. God no, you idiot.”

“Oh that’s right, I forgot your moans are loud enough to wake the neighbours,” He teases, pursing his lips and kissing you again, and again, until the chuckles and snarky retorts are trapped in your chest and you momentarily forget how to breathe.

Through your lashes, you stare at him up close for the first time in too long. The man that slides his lips against your own looks more of a shell, a carcass, of the person you once fell in love with. Golden, honey skin reduced to a sickly pale, the brown of his eyes now flat like old coffee, no longer a freshly brewed, caramel warmth swirling around black pupils, the sinewy muscle that once roped his figure now chewed away by disease. Taehyung, the love of your life, has decayed like autumn leaves, eroded like rocks by the sea.

The tears only go noticed when he stops kissing you, when the bed trembles beneath you both and you realise that it is your own doing. A smile of sorrow tilts at his lips, and you feel selfish, so goddamn selfish to be the one falling apart in his palms when you are not the one dying.

“Taehyung,” You choke on your sob, and you try not to dig your nails into his skin, for it is so thin that you could easily cut through. But you almost want to, wishing to bury yourself within his very existence, become his blood and bone, his strength. “What am I going to do without you?”

He does not stop smiling although your cruel, cutting words, the salt water that streams lakes of silver down your cheeks. Instead, he holds your healthy body tighter in his frail, breaking arms, sighing. It sounds like paper houses collapsing, the ocean calmly flooding through streets, your heart breaking.

“Don’t be silly, my love. I will never leave you.”

And that was the first and only lie that he ever told you.