The night held them in a loving embraced. They were the darkness and all the life it held. Feared and forgotten warriors of old. Not good, not bad, but somewhere in the grey.
BTS X READER | based/ inspired of Ryan Kirks Nightblade trilogy. You DON'T...
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(y/n) quickly dodged through the tents until she reached the empty bathhouse. It was the only wooden structure with hand pump showers and a large bath. The bath was two people wide and three people long with the intention of being somewhat communal. However, this early in the morning, nobody was there.
Privacy was an issue she found staying in the camp full of men. She would only get an hour before soldiers would start trickling in before breakfast.
To be on the safe side, she stretched her sense over the circumference of the hut. If anybody were coming, it would at least give enough warning to get out of the water and dressed. (y/n) stripped out of clothes, still keeping hold of her weapon; she had learnt that mistake the hard way.
She slid into the water, letting it block the sounds around her.
The water pooled around her body, her mind faded into dullness, and everything became a foggy illusion. The sensation of the steamy water calmed her; it was a nice change from the cold outside. Her mind swelled and lulled about as rosemary, and lavender-scented soap filled her nose.
And somehow, being suspended in water let her mind think without overrunning.
She had broken down to Jin, but it didn't bother her as much as she thought. Thinking back, it was inevitable with how she had been spiralling out over the past few weeks, and she was glad it was Jin. He had been far too kind and patient compared to what she deserved, and he still let her keep her secrets. Though, as she washed her hair, she decided that as soon as she worked out how to word everything, she would tell him, maybe even hoseok he had said they were fine, even if she had yet to talk to him. Hoseok and Jin were both level-headed, a quality that she lacked at the moment.
Prehapes even Jungkook.
Then there was the awfully strange case of Yoongi, which last night had truly shocked (y/n). He seemed scared of something, of what she had no clue, and he had come to her. Out of all people he had ended up with (y/n)— someone just as terrified, only for a different reason. (y/n) dunked her head completely under the water, letting the suds dissolve away. She had to talk to Namjoon in a few hours; if he had found any information, she needed it for her meeting with Akira. When she came up for air, all she was thinking was how much she dreaded the day.
Worse of all, she was running on no sleep.
Once (y/n) was washed, she left the bathhouse.
As expected, Namjoon was waiting in the main tent. He sat alone, eyes trailing over the table until they stopped to glare at the small figurine painted in black robes. He scoffed. During their last meeting, he had exploded, and since then, he had been stewing alone in a quiet spot he found. Hating himself for still carrying out the task (y/n) had given him.
It was somewhat hypocritical, and his brain wasn't letting him brush that fact aside. Every soldier he had noted down would taunt his soul. How foolish he felt; in so many ways, he regretted lashing out. He had oped up pandora's box, and all the pent-up rage he had been holding in came rushing out. And when he had spent the past night lying outside surrounded by puddles of muddy water, he began picking fights with his reflection, trying to pry out some answers from his crooked self.
