i took the bullet for all the wrong reasons; jin/rapmon
Pairing: Jin/Rap Monster
Genre: Horror/Psycological
Rating: R (for blood/religious imagery/allusiouns to non-con and [spoiler]character death)
Length: 1.9K
Summary: Namjoon is Seokjin's last believer.
Notes: Here is the reccomended listening. Title inspired by the poem Wishbone by Richard Siken.
His God’s name is Seokjin and he is an all seeing being who brings happiness and peace to his followers.
Namjoon was ten when he realized that praying to a ancient and forgotten god was something that only his family did. Yoongi, always so curious and nosy at that age, had rummaged in his friend’s drawers while the other was in the bathroom. There was an entire shelf filled with tea leaves and scripture; Namjoon had let out a shriek when he saw his friend touch the statue above his drawer with his filthy hands like it was nothing. To Namjoon, that statute meant everything.
“Didn’t your mom tell you you’re not supposed to touch Him when the sun is up?!” The ten year old yelled, scrubbing Yoongi’s hands furiously.
Yoongi backed away. “I don’t even know what that is! I thought it was a toy...”
Namjoon widened his eyes in both disbelief and shock, how could someone not know of Him? That night, Mrs. Kim had to explain to her son that most people didn’t follow their beliefs, that they weren’t saved from impurity and sin like them. His mother taught him how to follow the rituals, how to correctly pronounce the strange words in the language they were only allowed to speak during worship and before going to sleep. No matter how much resentment he held for his mother in his later years, Namjoon will always thank her for bringing him up with the only god he felt he could believe in.
He had grown up with the utmost faith in Seokjin, even the mention of the name to this day gave him goosebumps. Namjoon was a True Believer, with a capital T and B. He had to be, now that mom was gone he had to believe harder than ever to keep Seokjin happy and himself blessed with his grace. There had been times when he had tried to get Yoongi into joining him, but Yoongi didn’t believe in anything at all, much to Namjoon’s distaste. He did not have any luck with his girlfriends either; when Namjoon confessed about his faith, they would almost always believe that he was a part of a crazy cult or that he was just simply crazy. The only comfort he gained was from online forums of people around the world who shared his views with both Seokjin and other forgotten deities, but most of them weren’t true believers, and some of them were actually crazy.
Thus Namjoon kept it all to himself. He prayed under his breath before every meal, did his rituals all throughout high school in the bathroom stall that never got fixed and hid the statue in another part of his room, where it couldn’t be touched by those with impure heads and minds.
---
“╘┊∨☱⊙ ﹌” He whispered beneath his breath in a morning prayer. It was only to be used in mornings when you felt perfectly happy and at peace, it was his first day of college after all. After finishing, Namjoon got started on unpacking some of his boxes to his new dorm, eager to find out who his new roommate would be and wondering where he could hide his statue.
A quiet, soft voice came from behind him, slithering its way to his ear. “Its pronounced ╘┊∪☱⊙ ﹌, actually.”
It was the first time he had ever heard a reply.
When Namjoon looked back he saw a man organizing his drawer, completely unaware of what had happened. Namjoon let out a shaky sigh and tried to regain himself, he didn’t want to look like a total idiot in front of his new roommate.
“Yo,” He extended his hand. “I’m Kim Namjoon, studying sound engineering and music production. Nice to meet you, “ He tilted his head. “...Sorry, I can’t really tell if you’re my hyung or not. How old are you?”
His roommate smiled at him, Namjoon couldn’t deny the fact that he was actually pretty attractive. “I’m far older than you, that’s for sure. Nice to meet you too. I’m studying baking.”
Namjoon didn’t know that there was a cooking building in this school, he doesn’t remember anything of the like in the roster. “That’s cool. I actually have to go now, my class is starting soon. We’ll catch up later, okay hyung? Maybe go out for a drink or something.”
He left in a hurry, trying to ignore the fact that he just realized his roommate had an uncanny resemblance to the statue underneath his bed.
---
His roommate's name is Seokjin. No one is called Seokjin. Parents these days like to give their children exotic and "cool" names just to make them stand out without having any knowledge of the name whatsoever. His roommate is uncanningly beautiful, sometimes he cannot help but stare at his broad shoulders and gentle hands that bend and twist in strange ways, which must be useful for cooking. The back of his mind wonders what else those fingers could do, until he scolds himself for his impure thoughts. Seokjin, not his roommate, was always watching and would have been disappointed in his ideas. He had never been like this before, Namjoon hid his face in embarrassment and decided it would be best to kneel when he prays that night and beg for forgiveness.
His roommate - he couldn’t even think about his name - was the first person he’d ever met that does not seem put off by his beliefs in the slightest. The fact that he and the statue look alike did not seem to surprise him.
“I’ve always thought my face was godlike.” His roommate said one day after he saw Namjoon kneeling beside his bed. “I didn’t think anyone would still pray to this guy, why do you?” He asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“Um, well my mom was really religious and she taught me how to pray to... Him. She raised me by herself so I guess it was good for her to have something to have faith in. I feel safe when I pray to him. Like, he believes in me, y’know?” Namjoon shrugged. "Do you believe in someone? Or something?"
"I only believe in myself." Seokjin (not the deity) states, eyeing the bowl of rosemaries and mint leaves that smell so heavenly next to the statue.
“Anyway, I’m glad he makes you feel that way.” His roommate smiled at him tenderly and left Namjoon alone until he finished praying. Once finished, both of them choose to ignore their homework for the day and decide to drink themselves silly instead. When Namjoon woke up the next morning, he found the essay he was supposed to write the night before on his desk without any memory of writing it. His teacher gave him an A.
---
His boyfriend’s name was Seokjin and, even if they were dating for two months at the time, Namjoon still refused to say his name. He wondered if his boyfriend ever noticed that fact that he would only be addressed with pet names. Princess. Baby. Babe. Hyung. But never by Seokjin. His boyfriend had to notice, he somehow always knew everything. He knew when Namjoon had arrived a little too late from drinking with Yoongi and when he sneaked a cigarette in his mouth.
“You keep pronouncing it wrong, Namjoon.” Seokjin (not the deity) said, looking completely immersed in his book. He enjoyed listening to Namjoon while he did his prayers.
Namjoon huffed, “How would you know? You don’t even believe in him.”
Seokjin (not the deity) didn’t part from his book as he spoke. “I just do, the mesopotamian language didn’t have that sound in their alphabet. Its ┅◣⇸∦◠ not ┅◣⇸∦╭╮, I thought your mother would have taught you better.”
They had never fought before, not hadn't even had a discussion before this. Namjoon fumed, "You don't know anything about me!"
It seemed like ages until his boyfriend finally spoke. Seokjin threw his book to the floor and rose from the mattress, standing right in front of Namjoon with a powerful glare that made him shiver. His boyfriend was only an inch taller than him, but the imperious glare that was directed at him made him feel a lot smaller and weaker. Namjoon prayed quickly under his breath for protection, but his words seemed strangely hollow.
"On the contrary, Namjoon," Seokjin said in a quiet, soft voice that felt as if it came from behind him, slithering in his ear. "I know everything about you. I've been watching you for a very long time."
He felt a thud against his legs, it took Namjoon a moment to realize that he was kneeling. As much as he tried, he couldn't seem to get up. A sturdy hand grabbed his face by the chin and forced him to look up. Instead of glaring, Seokjin was smiling tenderly. Namjoon didn't understand why it made his heart beat faster, he should have been scared shitless. But now, more than ever, he started to notice how much his boyfriend looked like the statue behind him.
"You were my one true believer, Namjoon. My last one." He said calmly. Seokjin learned forward, his voice, as quiet as it was, seemed to fill the room. "I only wanted you to worship me correctly."
"What are you talking about? I-I don't worship you. I worship the Seokjin." Namjoon protested, trying again to break free from his current position.
His boyfriend only chuckled. "Exactly." Without warning, he felt two fingers enter his mouth until he gagged. Seokjin always thought he looked gorgeous when he was gagging. Not seconds later, the fingers escaped his mouth, as did rosemary and mint leaves, until Namjoon was heaving for air and struggling to get the leaves out of his esophagus.
"Wh-What are you? What's going on?!" Namjoon yelled out, getting more breathless by the second.
"I҉ a͏m̵ ͏the ̧on͏e͏ ͢to ̸wh͜o͠m͝ ͝ỳo̕u p͞ray͟ed͟ ͡t҉o̡ ̸f̵o̷r̀ s͢o̕ ͞ma̵ny̕ ̀n̵ig̕hts̢. ҉I̵ ͡a̸m ͝your ͡s͠m̵il҉in̢g god̸." Seokjin said in a voice that made the lightbulbs flicker and his ears bleed from the inside. Namjoon fell to the floor, blood falling to his cheeks.
"Well, I was... Before you decided to disregard the fact that everything you pronounced was wrong. And here I thought you could have been a good follower, maybe even a good fuck. But both were disappointing. I had such high hopes for you, Namjoon."
He once believed his roommate to be so beautiful that he couldn't part his eyes away from him. Now the more he seemed to stare at him, the more blood seemed to rush from his eyes.
Once again, Namjoon's esophagus felt full and constricted with something that was tearing his throat apart. With every choke and cough, roses and their stems escaped his mouth until he was bleeding everywhere. Namjoon was terrified and desperate for help, but he couldn't speak nor did he know what to pray to anymore.
Despite all of the pain, Namjoon ignored the gashes that started to form and unzip his skin. He held out his broken arms for Seokjin. They were held, but just barely, until he felt himself plummeting into a world that he’d never thought he would reach so early in his life. The last thing he remembers is the sight of his god staring back at him with a tender smile and disappointed eyes.
-----
A young boy adjusted the rosemary stems in the vases next to his statue then made sure the roses were in order before he did his morning prayer. “╘┊∪☱⊙ ﹌,” He said after much practice in the pronunciation, or else his grandmother would find out and scold him for not taking his faith seriously.
“Hurry up, Taehyung!” His friend with chubby cheeks yelled out, sounding impatient. He doesn’t blame him, but they’re already late for school and Taehyung isn’t leaving before finishing his incantation.
A quiet, soft voice came from behind him, slithering its way to his ear. “G̡̕͢o͜͝ǫd̵̀͝ ̴͡j͡ob̧.̡̕͟” It said.
Taehyung looked behind him and saw an empty room.
Genre: Horror/Psycological
Rating: R (for blood/religious imagery/allusiouns to non-con and [spoiler]character death)
Length: 1.9K
Summary: Namjoon is Seokjin's last believer.
Notes: Here is the reccomended listening. Title inspired by the poem Wishbone by Richard Siken.
His God’s name is Seokjin and he is an all seeing being who brings happiness and peace to his followers.
Namjoon was ten when he realized that praying to a ancient and forgotten god was something that only his family did. Yoongi, always so curious and nosy at that age, had rummaged in his friend’s drawers while the other was in the bathroom. There was an entire shelf filled with tea leaves and scripture; Namjoon had let out a shriek when he saw his friend touch the statue above his drawer with his filthy hands like it was nothing. To Namjoon, that statute meant everything.
“Didn’t your mom tell you you’re not supposed to touch Him when the sun is up?!” The ten year old yelled, scrubbing Yoongi’s hands furiously.
Yoongi backed away. “I don’t even know what that is! I thought it was a toy...”
Namjoon widened his eyes in both disbelief and shock, how could someone not know of Him? That night, Mrs. Kim had to explain to her son that most people didn’t follow their beliefs, that they weren’t saved from impurity and sin like them. His mother taught him how to follow the rituals, how to correctly pronounce the strange words in the language they were only allowed to speak during worship and before going to sleep. No matter how much resentment he held for his mother in his later years, Namjoon will always thank her for bringing him up with the only god he felt he could believe in.
He had grown up with the utmost faith in Seokjin, even the mention of the name to this day gave him goosebumps. Namjoon was a True Believer, with a capital T and B. He had to be, now that mom was gone he had to believe harder than ever to keep Seokjin happy and himself blessed with his grace. There had been times when he had tried to get Yoongi into joining him, but Yoongi didn’t believe in anything at all, much to Namjoon’s distaste. He did not have any luck with his girlfriends either; when Namjoon confessed about his faith, they would almost always believe that he was a part of a crazy cult or that he was just simply crazy. The only comfort he gained was from online forums of people around the world who shared his views with both Seokjin and other forgotten deities, but most of them weren’t true believers, and some of them were actually crazy.
Thus Namjoon kept it all to himself. He prayed under his breath before every meal, did his rituals all throughout high school in the bathroom stall that never got fixed and hid the statue in another part of his room, where it couldn’t be touched by those with impure heads and minds.
---
“╘┊∨☱⊙ ﹌” He whispered beneath his breath in a morning prayer. It was only to be used in mornings when you felt perfectly happy and at peace, it was his first day of college after all. After finishing, Namjoon got started on unpacking some of his boxes to his new dorm, eager to find out who his new roommate would be and wondering where he could hide his statue.
A quiet, soft voice came from behind him, slithering its way to his ear. “Its pronounced ╘┊∪☱⊙ ﹌, actually.”
It was the first time he had ever heard a reply.
When Namjoon looked back he saw a man organizing his drawer, completely unaware of what had happened. Namjoon let out a shaky sigh and tried to regain himself, he didn’t want to look like a total idiot in front of his new roommate.
“Yo,” He extended his hand. “I’m Kim Namjoon, studying sound engineering and music production. Nice to meet you, “ He tilted his head. “...Sorry, I can’t really tell if you’re my hyung or not. How old are you?”
His roommate smiled at him, Namjoon couldn’t deny the fact that he was actually pretty attractive. “I’m far older than you, that’s for sure. Nice to meet you too. I’m studying baking.”
Namjoon didn’t know that there was a cooking building in this school, he doesn’t remember anything of the like in the roster. “That’s cool. I actually have to go now, my class is starting soon. We’ll catch up later, okay hyung? Maybe go out for a drink or something.”
He left in a hurry, trying to ignore the fact that he just realized his roommate had an uncanny resemblance to the statue underneath his bed.
---
His roommate's name is Seokjin. No one is called Seokjin. Parents these days like to give their children exotic and "cool" names just to make them stand out without having any knowledge of the name whatsoever. His roommate is uncanningly beautiful, sometimes he cannot help but stare at his broad shoulders and gentle hands that bend and twist in strange ways, which must be useful for cooking. The back of his mind wonders what else those fingers could do, until he scolds himself for his impure thoughts. Seokjin, not his roommate, was always watching and would have been disappointed in his ideas. He had never been like this before, Namjoon hid his face in embarrassment and decided it would be best to kneel when he prays that night and beg for forgiveness.
His roommate - he couldn’t even think about his name - was the first person he’d ever met that does not seem put off by his beliefs in the slightest. The fact that he and the statue look alike did not seem to surprise him.
“I’ve always thought my face was godlike.” His roommate said one day after he saw Namjoon kneeling beside his bed. “I didn’t think anyone would still pray to this guy, why do you?” He asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“Um, well my mom was really religious and she taught me how to pray to... Him. She raised me by herself so I guess it was good for her to have something to have faith in. I feel safe when I pray to him. Like, he believes in me, y’know?” Namjoon shrugged. "Do you believe in someone? Or something?"
"I only believe in myself." Seokjin (not the deity) states, eyeing the bowl of rosemaries and mint leaves that smell so heavenly next to the statue.
“Anyway, I’m glad he makes you feel that way.” His roommate smiled at him tenderly and left Namjoon alone until he finished praying. Once finished, both of them choose to ignore their homework for the day and decide to drink themselves silly instead. When Namjoon woke up the next morning, he found the essay he was supposed to write the night before on his desk without any memory of writing it. His teacher gave him an A.
---
His boyfriend’s name was Seokjin and, even if they were dating for two months at the time, Namjoon still refused to say his name. He wondered if his boyfriend ever noticed that fact that he would only be addressed with pet names. Princess. Baby. Babe. Hyung. But never by Seokjin. His boyfriend had to notice, he somehow always knew everything. He knew when Namjoon had arrived a little too late from drinking with Yoongi and when he sneaked a cigarette in his mouth.
“You keep pronouncing it wrong, Namjoon.” Seokjin (not the deity) said, looking completely immersed in his book. He enjoyed listening to Namjoon while he did his prayers.
Namjoon huffed, “How would you know? You don’t even believe in him.”
Seokjin (not the deity) didn’t part from his book as he spoke. “I just do, the mesopotamian language didn’t have that sound in their alphabet. Its ┅◣⇸∦◠ not ┅◣⇸∦╭╮, I thought your mother would have taught you better.”
They had never fought before, not hadn't even had a discussion before this. Namjoon fumed, "You don't know anything about me!"
It seemed like ages until his boyfriend finally spoke. Seokjin threw his book to the floor and rose from the mattress, standing right in front of Namjoon with a powerful glare that made him shiver. His boyfriend was only an inch taller than him, but the imperious glare that was directed at him made him feel a lot smaller and weaker. Namjoon prayed quickly under his breath for protection, but his words seemed strangely hollow.
"On the contrary, Namjoon," Seokjin said in a quiet, soft voice that felt as if it came from behind him, slithering in his ear. "I know everything about you. I've been watching you for a very long time."
He felt a thud against his legs, it took Namjoon a moment to realize that he was kneeling. As much as he tried, he couldn't seem to get up. A sturdy hand grabbed his face by the chin and forced him to look up. Instead of glaring, Seokjin was smiling tenderly. Namjoon didn't understand why it made his heart beat faster, he should have been scared shitless. But now, more than ever, he started to notice how much his boyfriend looked like the statue behind him.
"You were my one true believer, Namjoon. My last one." He said calmly. Seokjin learned forward, his voice, as quiet as it was, seemed to fill the room. "I only wanted you to worship me correctly."
"What are you talking about? I-I don't worship you. I worship the Seokjin." Namjoon protested, trying again to break free from his current position.
His boyfriend only chuckled. "Exactly." Without warning, he felt two fingers enter his mouth until he gagged. Seokjin always thought he looked gorgeous when he was gagging. Not seconds later, the fingers escaped his mouth, as did rosemary and mint leaves, until Namjoon was heaving for air and struggling to get the leaves out of his esophagus.
"Wh-What are you? What's going on?!" Namjoon yelled out, getting more breathless by the second.
"I҉ a͏m̵ ͏the ̧on͏e͏ ͢to ̸wh͜o͠m͝ ͝ỳo̕u p͞ray͟ed͟ ͡t҉o̡ ̸f̵o̷r̀ s͢o̕ ͞ma̵ny̕ ̀n̵ig̕hts̢. ҉I̵ ͡a̸m ͝your ͡s͠m̵il҉in̢g god̸." Seokjin said in a voice that made the lightbulbs flicker and his ears bleed from the inside. Namjoon fell to the floor, blood falling to his cheeks.
"Well, I was... Before you decided to disregard the fact that everything you pronounced was wrong. And here I thought you could have been a good follower, maybe even a good fuck. But both were disappointing. I had such high hopes for you, Namjoon."
He once believed his roommate to be so beautiful that he couldn't part his eyes away from him. Now the more he seemed to stare at him, the more blood seemed to rush from his eyes.
Once again, Namjoon's esophagus felt full and constricted with something that was tearing his throat apart. With every choke and cough, roses and their stems escaped his mouth until he was bleeding everywhere. Namjoon was terrified and desperate for help, but he couldn't speak nor did he know what to pray to anymore.
Despite all of the pain, Namjoon ignored the gashes that started to form and unzip his skin. He held out his broken arms for Seokjin. They were held, but just barely, until he felt himself plummeting into a world that he’d never thought he would reach so early in his life. The last thing he remembers is the sight of his god staring back at him with a tender smile and disappointed eyes.
-----
A young boy adjusted the rosemary stems in the vases next to his statue then made sure the roses were in order before he did his morning prayer. “╘┊∪☱⊙ ﹌,” He said after much practice in the pronunciation, or else his grandmother would find out and scold him for not taking his faith seriously.
“Hurry up, Taehyung!” His friend with chubby cheeks yelled out, sounding impatient. He doesn’t blame him, but they’re already late for school and Taehyung isn’t leaving before finishing his incantation.
A quiet, soft voice came from behind him, slithering its way to his ear. “G̡̕͢o͜͝ǫd̵̀͝ ̴͡j͡ob̧.̡̕͟” It said.
Taehyung looked behind him and saw an empty room.