#This is a collab between the two of us🥺

[the-kings-gambit]

OCtober #2: Letter:

  ✉ A way of communication ✉

Two different Islands and no way to find each other. At least the bottles will always move through, find their way to you, carrying so much more than just words

#Waun #Wright #Shipwrecked #Lost Island #OCtober 2022 #The King's Gambit #This is a collab between the two of us🥺

[lnfours]

paradise on earth | l.n

summary: summer in love.

warnings: smau, actress!reader, obx cast, fluff, language, lando is 100% whipped, might make this a mini series idk yet

face claim: steph bohrer

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

obx

liked by y/ny/l/n, hichasestokes, madisonbaileybabe and 3,383,817 others

another summer with our favorite pogues ☀️ season 3 coming to netflix soon

200,922 comments

y/ny/l/n

poguelandiaaaaa 🫶🏻

obx

we love u 🩷

netflix

looking forward to this one! 🤩

madisonbaileybabe

P4L 🤍

obx

our queen kie ����🥹🫶🏻

y/ny/l/n

liked by landonorris, madisonbaileybabe, hichasestokes and 2,093,872 others

another summer with my favorite humans 🌊 season 3 is coming to u super soon 🩷

302,827 comments

madisonbaileybabe

my heart ❤️ i love love love you

not pictured: y/n watching f1 between takes

y/ny/l/n

i love you most 😚

and don’t expose me 😔

danielricciardo

is it too late to get a cameo in season 3?

y/ny/l/n

netflix can we get a drive to survive x obx collab??

netflix

on it 🫡

landonorris

can i partake?? i’m the one who showed you this show 😔

y/ny/l/n

no loser

madisonbaileybabe

i can’t do this anymore

landonorizz04

LANDO???????

obxxf1stan

she’s one of us 🫶🏻

landonorris

liked by y/ny/l/n, lnfour, maxfewtrell and 3,098,883 others

beep beep 🚙

203,882 comments

mclaren

landoooooo

quadrant

boss whippin it in the jolly 😮‍💨

y/ny/l/n

how much for a ride, mr. uber driver? 🤔

landonorris

free if you get me a cameo 😌

landonorizz

LANDO FLIRTING????

madisonbaileybabe

y/ny/l/n i support

liked by landonorris

y/ny/l/n

ihy stfu

y/ny/l/n

liked by landonorris, madisonbaileybabe, oscarpiastri and 2,452,004 others

filming is wrapped which means i get to stay in bed all day

390,432 comments

madisonbaileybabe

hottie

y/ny/l/n

let’s get married

madisonbaileybabe

say less.

landonorris

😴 <- you

y/ny/l/n

🤓 <- you

landonorris

lies

lnfourupdates

liked by y/ny/l/n and 1,083 others

lando in charleston today!

89 comments

fan1

charleston???

fan2

his obx cameo dream might be coming true

dannyricscowgirl

i don’t think he wants the cameo as much as he wants y/n

boxboxcl6

ur so right.

username004

did i miss something? 🤨

maxsrichbabydaddy

he 100% has a crush on y/n

y/ny/l/n

liked by landonorris, madisonbaileybabe, rudeth and 3,932,005 others

breakfast and dinner

1,003,444 comments

landonorris

no pic creds? 😔

y/ny/l/n

sorry 😬

madisonbaileybabe

get away from my wife landonorris 🤺

landonorris

can you fight???

madisonbaileybabe

yes i can 😤

georgerussell63

how romantic, almost like you two are a couple or something 🤨

landonorris

???!??

lewishamilton

that nighttime sky tho 🤩

landonorris

i’m not lookin at the sky tho 😅

y/ny/l/n

😳 errrrr

mclarenfan0481

LANDO?

georgerussellsmerc

oh i fear he just exposed himself

lando.jpg

liked by y/ny/l/n, charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 3,092,665 others

summer on film 📷☀️

tagged: y/ny/l/n

1,004,772 comments

y/ny/l/n

my personal photographer 🫶🏻

landonorris

oh so that’s what i am to u 😔

danielricciardo

HAHAHAHA

oscarpiastri

is that baguette good tho? y/ny/l/n

y/ny/l/n

‘twas exquisite 😮‍💨

madisonbaileybabe

🥺 stop

y/ny/l/n

🥹 crying.

charles_leclerc

glad ur having a good holiday!! ❤️

landonorris

you too, mate 🥺❤️

georgerussell63

so, like, was i right or..?

landonorris

cannot confirm or deny 😌

maxfewtrell

confirmed: he’s down bad.

georgerussell63

KNEW IT.

landonorris

??!?!?!?

y/ny/l/n

liked by landonorris, rudeth, madisonbaileybabe and 3,654,886 others

1989 tv - track 17 - verse 2

456,987 comments

madisonbaileybabe

🥺 i’ll cry

y/ny/l/n

🥺🥺🫶🏻🫶🏻

landonorris

my book worm 🧡

danielricciardo

WAIT YOU FINALLY ASKED HER?????

oscarpiastri

finally after all that yappin 😩

y/ny/l/n

#4 on the track but #1 in my heart, baby!! 😤

georgerussell63

WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE TOLD ME??????

landonorris

bc u would’ve blabbed 😬

georgerussell63

fair, actually

hichasestokes

FINALLY!! now i fear she won’t stop talking about you even more now landonorris

rudeth

i second that, she was actually insufferable

y/ny/l/n

stfu???? 😐

landonorris

sorry. but, i’m also not 😅

carlos_sainz55

she’s also all he would talk about if it makes you feel any better hichasestokes rudeth

landonorris

liked by y/ny/l/n, madisonbaileybabe, lewishamilton and 2,982,224 others

what’s that song from grease? something about summer loving? idk..

393,440 comments

lewishamilton

ok fine this is adorable

landonorris

thank u lew lew 🥺🫶🏻

lewishamilton

i told u not to call me that

y/ny/l/n

MET A BOY! CUTE AS CAN BE!!!

landonorris

she thinks i’m cute 🥹🥹

maxfewtrell

so does like.. half the population, mate

landonorris

yea but she’s the only one that matters 😌

y/ny/l/n

🥺🥺🥺🥺

madisonbaileybabe

🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺

BACK! AWAY!

landonorris

NO 😤

fan1

i love how they’re both fighting for her love

oscarpiastri

didn’t think you were a grease kinda guy

y/ny/l/n

he wasn’t until i made him sit down and watch it 😌

danielricciardo

you have taste. i like you.

landonorris

hey, i have taste !

oscarpiastri

.. no

y/ny/l/n

hey! you’re so pretty! it 100% makes up for ur lack of taste! 🥰

danielricciardo

uuuuuhhhhhhh 😅

pierregasly

crickets …

alex_albon

LMFAO that’s actually funny

charles_leclerc

sorry, mate..

landonorris

OH COME ON.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris smau #lando norris social media au #lando norris fluff #smau #social media au #formula one smau #f1 smau #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 x you #ln4 x y/n #ln4 smau

[joyswonderland1108]

Letter

I hesitated to write this post, i did say in another post that i decided to post it later (wow that’s a lot of “post” in the same sentence lol) so i can say that this has been sitting in my drafts since hours ago but i guess i’ll just post it anyways. As you can guess it’s about “Letter” 

So as you may know, Jimin brought us a surprise which is a hidden track called “Letter” with JK doing background vocals (The Jikook subunit we never knew we’d get, well close enough i still see it as a subunit i don’t care sue me), thing is, i’ve seen some “theories” going around it about how “It’s a letter to us 🥺” or “It’s a Jikook song” and well.. I don’t agree with either one of those, why? i’ll tell you

Yes despite being a Jikooker i’m not a crazy cultist to come up with theories where i just stop seeing Jimin and JK as two individuals, we don’t do that in this house. So reason why i disagree is because this album is supposed to about Jimin all about himself, about facing himself, about growing out of a toxic past, leaving it behind and taking new fresh steps full of acceptance of who he truly is, he said it himself he didn’t want to have any collab because it wouldn’t make sense for someone else to sing about what HE feels.

Now “Letter” is supposed to come after “Like Crazy” English Version, well not really after it but it’s part of it, and i know that not everyone is smart enough to understand the message, many ignored the purpose of the album completely and the clear messages written ON THE ALBUM to interpret it but let me just rewrite it (i know damn well the homophobes will turn a blind eye to this) On Jimin’s album this is what’s written

Key sentence : The reflection of myself in an unfamiliar appearance. Despite people freaking out about “OMG i thought they were going to kiss” “It’s a break up song and the girl is supposed to be his gf/ex-gf” 

(Okay i know i’m now talking about Like Crazy while the initial post said i was going to talk about Letter but trust the process)

While Jimin did say that Like Crazy was based on the movie, it also wasn’t LITERALLY based on it, there’s this general idea, a story each can relate to it their own way and that’s what Jimin did, In an interview this was his reply

Key word : Ambiguous. 

Jimin isn’t making an OST for the movie so why would anyone think he’s taking the literal story for his song? Going back to what he said about his reflection and the girl that made people go crazy without doing the minimum effort to understand, she basically represents Jimin himself, they walk towards each other but never collide because they are reflections

And to give you more insight about this, this is basically coming from “The Four Carl Jung Archetypes”. Carl Jung identified four main archetypes: the persona, the shadow, the anima or animus and the self. These are a result of collective, shared ancestral memories that may persist in art, literature and religion but aren’t obvious to the eye. These recurring themes help us understand the Jungian archetypes.These Jungian archetypes represent a journey from an unconscious state to individuation: a merging of the conscious and the unconscious.

What people also failed to notice is the very clear queer-code in the MV, from the colors, little details, clothings, etc.. As someone said on Twitter “This feels exactly like how my gay ass feels when i’m in a bar surrounded by straight people”. The outfit : 

Which has Robet Michael Mapplethorpe in it

Now this one is my very own interpretation so take it with a grain of salt but this 

Personally to me, him sitting between a woman and a man kissing says a lot to me. It’s the fact that he’s in the middle.. I’m not going to further explain those who get it get it, those who don’t don’t.  But that’s my own personal interpretation i’m just slipping it in here.

Now that this is out of the way let’s go back to “Letter” this whole talk about “Like Crazy” is mainly because to me Letter is related to it since very obviously both tracks are one technically speaking. So while people think it’s a letter to Army but i’m over here like “If it’s a letter to Army, why is it hidden? Why would they make it so that it’s only accessible to people who have the physical album? I thought the purpose of an Army dedicated song was for it to be OFFICIALLY out for all Army to listen to” because yes despite that being uploaded online by other Army but if we all decided to be petty and selfish af, this won’t see the light of the day on the internet and that defies the whole purpose of a song for Army.

As i said above this album is about himself, he’s talking about his own struggles so saying that this is an Army song as if Army are a struggle too is a bit.. And that also on his very first solo album where he’s supposed to focus on sharing a message about himself. When Hobi decided to dedicate a song to Army he didn’t put it in JITB it was a separate single, Joon didn’t have no Army dedicated song in Indigo either because again their solo Albums are about themselves, it’s a journey to share with us their individuality and their own colors. Jin didn’t have much of a choice he had to leave for MS there wasn’t enough time for an album or maybe he himself didn’t really feel the need to make an album and his main focus was to make a song for Army which he did and gifted us Astronaut. (GOD I MISS JIN)

The lyrics too, i as Army and as Jimin’s FAN, it didn’t feel directed to me. “Now I'll be the one to hold you, When you want to cry, So you won't trip and fall” or even “Because we don't know what days await us, Though it's scary, though we're afraid, Never forget that we're together” those feel like something related to himself as well, let’s also not forget that technically speaking it’s related to “Like Crazy” too which i explained above, why would anything Army related be scary? Why would we be afraid? What is there to be afraid of? Also how will Jimin hold us when we want to cry? 

I also said that i disagree on the fact that it’s a “Jikook song” i don’t know how to explain precisely but some people seem to interpret it as THEIR song whereas even if Jimin is actually singing about his relationship with JK it’s still about his OWN feelings, his OWN promises, his OWN confession, despite JK doing the background vocals in which they harmonized so very beautifully kudos to them, i still think it’s all about Jimin, yes there might’ve been a reason why he chose JK himself for that or maybe they chose that together because really it could’ve been anyone and JK could’ve done the background vocal to any other song in the album yet it was on this one. He really did a lot of effort to open up to us so i really hope people see it as his pov on everything. 

I made a post relating the song to There for You from GCFT and yes quite honestly to me it feels like a response to “I’ll be there for you but you gotta be there for me too” and yet again it still goes back to the same thing, it is Jimin’s OWN reply. I also noticed how Army songs didn’t have other members in them (well i mean Army songs in this solo era) so again why would this be an Army song if JK was in it? I don’t even know if all of this makes a lot of sense, can’t say i’m the best with words but i tried to convey how i see it. 

Oh and let us be reminded that this was his reaction to knowing we found out about and and so cheesily saying that he won't tell us about it for now lol

Boy what are you all giggly and shy for?

🧐

(Tagging this under Jikook because i don’t trust the rest of the fandom that much)

#jikook #Kookmin #minkook #mingukkie #park jimin you are so precious #jungkook i love you for the spoilers and thank you for beautifully harmonizing with boo

[sailoryooons]

You DTF? | pjm | (m)

☾ Pairing:  Jimin x female reader 

☾ Summary: You’ve never had a one night stand. Jimin has had countless. You’re trying to experience new things. Jimin loves doing the same old shit. So when you meet the man going around the club inviting people to touch his ripped abs, you think perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to try new things. It’s Labor Day weekend at the shore - what can go wrong? 

☾ Word Count:  10,233

☾ Genre: Smut, pwp, strangers to one-night stand

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Recreational drinking, Jimin being a total tool, cringe-worthy dialogue, explicit language, fuck boy Jimin is it’s own warning, 2009 slang should be a warning because it is literally so cringey, Jimin is quite literally doing the jerk and reader is totally buying it, literally these two are so cringe, sexually explicit content including oral (f. and m. receiving), some nipple play, a lot of spit description idk, big dig Jimin, throat fucking, unprotected vagina sex, Jimin bein an idiot and combing reader not to use a condom, reader is equally stupid cause she wants to get fucked, Jimin accidentally cumming inside, hittin' it from the back, cringe dirty talk, finger blasting (lmfao), Jimin occasionally hitting reader's cervix, they're like a little toxic idk, this is like the most hilarious thing I've ever written, Jimin does coke right on reader's counter cause he has to keep his stmania okay, Jimin is insensitive a lot

☾ Published: September 4, 2022

☾ A/N: This is both the best and the worst thing I have ever written. There are some light-toxic themes and some ignorant dialogue and behavior between the two of them because they're both bimbos drunk in 2009. The writing is supposed to be a little cringe but I may have gone overboard. Also I wrote this in two days idk what kind drugs I was on (amoxicillin and mucinex) but here is the wildly ridiculous and hilarious fic for a collab that no one asked for but we did anyways. Very very happy to share this trash idea with Jai and M 🥺

Special thanks to @here2bbtstrash for helping me edit because I was in a rush and at one point wrote that reader's head opened in the middle of sex. We don't know what I was talking about but happy halloween, reader's head was about to be posted splitting open in bed adkjadjdkja

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Playlist | Jeju Shore Collab

“So are you actually going to try and get fucked in that outfit or is it going to go to waste?” Tiffany asks as she sprays several pumps of Bath and Body Works Japanese Blossom all over herself. You cough as the sweet-smelling mist chokes you. She already has the lotion on. “You look hot, capital h-a-w-t.” 

The mirror of the hotel room is a little dirty - there is backsplash from the faucet staining the glass and some tiny dots of toothpaste. And you can definitely see Nicole’s fake tan staining the bottom corner after spraying her St. Tropez all over. 

You see Tiffany’s point about the outfit being wasted on you in a way. Low-rise, light-wash Lucky Brand jeans sans button, with the zipper pulled down just the slightest at Nicole’s behest. A shirt that was harder to get on than you think it will be to get off, made out of skin-tight pink fabric that only reaches your midsection, and even then, has a massive cutout over your abs. 

“Not this again,” you sigh, nervously playing with the belly button ring you had pierced the year before. A cute little Playboy bunny swings back and forth, hot pink rhinestones matching your shirt. 

“Yes, this again. You look so fucking hot tonight. A one-night stand will not kill you. It’s Labor Day. Please live a little.” Tiffany decides she has contributed to pollution enough, snapping the cap on her perfume bottle to turn around and face you. “You’re not in a relationship anymore. It’s time to be a slut.” 

“Yeeeeaaah be a slut!” Nicole yells, running into the room and grabbing you by the hips, slamming your ass into her crotch several times to crudely depict being fucked from behind. Her jean shorts are impossibly tight, red thong peeking out the sides. “It’s so much funner.”

“Funner isn’t a word.”

“God shut the fuck up for two seconds and be a hot idiot like Paris Hilton.”

Pushing your friend away, you nod. You love them and you know they’re right. You’re single and hot, and there are countless clubs all over with hot, single guys. You’ve never had a one-night stand, having been in a long-term relationship all throughout college until recently, and now you’re where single people come to get laid and you… have a night left to do it.

Tiffany’s iPod blasts in the living room of the hotel room. There are empty cups all over the counter, sticky and sweet smelling from the liquor and mixers spelled on most surfaces. You go to the fridge, pulling out a can of pineapple juice. 

Nicole gasps when she sees you reach for the bottle of Malibu on the counter. “WAIT! We need the song!” 

She rushes to the iHome, bending over the counter. She flips the song to Caribou Lou, wiggling her ass back and forth before she stands straight and points at you and the bottle of Malibu in your hands.

“151 rum, pineapple juice and malibu caribou get them all numb!” she screams, making you smile. 

Despite their earlier jesting, you relax as you mix drinks, singing along to the throwback while shaking your ass. The zipper on your jeans moves a few times, but you’re careful not to let your vagina make a surprise appearance. With how low-cut the jeans are, Tiffany had convinced you not to wear underwear.

Which was more of a reason to get laid. 

The drink is sweet and easy to drink. You scroll through your messages on BBM but otherwise give your attention to playing flip cup with your two best friends, determined to get just a little bit tipsy before you head out to the bars. 

The hotel isn’t very far away from all of the live entertainment. It’s within walking distance which saves a ton of money on cabs, but it is a nightmare for your feet the last three nights you’ve stumbled home in wedges. Nicole even broke one of her heels, walking home on uneven feet like a seesaw. 

When you’ve decided that you’ve pregamed enough, you and your friends teeter to the elevator and down through the lobby. Outside, the balmy air kisses your skin. A creamsicle sky has faded to black and you can see the lights of the entertainment district and hear the faint thunder of music from clubs with open doors and windows. 

You scrunch your nose when Nicole lights a cigarette on your walk. You smell the crackling menthol of her Newport as she takes a drag, hoarsely laughing at a group of men who catcall you from a sports bar as you walk by. You flick your hair over your shoulder, rolling your eyes. 

As if it were that easy.

Labor Day is in full swing around you. The street has barricades to open up to foot traffic only, and they’ve relaxed open container laws. There are a few food vendors on the road, people lined up to grab a quick slice of pizza or hot dogs to settle their tequila-churned stomachs.

A breeze makes your hair dance. It smells like fried food and a hint of salt from the ocean. It carries something else on it - a taste of something wild. You’re here with your friends on a vacation that you had originally planned to take with your boyfriend.

You can recognize now that it would have been a disaster. The two of you in a partying scene meant for singles would have signed your doom. But the end had come sooner than that when you found him with his dick down some girl's throat when you came home early from work. 

In hindsight, you always knew he wasn’t ready for a relationship. But you liked the way he called you baby, the way he peppered you with kisses to make you a little less angry at him, and the way that he made you feel when you weren’t fighting.

And you definitely like the way he drove his Escalade, and the fact that he could afford to take you places like the restaurant in the St. Regis and you stayed in lofty rooms at the Ritz Carlton while vacationing. 

Still. There had been a lot missing, namely in the bedroom, which is exactly why Tiffany and Nicole have been on your ass about at least trying to experience a one-night stand. They wanted you to expand your horizons, to learn what you do and don’t like, and to maybe stumble on someone who could actually make you cum more than two times out of ten. 

The first bar makes you lose a little hope. House music thumps loudly over the speakers. Jean-clad partygoers surround you, some on the dance floor shuffling their feet while maintaining a grip on sweating glasses and nodding their heads as the DJ thrusts a fist in the air. It’s not your type of club, but Nicole hits it off with someone in a larger group of people.

You exist on the edge of the conversation, picking at the slice of wilted pineapple in your drink as you watch the way Nicole plays her game. She’s excellent at flirting - a coy smile as she leans in to say something over the pumping music, balancing herself with a hand on his arm, swagging at his chest when he makes a funny joke.

It would be easy for you too if you thought any of the men were worth your time. They all look the same: bright polo, khaki shorts, hair gelled up. You want to tell them that Connecticut casual isn’t an outfit to the bar, but you say nothing, examining your nails for a while instead. 

One of the guys starts talking to you - Ben, you think his name might be. You bob your head to the music, listening as he explains what he does as a private financial advisor. Your eyes slip over every detail of his outfit: fitted Abercombie polo with the collar popped, khaki pants paired with brown sandals, a white shell necklace wrapped around a sunburned throat, and a tattoo of his former fraternity peeking from his sleeve on his bicep.

Whatever Ben is saying, you’re not listening. You’re almost positive that Ben fucks the way he dresses: generically. 

If you’re looking to experience something different, Ben - maybe Brian - isn’t it. You fucked Ben-Brians in college and they were as boring at sex as your ex-boyfriend was, except they couldn’t afford stone crab claws.

Everyone shifts to a new bar. You’ve molded your groups together, Ben or Brian - you’re starting to think maybe it’s Brad - is still by your elbow. You can sense he’s having a good time and you wish you were too. So you down a few shots at the next bar, loosening your limbs a little and making you a little less judgmental. 

Brad is okay. Not your type and he smells like Crest Whitestrips, but he’s more bearable now that you’ve switched from Pina Coladas to Tequila Sunsets. You nibble the stem of a cherry, enjoying this club much better than the last. The music is more hip hop and pop, familiar songs making you bob your head and sway your hips a little more.

Sweat makes your skin sticky. You shift to stand underneath the air vent by the bar a little more, but you misplace your wedge, knocking yourself off balance. Ben-Brian-Brad catches your arm and steadies you. Slides in closer. His mint breath fans your face and you blink up at him. For a split second, you consider if you were too harsh on his judgment earlier. Maybe he could surprise you. He seems easy enough to please and like it wouldn’t be hard work, and he’s already trying to win you over…

Your eyes slide past him for a second and your gaze stays fixed on the man you see coming down the stairs into the club. 

It’s nearly impossible to tear your gaze away once you see him. He runs a hand through his dark hair, laughing at something the man next to him says. He’s in dark jeans with bleached patches highlighting the material, a fitted Love Kills Slowly shirt by Ed Hardy, and even from a distance, you can see the glittering earrings in his ears.

He’s beautiful. Full lips pulling into a smirk as he winks at people he walks past. Brad rights you, asking you something but you don’t hear him, staring at the man across the bar who leans on the counter. He’s helped immediately, two bartenders drifting to a siren as they stare at him. 

As though he senses your gaze, the man looks at you and your face goes red. His eyes are seductive, narrowed a bit as he checks you out shamelessly. Dark hair gelled back perfectly. A jaw that is both elegant and dangerous. He stands out among the rest of the partiers, his features an exquisite blend of feminine and masculine. 

Your line of sight is cut off when Brad leans forward on the sticky countertop to order more drinks. You take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. Your hands are a little shaky. Whoever that man is looks more your type, but the Ben-Brian-Brads of the world are much easier.

So you accept the new drink, sipping it and turning your back to the bar. And when you’re coaxed onto the dance floor, all disjointed limbs and sweating bodies, you forget about the Love Kills Slowly man and focus on the way you feel - dreamy and soft with the buzz of tequila in your veins. 

A song you vaguely recognize plays in the background. You sway your hips, ass pressed against Ben’s crotch with his hands gripped tightly on your sides. He sways you back and forth, less like a dance and more like an erratic pendulum that can’t find its rhythm. Ben’s dancing is less than impressive, and you start to think that your earlier thoughts about his skill in bed might be right. 

Tiffany laces your fingers with hers as she dances in front of you, pulling you away from Brian’s greedy hands to press your front against hers, letting you grind against her. You tilt your head back. Fog fills the air, lights dancing across the ceiling. It smells like the sticky-sweet of the machines used to make the fog, a tinge of sweat. 

Nicole interrupts your dancing. Your legs ache a little, pieces of hair stuck to the nape of your neck as she bounces up and down yelling, “You have got to see this guy.”

You and Tiffany laugh as Nicole pulls you, the press of bodies jostling you back and forth as you try to catch a rhythm to move through the crowd. When you break the barrier and come out on the other side, your brows shoot up at the scene in front of you. 

The Love Kills Slowly guy is posing next to a girl who points at his exposed six-pack and holy shit his body is insane. Perfectly cut abs, a solid v-line dipping into pants that fit his narrow waist. He holds the shirt up with a thumb, sticking out his tongue as the flash on the camera goes off. You can’t help but think his tongue is devilishly long. 

Up close, he’s even hotter than you thought. You stare at him as the girl who took the picture flirts with them. There is a gaggle of men and women surrounding him, a flock of geese looking upon the swan longingly.

“He is the hottest fucking person I’ve ever seen,” Tiffany giggles. “We should totes get a picture with this dude.”

“Why, is he famous?” You ask, watching as he nods and lets the girl touch his abs. God. What a tool. “He loves being the center of attention, it looks like.”

“So? He’s probably a model. I mean look at that. Come on.”

Tiffany yanks you and Nicole. You resist, stumbling over as she inserts herself into the conversation. He smiles at her, dazzling as he raises a brow at whatever she says. You pull your hand away from her and take a step back. You will not throw yourself at the Adonis in front of you. 

You pivot away from them, staring out over the open crowd. You don’t enjoy the way Tiffany and Nicole giggle, sweet as the simple syrup on the bar over this new stranger. They make it too easy, and you don’t enjoy the idea of melting for someone just because they’re hot. Even if they’re model hot.

And what kind of model wears Ed Hardy?

At first, Tiffany and Love Kills Slowly chat animatedly. That makes sense - she has a way with people and she’s an excellent flirt. When your name is called the first time, you think you imagine it so you stay bobbing your head to the Ke$ha song, minding your business. When it’s said a second time, you glance at them from the corner of your eye.

“You’re being rude,” Tiffany asserts, glaring at you. You feel your eye twitch as she touches an open nerve. You’re not rude - you’re bored and your drunk friend cannot tell the difference. “This is Jimin. I was right, he is a model.”

“That’s nice.”

Jimin’s eyes are on you and your stomach flips. You pick at the french manicure on your freshly done acrylics, thinking that the attention will pass you any moment now. But you feel Jimin’s eyes on you and you sense when he leans forward past Tiffany, ducking his head to level the most intense pair of brown eyes you’ve ever seen at you. 

“What?” He asked. “Don’t like models?”

“Not one that wears Ed Hardy,” you answer honestly. Your words come out a little stiff. You feel your arm tighten, squeezing your clutch that’s wedged in your armpit. “Shouldn’t you be in like… Armani or something?”

“You’re uptight.”

“Thanks.”

He frowns. “Loosen up.” He looks at your empty hands. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

“Why?” Jimin moves past Tiffany entirely, offering a hand and a smirk that almost makes your mouth pop open. Your heart does a tiny flip - you can’t help it. He is stupid beautiful. “I am drinking.”

“Your hands look a little empty to me.” He grabs one of your hands, linking your fingers and tugging. “Okay, one hand full. Let’s put some goose to make you loose in the other.” 

You’re speechless as he tugs you along. Tiffany squeals a little, she and Nicole both on your heels. 

People make room for Jimin at the bar. You watch the way people look at him. He drops your hand to dig a hand into the pocket of his skin-tight jeans for a credit card. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he looks at you.

“What’s your drink, baby?” 

“I’m not your baby.”

The quip comes out before you can stop it. Tiffany smacks your arm and makes a noise behind you. You ignore her, staring at him pointedly. 

“Mmm she’s a brat. I like that. Your drink?” Jimin prompts again with a smile, undeterred. 

“Um. Anything with Tequila.”

“A girl after my own heart. You wanna do shots?”

“Yes!” Nicole and Tiffany both squeal. He smiles at them briefly, but his eyes drag back to you.

You stare. Jimin has a dark lash line, making his eyes more enchanting. He bites his bottom lip, letting his eyes drop down to your exposed midriff before dragging his eyes back up again, raising a brow in a question. 

He’s only buying shots if you want one. 

You shrug a shoulder, nonchalant. He grins and asks the bartender for chilled Patron shots with training wheels. With his back turned, you smirk, feeling a sliver of satisfaction as you look away from Jimin and spot the group of men you were with earlier looking in your direction, murmuring amongst themselves. 

Turning quickly before you can make eye contact with Ben-Brian-Brad, you find yourself face to face with Jimin once again. He leans on the bar with one elbow, head tilted as he studies you. His attention makes you feel warm and drunker than you already are. 

“You didn’t tell me your name,” he points out as the bartender sets four glasses of blanco tequila in front of you, rimmed with salt and garnished with a lime wedge. He picks up two glasses and hands them to Nicole and Tiffany’s hands as you give him your name. “Cute. You’re cute.”

“Thank you.” 

Jimin lifts his glass in your direction. “Salude.” 

You watch, mouth parted slightly as Jimin’s tongue curls out of his mouth, licking the rim of the shot glass slowly. His eyes don’t leave yours, even when he’s finished the rim and tosses the tequila back before biting into the lime. A tiny bit of lime juice runs down his chin, your eyes following the trail. His tongue darts out to snatch it. 

“Come on,” he purrs. “Your turn.”

Your mouth is dry. You quickly lick the salted rim, barely making it around before tossing the shot back and squeezing your eyes shut as it burns down the back of your throat. You bite into the lime wedge, the sour taste helping ease the burn. 

Juice runs down your chin. Before you can wipe it, Jimin’s hand darts out, a thumb brushing across your skin to catch it. He removes his hand, lips twitching upward slightly as he absently sucks the juice from his thumb and turns to the bartender to order two tequila sours. 

“Are you on vacation?” he asks and you nod your head, a little dizzy from the shot and from him. The group of men from earlier has shuffled back toward your group, Nicole and Tiffany reluctantly shifting attention from Jimin to the men they were talking to previously. “Same. I have no idea where my friends are, I think they left me.” He slides a drink toward you. “You won’t leave me, right?” 

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re nice or not. I like nice guys.”

He sips his drink, leering at you over the rim of the glass. “I’m a nice guy. At least, for you.” He nods his head toward the group of guys. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Would you care if I did?”

He throws his head back to laugh, throat covered in a light sheen of sweat. He looks at you over the glass, the first genuine smile not filled with something lingering on lust that he gives you. “No, but you told me to be nice.” 

That makes you smile a bit. You bite your lip, trying to hide it, and decide to sip the drink. It’s good - strong - but good. “You seem like the type who wouldn’t care.”

“Awe don’t hurt my feelings. You’re like one of the hottest girls in here and I’m into it. If I had to ignore a ring or a boyfriend, I would. Is that so bad?” You shrug, sipping on the drink. You don’t know what to say. 

Thankfully, Jimin doesn’t really seem to care. You think perhaps he likes hearing himself talk. It works out. Jimin fills the conversation with the normal what do you do and what do you like? You don’t miss the way he leans in toward you, or the way he glances at your mouth. 

Still, you’re a little rigid. Your sentences aren’t as smooth and practiced as his. He doesn’t seem to care, shuffling a little close to you as the bar fills up with people. He smells like Axe Essence and the 5 gum he’s popped into his mouth between drinks. 

“Trying to quit coke,” he snickers when he sticks another piece of gum in his mouth. “Got some bad press for it during last fashion week and my agency keeps threatening to drop me even though it's obviously a pre-fucking-requisite to walk for McQueen.” 

“And chewing gum helps with that?”

“Not really, but it gives my mouth something to do and it soothes the muscle memory of hand to face.”

“Smart.”

“You look incredible by the way.” That makes you blush, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and ducking your head. Jimin chuckles, tapping your chin lightly with a finger to make you look back up at him. “Cute.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a bit of a spoiled brat, huh?” That makes you frown and pull away. He whines, hands chasing your shoulders to draw you closer to him. “Stop. I like that. It means you have high standards and good taste.” 

You hum, finishing the rest of your drink. You’re properly drunk now, the room tilting a little bit as a giggle escapes you when Jimin looks at you. He laughs back, sliding a glass of water over to you after he takes a few sips. 

The water is refreshing. Your skin feels warm all over and you move a little slower, looking around. The club is more packed than you remember and there are more bodies on the dance floor. You watch the way people move together, pressed up against one another and grinding to the music humming through the air. 

Jimin follows your gaze, leaning closer to you and popping his gum in your ear. “Wanna dance?” 

You nod, looking up at him through your lashes. He grins and pushes off the bar, sliding a hand around your waist to shift you in front of him. You look at him over your shoulder with narrowed eyes and he smiles, tucking you to his chest and sliding his chin on your shoulder. 

“Coming through,” he calls, walking you both through the group behind you. Ben-Brian-Brad glares at you and you avert your eyes as Jimin guides you toward the dance floor, pads of his fingers pressed firming into your hips and scouring marks into your skin. “Tool in the polo definitely has a small dick.”

You giggle as you peel apart, Jimin catching your hand as you turn to face him, pulling him with you. “What makes you say that?”

“His fucking collar is popped, baby.” 

“I think he’s mad at me,” you admit.

“You’re way out of his league.”

“That’s true.”

Jimin wraps his hands around your wrist and yanks you to him. You gasp, stumbling as your chests press together. He slots a thigh between your legs, making you freeze for a moment as the music slows a bit. Jimin’s hands are confident where they settle on your waist, moving your hips in a soft rhythm as he begins to move. 

Instincts take over. You wrap your arms around Jimin’s neck, letting him press his forehead against yours as he stares you down. He’s no longer controlling your hips but letting you move against him naturally, both of your bodies in sync. 

Jimin is an amazing dancer, never forcing you to sway too much or trying to control your movements awkwardly. He rolls his hips into you experimentally once and you gasp lightly, noses brushing together. 

“You’re fucking hot,” he mumbles, his breath fanning your face. 

“So are you.”

Your fingers slide through the dark, sweaty strands at the back of his neck. He lets out an appreciative noise, making your insides melt. Your eyes drop to his lips, slightly parted, slicked with gloss from his pink tongue darting out to wet them. You wonder how soft they must feel, and the way he used his tongue to lick the salt from the rim of the tequila glass makes you wonder what kissing him is like.

You don’t have to wonder long. Jimin notices you staring. Gives you a wolfish grin. You think he looks wicked in the low light, all sharp eyes with a cunning smile. 

And then he’s kissing you. 

You make a sound of surprise, but it’s swallowed in his warm, minty mouth. Your fingers tighten in his hair as he presses the small of your back so that you’re impossibly closer. 

It’s easy to forget you’re in the middle of the dance floor. Jimin’s mouth moves slowly against yours, sucking your bottom lip greedily as he pulls away for a split second. Before you can chase his lips with yours, he’s kissing you again, with a little more vigor and a curious tongue that swipes the seam of your lips.

You open your mouth to him and Jimin consumes you. You’re spinning, holding onto him for dear life as he sucks your tongue into his mouth. Fuck, you knew his tongue would be good. It makes you light-headed as he licks into your mouth, fingers clawing at you as a whine escapes his throat. 

Suddenly the kiss breaks. You blink up at him, stars in your eyes and cotton-fuzz thoughts, lost in him. Jimin isn’t looking at you though, he’s looking at the DJ and yelling, pointing over your head as he detaches from you. 

“This is my fucking song,” he yells at you, as though he hadn’t been tongue fucking your mouth a moment ago. You look at him, dazed and confused. He notices and pops a kiss on your mouth. “God, you're needy. Don’t pout, I’ll kiss you more after.” 

“What makes you think I want to kiss you more?”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans forward and kisses you once. Twice. It’s sweet and leaves your mind scattered as he guides you backward slightly before smacking your ass lightly. 

“Watch,” he instructs. “And try not to be a brat about it, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Jerk by New Boyz is on in the background. Jimin sweeps his arms, backing people away before he starts walking quickly in a circle, bobbing his head to the music and making room for his little show. 

A circle clears in the middle of the dance floor. You cross your arms with raised brows, Michael Kors clutch tucked in your armpit as you watch Jimin wave people back as the song plays. All eyes are on him, cheering as he nods and smirks at the crowd, turning to blow you a cheeky kiss.

You roll your eyes but smile anyways.

Jimin decides he has enough room and right as the chorus starts, he begins to hop and shuffle his feet backward then forward. The crowd goes wild, clapping their hands as he manages to execute the jerk without slipping on the beer and liquor-stained floor.

He spins and drops low, going down to the floor. The crowd yells for him, clapping and cheering him on as Jimin slowly works his way back up. His devious tongue is tucked against his plush upper lip, the hint of a smirk on his mouth.

More guys join the dancing, showing off their moves. Jimin, not one to be outshined, sticks his tongue out all the way, rolling his eyes back as he shakes his head and hooks a thumb in the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal a flawless set of abs, shining in the glittering lights.

The women go crazy as he laughs manically, gesturing to his impressive physique to the other dancers, who roll their eyes and back off. You’re jostled from side-to-side, rolling your eyes when Jimin drops his shirt and dances his way over to you, eyes looking you up and down.

You give him an unimpressed look, yawning and looking the other way as he grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh through the jeans. “Come on,” he purrs. “Spoiled brat not impressed?”

You are. You just don’t want to be.

“Nope,” you say.

He crowds your space as the circle closes and the song changes. Jimin presses his hips against yours and your stomach drops. Your eyes snap back to his as his hands brush backward, squeezing the sides of your ass.

Jimin’s hot breath touches your lips. He smells like tequila and his cologne. He’s sweating through the Ed Hardy shirt, making it cling to the firm body underneath. Your toes curly slightly as you bite your bottom lip, looking up at him through your lashes.

“If that’s how good I dance,” Jimin murmurs, so close that his nose is touching yours. “Imagine how good I lay pipe.”

You cringe at the way he phrases it, but you’re intrigued. Your friends taunting you for your lack of sexual experience earlier replays in your mind. So you play along, raising a brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You wrap your arms around him when someone knocks into you. He noses the line of your jaw, breath warm in your ear when he whispers. “So like… you DTF or what?”

“What?”

“You know, down to fuck. I’ve been wanting to fuck the shit out of you since I saw you staring at me across the bar.”

“I was not staring.”

“Shit, I would stare if I were you too, baby.” 

You smack his shoulder, pulling away from him slightly. Your heart pounds in your rib cage as you stare at him. His eyes are expectant, waiting for your response. 

Before your ex, you would have never thought to sleep with someone you just met at a bar. You know very little about Jimin besides the fact that he likes to hear himself talk, that he’s a little arrogant and that he is wildly, ridiculously hot. 

Jimin nibbles on his bottom lip, squeezing your hips to tell you he’s still waiting on an answer. The way your stomach flips and you already feel arousal at the cocky way he asserts himself tells you what you want to say. 

“I think so…”

“You think so or you know so?” Your mouth is dry and you don’t know what to say, so you shrug. He seems to read you. “You never went home with a guy at a bar before?”

“No.”

“Come on,” he whines, sliding his hands in your back pockets. “I’ll be really sweet.”

“Yeah?”

He leans down, nudging his nose with yours. You laugh, leaning back a bit but Jimin is persistent, chasing the intimate contact. “Yeah. I’ll even make sure you cum first.”

“We’ll see.” His hands squeeze your ass through your pockets. “My place or-“

“Yours. My friends are stupid fucks.”

Sliding your hand in his, you pull Jimin along. He presses himself close to your back when you walk, sticking the hand not holding yours in your pocket to give your ass an experimental poke. You hiss at him but end up giggling when he wags his eyebrows up and down.

You find Tiffany and Nicole dancing with the original group of guys. Ben-Brian-Brad is glaring at you openly now, and Jimin is pressed behind you so close that you can feel the cool metal of his zipper on your lower back. 

Tiffany and Nicole assure you they’re going to another club and will go to the beach house that the guy group is staying at. With gloss-stain cheek kisses and goodbyes, you leave them dancing as Jimin wraps a hand around your waist, gluing you together as you stumble out into the night.

The strip of bars is full of people. Cool air kisses your skin, making you moan in relief a bit as you begin walking toward your hotel. Your steps are uneven, you and Jimin pushing one another back and forth as you try to navigate your way home. You stumble a little too far when he presses a kiss to your neck, leaning on you too much for your drunk weight to bear and sending you several steps. 

“Owww,” you whine. “That hurt my ankle. I’m in heels and my feet hurt, Jimin.” You drop his hand and look up at him, sticking out your bottom lip in an animated pout. “Give me a piggyback ride.” 

“Hmmm. What do I get in return?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you ride my back, I need to… ride you.”

You roll your eyes. “I already told you I’ll have sex with you, idiot.”

“Yeah but I could really use a good blow job.”

You scrunch your nose. “Fine.” 

Jimin grins, letting go of you to squat and look over his shoulder at you, eyes glittering. “All aboard the Park express. Next stop: pound town.”

Huffing, you place either hand on Jimin’s shoulders and jump a little. He catches you easily, hands gripping your thighs firmly. You shiver at the feeling of his hands. Jimin straightens and you wrap your arms around his neck, settling your chin over his right shoulder.

“You’re kind of a jerk-off, huh?”

He grins as he starts to walk. “A little. But you’re kind of a bitch, so I think it works.”

You hum - he has a point.

The piggyback ride is just as dangerous as the walk. Jimin walks crooked sometimes, only for you to yell and smack his shoulder to send him back in a straight line. He gets distracted by a pizza stand which makes you flick his ear. And when you’re finally in front of the automatic double doors to your hotel, he is gasping for air and immediately sags against the elevator wall.

“You’re fuckin’ heavy.”

“That is so rude.”

“Baby, I am wasted and I haven’t done coke in like a week. It’s not you - it’s me.”

“What a cheesy line.” 

“Speaking of.” His hand feels around his back pocket before dipping into the fabric and removing a tiny Altoid tin. “My sobriety will not come at the expense of me cumming early. I’m going to need a little extra to fuck you right.” 

“Thought you were quitting?”

“I mean, do you want me to get my dick up?” The elevator opens and you try to hide your laugh behind your hand. “And now you’re laughing at me? Baby you’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“Sorry, it was just funny. Do whatever you want. You promised to make me cum first.”

“Never had a guy who did that?”

“Nope.”

Jimin makes a disgusted noise as you swipe the hotel key card in the reader. It flashes green and you swing the door open into the freezing room. It’s a little disheveled, but it’s at least not an embarrassing display of the room. You’re suddenly thrilled that it’s a suite with two rooms. 

The door clicks behind you and Jimin slides closer to you, pulling you by the belt loops. You’re prepared for his kiss this time, opening your mouth the second his soft lips meet yours. It’s sloppy and wet, Jimin sucking your bottom lip hungrily as he pulls your belt loops a little harder.

Carefully, Jimin walks you backward. He taps the side of your thighs and dips down as you jump. He catches your legs, hauling you the rest of the way onto the island counter where you spread your legs for him. 

Jimin slots himself between your thighs easily. At this height, you’re more on his level, but Jimin leans into you, pushing you back slightly as he controls the kiss. It’s more eager and demanding than the one in the club, Jimin sucking on your tongue and licking the rough of your mouth experimentally. 

Planting his hands on either side of your ass on the counter, Jimin trails kisses along your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and you become breathy. His mouth is noisy and wet against your skin, sucking at the tender flesh under your ear gently before biting lightly. The pinch of skin makes you moan, the sound lost in the lighting above the counter.

“So fucking pretty,” Jimin murmurs, continuing his assault with his mouth. His tongue is just as dangerous, licking over each bite he places as he drifts to your collarbone. “You want a line?”

You shake your head no. He presses closed-mouth kisses back up your neck until he’s straightened out to be eye-level. He brushes your nose with his. Sticks his tongue out and watches you expectantly. You tentatively stick yours out too, making a squeal when his tongue licks at yours.

“Weirdo,” you murmur, cheeks heated and shivering when he pulls away from you to pop open the Altoid tin. There’s a tiny plastic bag inside, sealing the white powder. “You like using tongue.”

Jimin hums in agreement as he stays between your legs, untwisting the bag. “I have a good tongue,” he says as he leans over, dumping a little onto the counter. You watch wordlessly. “I like to eat pussy too.” 

You nearly lay back on the counter and ascend to heaven right there. No one has been so open and bold with you when speaking about sexual acts. And the fact that he says it so casually as he looks around for something flat with an edge makes you dizzy. You produce the room key and he grins, kissing your nose once before he takes it and cuts the powder into two, thin white lines. 

“Do you need a bill too?” you joke. He shakes his head and pulls out a dollar bill that looks like it was once crisp but has been rolled over and over and over, making it look soft and pliant. “You don’t use hundreds?” 

“I���m a model,” he grunts. “Not a Kardashian.” 

That makes you laugh. 

Jimin’s fingers are practiced as he rolls the bill. You can’t help but stare at the rings that you did not notice before, each one placed on a delicate finger. He has nice hands, veins jumping as he places one hand on the counter to hold himself up as the other holds the rolled bill. 

Your knees squeeze his sides a bit as Jimin does the first line. It’s loud in the apartment with just the sound of his sharp inhaling, so you lean a bit to hit the iPod on the iHome dock, flicking through the touchscreen to find a song you like. 

You settle on a playlist Tiffany has loaded in called Party Jamz. She Wolf starts playing loudly, drowning out the sound of Jimin finishing his second line as you hit the volume button a few times to lower it. 

Straightening, you come face to face with Jimin as he wipes his nose a bit, taking a few sharp inhales. He runs his tongue along the edge of the room key before swiping his finger through the residue on the counter. There’s not much coke on the pad of his thumb, but he holds it to your mouth, watching.

Obediently, you open your mouth. He slides his thumb under your upper lip, rubbing gently on your gums. You taste how bitter the drug is, making a bit of a face that makes him giggle as he removes his finger from your mouth, sucking the thumb into his mouth briefly. 

“You want a glass of water?” 

You nod and he vanishes from in between your legs. He sings to himself as he grabs glasses and goes to the fridge, the ice machine loud above the music. You watch him with heavy eyes, your body feeling a little like liquid from all the tequila. 

He reappears, holding a glass of water to your lips. He tilts it carefully as he drinks his own, dark eyes watching you. You sip carefully, the water cool and refreshing as he continues to tip the glass. A bead of water runs down your chin and neck. 

Jimin is fast. He sets down both cups of water and surges forward, tongue chasing the bead of liquid as it runs down your throat. You lean backward, keeping yourself up with your palms planted on the cool counter as Jimin kisses and bites your neck. A moan escapes your mouth and absently, you’re glad you chose Jimin to go home with you.

You grab Jimin by his face, pulling kiss-bitten lips to yours and devouring him whole. He grunts in appreciation, mouth cooled by the water as his tongue dances with yours. His handles are not idle, rubbing up and down your jean-clad thighs, alternating between the gentle press of fingers and pointed drag of nails. 

Jimin’s kissing is like nothing else you’ve had before. He’s skilled, leading you between fast, hungry clashing of teeth and tongue and slow, languid movements. You’re dizzy with him, a buzz of electricity under your skin and heat pooling in your stomach long before his hands dip to your zipper, pulling the metal down. 

Eager hands slide to your hips where Jimin gathers the fabric. Your kiss breaks momentarily, a single line of spit connecting you for a second before you lift your ass off the counter, letting Jimin pull harshly at your pants. The fabric slides, making him cuss out loud when he realizes you’re not wearing underwear. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs, tossing your jeans and pressing your thighs open. You shiver as the cold air hits your pussy. Jimin’s eyes are hungry as he drags a thumb up the center of your glossy folds, a high-pitched sound leaving you. “Spoiled brat wearing no underwear? You’re just dying to have this pussy fucked, huh?”

“Please.”

“Hmm.” Jimin presses his thumb into your clit. Your eyes roll back in your head. The pressure sends a shiver through you, sparking every nerve in your body as he barely wiggles his thumb back and forth. “Shit you’re so sensitive. Gonna scream while I eat you out?”

“Maybe.”

His thumb slides lower, teasing your clenching hole. You open your eyes, head heavy as you look at him. He’s slid down to his knees, looking up at you through long lashes with a smirk on his face. Your shirt is still on, but you don’t even care. Jimin’s hot breath is on your inner thighs as he bites your flesh softly, making your legs try to close.

“Don’t suffocate me,” he chastises you. “Wanna fuckin’ taste though.”

Everything turns to white noise as Jimin leans forward, running his long tongue from your dripping hole to your throbbing clit. You seize forward, gasping for air and clenching your fists as he pins your legs harder. Your muscles strain, the stretch a little painful but the good kind paired with the way he licks you slowly. 

Your blood turns into melted metal. You go boneless, laying back on the counter, knocking over cups, sending them scattering. You knock into the iHome, the iPod coming disconnected and cutting off the music. It doesn’t matter. Now you can hear the way Jimin sucks at your clit, making you moan loudly. 

From the moment you saw his tongue, you wondered what it would be like. You pictured nothing like this. Jimin eats you out slowly, tongue curious yet lazy as he circles your clit in a steady rhythm before sucking your bud into his mouth and squeezing with his lips lightly.

“Fuck, Jimin,” you whisper, voice hoarse from disuse. One of your hands falls across your eyes, blocking the light from the ceiling as Jimin splays you open for his mouth to explore. You’re panting, the other hand threading through his hair, gel making it easier to grab onto. “Feels so fucking good.”

And it does. 

“Tastes so sweet,” he mumbles, pulling away with a lewd, loud suck on your clit. “Your pretty little hole is just fucking dripping. Gonna fuck you open with my fingers to get you nice and stretched for me.”

You can’t come up with a verbal response. Something like a whine and hum of agreement slips out. Your hips twitch as his mouth turns firmer, tongue flicking over your clit quickly followed by his lips sucking at your wet hole.

There has never been a time someone enjoyed themselves so much while paying attention to your pleasure. Jimin is skilled and focused on bringing his fingers into the action. You feel him slowly trace the rim of your entrance with his fingers, applying just enough pressure to make you curse and squirm but not enough to slide in. 

It fucking aches. Your fingers tighten in his hair, begging him to make you feel fuller. Jimin chuckles, the vibrations going straight through you, your muscles spasming. 

Slowly, Jimin adds a single finger, the slide relieving some of the tension directly in your pussy. You let out a soft breath, sagging on the counter as he matches the gentle in-and-out of his finger with the steady licking of his tongue on your clit. 

The tight feeling of your orgasm is winding like a spring in your stomach. You can feel it, the pressure building and so compact that you struggle to breathe, finding yourself gasping for air when Jimin adds another finger to the mix. He applies pressure right against your front wall, pressing that spot that has you seeing stars.

You might be babbling now. You don’t know what comes out of your mouth. Stars are dancing behind your eyes and you struggle to remember not to hold your breath, to try and regulate your breathing as he increases speed. He’s messy now, sucking and licking and rubbing his nose against your clit. Jimin uses his entire face to get you off and you’re spiraling. 

It all happens at once. A deep breath in. Held tight in your chest, muscles seizing and your body going rigid. Jimin’s fingers push against your g-spot hard as he sucks your clit into his mouth and you scream.

Your orgasm snaps in half, everything going loose at once. You feel yourself clench around his fingers, so tight that Jimin pauses his movements, tongue licking at your sensitive pussy gently as you shake. Your hands cover your face now, breathing rapidly into your palms as the room fills with white noise. 

After a moment, your muscles start to relax. Jimin gives an experimental thrust with his fingers and you whine, making him laugh. 

“God, you came so fucking hard,” he growls from between your legs. He gently pulls his fingers from you, making you protest and drop your hands from your face. You open your eyes as the room spins, lifting your head to look where Jimin now stands between your legs. He sucks his fingers into his mouth, smirking around them. “Mmm. You’re a creamer. I like that.” 

You have no response for him. He doesn’t need one. Jimin lifts you from the counter and for a moment, the world tilts dangerously on its axis and you think you might vomit. The spinning is short-lived as he carries you to the bedroom, tossing you on the bed hard enough to make you bounce. 

“Jesus Christ, Jimin,” you mumble, righting yourself in the sheets. He laughs, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it. Your eyes zero in on his body and your mind goes blank. “Jesus Christ, Jimin.”

“Jesus had nothing to do with this.” He smacks his abs with a hand. “This is creatine, determination, and seven days a week at the gym, baby.”

Jimin flexes his stomach. His chest and abs are toned and well-defined. The low lighting of the bar had done him an injustice that is rectified in the lamp light of the bedroom. There’s a black tattoo on his ribcage that you can’t read, but think looks really good on him anyway. 

Jeans slung low on his hips, Jimin shuffles over to the bed. You can see his dick straining against his pants. When he leans over to catch your lips with his, your hand immediately goes to his crotch, gripping gently through the material. He moans into your mouth, the kiss full of spit and your essence. 

From the way your hand presses against his straining cock, you can tell Jimin is big. With nervous hands, you pull at his zipper. He pulls away for a moment, leaving you frowning and confused.

“How do you get this fucking shirt off,” he mumbles, sliding a finger under the strap going across your stomach. “It’s confusing.”

“Like a normal shirt,” you giggle. 

“Like a normal shirt,” he mimes in a high-pitched voice. “Off. Wanna see those fucking tits.” 

Leaning forward, you help Jimin pull your shirt off, followed by the pink bra with a little bow in the middle. He doesn’t seem to have an appreciation for lingerie, immediately pushing you down by your sternum once you’re fully naked so he can lavish your chest with his mouth. 

Jimin’s mouth is always hungry. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, making you gasp and forget that you had been trying to get his pants off. You go limp as his tongue flicks over your pert bud experimentally, his other hand tweaking the opposite peak. Both bring out a response, eliciting a grin from him.

Remembering that Jimin is still in jeans, your hands surge forward, pulling at the zipper. You can see Calvin Klein briefs peaking just out the top of his jeans. With the zipper undone, there’s enough room for you to slide your hand in and grip Jimin’s cock firmly over the fabric of his briefs. 

“Shit,” he moans, head resting in the valley of your breasts. “Come on, take my cock out. Wanna stuff that mouth of yours full.” 

You don’t hesitate. You help Jimin out of his jeans, momentarily distracted by his powerful thighs and the way they flex as he bends to pull his briefs down. Your mouth goes dry as his heavy cock bobs against his navel when he’s free of his briefs. 

Jimin might be a lithe model, but his cock is anything but. 

Smooth, heavy, flushed-brown tip, and thick. Your hand goes for it as he crawls up the bed, straddling your waist and looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. Your hand wraps around the velvet shaft, making him twitch a bit. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, watching you give an experimental stroke. 

Jimin moans. It’s such a pretty sound. You shift under him to give yourself a better angle. Your hand drifts upward, collecting the pearly precum gathered at his tip. You spread it on his shaft on the downstroke, watching as Jimin’s eyes close, head falling back. 

You gather spit in your mouth, letting go of his cock briefly. He looks down as if to chastise you, but before his comment can escape, you spit into your palm and bring it back up to his cock, giving a smooth stroke, grip firmer and more precise as you twist at the head.

“God,” he moans as you watch his muscles spasm in his abs. “Don’t just jerk me off like a middle schooler, put me in your mouth.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m trying. Just suck me off a bit first.”

You huff at his impatience. 

Sliding further down the bed, Jimin meets you halfway, lowering a bit so that you can pull the tip of his cock into your mouth for an experimental suck. He curses and you grin, the saltiness on your tongue spurring you to take him in a little further.

It’s a vulnerable angle. Jimin can control the pace and fuck down into your mouth if he wants. Instead, he’s patient as you let the spit collect in your mouth, lifting your head to take a little more in your mouth each time.

Your tongue runs along the bottom of his shaft, providing a smooth glide as Jimin helps you out, sinking into your mouth a little more each time. He’s cursing and moaning above you, lost in the way you hollow your cheeks to provide better suction. You’re fascinated by the way his long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and you realize he has a few freckles that are… endearing. 

It’s a weird thing to notice, so you suck harder, trying to focus on the task at hand. 

Jimin grows more needy, fucking into your mouth so that he’s controlling the pace. You adjust, letting your jaw go slack to accommodate the stretch - and it’s a difficult stretch - making sure to guard your teeth and to let your drool help the glide.

“Your mouth takes my cock so well,” he hums. “How about that throat? Can I fuck that too?”

You nod, which is difficult with a mouth full of Jimin’s precum and cock. He grits his teeth, grabbing the bottom of your jaw gently to adjust the angle and start fucking into your mouth in earnest. 

Breathing is difficult - you remind yourself to try and breathe through your nose, letting out little sounds of euphoria around him that rile him up. You can feel your essence dripping down your thighs, turned on by the way Jimin growls every time the tip kisses the back of your throat. 

Once or twice your throat seizes up around him. He’s careful to pull out and let you breathe for a moment, spit and a little cum leaking down the sides of your mouth and down your chin, tears pooling in your eyes.

With one hand, Jimin slides the glossy tip of his cock through the mess on your chin before tracing your lips a few times, smearing the mess over your swollen mouth. 

“Lipstick,” he murmurs, nearly ruining the moment.

Before you can reply, Jimin slides his cock back into the heat of your mouth, sighing in relief as he starts to thrust in earnest again.

Just as the crown of his cock starts to brush the deeper part of your throat, Jimin pulls out, cursing. “Need to fuck this messy pussy of yours or I’ll bust,” he growls. “Turn over for me. Let me see that pretty ass.” 

Crawling from underneath him, you do as he says, too eager to care that he’s bossing you around. Your limbs are trembling as you prop yourself up on your knees, ass in the air and chest and head pressed to the bed. You look at him sideways, cheek on the mattress as he settles behind you, hands kneading the fat of your ass, giving you experimental squeezes.

It feels nice, the way his hands soothe your muscles and skate over soft flesh. He gives you an experimental slap and you squeal, making him grin. 

“Gunna rearrange your fucking guts,” he murmurs, grabbing the base of his cock. 

“Wait - condom?”

He gives you a look. “What? Are we in middle school? I’m not fucking you with a condom, I won’t feel shit.”

“What? How do I know if you’re clean?” 

“Um, does it look like I have something?”

“You can’t always tell.”

“Well, I don’t have a condom.”

You pause, glaring at him. Neither one of you moves. “Okay, well then pull out.”

He scoffs. “Obviously I’m going to cum in your mouth like a gentleman.” 

You roll your eyes. Even though he is wildly attractive and can pull an orgasm out of you with oral, Jimin is still a fucking ass. But he’s an ass who is good at what he does, so you shut up. 

Not that you can speak as he runs his cockhead through your wet folds. You moan, hearing how wet you are for him. He pushes the tip of his cock in slightly, just enough to make your hole flutter around him. You gasp, fists twisting in sheets as he sits there, letting you clench and unclench around him.

“Jimin,” you moan. 

“Ask nicely,” he teases. “Or you’re just gonna get the tip of my cock. I can feel your pussy fucking begging for it. Now you need to ask.”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

“Yeah? Want me to split you open?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to fuck that cervix until you’re screaming?” You pause. He pauses. “Okay that wasn’t very hot, was it?”

“Not really-”

Jimin cuts you off, thrusting in hard on a single upstroke. You gasp, mind going blank and forgetting about his terrible fumble at dirty talk as his cock does hit something inside of you that sends you into a torrent of heat and trembling limbs.

He sets a fast pace, not letting you adjust to his girth. Jimin’s hips piston perfectly against yours, your ass snapping back into his hips with each thrust. You can barely breathe, panting into the sheets as you bounce backward, sharing the effort to meet him for each powerful stroke.

It feels amazing.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the way his cock fills up every part of you, the slide smooth and velvet against your walls, the tip brushing gently against your g-spot every time he thrusts in. 

Your stomach feels like it's flipping over and over again, each one of Jimin’s thrusts so deep you swear you feel it in your chest. Your thoughts start to slip away, your front half sinking further into the mattress as Jimin’s fingers dig into the meat of your ass.

“Fuck,” he pants. “This pussy is so fucking tight. You're just fucking taking it and this ass-” he slaps your flesh sharply, making you squeal. “You hear that? Fucking getting clapped.” 

You don’t have it in you to be annoyed at him. And he has a point - the slap of hips against ass, balls against pussy is loud. 

The same feeling coils in your stomach again. You squeeze your eyes shut, barely able to breathe around the pleasure and the feeling of Jimin fucking you so full. It winds and winds and winds, and as it’s about to snap, you hold your breath.

Jimin gives a hard thrust followed by another, and you cum with a scream. You go from frozen, clenched muscles to boneless limbs in a moment. Jimin presses his hands into the small of your back, pushing you so far into the mattress that you can barely breathe as you bear his full weight.

With a few disjointed thrusts, Jimin cums, grunting and digging nails into your back.

For a few moments, neither of you moves. You can barely remember where you are, much less ask Jimin to pull his weight off of you to give you air. He’s still pressed into you, the heavy weight of him sinking you further into sweat-soaked sheets.

Jimin relents. He slowly pulls his cock out of you and you feel the mess slicking between your legs. It’s sticky and wet, more than you have ever felt before. He falls unceremoniously to the side, nearly wheezing for air.

The room is filled with heavy breaths and the smell of sweat and sex. Strands of hair and sheets stick to your skin. You shuffle, trying to roll over a bit to look at him. Your limbs are sore and stretched from the press of his hands and the force of his hips spreading yours, but it’s a good sore. 

Jimin is flushed, sweaty, and half-asleep. His hand is on his stomach, sticky with cum. 

“OH MY GOD YOU DIDN’T PULL OUT!” You scream, sitting up with sheets stuck to your back and hair all over. “YOU ASSHOLE!”

“Please stop screaming,” he groans, covering his face. “I’ll buy you Plan B in the morning.”

“You’re the fucking worst!”

“Well,” he sighs. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll fuck you again to make you feel better.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, heart racing. You stare at Jimin for a moment. Two moments. You drop your arms and lay back on the bed. “Yeah,” you huff. “Fine, whatever.”

Who were you to turn down another round like that? Your ex and his Escalade are long forgotten now.

#jimin x reader #park jimin fanfic #jimin smut #park jimin smut #jimin x you #jimin bts #park jimin bts #jejushore #bts collab

[joheunsaram]

On With The Show (knj)

summary: Eight years after announcing their retirement, Dark & Wild seems to have been left behind. For Namjoon, he could never forget the time his dreams became a reality, and he's determined to retake the charts by storm once again. Struggling with raising a teenage daughter, the loss of his wife and poor writing projects with terrible bands, he’s now had enough. So with a little help from the only remaining active fan site, he embarks on a mission to convince his bandmates that a comeback might not be the mid life crisis they think it is.

word count- 33.9k (🥴💀)

pairing- retired bassist!Namjoon x lawyer!Reader

rating- R

genre- rockstar!au, s2f2l, fluff, smut, angst, slight slow burn, single dad!au

warnings- retired!bangtan, dilf!joon, lowkey making fun of Mötley Crüe but not really, recreational drug use, drug overdose, hospitals, minor character death, depression, protected sex, oral (m and f receiving), too many song references (namjoons catalogue mainly), soft soft joon, joon is dad to a 16yo, jungkook is a shameless dedicated dad to twins, joon is 36, invasion of privacy, lots of talk about being famous

playlist- don’t//aeon ft rm, ny state of mind//nas, bicycle//rm, spring day//bts, always//rm, human behaviour//bjork, death with dignity//sufjan stevens, seoul//rm, outro//maanu, heavenly//cigarettes after dark, trivia love//bts, on with the show//motley crue, war of hormones//bts

a.n- this fic is part of the Can’t Be Tamed collab hosted by @jeonjcngkook. please check out the other fics in the collab, they are all amazing!

I’m very excited to share this fic with all of you! it’s been in the making for a very long time and is the longest one shot I’ve written yet. Hope you enjoy this story and that you remember never to let your inner fan girl down! Hehe💕💕

special s/o to @raplinesmoon and @playmetheclassics for beta reading this for me and to @mapleglasses27​ and @bluewhale52​ for hyping me up and brainstorming with me! i honestly don’t know what i would do without you all! ily 🥺

Banner by the ever talented @hobeemin 💕😍

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

-

The guitar riff crashed through the speakers, loud and chaotic, distorted to a growl that got the heart beating. Notes cascaded over each other as if chasing themselves in a circle like kids in a park. Soon after, the drums and bass joined them, high hat crashing in time with the snare, the strings of the bass slapping against fingers, pinging loud and clear. A destructive medley morphing into a foot-stomping melody that bounced off the  soundproof walls bringing a smile to Namjoon’s face.

A smile that dropped as soon as the vocalist started singing the verse.

“What are the colours of the skies really? They're bright black when falling apart Were our drifts back then okay?”

With a scowl, Namjoon straightened in his seat, turning off the recording,and hitting the button for the mic. The band seemed unbothered as they kept playing, bobbing their heads to the music. It would be commendable how absorbed they were in the music, if they weren’t completely fucking up Namjoon’s song. He cleared his throat into the mic, thankful for the abrupt silence.

“Vince, for the last fucking time. Those are not the lyrics,” Namjoon said, only to be met with an eye roll that boiled his blood. The audacity of these rookies was too high. They had barely debuted two years ago and somehow their egos seemed to have grown infinitely larger.

“And for the last fucking time, man. These work better,” Vince argued through the guitar pick secured between his teeth, using a tattooed hand to push his bright purple hair back. He looked to the three men next to him for support and all of them agreed, nodding enthusiastically. Well everyone except the lead guitarist, Mick, who as per usual was just staring into space, expression as vacant as Vince’s head.

“How do they make sense? What’s fucking bright black? And the colours of the sky?” Namjoon questioned, frustration making itself known from the tick of his jaw as he tried not to explode.

He hated this band. He hated this job. His name held a lot of weight in the industry, and he couldn’t fathom how he had even gotten to where he was right now; writing songs for an over entitled bunch of kids half his age.

Much like any other person in the music industry, Namjoon started with a dream. Well, a dream and a threat from his mom. When he was sixteen, his mother had looked him straight in the eye and given him one year to go out into the real world and make money from the music his friends kept playing in her garage, and if he was unsuccessful, he was to pick up his studies and continue on her dream of him becoming an engineer. And well, Namjoon was a stubborn, talented kid.

Within six months, his band had not only signed onto a label, but Dark and Wild had successfully started preparations for their debut album, one that charted number one worldwide and convinced his mother that the noise he was always playing was worth something.

That number one album turned into platinum, and then so did the next three albums. By the time Namjoon was twenty-two, he was the bassist of the hottest band in the world, his songs being chanted by people of all ages, all races.

World tours, whirlwind romances, and new hotel rooms every weekend became the norm. At the peak of his career, Namjoon was an ambassador for four luxury brands, three alcohol companies, and one electronics conglomerate, his face plastered over billboards from New York to Seoul to Paris. That was also when he became a husband and a proud father to the world’s most beautiful baby girl.

And then, merely a few years later, he lost the love of his life and his band in the span of four months. It wasn’t dramatic, it was life. Everything happens for a reason, and Namjoon believed that for him that reason was the beautiful girl his wife had gifted him.

If his band hadn’t called it quits, he would have never spent time raising her, learning how to be the best dad and learning the way his daughter’s brain worked, so intricate and creative that he sometimes got tears in his eyes just thinking about the fact that he was responsible for creating someone so extraordinary.

Which is why the fact that the bunch of kids in the studio were talking about her made his blood boil, his jaw tensing from all the expletives he wanted to throw at them.

“Dude I can’t believe you picked this boomer cause of his daughter!” Vince taunted his bandmate as he laughed, his nasal snort pumping through the vein now throbbing on Namjoon’s forehead.

“What can I say, man, that chick’s fucking hot, and the way she drums. God damn!” Tommy, the drummer, professed, his hands still holding the sticks now coming to rest on his chest as he leaned back on the stool, the bandana on his head falling backwards with the movement.

Raising a child alone in his mid-twenties had taught Namjoon a lot of things, most of all patience, but he was of the firm belief that not even Buddha would have kept his cool at Tommy’s next words.

“Yo Namjoon! You gotta bring her to the next session. I can really teach her how to bang those drums, if you know what I mean,” he answered with a smile as slimy as his greasy hair, and Namjoon couldn’t help exploding out of his chair, his notebook scattering to the ground as he swiftly made his way to the door of the recording room.

However, before he could pummel that disrespectful worm into the ground, the producer next to him was on his feet, holding him back, his small stature no match for Namjoon’s large build. Seeing red, Namjoon scrambled for the door, falling to the ground and in the process taking the innocent producer down with him. All while the band laughed at him. Generation Swine, what a fitting name for a bunch of pigs.

“Yo boss, you need this gig right?” the producer wheezed from under him, trying to calm down Namjoon with rationality but he didn’t know Namjoon. Thinking about the multiple zeros in his checking account and even more in his investments, his vision cleared, a calm surrounding him.

“I don’t actually,” Namjoon replied, getting back up and helping his coworker with an apology, before he turned back to the band with a condescending smile plastered on his face.

“I quit. And my contract says I can take back my songs. Enjoy an empty album, fuckers.”

With a middle finger in the air, he picked up his messenger bag resting on the couch and his notebook and strolled out. Why hadn’t he just done this before?

—-------

Even though he was notoriously a punk rock artist, nothing calmed Namjoon down more than old school hip-hop, and so as he drove to pick up his daughter, he blasted Nas, rapping along at the top of his lungs.

“Hand me a nine and I'll defeat foes Y'all know my steelo, with or without the airplay I keep some E&J, sitting bent up in the stairway.”

It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had been spending hours everyday pouring himself into music that was insightful and poetic, only to be stonewalled by a bunch of unwashed children who thought what punk really was.

Did they really think watering down his lyrics would make them more relatable? He’d been going back and forth with the Swine for months, and yet they didn’t understand that music didn’t really mean anything unless it said something.

Anyone could string together a melody and talk about fucking and destroying property but the greats always had something to say, something to change. They didn’t chase empty avenues with mixed messages, they took a stand. That’s what punk was, not a distorted guitar with the goal to get laid. He knew that at sixteen and he knew that now at thirty-six.

Real music changed lives.

As the track changed to a more mellow beat, he let his fingers tap the steering wheel, cautiously turning into the cul-de-sac and waiting for the gate to Jungkook’s obscenely secure mansion to open before driving down the long driveway. Driving to his house always made him a little nostalgic, mostly because he was proud that his youngest bandmate had finally settled down from his much wilder days, but also because Jungkook’s home always felt like his home.

It was where he had spent much of his time after the band disbanded, his deep depression and the sudden sole responsibility of a six-year old turning him into a useless shell of a human. He would always be grateful to Jungkook for taking him in when he was at his worst and coaxing him out of the darkness. He shuddered to think of how much worse he would have gotten if he hadn’t had the courage to run to Jungkook eight years ago with his daughter in his arms and tears cascading down his face.

He smiled a little, eyes turning to the big box of gourmet donuts he had picked up for his friend’s family. Parking near the front door, he picked up the box, only to be interrupted by the ringing of his phone, the usually calming chimes grating his nerves when he saw his manager’s name light up the screen.

“What Sejin?”

“Don’t what Sejin me! You quit? Are you kidding me?” The usually cheery man yelled through the line, his exasperation easily conveyed through the static.

“Yup,” Namjoon replied stubbornly, popping the syllable at the end, still too happy to have left that band of wannabes behind to be bothered by the scolding he could see coming. “I realised, I’m literally a millionaire. I don’t need this job.”

“Literally a- Again, are you kidding me?!” Sejin sputtered, and Namjoon grimaced as he heard some of his spit land on the speaker. “You do realise you signed a contract right? A two-year contract, to write for them, exclusively?”

“And?” Namjoon egged him on. “There’s that clause right? That I can pay damages or whatever?”

“They are claiming that those ‘damages or whatever’ are over five million dollars! You either lawyer up, or you go apologise to the band.”

Namjoon snorted at the absurdity. The only way anyone could get him to apologize to that bunch of talentless fuckers was if they animated his dead body with Frankensteinian magic. Not wanting to spoil his good mood, he locked his car and made his way to the front door..

“Send me a list of lawyers,” he said curtly before hanging up on a seething Sejin. He should’ve been worried, or at the very least concerned, by a threat from a very large and influential record label, but Namjoon was finally free and nothing was going to get him down. Not when as soon as he rang the bell, he was greeted by his daughter, a large grin on her face, the dimples that matched his etching deeper into her cheeks.

“Dad! You know you don’t have to drive slow even on a driveway, right?” she teased, giving her father a side hug and greedily reaching for the box of doughnuts, which he raised above his head.

“Moonie, these are for the twins!” he chastised, returning her hug and ruffling her hair only to annoy her, chuckling as she whined at him.

“Joon! You gotta stop bringing sweets! I’m gonna lose my abs!” Jungkook shouted from the foyer, walking over with one of his boys in his arms, the other running behind him. Jun-seo copied his father as he pulled a wincing Jungkook’s hair, and Namjoon couldn’t stop cackling at how cute “I’m gonna lose my abs!” sounded coming from a three-year old’s mouth.

He greeted his friend before leaning down and swooping Hyeon from the ground in his arms, trying to make conversation with the shyer twin as his daughter took the box of doughnuts, opening to look for her favourite. It didn’t take long for Jungkook to coax him into having dinner with his family, laughing at the way Moon sighed in relief of not having to endure her father’s terrible cooking for the night.

Nothing could be more relaxing than having dinner with his closest friends and his daughter, Namjoon thought as he helped Jungkook’s wife wash the dishes, taking care not to let any of his clumsier tendencies shine through. There were only so many of her dishes he could break before she would ban him from the house completely. He smiled as she told him about her day and how the twins had somehow started a paint war with the neighbouring kindergarten class, resulting in her trying to talk the principal out of suspending them.

“They can suspend someone in kindergarten?” he asked, incredulous, wiping the last of the dishes and pouring himself a glass of water.

“You know how people are, Joon. Just cause we have our personal lives plastered all over they assume that we can’t parent,” she sighed, joining him at the breakfast nook, a sad smile on her face. “That’s why I’ve been so against nannies, you know… Because what if they’re right?”

“Hey they aren’t right. You and Jungkook are great parents,” he squeezed her shoulder as he consoled her, happy to see her smile more genuinely at his compliment.

“And we don’t need babysitters cause we have Moon,” she said, looking up at him with a mischievous smirk her sons had inherited from her before she softened. “You’re a great parent too, Joon.”

Namjoon’s heart warmed at her words. He had often thought that perhaps a lack of a mother would make Moon lonely, make her want a more stable female presence. He was happy that Jungkook’s wife had filled that role for her somewhat, acting like a mother even when she didn’t have to, from teaching her about periods to gossiping with her about boys. Things that Namjoon still found a bit awkward to connect with Moon about. It was not that he was bad at it, it was just that he had never experienced those things himself, so who was he to teach her about them?

The heartfelt moment was interrupted by Jungkook entering the kitchen, a scowl on his face as he looked at Namjoon.

“You quit?” Jungkook asked, voice strained as he poked the inside of his cheek. Namjoon could feel that his friend was angry but he was still too ecstatic from leaving that dreadful job behind, so he just smiled, nodding in response.

“They are gonna sue you! Are you serious?” Jungkook seethed, confusing Namjoon who couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he was so upset, especially when he already had an amazing back up plan. At least not until his next words left him, making Namjoon bow his head in shame.

“You have Moon to think about. Do you think she’d like the media circus?”

“I just couldn’t take it anymore,” he exhaled, his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he came clean about his outburst, the days of building frustration as the band took his hard work lightly and spent hours drinking and getting high instead of working.

Jungkook seemed to soften as he spoke, and Namjoon couldn’t help but take the melting of his anger as encouragement as he continued, letting him into his backup plan, “We were so much more serious than them. We had a work ethic. We still could… Would it be so bad if Dark and Wild got together again?”

“P-pardon?” Jungkook sputtered at Namjoon’s words, coughing as he tried to wrap his mind around a comeback. Turns out Namjoon’s plan wasn’t foolproof and his heart fell as his friend vehemently disagreed, not wanting to be away from the twins to be back on the rock and roll train. He missed that life too, but unlike Namjoon, he had made his peace with it, happy to let it go to be a full-time father.

“I was a dad when the band was together,” Namjoon argued, not willing to let go of his renewed dream.

“And look what happened to Seo!” Jungkook spat, instantly regretting his words as Namjoon’s face fell. However, no matter how quickly Jungkook apologised, Namjoon couldn’t listen, the grief he had buried away clawing at his chest again. With a curt goodbye amongst the apologies, he asked Moon to follow him and made his way to the car.

“Dad… you okay?” Moon asked, once they were on the way home, worried about the way her father sat in silence when usually she would have a hard time making him shut up.

She knew he got this way occasionally, too deep in his head, and she had a sneaking suspicion it was whenever he missed her mom, and so when she didn’t hear a response, she leaned over, placing a hand over his on the steering wheel to loosen his grip.

Namjoon smiled at her, a hand leaving the wheel to squeeze her fingers between his. Sometimes he forgot that she wasn’t a kid anymore, that she was mature, empathetic almost to a fault, able to read his mind with just a look.

Namjoon promised himself that he would always be honest with her, be it about his feelings or things happening in his life. He had kept his promise whenever she would ask about her mom as a lost six year old and he kept his promise now as he told his sixteen year old about the argument he had just had with Jungkook.

In a lot of ways it helped him process the conversation, coming to terms with Jungkook’s fear from Moon’s insight. She was right when she said that it had less to do with blaming Namjoon when he was away from her mother, but more to do with her uncle’s fears of the same happening to his wife, no matter how irrational the thought was.

Namjoon couldn’t help but stare at her, mouth falling open in shock.

“Tell me again how you’re only in tenth grade?” he teased. “When did you get your psychology degree?”

“Come on dad. No one really needs university nowadays. You can just learn everything from Re-”

“You’re going to university. I don’t care how much Reddit can teach you,” Namjoon interrupted, eyes narrowed as he pulled into his designated parking space in the lot under their apartment. “You can get a real degree and then you can be my therapist.”

“I can’t be your therapist,” she huffed, crossing her arms with a scowl that reminded him of her mother so much he couldn’t help but smile. “That's a conflict of interest!”

He burst out laughing at her words, getting out of the car and helping her carry the multiple boxes of food Jungkook had prepared for the two of them, insisting that they take them despite the cold exit. Moon melted at her father’s joy, punching the code for the top floor as she adjusted her backpack. When the doors closed, she looked at him grinning widely.

“You know, War of Hormones is going viral on TikTok,” she commented, laughing at the way Namjoon groaned at the mention of his slightly cringey debut single. “I think you guys still have fans. A lot of them. People are still making thirst traps of all of you.”

“What’s thirst traps?” Namjoon asked as the private elevator opened up to their apartment, the smell of cedar and sandalwood calming him after a stressful day.

“You know like this,” she said, following her father into the kitchen and placing the boxes on the counter before pulling out her phone and scrolling through the app. She handed Namjoon the phone and he had to stop his eyes from falling to the floor at the video in front of him.

Set to an extremely horny rap about wanting someone’s dumptruck in their little garage was a video of Hoseok thrusting into the air as he sang into the mic, following by a close up of Jungkook as he took his shirt off and threw it into the crowd, just as it moved to a video of Yoongi licking up the strings of his guitar, a smirk on his face as he made eye contact with the camera.

Then there was Seokjin, Jimin and Taehyung at one of their sold out shows, ripping the buttons of their shirts simultaneously while winking at the crowd, and Namjoon couldn’t help but laugh at the how stupid they looked. The last clip was of him holding Moon as he brought her two-year old self on stage, big yellow muffs protecting her ears from the noise as he let her strum on his bass.

“Wait, why am I the only one not being sexy?” he questioned, frowning.

“I don’t know. I guess people love you being a dad,” she shrugged, taking her phone back, laughing at how ridiculous all of her uncles looked during their glory days, before looking at her father and giving him a tight hug. “I love you too, dad. And I think you still have a lot of fans who’d love a comeback.”

Namjoon’s heart dissolved in his chest, filled with warmth as he kissed the top of his daughter’s head, returning her hug ten fold, squeezing her to his chest as she squirmed. That night after she had gone to bed, Namjoon researched his fans. If Moon thought that fans still existed, maybe he could convince the guys to give the comeback a shot. They always did love Shadows more than anything.

Scrolling through numerous web pages, he stumbled on to a fansite that was surprisingly still active, posting periodic updates about Dark and Wild’s current careers, as well as edits of their old selves, and pleading for a comeback. Perhaps the way to his band member’s hearts was a heartfelt plea from a Shadow, and how apt that the username was yummyjungkookie.

His scrolling through nostalgia was interrupted by a text from his manager, a list of lawyers that were fit to go over his case with him. Picking the first name, he sent an appointment request.

However, not before messaging yummyjungkookie and asking for a meeting.

—-------

With a heavy exhale, you entered your apartment, leaving your heels haphazardly by the front door and your bag littered on the floor. Today had been an exceptionally stressful day and you could feel every joint in your body creak as you laid on the couch. Stretching, you thought about the weird email you had received. Well, two very weird emails.

Somehow when you started working in corporate law, you wouldn’t have thought your trajectory would lead to working on celebrity contracts. Initially it was an easy choice; getting paid exorbitant amounts of money for advising clients and looking over contract disputes that usually never ended in court. However, now you were tired of behind the scene action. You wanted to see inside of a courtroom again, to argue, to research prior cases that would help you form the perfect closing statements. There was a thrill to fighting a case in the courts, and you envied your friends from university who were working on class action suits against greedy landlords and other corporate vultures.  

Today was supposed to be the day you gave in your two week notice, to pursue something less money-based. It was a privileged position, but you were a single woman in her early thirties, and with your last relationship burning to the ground, you often looked at your ever increasing savings account with disdain, as if your ambition was responsible for Ryan cheating. But when you walked into your firm’s partner’s office with your resignation letter in hand, he convinced you otherwise by handing you a new case.

It wasn’t a particularly exciting case, a pretty straightforward contract violation, but the moment you heard who you would be representing, you couldn’t go through with your plan. Your younger self would have murdered you if you did so.

You could see your nineteen year old self, decked out in the Dark and Wild merch that still lived in your closet, standing behind your boss as he talked about the case. Because you would be representing none other than Namjoon Kim, notorious bassist of Dark and Wild. Even though he was arguably your least favourite member, considering that he used to be a bit goofy and a little bit of fuckboy even with a kid, you would carry on your duty as a loyal fan and get him out of this bind.

After all, once a Shadow, always a Shadow.

You were somewhat a menace in undergrad, from almost missing exams because the band was doing an album signing, to following them on tour each summer, to even getting their lyrics tattooed on your ribcage.

You chronicled your interactions with them in your blog with high quality photos, which became almost notorious in the Shadow circle, your followers skyrocketing with their fame. In a way their disbandment was a blessing for you, you were not sure how you would have dealt with the workload of law school if you were still keeping up with them.

Groaning you rose from the couch, deciding a drink would help calm you down. Pouring yourself a glass of cabernet, you settled back on the couch, opening your blog on your laptop and staring at the other email you had received out of the blue.

Either Namjoon Kim was stalking you or this eerie coincidence was the fruit of years of obsessive manifestation. However, if it was, it would be Jungkook Jeon emailing you. You wondered if he still had those fantastic abs from back in the day. God, those things could cut glass.

Controlling your sudden thirst, you took another sip of your wine, thinking best to reply to the email you had received.

Hi yummyjungkookie. You’re probably wondering why I’m messaging you. Well, I have a proposition. I was wondering since you are the only active fan site we have left, if you’d be interested in helping us do an analysis of current fan culture, well Shadow culture. Let me know and we can set up a meeting! -Namjoon PS: In case you think this is a troll, here’s a photo proof

Below his email was a photo attached of the man himself, round glasses making him look younger than his age with a card on which the date and time was haphazardly written.

You laughed at how seriously he had taken the request, although you were sure you would not have believed him if he didn’t attach the proof. Your laughs only got louder as you read the next message he had sent.

Oh shit. I guess I should also say, please don’t tell people about this. You won't, right? -Namjoon

“What are you cackling at?” your roommate, Hera, questioned as she stepped out of her room, hair a mess as if she had just woken up. Well, knowing her, she probably had. She was notoriously nocturnal, being a freelance artist had that effect.

“Nothing. Just a meme,” you replied, somehow endeared enough by the email to keep it a secret. Hera walked over to the couch, yawning and reaching for your glass, taking a big swig and ignoring your scowl. You loved Hera. You had been friends since law school, but somehow as soon as she dropped out of law school she had become a little overbearing.

“Alright. What’s for dinner?” she asked, stretching her limbs out on the couch as she leaned back and turned on the television. You rolled her eyes at her, getting up to finally change.

“I already ate after work,” you pouted to get off the hook easier before apologising and going to your room.

“Ugh. I guess I’ll go on a date then. Enjoy your sad nostalgia blogging, you loner,” she called from the living room, grating your nerves as you locked yourself in your room, waiting for her to leave, so you could order food and not share. It may be petty but you were tired of paying for her meals, on top of paying for the rent.

—-------

“Wait so you called us all here to ask us to get the band back together?” Yoongi asked, eyes scrunched in disbelief. Or the early hour, Namjoon wasn’t sure. To be fair, Namjoon should’ve seen the reaction coming, considering how Jungkook had reacted, but he still had hope.

Namjoon had spent the past two days going over the fansite he had found and it encouraged him to set up the brunch meeting with his friends. If a stranger was working so hard to keep their fans engaged, shouldn’t they also do something. Didn’t they owe their fans something? Apparently the argument wasn’t as convincing as he thought it would be.

“Okay I’m not saying I’m fully against a comeback, but come on Joon. We’re has-beens… Shadows don’t even exist anymore,” Seokjin said, sipping a mimosa, freshly tanned from an impromptu trip to the Maldives.

“Speak for yourself. I will never be a has-been,” Jimin sneered, cutting into his eggs before spouting about how his singles were still reaching number one.

“That’s cause you went pop,” Taehyung argued with a grimace, pretending to throw up into his frittata, just as the waitress came by to ask if they needed anything else.

“That’d be all. Thank you,” Jungkook answered her with a huge smile just to watch her blush, and Namjoon couldn’t help rolling his eyes at the man. Perhaps bringing the chaotic group together was a bad idea. Perhaps bringing them to a high end restaurant where the average diner was a retired businessman was an even worse idea as he tried to make his friends lower their volume, especially Hoseok who was very loudly protesting that his very full schedule of production didn’t have any room for a comeback.

“Guys!” Namjoon snapped, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. “Just please think it over–”

“It would take so long though. We don’t even have any songs… I haven’t even picked up the guitar in a while,” Seokjin interrupted, the mimosas taking their effect and turning his face a flushed red, as he looked sadly at the tablecloth, and Namjoon couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. He knew the disbandment was his fault. If he had handled things better at home, they wouldn’t have lost their friend to the chaos of the lifestyle, and Moon would still have her mom. Thinking about it lodged a lump in his throat as he tried to console the group with the only solution he could think of.

“I have three albums worth of songs written,” he declared quietly, biting his lip and looking for a reaction, only for Yoongi to speak up.

“I may or may not also have two albums worth.”

“Same,” Hoseok and Jimin spoke at the same time, and Namjoon couldn’t help smiling at how even though everyone had apparently put Dark and Wild behind them, they still couldn’t let go.

“So do you guys think we can do it?” Namjoon asked hopefully, trying not to be dejected by the way Jungkook stared at his hands, deep in thought, fingers tracing the tattoos on his knuckles. The response from the rest of the men was lukewarm as it was in the beginning but somehow now they were all reminiscing too, talking about their glory days. About the time Jimin stripped on a bartop as a dare. About the time Jungkook got so high he thought the television was recording him so he did the most rational thing he could think of and tossed it out of their 40th floor hotel room window. About the time Namjoon ran away so fast from a groupie that he had missed that the glass door wasn’t open and smashed right through it – he still had a scar on his right collarbone from it. Somehow through the road of nostalgia, a little glimmer of excitement started growing, like the embers of a campfire dying out, but needing just the right gust of wind to relight.

“But what if we don’t have the same appeal now… We’re definitely not young anymore,” Seokjin said quietly, as if he was scared to voice out his thoughts, and Namjoon couldn’t help reaching out to him, placing a hand on top of his in a form of encouragement. He had the same fears. A band in their twenties was the norm, in their thirties, on the other hand…

Perhaps they were all being silly. Thirty wasn’t old by any means but the music industry was especially vicious when it came to age. However, Namjoon tried to put the question of their sex appeal to rest as he pulled out the fansite he had stumbled on earlier, sharing the seemingly unlimited ‘thirst’ posts from the blogger, much to the men’s amusement.

“Well I trust this person,” Jungkook said after a thorough scroll, earlier mood seemingly lightened. “I am in fact yummy.”

“And I really am World Wide Handsome,” Seokjin gloated, much to everyone’s annoyance.

“I contacted her,” Namjoon said carefully, hoping he wasn’t about to get a scolding, and when he received only curious looks, he continued. “I’m thinking we can get her opinion. A real Shadow’s opinion. Perhaps she has friends. She could really let us know if the fans are for us or not. Under an NDA, of course!”

“How do you know she won’t just be wishing for us to be back together?” Yoongi sighed, remembering the almost obsessive tendencies his fans had.

“You know that one fan that wrote a whole essay defending our disbandment?” Namjoon asked a bunch of nodding heads. “This is the one.”

“I can’t believe they published someone called yummyjungkookie in the New York Times,” Hoseok laughed, his contagious cackles cracking everyone else up as well, before the laughter petered into silence.

“Let’s see what she says, and then we can decide,” Jungkook ended the conversation decidedly, before the bill came and all seven men started arguing about who was going to pay, no one willing to put their credit card away much to the waitress’s chagrin.

—-------

Off the high of the semi-successful brunch, Namjoon couldn’t sit still in the lawyer’s plush office. He looked around, tapping his feet. It was a nice office, personal yet professional, warm with deep oak furniture and shelves full of law books and fiction alike.

A giant desk took up the northern end, in front of the glass wall that overlooked the city, a big leather chair seemingly belonging to the lawyer in question facing the desk. There were a few posters on the walls, classic movies as well as music festivals. A couch sat in the corner with potted monsteras, magazines scattered on the glass coffee table.

Namjoon felt oddly comfortable, but that might be because he was certain the lawyer used the same candles that littered his home, the soft pinewood scent relaxing him. Eyes roaming to read the titles of the books on the shelf, he couldn’t stop smiling at the little windchime attached to the corner.

People wouldn’t know it at a glance, but if you knew it was unmistakably his band’s merch – limited edition merch at that. He wondered if the lawyer he was meant to meet was a fan, or if they were just so old that they had received it from their children and put it up. Namjoon was pretty proud that the windchime he had designed was given a place in a room where everything seemed to be carefully handpicked.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, Mr. Kim.”

Namjoon heard the slightly raspy voice call out, and he stood up to greet the person. However, he was a little taken aback when his eyes met yours, his throat running a little dry and his nerves spiking for no reason. Well no reason other than his immediate attraction to you.

It should be illegal for someone to look that good in a simple red suit and a pair of black heels. His eyes traced your features of their own accord, lingering at the little necklace that nestled between your collarbones, and the wisps of your hair that lined your eyebrows.

“Mr. Kim?” you asked, and a furious flush rose up his cheeks as he realised he hadn’t answered. Stuttering a response, he sat down at your insistence, agreeing to a coffee that you rang your assistant for. If you were a fan, you didn’t seem to give it away, jumping right into business as you talked about loopholes in the contract that could get Namjoon off with minimal penance.

While Namjoon was nodding along, pretending not to pay attention to the way your fingers looked so delicate pointing out the different clauses in the document, you were internally screaming. It took everything you had to keep your cool.

You had imagined that it would be business as usual meeting one of the guys you had spent most of your youth following around but your heart had other plans, beating stupidly fast. Even if Namjoon wasn’t your favourite member, it was still Namjoon Kim of Dark and Wild.

You could tell he wasn’t paying attention to whatever you were saying, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were boring him. You tried to lighten up the dry vernacular with a few jokes that went unnoticed, so you tried to shock him into listening at the end of your meeting.

“Ah, now that we’re done. Let’s talk about your proposition,” you commented off handedly, watching as he looked at you with rapt attention, biting his lip. Was he nervous?

The thought made you laugh. Why would he be nervous? You already explained that the case was easy to settle. It was pretty run of the mill. Contrary to popular belief, a lot of songwriters worked to break their contracts after a few months of working with a band. Creative differences were inevitable sometimes.

“Proposition?” Namjoon asked, swallowing hard, scared that his thoughts had somehow been vocalised. Perhaps you could read his mind. That would be a very handy superpower for a lawyer. Wait what if you actually had mind-reading powers?

What if you knew how he had just spent thirty minutes trying to figure out how he could ask you out for dinner, or if he could simply just bend over your desk.

Fuck, he really needed to reel it in.

“Yeah you emailed me about doing an analysis on fan culture?” you answered with a grin, enjoying the reveal. Namjoon had been a rockstar for most of his life, jamming out confidently on stage, so it was extra funny seeing him so clueless. That was before he became flustered, turning a bright red.

“Oh shit? Did I fuck up my emails? I meant to send that to… someone else,” he stumbled, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his emails.

“Yummyjungkookie, right?” you asked, relishing the way his jaw dropped and his eyes widened in disbelief before reaching your hand out, “Nice to meet you.”

“What the fuck…” Namjoon mumbled, taking your hand in his and shaking gingerly, before recovering. “You’re… you’re yummyjungkookie?”

“The one and only,” you grinned.

“But you’re a lawyer…” he said in awe. Never in a million years he would’ve thought the beautiful, polished, somewhat cold woman standing in front of him was the same person who evidently followed him on tour and wrote sonnets about Jungkook’s left bicep. He thought all his fans were kids in inappropriate clothing, but then again the last time he had seen his fans was when he himself was a kid in inappropriate clothing. It made sense that as he grew up, so did his fans – apparently into super intelligent, professional women.

“Yes I am,” you said smugly, loving the way he seemed so shocked. You hadn’t thought to reveal yourself, but your embarrassment over the nickname was taking a backseat to his surprise. It made you somewhat giddy. “So do I need to sign an NDA?”

“Yes. I can mail it to you. One second,” he said, gathering his wits as you giggled at the way he dropped his phone while scrambling for it. Once he had sent the email, you quickly printed two copies, signing after reading over the straight forward terms as he did the same.

You had to control your squeal when he laid out his plans. A comeback? Dark and Wild were actually getting together and needed your help to analyse if they had any fans. You had no idea whether you could actually help him, but just the fact that he had asked you was every Shadow’s dream come true, and you could see your inner nineteen year old jumping up and down in excitement, the banner you had made out of your dorm’s bed sheet waving in the air.

Maybe it was a good thing you were a loser who still blogged about your favourite band.

—-------

Namjoon hummed to himself in the elevator, Moon’s favourite pizza in his hands warming him as he smiled at nothing. Excitement was brimming through his body, uncontained as all his plans seemed to be working out. Generation Swine was taken care of, well pretty much. He trusted you with the case, and he trusted you with convincing the band that they were definitely not has-beens. He couldn’t wait to share the news with his daughter as he entered his apartment, placing the box on the dining room table before making his way to her door.

“I’m fine,” Moon’s voice carried through the door, and Namjoon had to stop himself from barging in when he heard her sniffle. Why was his baby crying? “It’s just that I’m worried about dad… When mom died, he was so broken.”

Namjoon felt his heart drop to his stomach, a lump forming in his throat as he eavesdropped. He hated listening in. Moon was pretty much an adult, she deserved her privacy, but when another voice spoke, dampened by the line of the speakers, he stayed rooted on the spot, vying for some insight into her sudden sadness.

“He’s better now, Moonie,” the voice said.

“I know. I know. But sometimes he still gets sad. He thinks I don’t notice but I do. I joked about smoking some weed the other day and it was like his life flashed before his eyes. He looked like he was going to cry… I just… I get scared of letting him down sometimes,” she sighed.

“You know you’re never going to do drugs. He knows you’re never going to do drugs. You’re not gonna let him down.”

“I know that but… I look like her,” she sniffled, and Namjoon felt his heart break further. Had he really been putting so much pressure on his teenager that he didn’t notice the way she seemed to be feeling so guilty. He was scared of her trying drugs, given her mother’s death, but he never thought that he was making her feel like she couldn’t be like her mother, especially when she continued talking.

“I’m scared that I remind him of her everyday, and that looking at me makes him sad. I just wish he found someone or even if he didn’t, that he went out more. He quit his job and I don’t want him to be depressed again.”

“He’s not sad to look at you, idiot. He’s your dad. He knows you look like your mom. It’ll be dumb if he didn’t!” Moon’s friend exclaimed, and Namjoon relaxed a little at hearing his daughter chuckle in response.

His mental health hadn’t been the greatest since his wife passed away, years full of ups and downs that he tried to hide from his daughter as he worked through therapy. But evidently he hadn’t been too good at hiding that part of himself, and a tear escaped without his consent when he thought about the burden she had been carrying.

He opted not to listen to more, walking to the kitchen to dry his eyes as he set the table. Once he was sure that he had his emotions under control, he called out for dinner, smiling when his daughter walked in after a few minutes in her pterodactyl onesie. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe that she was almost an adult, that she had grown so much. Unable to help himself, he hugged her to his chest, kissing the top of her head repeatedly as she whined about being unable to breathe.

“Ew dad, why are you being so clingy?” she groaned, pushing him away.

“Just missed you today, is all,” Namjoon said, pulling the hood of the onesie over her head, just to annoy her as she sat on the table to eat.

“Gross,” she replied despite the smile on her face as she dug in, thanking him for the pizza. He laughed, telling her about his day as she shared about how she had finally mastered the drums for YYZ, a Rush song she had been learning for a week.

He beamed proudly when she played him the song after dinner, trying his best not to tell her that looking at her could never make him sad. That all he saw was how proud he was that despite his fuckups, she had turned out more than perfect.

—-------

Sitting on your dining table, you stared at the blank document on your screen, the blinking cursor mocking you for your lack of ideas. Sighing, you switched the tab to the google search you had done, littered with journal articles talking about fan culture. Although you had three case files to go over that your paralegal had been hounding you about, you really wanted to create a plan for Namjoon, regardless of your lack of knowledge.

“Working on your boring lawyer stuff?” Hera asked, placing an elaborate gold and ruby necklace around her neck before turning to you in a silent request to clasp it for her. You obliged, standing up from your chair, an idea forming.

“Hey. You have fans for your art,” you commented, grabbing a glass of water as she continued getting ready, lacing her ballerina stilettos. She hummed for you to continue. “How do you manage them? Like check their retention, interact with them, and all?”

“God, you’re such a nerd,” she laughed, opening her purse to pull out a lipstick, dabbing it on her lips with her front view camera as the mirror. “You just put stuff out there, fans will follow. They don’t need interaction or those fancy terms. You just do you, they come.”

You knew for a fact that she was incorrect. Even running your somewhat small anonymous blog you knew that the weeks you didn’t interact with your audience, when you didn’t answer their messages or reply to their comments, your popularity dipped. People liked being seen, especially from those they admire. It boggled your mind how she made money when she was always so blase about everything, coasting through life like nothing required effort.

“Where are you off to, anyways?” you asked, settling back into your chair to skim through the numerous articles you had found.

“Going out with my boyfriend,” she grinned, wiggling her eyebrows as you stared at her in disbelief.

“Wait, you’re dating? Who?” you returned her smile, excited for her to be in a relationship after she had been wanting one for so long. You couldn’t count the number of weekends you had to resort to headphones while she looked for the one between her bedsheets.

She was a hopeless romantic of sorts, thinking that a relationship was the cure to everything, yet she had notoriously high standards. You blamed her obsession with Disney movies for that, but you couldn’t help the way you warmed at the flustered look on her face, biting her lip as she tried to not smile.

“You know him actually,” she said much to your surprise. “But you can’t judge me if I tell you! Promise me!”

Laughing at her sudden pleading, you promised, waiting for her to continue. However, your laugh was short-lived when the name escaped her lips. She was right, you did know him. You knew him very well, had spent years with him, had almost moved in with him before he decided to stomp on your heart.

“Ryan? You’re dating Ryan?!” you couldn’t control your volume, the absurdity of the woman who had dreamt of prince charming settling for someone who didn’t even deserve coal at Christmas.

“You promised you wouldn’t judge,” she argued, standing up with a huff. “He’s changed. He became better for me!”

“Became better for you? What does that even mean? Hera, Ryan’s trash!” It was too hard to even say his name, your brain flooding with memories of how he had laughed at you when you asked him if he was cheating on you. How he had placated you with kisses, assuring you that you were being paranoid, only to be caught a few months later with a girl in your bed.

“Just because he couldn’t love you, doesn’t mean he’s trash!” she yelled back, unaware

how her words cut through you. Not knowing how to respond as she ranted about you being unlovable and how Ryan had told her he found you boring and uptight, you took your leave.

Grabbing your laptop you headed out, willing yourself to not break.

—-------

You didn’t know where you were driving to, running around the city in circles. Usually it calmed you down, to have your music playing so loud that your thoughts couldn’t infiltrate, but today it felt as if they were crashing about, the cacophony drowning the dulcet tunes of Hoseok’s singing.

Instead of clearing, your mind was full of the last memories of your relationship, of how the man you loved would manipulate you, make you feel small in moments where you should’ve felt out of this world. You had confided in Hera, had cried with your head on her lap as she stroked your hair and assured you that he was scum. You had believed her, used her words to slowly build yourself up, to learn to love yourself again.

But now it was Hera throwing the poisonous words that he had embedded in your self-image, ones that took too long to pry out, ones that left scars that you were too terrified to look at even after over a year. You couldn’t help the tears that flowed to the bass playing in the background, overwhelmed yet knowing that you shouldn’t be.

When your eyes got too blurry, you parked next to a random park, taking deep breaths and practising the techniques you had learnt. Hera’s words were just words, they didn’t define you, they didn’t control your emotions.

Only you were responsible for how you saw yourself, and even though you felt like shit right now, it would pass. You were allowed to feel the way you were feeling.

Your deep breathing was interrupted by the ringing of your phone, a name you never thought you’d see lighting up your screen. Clearing your throat, you schooled your voice to resemble normal before picking up.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Sorry this is random, but I had a few ideas. Do you mind meeting up?” Namjoon’s voice broke through your thoughts and you sighed a little, finding comfort in his dulcet baritone. It was a different tone than the one he used for meetings or the one you had heard in interviews, and somehow it felt familiar. Blaming the feeling on your rattled emotions, you agreed to his request, fixing your face to drive to his studio.

Walking into the large skyscraper you were surprised that the security at the front already had your information, providing you with a temporary employee card rather than a run of the mill visitor pass.

With your sour mood, you really hoped helping Namjoon with his project wasn’t about to turn into a part time job. As dedicated as you were to being a Shadow, your days were often long and exhausting, and carving time for another thing just seemed like too much at the moment. Perhaps he would notice how stupidly incapable you were for the task and request an actual marketing firm to do the research for him.

Visiting his studio, however, was a dream come true. You had always loved the music he created for Dark and Wild, and immensely enjoyed the livestreams he would do describing his process after each album. It was always interesting to hear how much actually went into creating a seemingly simple track, how much he thought through his lyrics, how different the finished product sounded from the acoustic demos he showcased.

Much like the personality you had come to learn about in your time as a fan, his studio was a utopia of calm, plants scattered about, thriving even in a seemingly dark room. A glass separated the recording booth from the main area, which housed multiple cream couches decorated with colourful cushions, some even with the band on them.

On the walls were their records, different colours signifying which had gone platinum – most of them. There was a large monitor attached to the glass wall of the recording booth, a large gaming chair facing it on which sat Namjoon, fiddling with the mouse. The large screen embarrassingly enough had your blog on it as the man in question scrolled, laughing at your somewhat unhinged comments.

“Please stop stalking my blog,” you deadpanned and he turned the chair to face you with a large smile on his face.

“Only fair. You stalked me all these years,” he teased, loving the way your face scrunched in disbelief. He liked how you looked today, probably more than how he found you at the meeting. Dressed in a matching pink sweat suit, you somehow looked a little softer, and definitely less intimidating than the woman spouting the Federal Reclamation Law off the top of her head. It made him glad he had gathered the courage to ask you for a meeting.

“And it got you more famous. Your point?” you replied, ignoring the heat that was creeping up your back. You really should’ve gone through your blog and parsed through all the very horny comments you had left on their photos, but then again they should take it as a compliment. You were only appreciating them!

“My point is,” Namjoon began, leaning on his elbows as he gestured for you to sit on the couch in front of him, “You’re talented at getting people hyped up. And I want to make all the other blogs I found get active again. I have a list!”

His proclamation was followed by an actual list he had compiled that he handed to you, and being in the fandom for so long, you knew almost all of the fifteen names, some of them even personally. It may have seemed that the Shadow fandom was massive, but when it came to bigger blogs, it was actually pretty small, all of you constantly running into each other at events at some point of your fan careers.

“Well, six of these are moms now and they don’t even have time to breathe, let alone continue following you guys. I don’t know about these four, but Sera is in prison,” you said.

“Prison?! For stalking?” he asked, genuinely taken aback, and you just chuckled.

“No… for embezzlement. Turns out, she liked taking money more than pictures of you,” you quipped, laughing at his response.

“But she was so into me,” he scowled.

“Sucks to suck,” you responded as he scoffed, turning his attention back to his computer as he started to strategize different marketing tactics, some of which went over your head, especially when he started to talk about TikTok.

Perhaps Hera’s news had really exhausted you or perhaps it was the fact that marketing was never your forte, but you found yourself zoning out of the conversation, hoping Namjoon didn’t notice that you looked like a mess when you entered his office. He hadn’t acted like he noticed, but you were sure that your eyes were still a little red-rimmed, and that your face was puffy from crying in your car. You hadn’t realised how quiet you had gotten till his voice cut through your thoughts.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked softly, pausing his rant.

“Yeah. Sorry, just a little out of it today,” you replied with a smile, trying not to be affected by how concerned he seemed. Even after spending such a short amount of time with him, you had started wondering why he was your least favourite member, maybe you really did view your Shadow life through a very distorted, horny lens.

“You know what always makes me feel better? Chocolate!” he suggested with a grin, opening a drawer to pull out a giant bar of some Swiss chocolate and presenting it to you with a flourish. The gesture made you laugh harder than you anticipated, the random move making you wheeze. He joined you, unwrapping the chocolate to break off a piece for you, the gesture endearing you to no end.

“Ah! So this is why you never had abs,” you joked, giggling as he groaned.

“I had a kid to take care of! And… okay you’re under NDA so I can tell you,” he whispered, leaning in, and your curiosity peaked as he came closer. “Those teething biscuits are fucking delicious! Dude, those are like crack!”

The absurdity of the statement had you cackling once again, and you couldn’t help appreciating the effort he was putting into cheering you up, even when he didn’t know what was wrong. And perhaps it was the recent rehashing of your past, but you felt your heart warm, your grin matching his.

Unknown to you, Namjoon’s heart warmed too, just by hearing your laugh.

—-------

Somehow after the night in the studio, texting and hanging out with Namjoon became the norm. At least twice a week, you’d visit the little sanctuary he had created, spouting wild plans for twenty minutes before falling into a tangent that took over the conversation, trailing it to random topics that always distracted you till both of you were enjoying take out. For someone who had spent his whole life in the limelight, Namjoon was oddly normal.

Sure he had his moments like when he accidentally broke his extremely expensive watch because he was flailing animatedly while describing how he had once found a boy in his daughter’s room. But for the most part, he was down to earth, his stories mundane, nothing like the rockstar you had imagined.

However, what was exactly the same as the rockstar of your blog, was how attractive he was, especially in the suit he was wearing for today’s meeting. Sitting next to you on the couch, his glasses were low on his nose as he scoured through the research you had collected about building fan culture. The scowl on his face complimented him, and it reminded you of how he looked when he was busy slapping the bass when he performed, lip stuck between his teeth as he bobbed his head to the beat of the music playing through the speakers.

After almost three weeks of strategizing, despite you promising yourself this project wouldn’t take all your time, Namjoon had indeed hired a marketing firm, taking the insights the two of you found during your hangouts to them while you were at work. They had done an analysis and found that Shadows had indeed not died down, and that Moon was correct in her assumption that because of their songs going viral on social media, there was a steady growth of new fans, their old videos getting more and more comments. The news made you giddy, and it was getting difficult to hide how excited you were about the potential comeback.

“Wow… this is actually really great,” Namjoon praised you and you couldn’t help beaming at his words as he continued, “Are you sure you’re not a marketer? This is so so good!”

“Shut up. I just googled stuff,” you countered, getting a little flustered at his smile. He always seemed to be complimenting you during these meetings and you were sure your head was going to explode with how big it was getting.

“Oh speaking of google, did you know that it saves everything you search?” he asked, eyes widening in the shocking revelation he had seemingly made and you giggled at him.

“Yes, Grandpa. That’s how they make their money,” you teased, your early conversation getting steamrolled once again as you explained to him how the conglomerate actually used that data to make personalised ads.

“Wait… so like they can use my porn preferences to sell me stuff?” he exasperated, before realising what he had blurted out, a blush taking over his features. He really didn’t know how to control his tongue around you, somehow you brought out his no-filter self, something that only happened around those he was closest to. Maybe it was that you seemed to know him from his younger days, and that he had read all your unfiltered thoughts that you unapologetically owned up to, but he felt close to you despite only knowing you for merely weeks. It was weird. It was terrifying. It was exciting.

“Why are you googling porn?” you grimaced, cringing at just how bad he was at technology. Did spending so much time on his passion really make him this clueless?

“It has a video option!” he defended, ignoring how stupid he sounded even to his own ears, but then again what he said was even stupider. “What do you use?”

“Your music,” you deadpanned, immensely enjoying the way he turned into a tomato, sputtering in disbelief till you reassured him that you used a porn site like a normal human. However, Namjoon couldn’t help being stuck on the thought that maybe there was some truth to your words, and that alone had his heart beating and his lip twisting into a smirk.

“Oh yeah? What song?” he teased, an elbow meeting your shoulder as he snickered.

“Bicycle,” you said, smiling at the way he cringed in response.

“I wrote that song for my daughter, you heathen!” he exclaimed, gagging in response and all you could do was cackle, dissolving into breathless laughs as you leaned back on the couch. You missed the way he smiled at you, mirroring your position next to you, waiting for you to calm down.

“You’re a great songwriter,” you complimented once you had caught your breath, wiping the tears from your eyes. You regretted the sudden compliment that had escaped your lips, but the feeling was short lived because you got to witness the elusive shy Namjoon, smiling widely and shaking his bowed head as he brought his hands to between his legs, shoulders rising and a soft blush adorning his face. It made your heart flutter a little, making you avert your gaze.

That night the two of you barely got anything done, only deciding to create a presentation to convince the band. Namjoon insisted on having a special section chronicling Dark and Wild’s journey through your eyes. It was wholly unnecessary but he strong armed you with endless compliments and an offer to never get pineapple on the pizzas the two of you inevitably ended up ordering.

You never thought you would end up becoming friends with someone you used to follow around on tour, but somehow with all your meetings, it seemed that it was not only a possibility but a reality.

—-------

You found it odd when Namjoon changed up the routine one day, inviting you to his apartment instead of the studio, but you supposed that’s what friends did. So you had showed up with a bottle of wine and his favourite gummy bears, a decidedly small gesture but the way he squealed excitedly like a little kid at the candy had you giddy.

However, you learnt that somehow, this meeting wasn’t one for your flimsy professional reasons, but for just hanging out. You didn’t know why you were so surprised that he wanted to just enjoy your company, the two of you had developed a friendship but with the only close friendship you had with Hera still hanging on by a thread, you were a little skeptical.

“So how’ve you been?” Namjoon asked after he had set up a movie on the screen and popped some popcorn. His easy comfort made you worried, making you build up walls, refusing to share anything personal, and instead opting to discuss work and how his case was going.

Apparently, Generation Swine hated him and wanted to do everything but settle, desperate to keep the six songs he had written for them with full creative control over them. It was a preposterous ask, and you told him as such. You were determined to ensure that all his copyright would be given to him with as little payment from him as possible.

“They can keep them,” he said, speaking after a long silence. “I’ve made my peace with it. Just get them to take my name off.” You argued but Namjoon had made his decision. He knew that having his name on that album would just taint his reputation. He didn’t want to be associated with such scumbags who clearly respected no one, often not even themselves. And if he was being completely honest, he had just grown tired of the months long back and forth. If they wanted his music so bad, they could have it. He would be lying if he said writing songs came easy to him, but it just wasn’t worth it. Not when he knew they would water down his works to something unrecognisable. He just wanted to focus on making new stuff with his band mates, and moving on. Something he wished he could do with you by his side, not that he would ever admit it out loud.

The movie was some Japanese flick about a band working to achieve their dreams and everything that came with the industry, and when it ended you were left in charge of the remote. To break the odd tension that had risen after the silent resignation about Namjoon giving up his case, you decided to put on a documentary about Dark and Wild.

It worked, getting Namjoon distracted with nostalgia as he told you the background of all the scenes. Like how the footage of him ripping the wallpaper off the wall in a hotel was wrongly portrayed.In reality he had somehow managed to get his hand stuck in an already existing tear and couldn’t get it out. A few months ago you would have rolled your eyes and called him a liar, but after knowing him, you knew he was telling the truth. You had never met anyone with a bigger propensity for disaster than Namjoon. It was a wonder he was still alive with how clumsy he was. You told him so with a slap on his thigh and he just laughed along.

You had started the evening at different ends of his large couch, but somehow as he regaled you with more stories, you had moved closer, sitting side by side, sharing the popcorn on your lap and the gummies on his. It scared you how comfortable you felt with him, how he made you forget about everything, how he made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt. When he left to go pick up the food you had ordered from the restaurant next door, you realised that perhaps you wanted more of that comfort. You wanted to spend evenings just watching movies and making fun of him. You wanted to hear his stories, learn more about his life, and for the first time in a long while maybe you wanted to share your stories too.

Smiling at the thought, you scrolled through Youtube on the television, watching his old music videos, in awe of how much he had changed from the scrawny kid trying hard to seem tough to the dorky heartthrob he was now. You had always felt close to the band, related to them. That’s what made you a fan but somehow knowing the real him, made you feel nervous. There was no screen to hide behind, no image in your brain to project your fantasies on, because Namjoon was no longer just an abstract figment of your imagination, he was real.

“Oh… umm… hello,” a voice broke you out of your thoughts and you looked up to see a teenage girl standing in the living room, dressed much like you used to as a kid. Wearing black ripped jeans and a loose yellow flannel shirt, she seemed like a typical emo kid, her image solidified by the multiple piercings on her ears and chunky silver jewellery on her neck and wrists. She had dark hair that was tied in a half ponytail behind her head, and her dimples matched those on Namjoon’s face. You had seen her millions of times as a toddler, often dressed in fluffy pink dresses with giant yellow noise-cancelling earphones as she watched her father perform, and you felt oddly proud to see her all grown up.

“Hi! I’m a friend of your dad’s,” you said, moving the empty bowl from beside you invitingly, feeling a little awkward. Somehow you felt nervous as if you should’ve asked him if it was okay to talk to her before you did, every fibre of you wishing to make a good first impression.

“Oh, friend, you say?” she asked, narrowing her eyes with a grin that deepened her dimples. Dropping her bag at the end of the couch, she sat next to you, folding her hands in her lap confidently as she looked at the screen. You felt yourself flush with embarrassment as you followed her gaze to the obscenely large television where the music video was paused with the image of Hoseok mid thrust. You really should’ve paid more attention to which frame you stopped at.

Watching your horrified expression, she laughed, clapping her hands. “Don’t worry! That’s my favourite video too!”

Her laugh was a little weird, hiccuping between cackles, but it was extremely contagious, coaxing you to chuckle and breaking the ice. Most would think that the daughter of a renowned rock star would be spoiled, a little entitled, but Moon was anything but that, amicably finding topics to connect with you, cracking jokes at the expense of her uncles. Her humour reminded you of her father, goofy and light hearted. It was no wonder that soon the topic turned to him.

“Have you seen this video?” she asked excitedly, searching through her phone before casting her Youtube to the screen, playing a video of Namjoon from an old Dark and Wild vlog. The band had relegated him to cooking for them, the six of them sitting in chairs in front of him as he tried to cut vegetables. He had his lower lip between his teeth as he cut an onion in half and then proceeded to lay it on the round end, gingerly moving the knife and being unsuccessful almost every time while his friends laughed.

You had watched the video before. Of course, you had. It was a classic in the Shadow fandom, one that was memed again and again, but you couldn’t help wincing all the same, knowing full well that he wouldn’t hurt himself but worried all the same.

“Oh my god, dad! Flip the onion over!” Moon laughed at the screen before turning to you. “He hasn’t cooked for you, has he?”

“Oh god, no!” you replied automatically before biting your tongue, but Moon just chuckled along, fully aware of her father’s lack of culinary skills. Video Namjoon moved on to a carrot, struggling even more if that was possible and you couldn’t help joining along with Moon’s commentary.

“Watch your fingers,” you yelled at the screen just as he slightly nicked himself, hissing in pain, sheepishly pouting at the camera. When you had first watched the video, you were endeared by his antics, but now it felt as if your heart was bursting, making you almost coo at his younger self.

“I’m so glad I saved up my pocket money to buy him a food processor,” Moon commented, still giggling at the video. “Did you know he refused to buy me take out and then would accidentally cut himself like eight times a week?”

You could imagine Namjoon being stubborn as his daughter complained while he chopped vegetables in uneven slices, fingers covered in little bandaids. It wasn’t hard to notice how dedicated a father Namjoon was, but it warmed your heart to hear how much he cared for Moon from her directly.

You could tell by her tone that even though she masked it under humour and inconvenience, she truly admired her father for all the effort he put in, and somehow the picture in your head morphed till you were laughing at him alongside her, pushing him aside to take over the chopping as he leaned sheepishly by the counter complaining and insisting he had it handled.

In your imagination, he wrapped himself behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder, annoying you while you worked as Moon teased the two of you for being dorks. You startled at the image, not knowing why your brain had decided to drift that way, heart beating oddly, and eyes blinking to rid yourself of it.

As if on cue, Namjoon entered the room, precariously balancing boxes of pasta and dessert on two plates, a bottle of wine tucked under his elbow, and for the first time since you had met him, you felt starstruck. In awe of how tightly he was holding the cutlery in one hand but how lightly he was holding the plates, swaying from side to side to ensure none of the four unevenly stacked boxes tipped over. You felt frozen, a blush slowly creeping up your cheeks before leaping into action after a little “help!” escaped his lips.

Reaching for the bottle, you took it in your hands just as Moon grabbed the boxes, leaving Namjoon with just the plates and the cutlery. He still managed to drop a fork on the ground, cursing at himself before his daughter picked it up and went to replace it from the kitchen.

“Grab yourself a plate too, Moonie,” Namjoon offered, sitting next to you and oblivious to your sudden crush, casually plating a bit of everything for you. You realised he did that alot. Always making sure that you were served before him, that you were given the first piece of any snacks you both shared, and always asking if you were comfortable.

How did a passing comment from his daughter have such a profound impact on you? You felt like one of those girls who wrote fanfiction, your imagination going wild with scenarios when he had only just been kind. Perhaps you needed to follow Hera’s misguided advice and get laid after all.

“Nah, I have homework,” Moon replied, placing the fork on the table before smirking at the two of you. “Enjoy your date,” she snickered before prancing out of the room.

“It’s not a date!” Namjoon called out after her, bringing your overactive imagination to a screeching halt, forcing you to chuckle with him and dig into the food, missing how brightly his cheeks were shining at his daughter’s offhand comment.

You were still not speaking to Hera, but maybe you should strike a truce with her. If only so you could go with her to a club and no longer give yourself false allusions of being with a famous rockstar.

—-------

“Thanks for coming guys. I know you’re all busy but I just wanted to–”

“Oh my god. Stop giving a speech! Show us!” Seokjin interrupted Namjoon, bouncing on his seat on the couch, making Yoongi groan as he invaded his space. Although Namjoon’s studio was spacious, it was crammed for seven people, Hoseok and Taehyung sat squished next to Yoongi and Seokjin with Jimin perched on the armrest, wincing as Jungkook sat on his lap. Namjoon shook his head at his friend, appreciating the encouragement but still nervous.

He hadn’t showcased a song to the whole band for a long time and even though he knew that they were always supportive, he still felt a little uneasy. The new songs were different from the ones he used to write for Dark and Wild – while the former were debaucherous and often horny, his new stuff was something that held more of him, bared him with a vulnerability his younger self used to hide behind bravado. Not to mention that all he had was a guitar and his notebook, nothing like the demos he used to show them before, usually filled with samples of instruments manufactured from the mixer in his computer.

When Hoseok asked everyone to be quiet, Namjoon took a grounding breath, starting to pluck the strings slowly, building a melody that had haunted him for weeks. The acoustic version wasn’t how he heard it in his head, but he hoped it was enough to inspire his friends to imagine how easily they would fill in the gaps. He picked the strings individually, separating the chords so that they could speak to the emotions he was aiming for.

Soft strings echoed through the space, slow and resounding, and he cleared his throat before closing his eyes and singing. He always hated how he sounded but somehow in that moment he lost himself to the melancholy, letting it guide his vocals.

Maybe cherries are blossoming And winter is going to be over I miss you (I miss you) I miss you (I miss you) Wait a little bit, just a few more nights I’ll be there to see you (I'll go there to meet you) I’ll come for you (I'll come for you) Pass the end of winter's cold Until the spring day comes again Until the flowers bloom again Please stay, please stay there a little longer

The room was silent when he opened his eyes, six pairs of eyes staring at him. They had all leaned forward, Jungkook now sitting on the floor, legs crossed below him as his head rested on his hands. There were no words and Namjoon felt himself getting nervous as Yoongi spoke.

“Holy fuck…” he whispered, and Namjoon jumped straight into defense.

“I know my voice sounded terrible. You guys know i can’t sing, but I was just thinking, if we added some drums and then Seokjin you added some of the melody or maybe Jimin with a solo in the middle with Yoongi’s production… it could be… umm… something?” he rambled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Taehyung asked, his voice deep and serious, and Namjoon felt himself deflate a little, shoulders slumping before the next words left Taehyung’s mouth, “This is fucking incredible.”

It seemed that his words broke everyone out of their trance, praise flowing through the room as they excitedly left the mixing part of the studio to join Namjoon on the recording side, picking up their designated instruments.

“This is 4/4 as usual right?” Jungkook asked, taking a seat at the drums, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck before twirling the sticks between his fingers.

“And what’s the key again?” Seokjin questioned, plugging his guitar into the amp, taking a determined stance as he smiled warmly at Namjoon and Namjoon couldn’t help mirroring his expression, his cheeks splitting with how wide his lips stretched.

“E-flat,” he replied, discarding the acoustic guitar to the side to pick up his bass, setting the dials to the sound he prepared, the pitch a higher than usual for a bass.

Soon the song transformed from an empty plea to a celebration of friendship, the instruments gelling together in a sound that went from mournful to inspiring. It somehow changed the message of the song from longing and waiting to reuniting. It was as if the melody was meant to be tweaked, his friends adding in their flair that changed how Namjoon had always heard the song in his head into one he could never fathom.

By the time Hoseok and Jimin finished singing, with Seokjin and Taehyung harmonising at the chorus, Namjoon couldn’t help choking up a little. It was as if he was transported back in time, back before he knew what it was like to lose his dream – to the time when he didn’t even know what loss was. He felt irrevocably happy and his eyes glistened as the last chord echoed into silence.

“Fuck I missed this,” Hoseok gleed into the microphone, jumping a little in excitement and the band joined in on the sentiment, their voice a cacophony of chaos as they all complimented each other and Namjoon for writing what they perceived as a hit. Soon, everyone was pulling out unfinished works, some scribbled in notebooks, others in their phones, one even on a napkin – Taehyung had a moment of inspiration in a Jazz club three months ago.

It was as if the previous years had been erased, their usual teamwork gelling into place like muscle memory, ideas flying and morphing into melodies that were lighthearted and poetry that struck a chord. Namjoon knew they were still wary about a comeback, but just seeing the joy on their faces as they brainstormed song after song, convinced him it wouldn’t be too hard to put their worries to rest.

Something told him this wouldn’t be the last time they jammed together.

—-------

It had been a few weeks since you had talked to Hera properly. Conversations that used to last hours were subdued to passing remarks about groceries and chores. She stayed out most of the time, giving you space. Sitting on your living room couch with ramen on a Saturday night, things were dull, your mind wandering on your relationship with her.

They say absence makes the heart grow stronger, but it didn’t seem to be the case for you. The more she stayed away, the more you had time to dwell on how your friendship had faded over time, how she had gone from a confidant to someone you tolerated. It made you feel a little guilty, but everytime that guilt would be overshadowed by how it seemed that you were always putting in more effort, from housing her during her financial crisis to not thinking twice about  any favour she asked of you.

It wasn’t always bad, you remembered her getting you out of your introverted shell in law school, challenging you to strike a balance between coursework and hobbies. But in the past two years, you couldn’t recall a single time she had even mildly inconvenienced herself on your behalf. She was often passive-aggressive, seemingly exasperated at you. Perhaps it made sense if she was talking to Ryan during that time, his manipulative nature probably influenced her. But if she was so easily swayed was she truly your friend?

As if she was honed into you trying to let her go, she waltzed in through the front door, a huge grin on her face and smelling of alcohol. Squealing your name she startled you with a hug, her arms wrapping tight around you. It felt suffocating, unnerving.

“I miss you,” she sniffled, and usually her crying would be enough for you to forgive her, but you knew she was an emotional drunk. You sat in silence, letting her cry into your shoulder, not knowing how to react when the last words she said to you were accusations of how you had forced your ex to cheat. You didn’t know why you were being so harsh, but maybe it was because you had started to watch the Dark and Wild vlogs again, envying their friendships, comparing it to how the two of you interacted.

You patted her on the shoulder, waiting for her to sit up, and when she did you smiled, not knowing what else to do but tell her it was okay. As soon as the words left your mouth she was perking up, tears forgotten and drunken ramblings commencing. She talked to you about her night, about how Ryan was the perfect man, and you couldn’t get over the bitterness you felt. Was she trying to show off how much of a better boyfriend he was to her than you?

A ping from your phone saved you from the conversation, your face lighting up when you read Namjoon’s text.

So what do you say to a private concert? Wanna meet me at the studio in half an hour?

You couldn’t control the giddy smile as you responded, thanking him in your head for saving you from this awkward conversation. Hera didn’t like it when you excused yourself, complaining about how you didn’t like her anymore. She wasn’t wrong, but you were too excited to leave to fight her on it, apologising and rushing to your room to change, ignoring the pout she threw your way.

When you knocked on the studio door you were expecting only Namjoon to be there wanting to share some of the newer songs he had alluded to working on. However, when you entered you were met by the whole band, seven men sprawled on the couch, the coffee table cluttered with an array of snacks. They stood up at your arrival, greeting you excitedly in a mismatched unison, Jungkook’s voice the loudest among the crowd.

“Yummyjungkookie!” he exclaimed, the wink he tossed your way making you flush. You never imagined your teenage celebrity crush to ever greet you, let alone scream your embarrassing username at you. It made you wish that you had been a little more subtle when choosing it.

“Guys you are overwhelming her,” Jimin chided the men, moving away from the group to hold out his hand. “Hi Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you!”

“Finally?” you questioned, grasping his hand in yours, a little dizzy at the sudden appearance of people you had only seen on stage or in magazines. You should’ve been used to it after spending time with Namjoon for so long but Jimin was right, it was overwhelming to see them all in one place once again.

“Yeah Joonie’s told us all about you,” Hoseok smirked, side-eyeing his friend who glared at him.

“He couldn’t shut up about you,” Seokjin added with a mischievous sing-song lilt to his voice, elbowing Namjoon who cleared his throat loudly before speaking.

“Okay!” he exclaimed loudly, clapping his hands together once. “Now that everyone is acquainted–”

“Oh I’m not acquainted,” Jungkook interrupted, moving towards you with a teasing smile, pushing his hair away from his face. It reminded you of his stage persona, his already sexy allure hammed up with fan service and it took every ounce of control you had to not swoon. The reaction had been engraved in you for years, after all. “So am I as yummy as you thought?” he asked, flexing his biceps.

Luckily you didn’t have to answer because as soon as the words left his mouth, Jimin scowled, smacking him atop his head. “You have a wife and kids!” he scolded.

“Aw hyung! I’m just trying to figure out if I’m rusty,” Jungkook whined, the earlier suavity melting instantly as he pouted, making you giggle at the sudden change. That was the Jungkook you were a fan of. Sure the sex appeal was appealing but you’d be lying if you said the real thing that gravitated you towards him was how dorky he was.

As all of them started arguing and teasing Jungkook for being a “rusty old man”, you started realising that they all were, in fact, dorks. It comforted you, helped you bring them off the pedestal you had placed them on and back to how they were just how you hoped they’d be – just a group of normal friends.

With everyone settled and introduced, and your pick of dinner ordered, Namjoon made you sit in the large comfy chair in front of the glass separating the recording studio and the mixing room. The band settled in the other room, picking up their instruments and making last minute tune ups.

“Okay. Someone told us a busy lawyer had been spending her precious free time to help us with our stupid hang ups, so we thought that we’d show our appreciation,” Hoseok announced, adjusting the mic stand. “For our favourite Shadow, after eight years, we are Dark and Wild!”

His introduction was immediately followed by Jungkook banging his sticks with each other, counting into the first song, and you were immediately transported to the time when you fought to be in the front row. They started with War of Hormones, Hoseok and Taehyung’s more mature voices and Seokjin’s new ad libs, changing the song into something fresher, something you thought you would never get to see live again. Before you knew it, you were standing from your chair, rocking along to the music as you grinned.

Namjoon watched you as he performed and he couldn’t help the giddiness he felt at seeing you so into something. You were often stoic, having a tight lid on your emotions. It made him want to work harder to get you to open up, often cracking jokes he knew were terrible to get you to laugh. If he knew he would get to see this expression on your face by just convincing the boys to put on a show for you, he would’ve begged them earlier.

He didn’t know when he had started seeing you as someone he wanted to pursue. The feeling was foreign. He never thought he would feel this way again, the bubbling anticipation for when he would see you next, the giddy joy when he saw your name light up his screen, the heart stuttering nervousness when you were near. He had assumed that those feelings had died in his youth, buried with Seo on that rainy day that tore his heart out.

He had tried to move on after her, had multiple one night stands, friends with benefits, even a girlfriend at some point. After a while he had figured that he would never feel that euphoria again, but somehow you had come in with your business formal skirts and secret thirsty blog and embedded yourself in his thoughts. And with it came the need to hold himself back, his once bulletproof confidence wavering to insecurities that he never felt before.

You never shared much of your personal life with him, never deviated from the strict line of friendship that had cemented itself between you, and Namjoon didn’t know how to break that. Every time he flirted, it seemed like a joke to you. Perhaps he was a joke too, a washed up musician with a grown child, who only met you because he was fighting with children and pathetically trying to convince people who had moved on to move backwards with him.

He didn’t realise that his gaze was unwavering as he stared at you through the glass, fingers moving over the strings automatically as Hoseok sang their old hits, but you noticed. Between your jumping, you saw how all of a sudden, his face had fallen, his jaw tightening as he zoned out like he did sometimes when you were hanging out. You didn’t know what he was thinking in those moments, but something told you it wasn’t pleasant.

His mood didn’t lift during the rest of the set, even when you tried to engage him with a smile and a wave. He returned your smile briefly before going back to the same forlorn expression that you couldn’t help being worried about.

“Thank you! You’ve been a great audience,” Yoongi said cheekily, winking at you after the last song before he was ushering everyone into the other room with you. He pulled up two stools, switching his pedals around and taking a seat while offering the other to Namjoon.

“For our last song, we wanted to show you a new one. One written by none other than Namjoon Kim,” Yoongi announced, plucking the strings as his foot toyed with the pedal, changing the tone to a fuzzier one that was overlaid with a delay, adding an ethereal ambience to the sound. Behind you the boys piled onto the couch, cheering loudly and you followed suit, clapping loudly as Namjoon adjusted the height of the mic and sat down.

He smiled at you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “This isn’t one of the happy ones, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat as Yoongi looped a sound and started plucking the strings with a melancholic tune. “Also sorry my singing sucks,” he chuckled dryly.

“No, it doesn’t!” Seokjin argued loudly as everyone whooped.

“Go Joon!” Jungkook joined, and somehow the encouragement paired with the soft smile you sent his way made his nerves dissolve, letting him sing the song he had written years ago for the first time. It wasn’t just a surprise for you, it was for the rest of the band too. No one but Yoongi had heard it before. Initially, Yoongi had told him to showcase the song, but after trying to sidetrack him with other songs and getting the idea to invite you, Yoongi had had enough, instructing that he sing the song at the end for everyone.

It was silent while he sang, his friends behind the glass listening intently. He hadn’t sung this song properly in a long while. When he wrote it, he was in the deepest pit of his depression, often leaving Moon at his mother’s house to spend the night wasted writing rubbish on pages and then ripping them out when the words didn’t pass his harsh self-criticism.

Yoongi had found him on such a night, curled up on the floor, humming the melody as he banged his fist against the floor, fighting against his sore eyes. Of all the members, Yoongi wasn’t one he was closest to then, but it changed when instead of telling him it would be okay and coaxing him to bed, Yoongi had sternly told him to sit up and finish the song. He stayed with Namjoon the whole night and then for three nights after, subtly ensuring that he didn’t overdo his drinking, or turn to something stronger, as his self loathing crawled into the cathartic poetry dancing on top of Yoongi’s catchy rift.

Somehow writing that song had made him feel a little less sad, as if he had let go of the sorrow by transforming it into something productive. But singing the song he hadn’t even attempted to hear for so long, it was inevitable that he was transported back to that time where he was always in such a haze that the days seemed like an endless burden tied to his ankle as he sank, flailing to swim to the surface that kept moving more and more out of reach. It made him choke a little on his words.

One morning, I opened my eyes And wished I was dead I want someone to kill meIn this loud silence I live to understand the world But the world has never understood me, why No, that half is missing It's trying to hurt me I miss me, miss me baby I wish me, I wish me baby Wish I could choose me

You pursed your lips as his words reached you, feeling an undeniably need to soothe the pain that seemed to be dripping from his every pore. Namjoon had always been open, always made you laugh, unknowingly brightening your mood when work or problems with Hera refused to let you relax. He had talked about his daughter and wanting to get the band together. He had talked to you about his songwriting process, and he had told you his thoughts about the industry. But in that moment, you felt that Namjoon wasn’t always as open as he seemed to be, that beneath his usually cheerful demeanour, he seemed to be suffering, silently at that.

Why is it that I'm being so earnest Yet it's not working out Always Always (I lost my all ways)

He sang the last line abruptly, standing up as soon as he was done and excusing himself. You watched as he left the studio, yearning to run after him, but then again, all his best friends were in the room. Why would he need your comfort when he could have them?

“Go. He’s probably in the next room,” Yoongi said, walking back into the mixing room and placing a hand on your shoulder to break you out of your trance. When you looked at him with doubt, he just smiled, slightly nodding towards the door. Not wanting to overthink the reasons and too worried about Namjoon, you followed his advice, leaving and knocking on the next door.

“I’m fine, Yoons,” Namjoon called out, his voice eerily cheerful, making you suspicious. He opened the door, shock momentarily washing over him before he affixed a smile on his face. But you had learnt what his real smile looked like in the months you had gotten to know him. You didn’t miss how it didn’t reach his eyes, how his lighter right dimple never poked through his cheek, and how his lower lip quivered ever so slightly.

Before you knew what you were doing, you had your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down into a hug. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it, instantaneously wrapping his arms around your waist, crushing you to him. Your scent overwhelmed him, an amalgam of lavender and honey that he had only ever gotten faint whiffs of now crowding his senses, coaxing him to lose the control he had tried so hard to keep over the last few minutes.

“Sorry,” he apologized, trying to clear the lump from his throat, loosening his grip, attempting to chuckle despite his heart beating erratic and his emotions threatening to overflow. “So embarrassing…”

“I’m not judging,” you whispered, holding on to him tightly. “You can cry if you want to. It’s okay.”

The moment the words left your lips, Namjoon couldn’t hold it in anymore, your permission somehow breaking his barriers and a tiny sob escaping him. He buried his face in your neck, his tears probably ruining your blouse. You could feel him shaking in your arms, and you stroked his scalp to comfort him, letting him cling onto you as he cried. You tried to control your own tears, but they followed anyways, silently tracking down your cheeks in empathetic trails. You didn’t know what to say to console him so you let him cry till he was straightening up, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater.

He settled on the couch at the corner of the room, and you followed, looking around. The small room was some sort of a meeting area. Two large couches lined the walls in an L with a coffee table between them, the walls covered in a few paintings, and a single lamp in the corner lighting up the space. It was cosy.

“Sorry,” he laughed hollowly, and you reached out to hold his hand in an attempt to comfort him, hoping that he realised he had nothing to apologise for, nothing to explain. But he explained anyways, talking about how when he wrote the song he was in the deepest despair he had ever felt and somehow till today he had forgotten how he had felt, how broken he had been.

“We never showed it on the cameras, you know? How fucked up everything was,” he said, fingers gripping tightly onto yours, needing something to ground him as his memories flashed before his eyes.

Everything was always glamourized in front of the camera; their friendships, his relationship. All everyone knew was they were a little chaotic, a bunch of hyper dudes who would get drunk and joke around. They didn’t know that alcohol wasn’t the only vice they used to cope with the sudden plummet to fame, to cope with the stresses of releasing album after album of hits, of endless days of putting on personas that merged into a haze till they forgot who they really were.

It was okay when he took his first hit, it was meant to relax him, all the ones in the industry before him assured him that it wouldn’t turn into anything more. So the band would gather in their hotel rooms after some shows when the pressure felt like it would rip them to shreds and shoot up. It would let them slow down, float in a space where their brains weren’t capable of thinking, of overthinking everything.

That’s when Seo started joining him too, when they were just friends with benefits, before the birth control had failed, back when he was just a kid trying to emulate his heroes. He didn’t know how it would spiral, how his one off would become her everyday. He still blamed himself to this day for being too busy to notice the way her light faded, to notice how her mood swings were too drastic. He never saw her enough to put it together, not until he was getting a call from her mother blaming him angrily, screaming at him for ruining her life.

He broke down for the first time that night, apologising to Seo’s mother, and sobbing into his cellphone. That was also the last time he turned off his brain, before taking a week off to care for her. He sat in the hospital holding her hand while she slept with ventilators, just praying to a god he didn’t believe in for her to wake up.

When she finally opened her eyes, doctors warned her to go to rehab. “This will kill your baby if you’re not careful,” the stern physician warned her, and that was the first time Seo and Namjoon found out that she was pregnant, that amidst their fucked up rocky relationship they had somehow accidentally created something that was pure. They cried in each other’s arms that night under the fluorescence of the cold white room, promising to be better for their child. That was when he fell in love with her.

It was under the same fluorescence that he fell in love with her again, when she held his hand tight, her nails breaking his skin that still carried the crescent scars, as she gave birth to his daughter, the moon of his life. The nine months leading up to the day had Namjoon rediscovering Seo, had him realizing that he never noticed how kind she was, how she always put him first, shielded him from things she needed so as not to burden him. It made him realize how he had taken her devotion for granted for years and he promised himself to never do so again.

But promises are meant to be broken and it was only a few years later when he started falling back into the same patterns, using work as a cover to escape from his daughter’s shrill cries when she threw tantrums for no reason. He had promised to pick her up from school every Monday, Wednesday and Friday when he was in town. It was his responsibility as a parent but even when he was tired, he cherished those moments, listening to Moon ramble on about school and the friends she was making. He was proud of her, or so his memories liked to tell him, but he knew that inside he would always ignore her, too tired from endless practice to pay attention, placating the child with hums and nods.

It was a time when he was working on Dark and Wild’s last album, the label pressuring him to change every song he sent for approval, the guys relying on him for advice when his brain was sapped dry. He was in a haze, he didn’t know what time it was, what day and at the end of his rope, he had just stopped going home. Things with Seo weren’t bad, and they weren’t good, they just were, like a routine that had been embedded in him – one that he had no motivation to break. He would pick up Moon from school, drop her home and see Seo greeting him and he’d only wave before turning around and going back to his studio, biding his time before coming home late enough that Seo would be asleep. He’d sneak into bed and hold her till he fell asleep.

Those nights, he always knew she was awake but he didn’t have the energy to talk to her, so he would stay silent, and hope that his arm around her waist was enough. It still pained him to admit that somehow along the way, his own wife had become a stranger to him. Somehow the woman he had vowed to love in front of his friends and family as she held his daughter in her arms, had turned into something akin to a pillow he would hug at night. He would feel guilty those nights, tearing up as he held her but then his brain reminded him that the only reason he was working so hard was because of her and Moon, that it would be worth it, that once their contract expired next year he could take a break and rebuild the relationship he had. Little did he know that that would never happen. He still remembered the night he lost her, vivid in his mind like a haunting film on repeat.

He had come back from the studio like always, sneaking into his own home at 2 am. He checked on his daughter, smiling tiredly at how she had her entire body wrapped around the giant pink bunny Jungkook had given her, her long dark hair falling over her face. He tiptoed into the room, picking up the blanket from where she had kicked it onto the floor and covered her up, smiling ever wider when she nuzzled into the soft material further.

Quietly walking into his bedroom, he saw his wife buried under the covers and decided to take a shower, relishing the warm water on his sore muscles. He decided to use her body wash that night, a habit he had developed for when his days were long and he needed the comfort of her scent enveloping her. Perhaps he would wake her and kiss her this time, feeling too needy to care if he got scolded. He had argued with Yoongi that day and he needed her to relieve the stress.

Crawling under the covers he reached for her, cuddling her close till he was kissing her neck, the skin oddly cool below his lips. That was the first sign, one that made him panic as he sat up in bed and started shaking her. He could still remember how loud his heart was pounding in his ears, how his hands shook when he ran to turn on the lights, and saw how blue her lips looked. He was crying on the phone when he called the ambulance, and while he waited he held her hand, trying not to yell in despair as he begged her to wake up, ignoring the familiar paraphernalia on the bedside table.

He was still sobbing when the sirens rang out and rotating red lights invaded through the curtains of his bedroom. Still sobbing when he woke up Moon, gathered her in his arms and followed the ambulance to the hospital. Still sobbing when the doctor told him he was sorry. He didn’t know he had such a large reserve of tears, one that didn’t stop even when the cameras followed his family when he buried her, when he bowed in front of Seo’s mother, clasping onto her feet for forgiveness, when he had to explain to his daughter where mommy was.

And he sobbed again when he told you everything, baring his soul in a way he had never done before, not knowing what he was hoping to accomplish. But when you pulled him to you, wrapped your arms around his head and shushed him, he felt his chest fill with warmth. The memories that had assaulted him faded into the background, your small noises of comfort lulling him into content. He hadn’t meant to recount his life story to you in such a way, he only wanted to tell you why the song had such an effect on him, but something about you had him spilling out his truths without even thinking.

“You’re okay,” you assured him as he apologised, reaching out to the table to hand him the box of tissues that was placed there above the stack of random magazines. With the comfort of your words, he pressed the soft cotton to his eyes, steeling himself, his breaths becoming stable as you gently rubbed his back.

“Thank you,” he whispered, bringing a smile to your face as you shook your head. You didn’t know why he felt the need to thank you, all you had done was sit next to him and listened. You should’ve been the one to thank him for letting you in and for sharing his burden. You told him as such and he laughed, a light watery thing that made you join him. When he stood up, you wrapped him in a hug once again, hoping to heal him.

You had never thought that you would ever spend an evening at a private Dark and Wild concert, but more than that you had never imagined that Namjoon would somehow etch himself into your heart in such a short time.

Maybe that’s the thing about love, you never know when it will come and embrace you.

—-------

Birthdays were never your thing. You never knew why people were always so excited to celebrate another revolution around the sun. Your friends had always called you jaded, but you didn’t believe in celebrating the fact that you had just existed. A birthday wasn’t an accomplishment, everyone had a birthday from serial killers to misogynists – why should such a mundane fact be marked with a party. Yet despite your protests, your friends and family would always shower you with gifts and surprises. When you got older the parties toned down to gatherings at a bar or a restaurant, and slowly you became used to them, even expecting them.

Sitting in your room with the early evening sun pouring through your window and the latest Netflix show on your laptop, it didn’t feel like your birthday. Sure, you had received multiple messages reminding you of the fact, but with your family in another city and your friends scattered around the globe, this year it felt a bit empty, a little lonely. You didn’t know when you had started enjoying the celebrations, but the lack of one was jarring, even when you knew rationally that celebrating birthdays was stupid.

Sighing after yet another episode ended, you decided to pamper yourself, to celebrate not that you were a year older, but that despite missing your friends you were still mostly happy with your life. You gathered your favourite bath bomb and bubble bath from a little box under the bed and put on your fluffiest robe before venturing into the bathroom and lighting too many candles. The little speaker you had hooked on the door came to life with your favourite playlist as the tub filled with warm water, the bubbles increasing in volume and the colour of the water changing to a bright violet.

You decided to go all out, exfoliating and shaving your skin, and adding a clay mask to your skin. Dipping into the warm water felt luxurious, the heat relaxing your muscles. You hadn’t realised how long your days had gotten, how little time you had spent on self care, and you couldn’t help but enjoy the way your body sank into the tub, the water caressing you like a lover, the scents making your eyes droop in content.

You finished up your impromptu spa day with painting your nails a bright pink, a colour you rarely used, even going so far to spend extra time blow drying your hair into silky voluminous waves. It felt nice to forget about everything that had been bothering you lately, from Hera’s constant insistence to be friends to your sudden feelings for Namjoon. It was nice to disconnect.

However, you had barely dressed when you heard your roommate, her bed squeaking through the walls as she wailed your ex’s name, souring your pleasant mood. God, you needed a drink.

Not thinking twice, you swapped your comfiest sweats for a nice dress and grabbed your purse. Just because you didn’t have anyone to celebrate with didn’t mean that you couldn’t enjoy a birthday drink and indulge in some decadent cake. Walking to your favourite coffee shop, you decided to get a cake first, picking the extremely tall eight layered chocolate cake and settling on a seat.

Usually, you would pull up a book you were reading on your phone, or scroll through social media, mindlessly watching TikToks, but today you didn’t feel the need for distractions. Savouring the melting rich mousse on your tongue you looked around the little shop, making up stories about its patrons as your eyes trailed over them. There was an old couple sitting in the corner, sharing a quiche, and you imagined that they had just dropped off their grandchildren after spending a day with them. Then you saw a teenager, standing at the counter, biting his lip, torn on what to choose and you imagined that perhaps he was getting a drink for a crush, hoping to woo them with his choice. When he finally settled on a special strawberry milkshake with a swirl of whipped cream and two straws, you mirrored his smile as he sat next to a wide-eyed girl beaming at him.

Every new customer that entered, you would give them a back story, some more mundane than others. Like when a man with a scar over his eyebrow in a suit came to order an espresso you imagined that he was a stuntman, going into a night shoot. Or when a woman came with a bunch of kids, you imagined she was an au pair, paying her way through a social sciences degree. The stories weren’t crazy, but you liked imagining their lives to be simple, it was comforting.

You were in the middle of another daydream when your phone vibrated, a text lighting up your screen.

Hey. I think after last time, I owe you a drink. You free?

It was a simple message, but the moment you read Namjoon’s name your heart skipped a beat, stories forgotten as your daydream morphed from strangers and their lives to hanging out with Namjoon, his arm around you, his lips on yours. It didn’t help that he was somehow psychic, somehow knowing how much you hated drinking alone.

I’m actually on my way to 88… join me!

You smiled, anticipating hanging out with him for no reason other than his company. You knew it was far-fetched to think about anything happening between you, even if last week had seemed like a turning point in your relationship. He was a famous rockstar with a family, there was no way there was any room in his life for you. Even if you were friends now, once he would convince the guys of the comeback, the two of you would go to occasional hangouts and random text messages, the need for frequent brainstorming sessions over.

Finishing the last bit of cake on your plate, you grabbed your purse when your phone pinged again.

Oh if you’re with your friends, I don’t want to intrude… I was just going to offer this stupidly expensive bottle of champagne I found.

Chuckling at his oddly endearing response, you asked him if he was at home or the studio, and when he confirmed the latter, you hailed a cab and made your way to the familiar glass skyscraper that was beginning to feel a little too comfortable to go to. A knock on the wooden door later, you found yourself face to face with Namjoon, his smile making your own lips lift at the corners, your heart feeling as if it was home.

“Hi… umm… hey. Hello,” he greeted a little awkwardly, moving to the mini fridge under the mixing desk to pull out a large bottle of champagne, the gold label glittering in the low light of the room. You settled on the couch, noticing that he had already put out glasses and snacks, various packets of chips and candy littering the coffee table.

“So champagne, eh? What are we celebrating?” you asked, leaning back comfortably as he joined you, a concentrated frown on his face as he fiddled with the corkscrew, bottle between his legs, attempting to wrestle it open. It popped open with a fizzle, a little bit of the liquid spilling onto his sweats as he chuckled victoriously.

“That you don’t hate me,” he replied with a smile, pouring the drink into the flutes and handing one to you. He felt nervous, not knowing why he had said what he said. He knew you didn’t hate him, you didn’t strike him as the person who would scoff at vulnerability, but still, he felt a little guilty about unloading on you the other day. He didn’t want you to think of him as fragile or that you had to carry his emotional baggage with him.

“I don’t hate you,” you protested, clinking your glass against his before taking a sip, the smooth sweet liquid bubbling through you. It really was expensive champagne, the taste unlike any you had had before, crisp yet alluring. “You had a moment. We all have them.”

Your words made Namjoon relax, confirming that his view of you was correct. He felt light as if a weight had been lifted, making him more confident. Out of everyone he knew, somehow you had made it to the top of the list of people he felt most comfortable with. It scared him how easily you had crawled into that space, without him even realising, but Namjoon had been to too much therapy to discount you, to run away like he usually did.

He watched you as you rose, walking to the speakers you had made yourself familiar with, connecting your phone till a dance pop melody was filling the room. Sitting next to him, Namjoon couldn’t help but notice how you were closer this time, your body heat almost palpable on his knee closest to your thigh. You hummed along to the music as you finished your drink, refilling your glass and then his when he followed suit.

He sat sideways, an elbow at the back of the couch and his hand holding his head. The silence was comfortable, letting him just bask in your presence. You looked different than you usually did, your hair falling in nice waves over your shoulders instead of in a ponytail, your body covered in a dress that worshipped it, wrapping in all the right places that made Namjoon’s mouth run a little dry. He cleared his throat, starting a conversation to distract himself.

“You’re all dressed up,” he commented as casually as he could, wondering what you ditched to hang out with him in his lackluster studio. His head wanted him to feel guilty for pulling you away from something but his heart was giddy that you chose him instead. “Sorry if I interrupted something. I should’ve checked in.”

“You didn’t,” you assured him with a giggle. “I was just going for a drink by myself. You interrupted nothing.”

“What were you celebrating?” he recited your earlier question with a grin, leaning closer to you to refill his glass, the fruity scent of your moisturiser tickling his nostrils deliciously. He wanted to nuzzle into you, to deeply inhale the strawberries from your collarbones, but that would be creepy so he moved back to his earlier position, taking a heavy swig to calm himself, not that the alcohol that was starting to buzz through him helped much.

“My birthday, actually,” you replied offhandedly, laughing as his mouth fell open in surprise. You assured him that you didn’t think birthdays were a big deal, but it seemed that Namjoon didn’t care, scrambling to wish you before he was out the door. You chuckled at how adamant he was about doing something special, taking another sip, before he returned, much quicker than you thought he’d be. He held a plate in his hand, stacked with twinkies, a tiny candle poking out from the one on top.

“Here in the Kim house – well, studio – we go all out for birthdays!” he exclaimed, balancing the plate precariously on the arm of the couch before pulling a lighter from his pocket and setting the wick on fire.

“Yes, all out with twinkies,” you teased, placing your glass on the table and standing next to him.

“Well some people like to hide their birthdays. This is the best cake on short notice,” he joked before starting to sing happy birthday, swaying a little side to side, a wide grin on his face.

This morning when you woke up without any plans and knowing no surprises awaited you, you felt empty, but with Namjoon’s tenor wishing you repeatedly, your eyes glistened a little, the warmth in your chest overwhelming you.

Blowing out the candle, you wished that the warmth never went away, oddly ecstatic that somehow in thirty-three years of living you had been fortunate enough to always have at least one person who wanted to celebrate you despite your protests. Namjoon picked a twinkie from the plate and held it to your lips, and somehow the convenience store confection tasted sweeter than usual. Taking the piece from his hands, you returned the favour and he happily munched on the dessert before placing the plate on the coffee table.

The two of you settled on the couch, and between the sips of champagne, he told you about how much he cherished birthdays and never took them for granted. He always went all out on his own, renting large venues to treat his friends to absurd things like skiing trips and jumping castles.

He told you about how for Moon’s birthdays he always implemented the no “no” rule where he would do anything he asked, sharing stories about the time she had gotten him to take her to Disneyland when she was nine and puked from one too many churros, and how for her thirteenth the duo had embarked on a hike in Costa Rica finding hidden waterfalls and cataloguing bugs they found on the way.

“Birthdays with you sound magical,” you remarked, a little jealous that your dad never took you to a rainforest for your birthdays. You could just imagine the way Moon’s face probably lit up when going on her dream vacation.

“Birthdays are magical,” he replied, pouring the last of the alcohol into your two glasses, cheeks flushed from how tipsy he was. He handed you your glass, smiling at you wistfully. “It means you lived another year. It means that you’re here, alive, with me. And that’s worth celebrating.”

You felt the warmth from earlier invade you again, magnified by the bubbly wine in your veins and the way his hand was still holding the glass under yours, sending tingles up your arm. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, your lips landing on his in a brief impulse that sparked till your toes. But it seemed that you weren’t the only one who wanted to do so. You had barely moved away when he was leaning forward, his free hand gently resting on your waist as his lips captured yours once again.

Never in a million years would you have imagined kissing Namjoon Kim on his couch after he forced you to celebrate your birthday, and yet with a flurried haste you were moving your joined hands to the table to deposit your glass, winding your arms around his neck. The glass fell on the table with a little tinkle, the champagne spilling over the surface, but Namjoon couldn’t care less, taking the opportunity to pull you closer, his tongue tasting your peachy lip gloss before delving in and enjoying the sweetness of the wine on your tongue, relishing the little moan you made, your tongue twisting with his.

It was hungry, the two of you wrestling with the feelings that were brewing for months, his hands roaming your sides, squeezing at the flesh, and your fingers tugging the hair at the nape of his neck, making him keen. It seemed that the moment would last forever, neither of you willing to part even to breathe. That is, until the song changed.

It's your birthday, so I know you want to ride out Even if we only go to my house Sip mo-eezy as we sit upon my couch Feels good, but I know you want to cry out

The moment the R&B vocals filled the room, you couldn’t help bursting out in a laugh, cackling at the oddly specific lyrics your phone had decided to throw at you. Namjoon didn’t notice at first, his lips continuing to move from your mouth to your jaw to your neck, nipping at the skin. However, as your laughs got more hysterical, he finally tuned into the song playing, cringing before he joined your cackles, breathless with his forehead against yours.

“So Google really does listen in,” he deadpanned, his humour adding to your joy as you clung on to him, half in his lap before standing up to grab your phone from the table. As funny as the song was, you really didn’t want a soundtrack describing what Namjoon would do to you. A little voice in your head told you to not get your hopes up, that no matter how much you liked him, it was still just a kiss.

However as soon as you turned around, Namjoon put your fears to rest. Unlike how hesitant he had seemed earlier, he was now sitting with a confidence you hadn’t seen before, legs spread and a smirk lighting his face as he stared at you. His eyes roamed your body as he bit his lip, making you feel a little overheated.

“So it’s your birthday,” he commented casually, head tilted slightly, eyes intensely boring into yours. “Wanna ride it out?”

You knew he was teasing you by quoting the silly song but your body didn’t know better, your stomach aching with lust at his deep baritone. The Namjoon you knew was a goofy, clumsy dad, but this Namjoon was the notorious bassist of your youth, cocky and fearless as he sat up straighter, hands landing on your waist to pull you between his legs.

“I’ve read the tags on your blogs, y’know?” he teased, his hands running up and down your waist, the few inches they travelled leaving fire on your skin. “I remember one,” he mused, pulling you down till you straddled him, a knee on either side of his hips. “‘God I’d pay all the money to sit on those dimples’ isn’t that what you said?”

Your mouth flew open at his words. You never thought your horny 3 am thoughts would ever be recited back to you by the subject himself and you had no words, every witty retort dying on your tongue to leave you with a lame, “You weren’t supposed to read that.”

“And you weren’t supposed to make me fall for you,” he replied, earlier bravado falling away in favour of sincerity. He cupped your jaw, thumb running softly over your cheekbone as he smiled at you. “Can I kiss you?”

As soon as you whispered your consent he brought your face to his, lips reuniting to a taste he realised he could never get enough of. It was addicting how your hands gingerly clasped onto his shoulders, how you shivered when he traced his tongue over yours, and how you moaned softly when he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you.

It didn’t take long for him to get needier, for his hands to grab onto your ass over your dress and mould to your flesh, to move your hips against his in a rhythm that made him heady. He wanted you so much that he felt breathless, running out of time even though he knew he wasn’t. His actions made you breathless too, like with every touch he was leading you to the edge of a cliff, hands shaking in anticipation of what was to come, but your brain refused to turn off, to forget whose hands were touching you till you were pushing him away, your forehead against his.

“I’m sorry… I’m a bit out of practice,” you apologised in a whisper, but he just grinned, dissolving your insecurities with his words.

“Me too,” he giggled, kissing your lips, once, twice, three times, his hands clasping onto yours, fingers lacing together. “We can practise together if you want… or we can wait. Whatever you like, birthday girl.”

Somehow his hands in yours and the cheeky smile on his face comforted you. You had been imagining the rockstar, the person you watched grow up through your screen and go wild on stage, but the more you looked at him, the more you saw who he really was.

His flushed cheeks, the little constellation of freckles on his face and the one hidden below his lip, the way his eyes searched yours so eagerly. He wasn’t a rockstar, he was just Namjoon, the one who made stupid jokes and stashed snacks in every drawer. The one who got bullied by his daughter and complained to you about it. The one who was brave enough to open up to you about his life. You knew him, he was real, and, like him, you were falling too.

With his hands still in yours, you leaned forward, kissing him again, confident and undeterred, and he followed suit, deepening the kiss before he was holding onto your waist and spinning around. You barely registered lying on your back before he was upon you, his weight cushioning you deliciously into the couch, the soft fabric of his sweatpants caressing your inner thighs.

“Hi,” he whispered, adoration dripping from his pupils as he smiled, fingers stroking your hair and you couldn’t help leaning forward to capture his lips once again, legs tightening around his waist. You could hear the blood rushing through you, an ambient backdrop to the sounds of his lips moving down to your neck as his teeth nipped at the skin of your collarbone. It had been so long since you had touched someone, been worshipped by someone like Namjoon was determined to do so that you couldn’t help canting your hips against his, relishing the way his pants left nothing to the imagination, his rapidly hardening cock providing the friction you sought.

With all the bravery you could muster, you detangled your hand from under his to the side of your dress pulling the zipper down with a loud purr Namjoon felt shooting through him. With the dress loosened, it gave him room to roam your skin further, his lips soothing the heated skin of your chest as he pulled the straps down to reveal your nipples. Namjoon had seen many bodies in his life; on the screen, in strip clubs, writhing under him; but something about yours made him pause to drink it up. He could see the way your lips fell open, swollen and red, the way your chest rose with your heavy breaths, nipples perked in anticipation, and the way your eyes looked up at him, wide and inviting. And right below your chest, sprawled on your right rib, were the words he wrote so long ago now.

And the swings that can't look at the sky on their own, and the kids all grown up, and me who’s a little late

His mouth fell open as he tried to wrap his head around how perfect you were. He felt a familiar rush through him. One he hadn’t felt in so long that he was almost afraid he had outgrown it – the pure endorphins of a crush fulfilled. With a muttered curse, he buried his face back in your neck, almost desperate to inhale your scent once more. His hands planted themselves on your chest, squeezing the flesh, making you moan his name in a desperation that only fuelled him further, lips moving to encase a nipple between them to add to your ecstasy.

You whimpered when his teeth came to play, the blunt edges hardening them further, making you grasp his hair and arch your back. Leaving goosebumps in their wake, his hands moved down your body, wrapping around each of your thighs, pushing your dress to your waist, denting the flesh. He had missed the feel of soft skin under him for so long, much more so since you started featuring in his life and his dreams, but touching you was better than any wet dream. The melody of your mewls intensified when he switched to your other breast, his fingers dipping to the apex of your thighs to indulge in the way your panties stuck to you, so wet all for him.

You felt your legs shake out of their own accord as Namjoon moved down your body, still relentlessly tracing you over your ruined panties. You had forgotten intimacy after Ryan, always talking yourself out of potential new relationships, one-night stands never something that satiated you, but somehow Namjoon had sneaked in and weakened your defences. When his lips sought out your clit over the thin lace, you couldn’t help but thank the heavens that he had appeared in your life, pleasure coursing through you. With every flick of his tongue, you felt yourself getting closer to coming undone, muscles tightened in suspense of his next actions.

Impatient and desperate, Namjoon couldn’t wait any longer, pushing aside the fabric that guarded you from him to dip his finger in, your walls welcoming him with a pulse as if emitting a secret in morse code just for him. With fervour, he wrapped his lips around your clit, another finger joining the first, pumping in time with your gasps. Your grip on his hair tightened and he went faster, eager to see you fall apart.

There didn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the room, enough syllables in any language to describe how he made you feel in that moment. It was as if you could feel every drop of blood inside you rush through your body, haphazard and chaotic, brewing like a storm deep in your core, getting wilder and wilder. Your senses were hyper focused, each touch making you quake, each moan that Namjoon made between your thighs vibrating through you. It bordered on too much, building until there was no way to escape.

Silence.

That’s what it sounded like. As if you were thrown underwater, your whimpers sounded like distant noises from a different universe, muffled and overwhelming. You didn’t know when you started holding your breath but when his tongue flicked under your clit, and his fingers hooked into that one spot, you finally remembered to breathe, your entire body relaxing to a point where you shook so violently that he had no choice but to look up at the euphoria painted on your features.

Eyes closed tight, all you saw were stars as his fingers rode you through your high, slowing to a pace you could relish. Soon, his lips were on yours, swallowing your soft moans, and your hands were around his shoulders holding him close.

“Okay?” he asked between kisses, heart skipping a beat at the way you beamed at him, hair matted to your sweaty forehead. Gathering your senses, you pushed him away, sitting up and pulling his shirt off, wanting his skin on yours.

He welcomed you with open arms, when you discarded your dress next to his shirt and climbed on his lap, once again uniting your lips. It was as if he couldn’t get enough, wanting his lips to be thoroughly chapped if it meant he could never stop kissing you.

“More,” you whispered, against his lips, hands roaming his strong chest and down to his abs, the muscle jumping under your fingertips.

“More?” he asked, dazed.

“More,” you replied once again, fingers trailing the little hairs under his belly button before slipping under the waistband into his underwear. His skin was soft, velvet under your touch, and he was so hard, tip messy as you played with him. He twitched in your hold, thighs flexing under you and his hands on your thighs gripping tighter, but you didn’t stop, stroking him slowly till he was keening, scrambling to push you off and get a condom.

“Condoms in the studio? How convenient,” you teased, enjoying the way Namjoon’s already flushed skin turned a deeper shade of red. However, his expression didn’t betray his flustered state as he confidently walked back to the couch, dropping his sweatpants and boxers on the way.

He stood like an adonis in front of you, sculpted and hard, his cock at eye level as he put on the condom, slowly teasing you before sitting next to you, arms sprawled on the cushions next to him.

Resisting him was futile, and your body moved on autopilot, underwear coming off without hesitance before you straddled him once again, resting your wet thighs against his. You traced his biceps, running your fingers up his shoulders to find him staring up at you. You lost yourself in his eyes, tracing the pattern of his irises, how the darkness melted into a warm chocolate.

Bringing his hands to your waist, he mirrored your movements, fingertips lightly grazing your sides. He knew you were joking, but something about your teasing made him feel guilty, made him want to dispel your worries, even if they didn’t exist. Capturing your lips, he wrapped his arms around you, resting his forehead against yours before speaking.

“Haven’t needed them for two years,” he murmured with a kiss, chuckling at the disbelief so easily painted on your face. “Told you I was out of practice.”

“You are definitely not out of practice.”

You could still feel the buzz in your body, the way he reduced you to nothing, just a mess blabbering his name. If this was him out of practice, you were almost afraid of knowing what he was like when he was more comfortable. You hoped you would find out. Cupping his face, you kissed him again before guiding his length into you, sinking down in one swoop, the stretch making you keen, thighs shivering.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his breath fanning your jaw as he tried to calm the urge to buck his hips into you. “You’re not either.”

You set a gentle pace, wanting to feel him for as long as possible, your breaths mingling together as you clung on to each other. But with one kiss, patience ran out. Tongues wrestling with each other, Namjoon lifted you up only to move you over his cock faster, jostling you into compliance as his hips thrust into you in time with his arms. Everytime he sunk into you, your nails dug into his shoulders, scratching the skin deliciously, making him go faster and faster.

It was too much.

It was not enough.

As he went faster and his pace threatened to chase your sanity away, you brought your fingers to your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves faster and faster, matching the way he grunted into your mouth, untethered, unhinged. It felt like an eternity, dangling so close to the edge that you could feel your walls closing in on him, his cock struggling to keep up with the earlier smooth movements.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, bringing your mouth back to his to lap at your lips. He thought he was so desperate because he missed sex, but nothing he had experienced came close to the way he felt lost in your warmth, unbelievably hard, forgetting the way his calves were cramping. He was so close, he could feel his eye twitching, his lip quivering with each of his moans. And then you came.

Your pussy clenched around him, pulsing, massaging him to an orgasm that made him float into the air, made him lose all sense of time, made him lose all feeling except for the way your arousal gushed into his lap, covering him, marking him as yours. And he wanted to be yours so bad. With a strangled whimper of your name, he held you still, rubbing his hands over your back, partly to sooth you and partly to ground himself, to remind him that you were real and not just one of his daydreams.

He lifted your head from where it was buried in his shoulder, lips chasing yours, tongue gently caressing, head heady with a satiated glow he felt emanating from his chest to the tips of his toes.

“Wow,” you breathed, bodies still joined together, hands playing with his hair, eyes drinking in the endeared look on his face. He didn’t reply, only smiled brightly before meeting your lips once again, getting you lost in his bliss.

You sat there kissing for a while before Namjoon’s phone rang, eliciting a groan from the man who refused to let you go. When the jingle persisted, he held you at the waist leaning forward to pick up his phone to see his daughter’s face lighting up the screen. Namjoon felt bad about sending his child to voicemail, but he had just gotten a taste of you. He didn’t want it to end, not yet.

“Sorry, Moon,” he whispered before pressing the red button to silence the call and kissing you again. You giggled on his lips at his antics, but he silenced you with his tongue, deepening the kiss with a moan that signalled the beginning of a second round. However, before you could lose yourself in him again, you heard a loud voice.

“Daaaaaaaaaaad! Daaaaaaaaaad!” Moon’s whine was clear through the static of the line, Namjoon’s eyes widening in shock before he stared at the phone. He was so sure he silenced the call! With an apologetic glance at you, he picked up his phone, clearing his throat before speaking, while you tried to control the laughter bubbling in your chest.

“Hi Moonie,” he answered, pouting at you exaggeratedly as you moved off his lap to grab your underwear. You had barely put it on before he was pulling you back towards him, an arm locked around your waist, chin propped on your shoulder as he continued the conversation. “Yes I know… I’ll get it. No, I won't forget! When have I ever forgotten anything?” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

The whole exchange would be adorable if it wasn’t for the way his hands moved from your waist to your chest, fingers playing with your nipple almost absent-mindedly. When he hung up, he turned towards you, kissing you once again.

“Wanna come over for pizza night?” he asked, pecking your cheek, enjoying the way your lips rose into a smirk before blooming into a grin. He knew it was too early, but he wanted to make you smile like that every day, as long as you’d let him. When the two of you dressed, he pulled you into a hug, letting his arms encompass you before whispering what he wanted the most, “Stay over after?”

Your heart fluttered in its space, growing wings and vying to get out, effervescent and giddy. Going up on your tiptoes, you captured his lips once more, softly, hugging him tighter.

“I’d like that very much.”

—-------

The week after you spent the night with Namjoon didn’t turn out to be the blissful week you thought it would be. With his case with Generation Swine coming to an end, there were a lot of meetings and paperwork. With their lawyers adamant about copyrights, you spent the majority of your time pouring over historical cases with your paralegal. Exhausting every resource, there only seemed to be one solution that you could come up with, a compromise that left you frustrated because you wanted to win.

Your communication with Namjoon was mainly relegated to succinct text messages that made you feel a little insecure about the evening you had spent with him – not to mention that his case made you feel a little guilty about building that kind of relationship with a client. However, your solace was to find a solution and put the situation to bed. Namjoon was the first man after Ryan who had made you feel safe enough to even think about another relationship and you didn’t want your constant excuse of work to dwindle the flame like so many others in the past.

Wine glass in hand, you sat on your living room couch, trying to write the final agreement and even though you knew that Namjoon had fully agreed to whatever you would come up with, you couldn’t help wanting his opinion one last time. A frustrated sigh left your lips as you reread the terms Generation Swine’s lawyers had put forward and with a large gulp of the wine, you dialled Namjoon.

“Hi,” he answered, his deep drawl making you remember how he had whispered the same word before he ruined you. Gulping, you tried to clear your head with another sip of your drink.

“Okay I have a question,” you said, scrolling through the document, ready to dive into the proposed agreement before he interrupted you.

“Me too. What are you wearing?” His tone was cheeky, an audible smile making you giggle, trying not to get sidetracked by him like you always did. There was a reason your usual twenty minute client meetings went on for hours.

“What am I wearing? Really?”

“Mhm. Missed you this week,” he replied with a raspy voice that made you squeeze your thighs together, wanting to abandon your earlier plan, but you were too close to the finish line, too close to genuinely give him your time without the added weight of dating a client.

“Namjoon Kim! I’m trying to work here!” you chastised, despite the growing need in the pit of your stomach.

“Yeah, so work with me!” he exclaimed, chuckling. “Is it that cute lace thing you were wearing that day?”

“Stop,” you whined, covering your flushed face even though you knew he couldn’t see you as he cackled through the phone. However, you did note to wear similar lingerie the next time you saw him, smiling to yourself.

“Sorry, sorry! What do you need darling?” Deciding to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the nickname, you put him on speaker, leaning forward to read the screen and dictating the points to him.

Essentially, the label and their lawyers had decided not to sue Namjoon if he paid the minimal contract breaking fee and gave them the rights to the songs he had already sent them demos for, four in total. You had countered that with the demand that the song may never be used by Generation Swine and that they may be used by other artists of the label if they gave Namjoon full credits, including in the title and changed none of the original lyrics.

Initially, you had been surprised that they had easily agreed. You had thought they would fight you more on it, but they were happy to agree and sign, and despite your reservations, you were obligated to provide this information to Namjoon.

“That sounds… great actually,” he said after a pause. “My name in the title too? That’s kinda crazy they agreed to it.”

“Perhaps your name carries more weight than you thought,” you commented, eyes still glued to the screen, lip between your teeth.

“I mean especially if we do a comeback,” he replied, a little smug and you couldn’t help but knock him down a notch, just to tease him.

“Last I heard, no one wants a comeback,” you grinned.

“Mark my words, Dark and Wild will be back. I’m Namjoon Kim after all, don’t you trust the words of the leader?” he volleyed back, his laugh carrying through the static making you mirror it.

“I’m sure Hoseok would love to hear that you're the leader,” you teased, only to get a scoff in return.

“Hobi knows I’m the leader,” he gloated.

“All hail President Kim,” you acquiesced through a giggle.

“That’s right,” he said, pleased and you could just imagine him puffing up his chest. “Now that that’s out of the way… What are you wearing?”

“I am not sexting you, Namjoon!” you protested, laughing at his one track mind and crossing your legs.

“Okay fine. What about… a date? When are you free?” he asked and you couldn’t help the way a blush grew on your cheeks, a giddiness you hadn’t experienced in too long bubbling inside you.

“As soon as you sign this agreement,” you answered, emailing him a copy of the document as you took him off speaker and leaned back on your couch. “So after the final meeting with the label tomorrow?”

“Well lucky for you, I can’t wait to see you,” he said, his sincerity easily flowing through the line and melting your heart in your chest.

—-----

Namjoon was livid. Pacing around his living room, he scrolled through his twitter to find himself trending. Thousands of people were talking about a Dark and Wild comeback, every single person referring to one video in particular. A blank screen with his voice echoing through: ”Mark my words, Dark and Wild will be back. I’m Namjoon Kim after all, don’t you trust the words of the leader?”

There was only one explanation for why this was suddenly going viral. There was only one person who had access to this. His heart plummeted to his stomach at the thought. He had trusted you. Trusted you with his secrets, trusted you with his authentic self. But you were just like everyone else, weren’t you? Just a clout chaser that went to the press at the first opportunity. He had to commend you. You played a long con, most of the women he had been involved with leaked pictures of him the moment he let them into his house, but you had been cunning, waiting till he had handed you his heart on a platter to shatter it mercilessly.

He could feel his hair stand at the thought of what else you might share of his life. Would you be like the first woman he had dated after Seo? The one who went on television with an exclusive interview talking about his dick. The interview his daughter’s classmates had bullied her with. He felt panicked as he called you. Would you go for an interview too? Expose how he had introduced his wife to a drug that took her life? Expose how much a failure he was and destroy the carefully curated narrative his PR team presented to the world?

His feet moved faster as if they were trying to keep up with his heart, each ring distracting him further, making him bump into the coffee table, spilling his morning coffee on the spotless surface. He watched the brown liquid cover the glass expanse before trickling onto the marble one drop at a time, mimicking the sweat that gathered on his forehead.

When you picked up, his body responded like usual, warming at the sleepy rasp, the one he remembered from a few weeks ago when you had woken up with your limbs wrapped around him, the sunlight brightening your smile. Stupid. He was so stupid!

“Why would you do this? I trusted you! I trusted you with my plans! My life! How the fuck could you do this to me?” he yelled, his frustration manifesting in a lump in his throat, choking his words, making them spill out strained and distorted. He didn’t let you speak, interrupting your feigned confusion. He didn’t have time to be nice. He had to figure out how to fix this. He needed to check on the guys. He needed to check on Moon. This was too much.

So he spoke even faster, let his bitter betrayal flavour his words with the worst expletives he could muster and ending the call with a simple threat, “Fuck you! Fuck you for doing this to me. I never wanna fucking see you again. I hope that degree is good enough because I’m gonna sue you out of every fucking penny you have. Mark my words, Y/N.”

He was panting by the time he hung up, lungs aching as they expanded, tears flowing as he realised just how much it hurt. His grip on his phone tightened and before he knew it he was throwing it across the room, shattering it against the wall with a frustrated scream.

“Dad?”

His daughter’s surprised voice pulled him out of his head, freezing him where he was still pacing, the adrenaline from earlier vanishing into exhaustion. He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face and mustering a smile before turning around, trying immensely hard to put up a brave front. But he had forgotten how precocious his daughter was, how she saw through him as she held his hand and settled him on the couch.

She brought him a bottle of water, waiting for him to drink before sitting next to him, posture impeccable and jaw tightened in a scowl. He saw himself in her at that moment, the expression one he would give his band members when they strayed out of line. Now he knew why they listened, even on a sixteen year old the look was intimidating.

“Dad, was that you talking to Y/N?” she asked, arms crossed across her chest and for a moment Namjoon felt sheepish, guilty that she had heard the ugly words he had spoken. Yet that guilt did not extend to you. He knew that if he didn’t threaten you, the things you might say to the press would have a lasting impression on his daughter.

She knew the circumstances of her mother’s death, but she never knew how complicit he had been. She always looked up to him as a role model, and he didn’t think his heart could ever take it if that illusion shattered. But he got a glimpse of that when he quietly affirmed her suspicion and watched her face fall, the scowl replaced with a sadness he wished he could erase.

“I’m really disappointed in you, dad,” she sighed, shaking her head and her words felt like a sword piercing through Namjoon’s chest. He had worked so hard to make sure she never felt that way. He knew she deserved a much better father than him, and he had tried so hard to ensure that; he had worked jobs he hated, he had read hundreds of parenting books, and he had gone to therapy. Yet the words seemed to come so easily to her, permeating the air with a tension that stiffened Namjoon’s shoulders and put him on the defensive.

“Have you seen the internet? She betrayed us, Moonie,” he retorted, voice a little colder than he wanted, but he couldn’t help it, fire stoked once again.

“Did she tell you it was her?” she replied with an eye roll, so naive.

“There could have been no one else. It was a private conversation between us.”

“But did you hear her out? All I could hear was you yelling,” she protested and Namjoon couldn’t help but shake his head. Not only had you fucked with his head, but you had also somehow put his daughter under your spell as well, especially when she continued, “You were mean. You threatened her!”

“It was to protect us. We can’t have random people think they can get away with stuff like this,” he tried to explain, watching his daughter get agitated and looking like a kid once again with her pigtails bouncing. She kept telling him he was wrong despite his efforts to remain calm and expound on his stance.

“You like her! She’s a lawyer. Why would she do this?” she argued and Namjoon couldn’t stop himself from laughing at how innocent his daughter was. He hoped she remained this optimistic forever, that she didn’t have to go through the duplicity he had experienced in his life. The more he tried to explain to her that that’s what people were like sometimes, that it was hard to trust anyone other than family, the more agitated he got at her denial.

Any other time, he would be proud of her for sticking to her stance and arguing through her thoughts, but Namjoon was exhausted. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the reason he had found out this audio was leaked was not because of the news, but because his PR firm had called him about it. They had traced the origin to a dummy Twitter account which had posted and tagged it multiple times. They had also traced the IP address to where he knew your apartment was. There was no room for doubt when everything was crystal clear.

And so for the first time, he snapped at his daughter.

“Enough! I don’t want to hear it. I’m the parent, not you. Go to your room.”

He always hated parents that dangled their authority over their children. His parents were like that and although he was past it now, he remembered resenting them for it when he was younger. He resented their inability to talk things through, to listen to his point of view. It had taken him years to get over that feeling, but he never felt true empathy for them until this moment, his heart breaking as he watched his daughter angrily stomp towards her room.

Taking a deep breath, he ran his hands over his face in defeat. With the anger fading, came the heartbreak. He really had thought you were special, someone who somehow understood him. A chance encounter that led to him shedding the walls he had reinforced in the past ten years. He was upset about the betrayal, but his fear was more pressing. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to trust anyone again and that thought chilled him to the core. Years of therapy had taught him out of his usual defence mechanisms, to replace the toxicity with healthy coping, yet his chest felt tight as he felt the intense need to wallow.

An arm over his eyes, he tried not to notice how his skin turned moist and instead focused on what he did when he felt this way. Standing up, he grabbed his keys and headed to his studio.

—-------

You were still in bed, hand clutching your phone as Namjoon’s words rang in your head. Scrolling through the news you could see why he was seething. If you were him, you would’ve jumped to the same conclusion, but you knew it wasn’t you that leaked the video. Being hacked was out of the question, you had obscenely long passwords and two factor authentication on everything – working with high powered clients tended to seep into paranoia. Additionally, it wasn’t like you were recording the conversation in the first place. It was as if someone was in the room with you, taking notes of your conversation. Namjoon had even mentioned something about being sure it came from your address.

And then it dawned on you.

Phone clutched in your hand, you headed to your spare room, knocking furiously till a yawning Hera appeared. Her long hair stuck out at weird angles, pajamas frumpled and the impression of a pillow still on her face. She seemed like she was sleeping so soundly and it only made the anger licking at your veins ignite further.

Holding up your phone, you played the video, seething. “Did you leak this?”

“Ugh, this is what you woke me up for? Yeah. Now, let me go to bed,” she yawned, moving to close the door before you stopped her.

You expected her to deny it, to make an excuse but her blatant admittance to invading your privacy had you spiralling. You had put up with a lot with her. You had excused her shitty decisions, you had excused her inability to ever pay for anything, but this was too much.

“This was a private conversation, Hera,” you gritted, getting angrier as she just shrugged and rolled her eyes.

“Celebrities aren’t private,” she replied nonchalantly. “Think of it like I was a paparazzi.”

“But that’s the thing. You’re not. This was a private conversation and you recorded it. Do you not understand how fucked up that is?”

“Oh my god! Give me a break! I didn’t even release the juicy stuff. I could’ve told the world you were dating that guy but I didn’t because I’m your friend.”

You couldn’t help but sputter at her rationalisation. It was absurd how she thought it was okay to do this. You knew her morals weren’t always aligned with yours, but you never realised how far they had truly skewed. How had you missed this in all these years? How had you not realised how one sided this relationship had become? Why did you keep putting up with her when she never showed you an ounce of respect?

“Get out,” you said, trying to hold back your vexation.

“What? You’re kicking me out now?” she laughed as if it was the most unbelievable thing in the world.

“I said get out. I want you out of here by tonight.”

“Come on! I’m sorry Y/N. Is that what you want to hear?” she pouted, turning her voice higher to be cuter. Perhaps it would have worked in the past. Maybe it had, for her to pull it out of her arsenal, but she had gone too far. Much too far. When you repeated your words once again, she seemed angry, spitting at you how she knew you were trying to get Ryan back and she needed to always record you to make sure she could trust you. It was absurd and you didn’t want to expend any more energy on her. You were done.

You left her screaming at you, grabbing your keys and sending her one last warning before slamming the door and going to your office.

“You take your stuff and you get out. If I find anything missing or if you’re still here when I get back, I’m calling the police.”

—-------

Despite the odd look security gave your outfit as you walked into your building on a Sunday morning, you were too wired up to care. It wasn’t unusual for you to be one track minded when it came to something. You often got borderline obsessed, and today you had only one thing on your mind – get that video off the internet. Settling in your office, you scanned your shelves for books on defamation and invasion of privacy. It would make a flimsy case, Namjoon said his name on the recording after all, but if you could find a precedent, you could perhaps develop a useful argument.

When your shelves did not give you the answers you were looking for, you made your way across the empty floor to the in-house library, picking up anything of use. Before long, you were sitting at your desk, piles of books and the internet calming your nerves. However, the more you read, the more the pit in your stomach grew. It felt fruitless, looking for a needle in a vast ocean.

You needed this win to clear your name, but more importantly, you needed it to help Namjoon. It had been so long since anyone made you feel safe, made you feel as if you were worthy of their vulnerability and your heart ached as you imagined how he must have felt seeing your private conversation in the headlines. Head pounding, you tugged at your hair in frustration, reading the same line over and over till the words held no meaning at all.

You opened your drawer, rummaging for some painkillers till your hand closed around the bottle. Pulling it out, your eyes landed on the chocolate bars Namjoon had insisted on you stashing in your office. “In case you ever have a bad day!” he had exclaimed when he handed you a bunch of his favourites. The memory seemed bitter now, but you still picked up a bar, ripping it open and letting the sweet taste distract you with its endorphins.

Maybe it was pathetic crying in your rapidly darkening office with chocolate smeared on your face but everything felt overwhelming all of a sudden. If you had only lost Namjoon perhaps you would have been able to hold it together. You had dealt with breakups, not sure if the short lived stint with the celebrity even counted as a breakup. But it was the loss of Hera that had you sniffling, curled up on your chair. She wasn’t the greatest of friends but she was your best friend, had been for years and you would do anything to protect her. It pained you that she didn’t even think of extending you the same courtesy, that for her you had somehow gone from a confidant to an untrustworthy roommate.

Despite your efforts, she seemed to always look for the worst in you. As you ruminated over the decade-long friendship, more instances became obvious. It was as if every toxic red flag had been ignored by you. Were you really that desperate for kinship that you let every time she put you down slide by?

They weren’t big things, you thought. A slight here, a ruthless comment there before she was telling you to chill out and hugging you. You always thought that her comments were innocent, that they were just a part of her love language. She liked to joke around, poke fun at your outfits, your hobbies, but the more you thought about it, the harder it was for you to remember moments when she had been kind, when she had stood up for you.

Perhaps it was your fault for forgiving her time and time again, for putting up with her behaviour. Maybe this whole leak debacle wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you had called her out on her bullshit earlier. Maybe you should’ve reconsidered your friendship when she never offered to pay rent, or when she started dating your cheating, hateful ex. Was she really at fault if you had never set the boundaries in the first place?

Sighing, you set your head on the table. Hoping to will away the headache, you closed your eyes.

It seemed merely minutes had passed when your phone chimed, startling you awake but the time on the screen alarmed you. It was just past 1am. Somehow you had spent the majority of your day sleeping at your desk. Your back ached from the angle, but the pain was forgotten when your phone chimed once again. Wiping your eyes you took a closer look at your screen.

Namjoon - Missed calls (5)

Namjoon: Is Moon with you? Namjoon: Please call me back Namjoon: Please Namjoon: I’m really sorry but please I can’t find Moon

Panic surged through you at his words, your fingers flying on the screen as you called him back. The phone rang twice before Namjoon’s ragged voice was bombarding you with questions, “Where are you? Is Moon with you? Has she contacted you?”

“No, but we can find her. Namjoon, listen, calm down. We’ll find her.” You tried to comfort him but it seemed that he was spiralling, muttering about being a bad father. It was a drastic contrast to his earlier fire, alarm dousing his tone in helplessness. He went on to tell you that her phone was at home, that he hadn’t seen her for hours, and the police had told him they’d make the case a priority.

“What if she was kidnapped? What if people think that I’m famous again and they can put her for ransom?” he rambled, clearly distressed. Trying to distract him from his dark thoughts, you asked him about all the places she could be and when he informed you that everyone was looking at her usual spots, you decided to search up other spots in the city where she could be, looking up parks and concert venues. With assurance that you will look for her, you hung up the phone, ran to your car and started your search of the city.

1 am on a Monday doesn’t lead to many crowds so it was easy to go through the top spots that you had listed. You even rented a bike and biked up and down the Han river park but other than a few drunks, you found no trace of her. Back in your car, you tried to run through every conversation with her, there had been so few, and she hadn’t mentioned anything. Giving up, you hoped that they had found her and forgotten to tell you. You were an insignificant part of their lives anyway.

Calling Namjoon didn’t work, his phone just rang through each time. You knew you should just go home and let him deal with it, he had his best friends and the police on his side, he didn’t need you, someone he didn’t even trust anymore, to tag along. But the unrest in your chest wouldn’t let you turn your car around. Instead, you drove to his apartment as if on instinct. If he wanted you out, he would tell you, he clearly had no problem making his opinions known when he wanted to.

When you knocked on his door, you were met by a Namjoon you hadn’t seen before. Eyes red, hair a mess, he let you in before starting his pacing again, rambling about how he was a terrible father, interrupting you angrily when you tried to tell him otherwise.

“I told her to go to her room! Do you know how fucked up that is?” he yelled, confusing you further.

“Namjoon… a lot of kids get sent to their room. That’s not a bad thing,” you cautioned, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Not Moon. She was… so disappointed in me. I’m not supposed to be like those other parents! What if… what if that’s the last thing I say to her?” His lip quivered as he spoke, facade crumbling as he fell to his knees, taking you with him. For all the vitriol he had spewed that morning, it seemed that Namjoon just wanted you close, clinging on to you in his panic. You couldn’t help but hold him close, even if it was temporary, wishing to provide him with comfort as long as he allowed.

It was in that position that Moon found the two of you when she returned, immediately running to her father.

“Dad? What’s wrong?” she asked, kneeling next to you as Namjoon stared at her before pulling her into a bone-crushing bone crushing hug.

“Where were you? I was so worried!” he scolded, unable to stop the huge relieved grin on his face. He patted her hair as if to feel if she was real and you couldn’t help but be endeared by the pure display as they bickered, It was heartwarming to see Moon trying to explain to her worried father that she had merely forgotten her phone at home and gone to a concert with friends.

“You could’ve messaged from someone’s phone or left a note!” Namjoon argued, still hugging her.

“I left a note on the fridge!” she replied as Namjoon sheepishly made excuses as to how he had been too worried to even check the kitchen fridge.

The two were in their own bubble and it made you a little awkward to be watching such an intimate family moment when before the disaster it was made clear that you were no longer welcomed in Namjoon’s life. With a heavy heart, you stood up taking your leave despite Moon’s insistence for you to stay the rest of the night.

As you were leaving, Jungkook and Yoongi came by, both equally relieved to find their niece safe and sound. When the elevator doors closed in front of you, you decided that it was better to have gotten a glimpse into the lives of people you admired than to have never had that time with them at all. It still hurt to have Namjoon distrust you so easily, even if rationally it made sense as to why he did. You were only a fleeting moment and that was okay.

You were grateful for the time you spent with him.

—-------

It had been a week since he berated and then asked you for a favour, and Namjoon didn’t think he could ever feel so empty again. He stared at the glass of whiskey in front of him, trying to figure out if it was even a good idea to call you. Would you hear him out, let him apologise or would you just brush him off?

You hadn’t apologised for the leak and even if he did overreact in the moment, he knew that it was unfair of you to do that. But after how quick you had jumped in to help him search for Moon and how none of his other secrets came into the limelight, his gut told him that maybe he had been wrong. Maybe you had gotten hacked, or he had gotten hacked. Maybe there was an explanation that didn’t lead to him losing you from his life. But then again, did he even deserve to invite you back in when he had so ruthlessly shoved you out. Damn, he even threatened to sue you!

“Joon hyung! I’m trying to tell you all something!” Jungkook whined, the addition of the term of respect alluding to Namjoon that he had been calling his name for a while. The guys had dropped the honorifics once they had disbanded, an effort to see each other on equal footing as friends, but the habit was especially hard to drop for the youngest. Namjoon chuckled at his friend with a nod as the rest of the band grumped at Jungkook to continue.

“So… the leak was actually good huh?” he commented, large eyes scanning the faces of the six men around him eagerly. For someone who was dead set against a comeback, it seemed that the sudden downpour of support from old and new fans alike had swayed Jungkook.

Jungkook was barely even a teenager when Dark and Wild launched, so it was no surprise that Shadows held a very big spot in his heart, multiple tattoos alluding to the fact. Namjoon remembered when a doe-eyed Jungkook had excitedly shown him his first fan letter, one that was still framed in his living room.

It was endearing to see him this excited about returning, but for all his plans, Namjoon felt guilty that the thing that convinced the members to pursue a comeback was not his and your hard work but a mistake. He felt uneasy, a clawing feeling in his chest making him feel as if he had forgotten something behind.

He knew it was you.

Somehow in the months of planning, you had become intertwined with his vision of a comeback. When he imagined picking songs for the album, he thought of your input. He imagined your name in the end notes of the cover. He imagined you in the studio during practice and in the wings at the first concert.

It wasn’t a comeback if you weren’t there to enjoy it with him. Even if you never wanted to talk to him again, he wanted to experience everything because you had so easily given him access to your time and your intelligence. Perhaps he should’ve never crossed that line. Perhaps he should’ve remained professional and not let his lonely heart fiddle with his brain.

“So wait… we all want to actually do this?” Jimin asked, the men continuing their discussion, oblivious to how Namjoon had once again reverted into his head. Everyone nodded along, except Seokjin who sat with a frown on his face.

“I don’t know… Go back to the limelight? Do you think we’re ready for that again?” he asked tentatively, his lower lip between his teeth. “It was a lot of pressure on all of us, all of our partners too.”

“We’re older now. We know our limits better now. We know ourselves better now,” Hoseok consoled quietly, slurring a little and sipping his drink, his face already flaring red from the alcohol. Seokjin laughed at the juxtaposition of Hoseok’s serious tone and sleepy eyes.

“Okay. If you can beat me at rock, paper, scissors, I’m in,” he joked holding up a fist as Hoseok squared up, much to the annoyance of the rest of the band.

“Why do we always have to do rock, paper, scissors for everything?” Taehyung bemoaned, leaning back on the couch staring at the ceiling with a huff as Jungkook coached Hoseok through whispers.

“Because democracy,” Seokjin grinned, chanting 'rock, paper, scissors’ before leaving his fist as is to signal rock just a few seconds after Hoseok showed his hand, paper.

“I won!” Hoseok gleed excitedly before stopping short and staring at his friends. “I won… We’re doing a comeback?”

“We’re doing a comeback,” Seokjin laughed, trying not to hint that he had agreed before the game even started, even when Yoongi smiled knowingly at him. “Good job, Joonie.”

Namjoon couldn’t help getting a little flustered at the sudden praise from his bandmate, his heart beating faster. He had waited so long for this, that it seemed surreal that it was happening. Standing up, he raised his glass to the middle, proposing a toast.

“Dark and Wild,” he cheered, the men echoing him as seven glasses clinked together.

Fuck, they were really doing a comeback, weren’t they?

—-------

When you had left Namjoon’s apartment two weeks ago, you were sure that you would never return. There was no reason to climb the gilded elevator to the cosy home, especially with the radio silence that had continued between the two of you. You were sure he still thought you were responsible for the leak and you should’ve been mad that he never tried to hear you out, but your empathy wouldn’t let you. It made sense with how guarded he was to assume the worst, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t hope that he would call you and make things right.

Waiting for the elevator, it wasn’t Namjoon that invited you back, but Moon. She had messaged you requesting your presence at her birthday and after Namjoon had explained how he tried to make each of her birthdays magical, there was no way you could refuse. You knew it would be awkward, stilted as you tried to go through a group of Namjoon’s friends and family, but you would hate it if you were the one who took away the magic of birthdays from a girl that always believed in them.

You watched the buttons light up as the elevator ascended, a set of drumsticks gift wrapped in your hands. Your nerves flared the closer you got to the penthouse and you laughed at how ridiculous you were being. Namjoon wasn’t even an ex, he was just a beginning that never led anywhere. If anything you should’ve been grateful that it never led to more. It would have broken you if it had. But you were strong, ready to impart your birthday greeting with a brave face and leave after ten minutes.

It was only ten minutes. You could do it.

However, when the doors opened to the apartment, you didn’t see the crowd you had been anticipating. There were no balloons in the living room, no music, no lights. Only Namjoon, seated at a table in the middle of the living room.

The couches and coffee table that usually occupied the space were absent. Instead there was a table with a white cloth draped over it and two chairs. A large dish of pasta sat on the surface, along with a basket of bread, place settings for two, and a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket. Candles on the table gave the room a soft glow, your heart stuttering as Namjoon walked over, biting his lip sheepishly and fiddling with his fingers.

“Hi,” he said, flushing as you looked up at him. Before you could answer, he was apologising. “I’m really, really sorry for being an idiot. I should have never blown up at you like that. That was fucked up and I’m really sorry.”

“Where’s Moon?” you asked, ignoring his apology, just to see him squirm a little more.

“Um… her birthday wish was for us to make up… So she’s at a sleepover with her friends.”

“Well… I got her a present,” you stated awkwardly.

“Oh! I can take it. Thank you,” Namjoon said, taking the present and placing it on the table before clearing his throat. “I’m serious. I’m really sorry, Y/N. I don’t care if you leaked the clip, I’m sure you had a plan and I was an idiot for not lis–.”

“I didn’t leak anything,” you cut him off quietly, watching how his eyes widened in response, a soft “what” escaping his lips. “I didn’t leak it. My roommate recorded us without me knowing. Well, ex roommate.”

“Fuck,” Namjoon breathed before laughing bitterly in disbelief. “I really am an asshole. Wow.”

“I get why you did that though. You had to protect yourself and Moon,” you defended his actions, but he didn’t let you, apologising once more before offering you a seat. When the two of you were settled, he told you about his past, about how other partners had scarred him, how he had somehow been hardwired into accepting the worst in people, and for the first time, you let him in too, sharing your fight with Hera.

“I’m a lawyer, Namjoon. I signed an NDA,” you replied, a finger tracing the wine glass in front of you. Namjoon’s sudden laugh startled you, your eyes meeting his as you watched him cover his mouth.

“Sorry but that’s what Moon said too,” he replied, the tension in the air melting at the comment and a smile lifting your lips.

“Smart daughter you got there,” you complimented, raising your glass. He clinked his own against it before taking a sip.

“That I do,” he easily agreed.

“Tell her that her birthday wish came true.”

“Wait really?” he asked with a grin he couldn’t control. “We made up?”

“If you still want to be friends, I’m okay with that. I’d like to be your friend, Namjoon,” you replied, confused as his smile dropped suddenly, his eyes leaving yours to his fingers that traced meaningless patterns against the tablecloth.

“Yeah, friends. I’d love to be your friend. Pasta?” he asked, holding up the bowl overflowing with aglio ollio, a stiff smile plastered on his face. You helped yourself to the food, commenting on the bright flavour as he admitted that he had learnt how to perfect the dish as it was Moon’s favourite, and basically the only thing that he could cook well. The conversation flowed stonely, awkward and even with the conclusion that you were friends, it felt stifled, like the two of you were playing a part in a play, small talk seeming scripted and wooden.

When the dinner came to an end, he protested you clearing the table but you stubbornly carried the plates to the kitchen, starting to wash them as Namjoon tried to stop you. He gave up halfway, content to watch you clean, your earlier words echoing in his head. I’d like to be your friend, Namjoon.

He didn’t want to be your friend though. He thought he did. He thought that he would be happy just to have you in his life at a safe distance, but the moment those words had left your lips it was like his stomach fell to the floor. He didn’t want to give you up. He missed you, missed that he had just indulged in you once, woke up next to you once before he had fucked it all up. And before he knew it, those words were escaping him.

“I don’t want to be friends.”

His words rang through you, the last plate you were rinsing slipping slightly from your fingers. You knew it would come to that eventually, that he would realise that it was almost pointless to be your friend. You had hoped it wouldn’t have happened this soon though. With a practised smile, you placed the plate onto the drying rack, wiping your hands on the dish towel stowed next to the sink, ready to take your leave.

“Oh… okay. Thanks for dinner then.”

But before you could move he was coming closer, a hand raised tentatively as he stared at your face, eyes roaming your features and lip tucked beneath his teeth.

“Don’t leave. I… I just… I don’t want to be friends.”

Your eyes met his as the meaning of the words registered slowly, hope blooming in your chest. It lit beneath your skin, coating you like honey, warm and sweet. But you still needed the assurance, “Then what do you want?”

“More,” he whispered, impossibly close now, the air between you sparking, nothing like the insulated tension from earlier. It was as if you could see it in front of it, golden glitter permeating in your vision, softly dispersing as he moved his hand till it was resting on your cheek, his thumb stroking the sparks into a fire.

When he leaned in, he moved slowly, the dark brown of his irises melting into his pupils as they searched yours for any hesitation. And then his lips moved, stealing your attention with their murmurs, “So much more.”

You lashes flickered on their own, eyelids closing seamlessly as his mouth gently met yours with the care you had come to expect of him. In the past months, you had learned that Namjoon cared wholeheartedly for everyone he deemed worthy. He gave his all – his strength, his weaknesses, his whole heart. And with his lips on yours he reminded you once again that you were one of those people he had decided to let in. There was no doubt left anymore as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

Chest to chest, you could feel his heart beating against yours as his hands caressed your back as if testing the silk of your blouse before landing on your ass. Fingers squeezing the flesh, he moaned into your mouth eliciting one of your own, a sweet harmony once again united to string together. His body pushed against yours, his arousal impossible to hide as he pushed you against the counter, grinding into you slowly before he was picking you up and depositing you on the surface.

Your legs opened on their own, making space for him as he solidified his place in your heart. His lips migrated to your jaw, your heavy breaths the soundtrack to his journey down your body, each kiss leaving you thrumming and weightless, his long fingers unravelling each button with delicate care. With your shirt wide open, he took a moment to leave your skin to stare at you, the lacy red bra catching his attention before he haphazardly unbuttoned his own shirt, dropping it on the floor and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in a kiss that was no longer gentle but a frenzy.

His tongue wrestled with yours, his mouth swallowing each of your whimpers as he pushed your shirt off, his fingers tracing the lace and pulling it down to release your nipples so he could trace them with his thumbs. You could feel your heart race, your thighs tightening around him as lust flowed through you. It was as if he had your body memorised, knew where each nerve ending sparked into pleasure.

His teeth bit into your neck, blunt and delicious, making you keen before his lips wrapped around a nipple, tongue flicking in a way that made you see stars and dig your fingers into his scalp. You could feel his smile painted on your skin, your eyes seeing how his dimples would pop out in his cheeks even when they were closed. But you wanted more, so much more.

With a shove against his chest, he unlatched from you, staring at you in confusion before you were slipping off the counter and getting on your knees. He could feel the way his dick twitched at the position. He had never imagined you like this before and his mind screamed at him for such a blunder, but then again even he wasn’t creative enough to conjure an image as perfect as your eyes glistening up at him through your lashes, lips swollen from his kisses and hands unbuckling his belt at lightning pace. Before he knew it, his pants were halfway to his thighs, his boxers pushed along with them to reveal his cock.

He forgot to breathe when you smiled up at him radiantly, such an innocent look before you were licking up his length, fingers wrapped around him. You kissed against the head, your tongue circling the skin devilishly before your lips wrapped around him, suckling him slowly. You went deeper with each suck as if wanting to swallow him whole and Namjoon couldn’t keep his wits. How did he get this lucky?

With a large laugh that peetered out into a moan, he braced himself with his hands on the counter behind you, relishing the way your tongue traced his skin each time your head bobbled, turning him into a slow mush. Before he could stop himself, he thrust in your mouth, your moan vibrating around him in such delicious torture that he pulled back abruptly, too afraid to cum before he even got started.

Pulling you up by your hand, he crashed his lips on yours again, hands too eager to rip your pants off you as he wiggled out of his own. It was a silly dance, one that left you giggling in his mouth and had him chuckling back, euphoria bubbling through him.

When both your clothes were discarded, lost in his kitchen, he picked you up, letting you wrap yourself around him like a koala as he walked to his bedroom. He had dreamed of you back here, lost in his sheets as he lost himself in you and if there was one thing Namjoon did, it was go after his dreams.

Depositing you on to the bed he crawled between your legs, forgetting all about teasing to devour your arousal right from the source. A quick squeak left your lips as his tongue met your folds, flicking at your clit as he licked up your slit, stealing your breath. His hands roamed your thighs, eliciting goosebumps and whimpers, squeezing the flesh as his lips latched onto your clit. You were on the brink of your sanity, your vision clouding as he kept up his pulsating suckles. Your fingers wrapped around the sheets, pulling them from the corners as your back arched, hips canting against his face before he was holding them down, lapping at you furiously. His hands, his lips, his fingers all played a part in unravelling you, but it was when you looked down at him and caught the hunger in his eyes as he watched you squirm that made you explode, a loud whimper floating into the air at his unrelenting efforts.

He let you ride out your high before his lips let go, instead moving to kiss at your thighs, leaving little nibbles as they climbed up your body, from your stomach to your breasts to your neck, paying special attention to your tattoo, before he was kissing your lips once again, letting your tongue burst with your flavour.

“More?” he asked, his forehead against yours, his breath cooling your heated cheeks and you couldn’t help wrapping your arms around his strong shoulders, meeting his lips once again.

“So much more,” you echoed his earlier words, earning his dimples as he pecked your lips, once, twice and then once more before sitting up and reaching in his bedside drawer for a condom. His fingers were nimble, shaking a little from his excitement as he ripped it open and quickly rolled it on. Meeting you in another kiss, his forearms rested next to your head, his hips grinding into you.

Fingers caressing his back, you reached lower till your hand wrapped around his cock, guiding it slowly inside you. He entered leisurely, carefully stretching your walls, eyes gazing into yours, making you lose yourself in them. The two of you exhaled when he was fully buried inside you, the stillness of the room echoing around you as his fingers slowly moved your hair from your face.

The silence was broken first by your lips meeting eagerly and then by his hips leaving you only to slap back against yours in an intense thrust that led to your moans punctuating the sound. With each one of his strokes, his lips moved further away from yours, your breaths mingling with each other as you lost yourselves. It was ecstatic, the way his body moulded against yours, his chest cushioning you to the mattress, while your legs wrapped around him.

In all your years and all your relationships no one had felt this perfect, this quickly. How every cant of his hips brought you closer to your high, pulled out noises from your lips you had never imagined. He grunted along with you before the tightening of your walls compelled him to reach for your clit to prolong his pleasure more, to make you writhe around him more, to make your lips seek for his more. He met your desperation with his own, tongue meeting your teeth in a flurry as his abs clenched tighter, your thighs trapping him against you, your fingernails digging crescents into his ass.

Like a wave ebbing higher and higher, you wrapped yourself tighter around him, limbs locked in ecstasy before you crashed with a high-pitched whine of his name, your legs jerking with the sudden pleasure coursing through you in a rush. He moved faster, harder, keeping you suspended as his lips found yours again. Chanting your name in a stuttered whine, his high followed quickly after yours, leaving him breathless on top of you, his face buried in your neck.

When your heart had steadied, he leaned up, kissing you decadently, luxuriating in your taste, a gentle aftermath of the flurry from earlier. His fingers stroked your scalp, leaving behind content tingles that soothed you, your fingers mirroring his actions through his hair.

You had never felt so at peace.

When he had his fill of your lips, he stood up, admiring your body before pulling you with him into the shower. Slowly kisses under warm water never felt better, your hands indulging in his body, roaming over his sculpted chest and toned stomach.

“I missed you,” he confessed, arms around you as water flowed from him to you, both of you revelling in the warmth of the water, of the moment.

“I missed you, too,” you replied, standing on the tip of your toes to kiss his nose, enjoying the way the action made him blush and shyly hide his face with a giggle.

Dressed in his oversized t-shirt, you climbed into bed, watching as he tidied up, folding your clothes. It was an endearing habit, one he picked up from cleaning Moon’s toys when she was younger, too many legos under his feet a painful motivator. He pulled his phone from his pants pocket before climbing in next to you, his chest moulded to your back, long arms around you as he told you about different songs he had been working on. He didn’t have the strongest of vocals, but his low gruff was comforting, it’s unpolished notes a serenade as he scrolled through his demos, playing snippets.

“I might’ve been inspired by the night of your birthday for this one,” Namjoon admitted quietly as he played the next song, his face buried behind your shoulders. It was a fast beat, the bass notes popping with a fun melody, electronic drums bouncing along. But what truly made your heart flutter were the words, his husky voice singing them softly.

Too many words circle around me But none of them feel how I feel I just feel it Like the moon rises after the sun rises Like how fingernails grow Like trees that shed their bark once a year That you are the one who will give meaning to my memories Who will make a 'person' into 'love'

You pouted as the song continued, a beautiful confession that had you turning in his arms to kiss him, too overwhelmed to do anything else. No one had ever written you a song, no one had ever expressed their feelings like this before, in a way that was almost bordering on magical. If your younger self knew that the lead of your fantasies would be singing you something he wrote solely for you, she would’ve passed out. The song ended with the chorus and a request.

You're my person, my person, my person You're my desire, my desire, my desire You're my pride, my pride, my pride You're my love One and only love You know... We were always meant to be... Destiny... I hope you feel the same with me..

“I do feel the same,” you murmured against his lips, kissing his smile as he pulled you closer, legs tangled with yours.

“Good because this is going in the album and it would suck if it didn’t make you smile every time I played it,” he teased, kissing your nose before you leaned away, looking at him confused.

“Album?”

“Comeback album. Dark and Wild’s back.” He grinned widely and even though usually you’d be distracted by his dimples, this time no matter how large your eyes got you couldn’t register them. Because in your head there was a childish giddiness you had thought you would never experience. Holding up a finger, you turned away from him to grab a pillow, screaming in excitement, limbs flailing as your adolescent dreams of a reunion came true. You knew it was going to happen but you never imagined how much the news would affect you.

Namjoon laughed, pulling the pillow from over your head and kissing you once more, your excitement making him even more eager for the comeback. He laid you on his chest as you asked him questions and he regaled the story of how the decision was made based on a game of chance and your roommate’s stupid actions.

“Thank you for helping me get my dream again,” Namjoon whispered, grateful that he had written to you and that you had responded.

He owed a lot to fate for whisking you into his arms.

—————

Epilogue

It was dark around you, but that was only because the lights on stage were so bright. Music boomed. Guitar riffs were clean even with their distortion. Drums were loud, cracking in the air. Hoseok’s growl echoed through your bones as you watched Dark and Wild perform, the sweet smell of manufactured smoke surrounding you. Yoongi did his signature move, licking up the fretboard of his guitar as Jimin grinned, lip between his teeth, and muted chords spilling from his amp. Right at the chorus, Seokjin kneeled on the ground, blowing a kiss to the audience as he played along, right when Taehyung started belting, licking his lips and letting the words float out of him. Jungkook played faster, increasing the tempo of the song just as his drum set was lifted into the air, spinning in circles, metres above the stage. You cheered loudly as the song ended, Namjoon looking for you in the wings and tossing a wink cheekily.

It was like being thrown back in time. It was surreal. Yet, it was so real.

Moon squealed next to you when Hoseok introduced her, a stark contrast to how she was tapping her drumsticks on her legs nervously a few minutes ago. “Good luck,” you whispered with a hug, and she squeezed you tight before running onto the stage in her ripped jeans and black tulle top, a grungy throwback to the outfits she used to wear as a kid.

Sitting on a second drum set, she waved to the crowd as Jungkook timed her in, the two setting off into a vicious solo together as Seokjin and Namjoon provided the background to the melodic dissonance. The crowd went wild, screaming at the top of their lungs, and you even saw someone throw their bra on stage, just like old times.

The show ended with the first song the band had ever released, War of Hormones. The lyrics were a little cringey with time, but the band laughed along as they played, bantering about how stupid their teenage selves were during the guitar solo. But you couldn’t help the tears in your eyes as you watched them perform, your face hurting from how hard you were smiling, your fingers wrapped around the pass on your neck.

Heart pounding in time with the bass, you watched the guys finish their last song to an earth shattering applause, the crowd going wild. It seemed that the floor was shaking with their stomps and claps.

Centre stage, the men took a bow, before Namjoon put Moon on his shoulders and the group recreated the photo they took on the last day of their tour before retiring. He made a stupid joke about his back hurting when he put her down, Moon returning her own quip about him being old as the audience laughed.

With their arms around each other, Hoseok spoke into the mic, beaming into the crowd.

“Thank you Shadows! We’ve been Dark and Wild and fuck it’s good to be back!”

-

taglist -  @awhnamjoon​ @alpacaseoks @raplinesmoon @codeinebelle @aislinnstanaka @miscelunaaa @moonchild1 @shydestinyyouth @itsjaneeet @piecesofapril11 @yoontaethings @jeonyreads

Thank you for reading this fic! If you liked it, please tell me your thoughts. I worked very hard on this and would appreciate your feedback! 🥰🥺

Please reblog and check out more stories on my masterlist <3

#namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #rm x reader #rm fluff #rm smut #rm angst #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts x yn #rm fanfic #namjoon fic #namjoon fanfic #52hertz #bangtansorciere #bangtanbathhouse #houseofddaeng #thebtswritersclub #purplearmynet #ficscafe #ksmutclub #btsgoldnet

[mayakern]

Maya. I’m so stoked to receive my own new mini skirt-but I’m more excited for the two midis I ordered as gifts for my pastel loving wife. She is going to be thrilled! Thanks for upgrading the fall fashions of two very opposite aesthetic gaydies 💜 I’d like to mention that we’re both very different body types-she is plus sized and I’m always in between mediums and smalls !But! the stretch of your skirts would allow us to borrow one another’s skirts should we so choose and I just LOVE that. I already know she’s going to eye my fig mini 👀 such is life. Waiting happily!!! Thank you and your wonderful team and collab artists!!!

aw what!!! that’s so cute omg 🥺🥺🥺 i hope some day i get to see y’all wear ur skirts together!!!

#ask #store

[oozmium]

Ranking the smt ivf collab Cafe as someone who will never have the chance to taste it ft. probably inaccurate translations of their names

Part 1 featuring the actual meals because I forgot tumblr has an image limit

1. "Godslayer" Meat Platter

We got steamed chicken and duck meat with some salsa and salad... that sounds yummy but man idk why but this just looks so unappetizing. I mean at least I can stomach duck though so I'd totally be open to eating this. But also it doesn't look like a sizable portion so hm.

6/10: presentation kills this meal sorry Nanashi

2. Dagda's Large Fried Rice

Good god this is a lot of rice... I'd imagine this would pair well with Nanashi's meal. Looks like a nice batch of fried rice but I have to take points off for the overkill on the sesame seeds... I want my rice not seeds... though apparently the seeds are inspired by Dagda's color scheme so huh.

7/10: it's rice. Too much seeds. I'd complain it's a big portion but the famitsu article notes this is meant for 2-3 people so that's fair.

3. 阿修羅会御用達 悪ピザ (tls to smth along the lines of Ashura-Kai Purveyor Pizza?? I didn't trust the machine tl so I'm putting the kanji)

Now this is something I'd definitely eat. A nice piece of pizza bread will always make me happy. The famitsu article notes that this was the meal most recommended by reporters.

There is one other thing to note about this one: it's meant to be split between two or three people! ... like Hallelujah and his "Bro".... 😦

10/10: I'm not immune to pizza bread and reporters really liked it so I'm sure it was delicious

4. Asahi's Energetic and Healthy Coriander Salad

This one is really cute, although I have to admit I've never tried coriander but there's a first for everything! The flower is a very cute touch too, but I'm a picky guy so the peppers are a bit of an ick for me... I can't eat them in salad it needs to be put in stuff like a sandwich for me to eat it.

7/10: unsure on if this would be tasty but the presentation really sells it!

5. Flynn a la Mode (aka Furin a la Mode)

Ooo now this is a yummy looking dessert! Would absolutely demolish it (sorry Flynn).

They said the pun was unintentional; instead the idea was everyone's beloved Flynn wanted to make a dessert everyone loves (I hope I'm reading that correctly 🥺)

9/10: I'd give it a 10/10 (and it really deserves one) but I'm very picky on those extra gummies surrounding the pudding...

6. Jonathan's Grilled Beef Tongue

Er. Apparently chosen for Jonathan for its elegant and luxurious taste ... anyway this looks very yummy and it gets extra points for the kewpie mayo 🤤. The onions are a nice touch too... guess I have to concede and agree this is really elegant!

9/10: I've never tried tongue personally but the kewpie mayo would be enough to get me on board with eating it.

7. Father's Fisherman's Meal

They want you to think Walter's dad caught the fish that went into this meal... I laughed a bit ngl. Anyway I'm always down for poke-esque meals I guess it'd come down to the quality of the meat 🤔 though the amount of fish in there might leave me wanting more...

6/10: unsure if I want to give this higher bc I don't personally know how the fish tasted... also could use more fish.

8. Fairy Forest Mushrooms

Maybe they're not appetizing to you but I absolutely LOVE mushrooms. They're so yummy to me and especially when you add some nice butter for extra flavor... mmm very yummy 🤤.

8/10: I'm biased I like eating mushrooms I'd devour this in a heartbeat

9. Gaston's Long Skewer Platter

This was the 2nd funniest item on the menu (you'll see the funniest one soon). Other than that, skewers are always tasty with some soy sauce and lemon for extra flavoring... although apparently it was a guessing game to discover what was inside the skewer?

7/10: unsure if i wanna play skewer roulette with Gaston 😦

#balls #i should be doin my final but i need a mental break (stares at food instead)

[amiharana]

STREAMERS AU STREAMERS AU STREAM ERS A U ????????

yeah streamers au!!!!! :D i'm thinking all of them also upload their own videos on youtube too, but some originated as streamers and some as youtubers (more streamer au hcs under!!)

like i said in the other post, i think zelda would be analogous to someone like pokimane or valkyrae, and does variety/just talking streams. i don't think she would take advantage of or even be aware of her simps/e-girlism, she's actually very sweet and a just bit naive :'>. she probably already collaborates a lot with urbosa, and has on done a video or two with mipha. i would say she probably started off streaming first and then eventually starting doing youtube to post her vods, then make her own videos

mipha would kinda be like the qtcinderella and urbosa would be like. corpsehusband lowk ☝️😳 mipha does a lot of cutesy stuff like acnh and stardew valley playthroughs, maybe cooking & baking videos, and also like lifestyle videos like GRWM or 'day in the life' vlogs. her first video was a first aid video because she wanted to be a pediatrician when she was younger 🥺 urbosa started off as a youtuber and is one of those like old legendary youtubers who's still around so she's seen the rise and fall of the internet fr. she's very wise and she's zelda's favorite youtuber growing up, role model, and mentor 🥺 mipha probably also watched some of urbosa's videos growing up and cites urbosa as one of her inspirations when she started her own youtube channel :)

revali absolutely started off as a streamer but he excels as a youtuber, as expected. he does a lot of speedrun or challenge streams/videos of video games and i lowkey think that he has beaten quite a few speedrun records, only bested by link who he has an ongoing rivalry with because they keep beating each other's records. revali mostly does stream highlight videos, but every once in a while he'll do a fun little collab video with someone else or on the rare occasion, a vlog or a grwm 😧 someone asked him how he keeps his hair so nice on stream and he was so proud he ended up making a whole video about his haircare routine, what products he uses, etc HAHAHA

link is definitely the type of guy who made dumb little videos as a kid but eventually evolved into a full-fledged content creator with high quality videos and excellent ideas. he definitely does a lot of nintendo game videos (people adore his acnh playthrough series and his collabs with mipha 🥺), but i think he would also upload a lot of like. scenic videos of places he's traveled to or hiked at because he's pretty good at filming and editing. link def found his love for streaming and speedrunning on accident by, get this— watching one of revali's streams 😳😳😳 but he forgets that it was by revali 😭 link is like, This looks fun I want to try, so he does and is actually really good at it. so he ends up streaming the same exact games that revali did and beating his records, and revali would get pissed that his records were getting broken, and thus the rivalry was born!

what daruk does as a streamer or youtube still escapes me though like i just don't know what he would do. i can't even see him streaming KDJHFKJD like what would he do? maybe make reviews videos about old gaming systems, retro games, or reviews on his favorite restaurants or something LOL feel free to offer any ideas for him bc i'm lost lowkey

my brain is stewing with ideas for growing sexual tension between streamers revalink...... imagine them slowly starting to do collab streams together........ collab videos........ the champions going to twitchcon and doing a panel...... revalink meeting irl right before twitchcon because champion meetup and not knowing what to say because wow they're even more attractive irl....... revalink sexual tension in the airbnb all the champions are staying at because link got out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist because he forgot his clothes and revali's eyes bulging out of his head 😭 UGH I THINK I MIGHT WRITE THIS AS AN ACTUAL AU HAHAHAHA

#revalink #loz #botw #loz botw #legend of zelda #amihan's revalinkverse #amihan's headcanons #ask #streamer au #THIS HAS SO MUCH POTENTIAL TBH #i wanna write revalink streamers so bad now....... #thank u anon for indulging encouraging and also enjoying this idea #could you imagine the amount of ship wars there would be between zelinkers miphlinkers SIDLINKERS and revalinkers in this au 😭 #someone has gotta write the “heat waves” revalink fic in this au i swear to god #the revalink fandom would start off small and it would be a rarepair first but then when revalink start interacting more and collabing #people are converted into revalinkism because of revalink's lowkey flirty banter #losing their shit when revalink sit next to each other at the twitchcon champions panel and flirt even harder #internet would explode when revalink announce they're actually dating though #i'm so into this au omg

[mint-yooxgi]

Everybody is talking about adding joong and jongho but i think we're missing a key member..... 👀

Can we talk about Song Mingi?!! Naurrr my man was peeping on her since the plane ride 😭 also he did not so subtly confess that he would also like to be added to the two hours between readers thighs squad!! And even Wooyoung outed mingi for wanting to ask reader out! Not to mention mingi's birthchart has major possesive yandere vibes. I can just tell that when they put him next to reader to even out the heights for the paparazzi pics, mingi was like 'manner hands, manner hands, don't touch the booty'. I think those 4 make the most sense for the love interests because they have the best chemistry. Wooyoung is just a little flirt and horny happy for attention hahah Maybe even Yunho? I feel like he's be subtly showing more attention to the reader but in a subconscious way. Who knows, one day mans might snap and be like damn wait i keep teasing everyone else about how fine she is but she actually is really fine, i want her myself 😎 but i think reader x yeosang, jongho, joong and mingi ft. horny wooyoung are my top ateez pics rn

I just voted in the poll but will you please tell us who you're adding for sure 🥺 i need to knowwwe hehe, just a little spoiler since im obsessed with the series plss?.

Yeosang is in major denial rn but he's a smart boy, im sure he'll know whats up soon 😏 i cant wait to see him fight for readers attention because she's got some srs simps hehe. Also this is a humble request but even if you don't add him as a full on love interest, if you could somehow fit in jeonghan i will be eternally grateful 💖 he's my ult but im also rooting for jihoon x tall reader because DUH lol. His whole shy thing and the way they greeted eachother in pt 2 backstage was sooo cute 😭 and the way he kept her collab to himself ugh

Nah, cause anon, you've got me smiling like a maniac right now omg you are SO RIGHT about MINGI!!! I was honestly thinking he'd be really subtle about it at first but now I'm rethinking EVERYTHING

Every time I think of this au, I'm like, but what about adding... this idol could also work.... but I'm also like, it's SO full of crack now but it works???? I can't stop????

As for who I'm adding for sure, I know it's definitely going to be Joong and Jongho cause they're just the most logical, and Hyunjin also just feels right, but I'm toeing the line on everyone else. I have plans for all of ateez and most, if not all of skz, but it just honestly depends on if people would be cool with that/want to see it.

I contemplated adding a few other members from different groups, but I'm still not sure yet...

#ask #much to think about #oof

[woozi]

MA YZAAAA <3 (hehehe)

first of all,, hello <33 how have you been? and what have you been up to? <3 i hope classes and uni in general are not getting to you that much.

also the drama i told you about "doom at your service", after finishing it my opinion has changed a little, it was a nice drama overall but after the first 8, the story seemed like it was being stretched for no reason </3 i have nothing to watch these days hdksekks this time last year i had 2521 and business proposal to keep myself entertained but this year there is nothing 😭 even gose isn't here </3, did you find something interesting to watch? or read? i haven't had time and will to read hsjsksjs </3

but today i did go out of my comfort zone and watched a movie called medianeras (sidewalls), it's pretty melancholic but i liked it, ( idk why google or some reviews are saying it's funny or rom com 😭, it was actually sad and reflective but had a good ending imo) it's about how urban and internet lifestyle have had the opposite effect on people and have made them feel lonely despite having everything in one click. it was,, different. probably something what i was expecting from chunking express jshdjsjsnns

but in midst of all this i love love how booseoksoon came through 🥺 they brought back the spark hdjddj i love all the songs ( tho just like you, i love fighting and 7pm a little bit more than lunch ), it was so wholesome to see them have fun performing 😭 also youngji's feature fits so well <3 i can't stop talking about it hskdks it felt so natural <3 i haven't been this satisfied with a feature song in a long while ( same with 7pm ). if there was anything else fighting! needed it was definitely her. it made me so happy to see bss performing with her and peder <33

they made my feb for real.

( also something about leader seok gets me fr, he's been extra glowing these days <33 love that )

also the carat day live 😭 they all looked so good 😭😭😭 i missed seeing our sebongs together <3 the teddy bear scenes are still running in my mind lmao

i actually got mild cold and cough last week so at the moment that's what i have been up to : recovering from it and trying to read a book dhdjsj, seasons changing got me this time. it'll be summer now here and i'm already tired of it tbh 😭 how is the weather treating you? i hope it's good

omg also, i've become obsessed with checkers on plato btw! ( i've understood the basics of it but the difference between the original and the international rules is still slightly confusing for me udkgsd )

hope you're doing great yza 🥺🤍 sending you lots of good energy and clear sky days

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO THAT GAVE ME GRIEF U ARE SO CUTE </3 MA CHERIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

i've been so so busy the past two months so it's like life's on 3x speed for me dfjkfdjkfdjkfd but it's my last semester anyway so <33 JKFDJKFDJK HOW ABOUT U <333333 HOW HAVE U BEEN WHAT HAVE U BEEN UP TO!! 😋😋😋

ALSO NOOOOOOO THAT SUCKS </3 maybe the writers didnt think they'd get that far lmfao 😭 AND I KNOW </3 that was such a good era for dramas, i hope they come out w really good ones </3 i heard the glory's v good? but i personally haven't checked it out yet and i'm not really into revenge type dramas so dfjkffd but i've been watching movies more these days!! i've been trying to watch cult faves/classics that people always talk about and that i've never had time to watch heheh ALSO SO TRUE ABT NOT HAVING THE WILL TO READ 😭 idk why it's also so hard for me to get back to it, i used to read like, 2 books a week at a leisurely pace

JUST CHECKED OUT THE POSTER FOR IT AND IT LOOKS SO GOOD OMG????/ thank u for adding to my reco list <3 ok but your review… felt tbh 😭 AND NOT CHUNGKING AGAIN FDKJDFJKFDJK I'M HAVING WAR FLASHBACKS FROM IT

EXACTLY <3333333 bss really came at the perfect time!! and u're so valid for that <33 i'm really glad they had the chance to collab more w/ other artists, esp peder!! not only was the song so fucking good, their interactions were also so sweet to witness 🥺 he seems like such a nice guy to hang out w LMFAOOO AND WAIT URE SO RIGHT??????????????????????????????????????? leader seok >>>>>>>>>>>>

i'm ngl i haven't even watched it yet i just skipped to the teddy bear part 😭😭😭 i only got to see clips of them, and REALLLL it feels like it's been forever since we last saw them tgt 😭

ALSO NAURRRRRRRRRRRRRR </3 that's such a pain in the ass :/ i hope you're feeling much better now and that you won't get sick any time soon!! there's only 2 types of weather where i'm from since i'm in the tropics, so u dont need to worry abt me <33

AND PLATO FJKFDJKFDJKF I COULD NEVER THANK U ENOUGH FOR IT i've avoided so many awkward moments in uni bc of it JKFDJKFDJKF also didn't know they had different rules 👁👄👁 what i do know though is that other ludos have different rules as well w the 1s and 6s which i only figured out when i played w someone else at another platform DJFDJFDJKFDJK let's play some time again if u're free!! <3 or we can also watch a movie 😋

hoping u're even better and that the days are endlessly kind to u as u have always been to me <33 love u thank u for always checking up on my disappearing ass 🥺🥺🥺 MWAH

#cherie 🪂 #s-cxups #y.ask #long post

[the-kings-gambit]

OCtober #16: Home

📸 💕🔆🌻

The twins, Netty and Whistle. As long as they're together, they're home 💕

#The King's Gambit #Winetta #Whistle #Main Island #This is a collab between the two of us🥺 #Love doing collabs they make me so happy

[cuddlebugsirius]

Hiiii, for the ask game!

🥺

👀

🎶

✨

(I love your writing sooooo much! 😍)

Oh you're so cute 🥰 thank you for asking!

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

I love love love it when one of them is unsure and the other is reassuring and loving, I just think it's lovely! Writing can be very healing for me, so having little situations that echo my experience but end in different ways is very therapeutic.

And in Atelier, whenever Sirius is under I always feel very squealing, imagining him being so soft and pliant and feeling so safe. 😍

👀 Tell me about an up and coming WIP please?

Ahhhh okay so I have a few at the moment... one is for the Midnight fic collab, the song I got is Bejewelled which I found a little bit difficult to plan but now that I'm writing I'm really enjoying!

The big one is the Atelier follow-up, which is currently looking like it should hit around the 50-60k mark, although that might change 🥸 and that's going to be a 4 part (or 8 part, depending on the length of the parts 😅) seasonal special that moves them forward a year by its closing. I haven't written much of it yet, but I'm really enjoying it!

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing in a loop lately?

I usually have the TV on while I write, at the moment I'm rewatching GoT and Scandal, so I switch between the two frequently. I used to write with Criminal Minds on but I rewatched too many times and my dad was concerned 😅

I've been listening to Midnights a lot, Karma and High Infidelity are big favourites 😍

✨Give your writing a compliment. Go on now, you know you deserve it.

(This is very very difficult and I challenge everyone to try to do this 😬😬😬)

I like that I write things the way I want to write them, and that people find little things in my writing that make them feel seen or included. It makes me feel very proud.

ask me more!

#wolfstar #ask game #wolfstar fanfiction #fanfic writer ask #fic: atelier bloom st #fic: ontogenesis

[nextstopwonderland]

Masterlist of Taika/Rhys content I’ve posted on tumblr

Because I do so love archiving things.

(If putting anything on Twitter, especially photo edits/vid compilations please give proper credit)

Videos

Compilations (do not repost without credit)

Us Against the World: Interview compilation part 1

We’re in this Together: Interview compilation part 2

We were there for each other: Interview compilation part 3

We have similar souls: Interview compilation part 4

A Taika gushes over ofmd & Rhys 15 min supercut

Rhys + “the managerial role”

Rhys + “the managerial role” - the WWDITS edition

Rhys & Taika + working together

Taika + Rhys + “perfect”

Taika + Rhys + “great(est)”

Yet another casting related compilation

“Taika and I get each other’s vibe” -Wilderpeople bts compilation

“Do i ever make you laugh that hard?”

“It’s one of my favorite scenes in the film, because of him” - What we do in the shadows directory commentary compilation

Taika + the most fun being with Rhys

“You weren’t acting there, were you?” - in which the FYC q&a is like an established relationship romcom

Clips

“I never want those moments to end”

Rhys and the blackbeard bar & grill scene

“I was doing an erotic dance for my friends” vibes

“It was always the most exciting - for me- when it was just me a Rhys”

“We’re gonna work together forever. I know that.” 

“Having Taika there made it easier to do. Because we’re in this together.”

“Put your Kraken arms around me... and take me... and squeeze me”

“This is all perfect” | full version 

“The parallel between fiction and fact and life and creativity was so close”

Rhys discussing 2002 Fringe Fest and Taika

“We met on the comedy circuit in New Zealand”

“To trust each other”

“I spoke to you bro!! 🥺”

“He invites me into his special tent” (private 🔒)

Rhys discusses OFMD beginning of filming (private 🔒)

Rhys discusses adjusting to the filming schedule & guest stars (private 🔒)

Compilation of Rhys’s OFMD talk on The Cryptid Factor (private 🔒 )

“When’s the werewolf question coming up?”

“I only come here for the ring toss!”

Wilderpeople Sundance compilation

“One of the reasons he probably said yes is because he was opposite me”

Rhys discusses being cast in ofmd

“Finish each other’s sentences”

“I DO take direction well!”

“We had a each other to lean on”

“There’s just this synchronicity between our brains and the way that we act or improvise where we always seem in tune”

Rhys discussing scenes with Taika and next goal wins

Taika discussing Rhys during Wilderpeople DVD commentary

the FYC private foot tap

“See you in there, babe” - S2 spoilers (BTS footage)

“When I direct him, it’s easy. And when we act together, it’s even better.” - bts interviews, S2 spoilers

“See you in there, babe” - the Samba edition (edit, S2 spoilers)

Other Collabs

Rhys’s part of 2015 Taika directed charity vid

Rhys in Crazy Domains commercials directed by Taika

Audio

“I love how he makes movies, he’s fucking fantastic”

“I always knew i’d end up working with Rhys. I always do.”

Rhys talks being directed by Taika

“We really dig a lot deeper in this show to get into the psyche of these two characters” (Takes place right after the above audio)

“Thanks, Taiks!”

“I love him”

Taika on being able to have fun acting, fanart, and s2

David and Taika discuss the romance aesthetic and the end of episode 1

Rhys discussing his ghost experience at 2002 Fringe fest

Rhys discussing early comedy days with Taika and next goal wins from 2020

WWDITS Australian promo tour compilation

“He’s an amazing artist and I’ve seen everything he’s done”

“We haven’t changed who we are.”

Picspams

Taika and Rhys through the years

Taika and Rhys + Space Waltz (includes link)

Unicorn floats

No thoughts just these photos

WWDITS promotion 

Gifs from vids

Find someone who looks at you...

Find someone who… part 2

Taika agrees with the above find someone’s apparently

More press promo tours

Another pic compilation

Taika photographing Rhys for FOTC

Taika + Rhys + hands

Taika + Rhys + beatboxing + heartseyes

FYC q&a stills

Next Goal Wins premiere

Quotes

“It was a pleasure romancing with you, Ed”

Quote compilation part 1 (in which i originally say they met at Fringe in 2002 because Rhys confused me, but in actuality they knew each other before that. Post has since been edited 🤣)

Quote compilation part 2

Pics + Quotes Compilations

“We’re good for each other, so it just works”

“Let’s just have some fun”

“Just Breathe, Rhysie”

Yet another photo + quote compilation 

1996 vs. 2002

Rhys once again discussing their chemistry, love, and “magic”

“Rhys is inherently loveable. You can not help but love him.”

Ed + Stede + romance tropes

“I still see within Taika the same alternative comic from the 90s.”

“Taika has obvious sex appeal and I never have.”

“We’ve kind of been taking on the world together”

“I always play the nice guy and he’s always a prick”

“So, all of Rhys’s lines.”

_________________________________

Graphics

Mixes with cover art (Blackbonnet)

Without the one you love

The reason I hold on

The part of me I can’t let go

#taika/rhys #masterposts #masterlists

[fic-dumpster]

im chubby, so do you think the bonten guys would think im cute - 👺 anon [hi im new]

Hi!! Welcome 💕🥺💕

I’m a chubby girl too! I feel you 🥺💕 Chubby readers unite!

Anyway!! I’m so happy you sent this ask^^ Thank you for feeling comfortable and asking for this kind of content that’s almost non-existent.

Also, I’m participating in a collab with a Takeomi x chubby!Reader smut fic! So stay tuned *wink*

1k+ words | Bonten x Chubby!reader | smutish(?), fluff(?), comfort fic(?), not edited, idk what I did but I did it. :D

Space, that's what you wanted to give them. Car rides made you anxious and extremely self-conscious. Sitting between Sanzu and Kakucho didn't help as they had their legs wide open in the back seat, crushing your plump thighs together.

What you failed to notice is that they were doing it on purpose. Both men glanced your way, adoring how you squirmed, and your round cheeks flushed at their actions. A third pair of eyes checked the rearview mirror very often. Kokonoi was on the wheel, and he didn't want to miss your bashful expression.

And your worries got worse since the car stopped to pick Ran and Rindou. A discussion between the two could be heard outside, something about sitting in the back. And your face fell- thinking that they were fighting for the front seat, a burning sensation filled your chest. Where they uncomfortable with you there?

But you were as clueless as always; what the brothers discussed outside did have something to do with you. Although no how you imagined it. Both of them wanted to sit on the back, knowing full well that you would be there. Ran had spent some time with you yesterday, so Rindou insisted that he should be the one sharing the backseat with their baby. Still, Ran wasn't going to give so easily. That's why they were bickering outside the car.

The sound of the door being open surprised you; it was Rindou stepping in with a triumphant smile. Looking around, you didn't understand since there was no more room. Was he going to get something or what- Kakucho’s hand fastly unbuckled your seatbelt and began to drag you towards him- You panicked.

“Wait, no! I- I’m h-heav- y,” looking down, you whispered the last word as you tried to roll down the short dress that moved when Kakucho grabbed you.

“Why are you going all shy on us now? Hmm?” Sanzu’s face was in front of you in a second with one of his signature lazy smiles. “Pretty in that dress and being a tease, aren't you? Showing so much skin for us?” His hand scurried to your soft thigh.

Sanzu didn't get to enjoy much because, In a blink of an eye, you were being hoisted up by Kakucho and placed on his lap. “So what if you're heavy? Baby, you don't have to worry about that,” his big arms tightly surrounded your curvy form, “I love how you feel on me, so soft, so flush and warm,” at every word, his grip brought you closer. You could clearly feel his firm chest against your own.

“B-but, uh, besides, I don't exactly have the ideal body type and-” you couldn't keep eye contact.

“Ideal, my ass,” exclaimed the younger Haitani. He didn't like when you doubted yourself; it was like a stab in the heart, “Baby, understand that I’m fucking hard from seeing you all dolled up in that dress. I wanna rip it off and hug your plum body myself, not a tight piece of clothing,”

“Told you, Baby,” you heard Kokonoi mumble from the driver's seat. Like you are the only one suffering from tight pants, Rindou. Though Koko.

Ah, yes. You remember earlier today your chat with the fox-eyed man.

“What if people say something? I don't think I look good in it.” worry clouded your mind once again.

“Baby, I don't think you understand.” Kokonoi stood behind you as you looked at yourself in the mirror, “This,” Kokonoi caressed your sides, “is only for us to look at, and only our opinion matters,” his fingers brushed the hem of the dress, “and I think you look cute. They are gonna go crazy for you.” said the long-haired man, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses on your skin.

The ring of a phone took you out of your thoughts; it was Ran’s. He picked up once he read the id caller. “Baby, it's for you,” Ran passed the phone towards the back, but before you could take it, he spoke again. “You know, I feel like I need to remind you how yesterday you weren't complaining about sitting on my face,” a smirk formed on the elder Haitani’s lips.

It was like a chain reading. You felt Kakucho under you tense at what Ran let out; Kokonoi swerved the car; Sanzu changed his lazy smile for a wicked one, and Rindou groaned in frustration.

You froze with the phone in hand. Ran did it on purpose; railing everyone up for you was one of his favorite things to do. After all, the embarrassed look on your face gave his body goosebumps. You looked so cute fidgeting on Kakucho’s lap.

“Y/N, baby?” You heard Takeomi’s rough voice on the phone; quickly, you put it again in your ear.

“Hi?” you lowered your voice.

“I wanna feel those plush thighs on me tonight, got it?” A weak whimper escaped your lips, calling Kakucho’s attention, “and Mikey says to send him pictures of your cute outfit, he heard Koko got a very nice little piece for our baby.” you missed them since both went on business outside of Tokyo a couple of days ago and only Takeomi came back tonight.

“O-okay,” you took a deep breath to try and calm yourself, “I’ll take pictures of my- myself,” and the phone was snatched from your hand.

“Okay, Takeomi, I’ll help her, don’t worry, bye!” Sanzu didn't even give you or Takeomi time to say anything when he hung the phone.

“You’re hogging Y/N, Kakucho,” complained Rindou, “pass her here,” he patted his lap.

“But Rindou-”

“Baby, come on. You look so good today,” was Rindou pouting? “I wanna have you on my lap too.” reluctantly, Kakucho gave in after you promised to sit with him at the meeting. And as You crawled over Sanzu, who now sat at the middle. He took the opportunity to sit you on his lap before you could reach Rindou.

“My pretty, pretty baby,” the pinknette’s head rested on your voluptuous chest. He guided your hand towards his head.

“Sanzu!” Rindou lifted the pinknette’s head, “I asked first.”

“Okay,” Sanzu simply answered.

“Don’t okay me,”

“Stop your fighting, you two,” groaned Ran.

“You caused this,” Kokonoi told Ran.

“Y/N, come back here,” Kakucho tried to pull you back.

“No,” Both mullet wearers spoke at the same time.

Your laugh interrupted their bickering, “There’s enough of me for all of you,” you laughed at your own sad joke, “I love you all,” you let out.

Not even a second passed, and you heard the five of them saying it back, in their own way, of course. They sure know how to make you feel wanted and pretty. Because in their eyes, you are.

“But don’t make those jokes,” Kokonoi scolded you, “I can barely have you for myself, lately.”

#Bonten x chubby!reader #chubby readers unite #body posititivity #and all that #NOT EDITED BUT I WILL REREAD IT LATER I HAVE A PAPER TO SUMMIT TOMORROW #does this count as a comfort fic? #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #kokonoi hajime x reader #ran rindou haitani #akashi takeomi #kakucho not really hitto #sano mikey manjiro #👺anon #omi.answers #omificstags #fluff #smut #bonten x reader

[bokuroskitten]

𝔘𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔬𝔠𝔨 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔎𝔢𝔶

〈Kuroo and Bokuto come home to find you breaking their one and only rule.

𖤐 genre: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI

𖤐 pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader

𖤐 word count: 2.5k

𖤐 warnings: poly relations, spanking, punishment turned soft, pussy slapping, degradation, praise, double stuffing, creampie in both holes <3, finger sucking, subspace, mentions of aftercare.

❦ hi y’all! This piece is for @semisgroupie Poly collab!! Sorry, it’s a little late sweet Venus, I still love ya lots 🥺✨ thanks for letting me join! You guys should check out some of the other amazing pieces on the list, they are 🤤🤤 have a great day everyone and let me know what you think!

❦ a dancer at @hqintheclub

Bokuto and Kuroo weren’t very strict. Some boyfriends wanted to keep their partner under lock and key, but the two of them just weren't like that. They insisted that you made the rules, and when you wanted to be bossed around all you had to do was give them the word and they had no problem indulging you.

You were their pretty baby after all, and spoiling you was their favourite pastime. So, they weren’t strict.

But, they did have one very serious rule.

And that was not touching yourself without permission.

There were two of them, surely at least one of them would be around to help you out and if not they expected you to ask. After all, your pussy belonged to them, which they considered being under lock and key.

So when they came home to find your knuckles buried within your gummy walls, they were less than pleased, to say the least.

“One rule, we only have one fucking rule, and you couldn’t even follow that?”

Bokuto’s words were rougher, deeper than usual as his palm came smacking down against your cunt. You yelped out loud, squirming but unable to move much considering the hold Kuroo currently had you in.

It had been easy for him to stop you, pinning your wrists to your lower back and keeping your thighs spread open with his own. You were about to talk back, but your voice got caught behind another squeak as Bokuto’s open palm was hit into your core again.

Each word was gritted out along with a spank. “You. Only. Have. One. Rule.” He stopped when you sobbed, the skin of your lower lips feeling hot and tingly from the impacts. “Are you that needy that your brain turned to mush? Just so stupid for pleasure you decided to touch our pussy.”

He spat a fat wad of spit onto your cunt, watching the wall it dribbled through your swollen slit. Kuroo just let out a disappointed hum by your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe when you tried squirming again.

“Papa’s right baby, we’re so disappointed in you.”

Your chest shook at the irritation in Kuroo’s tone, tears already spilling from your glossy eyes. You looked at Bokuto, lower lip wobbling and voice slipped out between shakey little sobs.

“M’sorry, m’sorry papa, sorry daddy—“

Punishment could be back, sure. But what you hated most was disappointing them.

And Kuroo certainly sounded disappointed behind you, his tongue slowly making its way along the column of your neck.

“How are we expected to trust you, hm?” Kuroo whispered into your skin, giving your wrists a squeeze when you began to squirm again.

“Oh, we just won’t.” Bokuto’s voice was still harsh, thick brows furrowed together as he worked his pants off. Nothing about it was graceful, the joggers and boxers he previously wore flopping to the ground.

His cock was just as angry as him. The tip was swollen red, thick beads of pre already drooling from his slit. His veins pulsed, adding extra girth to his already massive length as he gave himself a few rough pumps.

“We clearly can’t trust her. Every time we leave her alone I say we tie her up. Leave her tied to the bed and stuffed full. By the time we come back, she’ll be sitting pretty, ready to be used because that’s clearly what she wants, right birdy?”

Your mind was slowly turning to mush, Bokuto’s words only adding extra heat to your core. You pictured the way they would manhandle you into any position, tying you up and gagging you. Filling each hole with a toy and leaving you there for however long they pleased.

Just so they could come home and use you.

You snapped back to reality when Bokuto slapped his cock against your sopping pussy. The action had your hips jerking forward, making Kuroo laugh in amusement right by your ear.

“And now she’s fantasizing about being used when we’re literally about to use her. What a stupid little kitten.”

“Stupid hungry for cock, that’s for sure,” Bokuto emphasized his pupils blown wide as he rubbed his dick along your puffy slit, watching the way it turned shiny with your arousal.

“How about we really fill you up? Make sure those fingers will never satisfy you again hm, baby girl?” Kuroo’s voice was low, dangerous as he looked at Bokuto over your shoulder, nudged his head towards the bedside table.

“Babe, grab the lube.”

Bokuto was still in a frenzy, watching the way your core clenched and dribbled just from his cock rubbing along your slit. He couldn’t help but groan at the familiar size difference, how his cock looked so heavy against your delicate yet drenched flower. Still, he reached for the lube, all but tossing it towards Kuroo.

He rolled his eyes, only momentarily annoyed before your sweet little mewling caught his attention once more. He whispered against your ear, his eyes now training on Bokuto as he managed to pop his tip between your folds.

“Daddy’s gonna let go of you. You’re gonna be a good girl and sit pretty right? Or am I gonna have to tie up these pretty arms of yours?”

You were quick to shake your head, not wanting to further push this prolonged punishment being dishes out to you. Kuroo mumbled a soft ‘good girl’ before releasing your arms, reaching for the lube. He was quick to readjust, still allowing Bokuto full access to your cunt. But now, he could spread your ass apart, grin down at your cute puckered hole which he covered in a generous amount of lube.

The cold liquid had you gasping, whines constantly bubbling from your lips that were quickly silenced when Bokuto slid his cock back to your folds, poked at your hole that already clenched for him.

“Don’t worry baby, daddy’s gonna prep you first…” Kuroo kept his voice soft, the softest it had been the whole session as he eased a finger into your ass, working open the tight whole. “Despite the fact that you’ve been nothing but bad today, daddy would never hurt you.”

That sent reassurance fluttering to your chest, although you couldn’t really thank him for it. Not when Bokuto’s rough palm grabbed you by the jaw. Not when two of his thick fingers pushed between your swollen lips at the same time his cock finally pushed between your drooling folds.

“Yea, fucking take it. Takin' my cock like a good little slut. Want daddy and papa to stuff all your holes kitty, remind you who they belong to?”

He gave your jaw a little shake, grinning when your eyes rolled back a bit, babbling nonsense around his fingers.

You already felt so full with Bokuto’s girth filling you up, and now with Kuroo sticking in another finger from behind, stretching out your tighter entrance you couldn’t help but begin to tremble, finger gripping tightly onto Bokuto’s biceps to ground yourself.

He cooed, the rocking of his hips into your sweet cunt significantly softer than before. The boys just couldn’t help themselves, not when you became a drooling mess for them, lashes thick with tears and so very pliant under their touch.

“How’s it feeling kitty? You like papa’s cock in you like this? Slow and deep?” His eyes were lit up in amusement, glued to your face and the way you suckled so desperately on his fingers, allowing drool to dribble down his palm. Your gaze slowly rose to meet his, your pussy fluttering around his cock as you nodded, hands switching to gripping at his wrist.

“Mmph-- full, s’full papa--” You managed to murmur, lips loosening from his digits momentarily as Kuroo inserted a third finger into your ass.

“Good girl, almost ready to take us both. Gunna really fill you up.” Kuroo’s voice is whispered into your ear, his fingers careful yet easily working you open for him to use. He can’t help but groan when Bokuto pushes into you again, fulling the bulging of his cock through the thin muscles within you. Without wasting another moment he pulls his fingers free, unable to hold back his grin at the way your pretty hole gapes for him.

Waiting to be used.

After coating his cock in lube he takes hold of your hip, waiting for Bokuto to pause his thrusting before he’s tapping his leaking tip to your hole.

“Ease up baby, relax~” He coos, watching the way your thighs spread a little further, your eyes drooping as you continue to lazily suck Bokuto’s fingers. There’s drool dripping down your chin now but you don’t care, not when Kuroo is sliding his long, lean cock into your ass.

The feeling is mind-numbing, making you mewl so high pitched around Bokuto’s fingers it makes them groan in unison. Your eyes squeeze shut as Kuroo keeps pushing in, inch by inch, biting down on his lower lip.

“That’s it, taking me so well kitten… oh yea, our good little girl.”

There are fresh tears in your lashes now, pleasurable ones that fall down your puffy cheeks as soon as Kuroo pushes in as far as he can, just a couple inches too long to bottom out completely. He doesn't mind, the grip your sweet ass still has on his cock makes him moan.

It’s almost too much to handle. The way they take up all the space, the way they throb.

The way that they can feel every subtle twitch, every subtle movement of each other through the muscles of your inner walls. So vulnerable, just for them.

Bokuto looks down at you, finally removing his fingers from your lips. Strings of stool hand between his digits, connecting them to your lips, but he needs to hear you this time as he asks.

“Is it okay if we move, Birdie? God, you feel so fucking good.”

As soon as a soft “okay papa” leaves your lips the boys begin to move. You cry out, back falling into Kuroo’s broad chest but he easily grounds you. Bokuto’s hands are on your breasts now, kneading the soft skin while he watches his cock become coated in white, sleek arousal. Kuroo holds your jaw, gently tilting your head back as he ruts into your ass, watching your eyes lul out of focus with each one.

“That's it Kitty--”

“Our fuckin good girl” Bokuto finishes for Kuroo with a soft growl in his tone, starting to become unhinged by it all. Feeling Kuroo’s cock filling you alongside his, the sweet squeeze of your pussy, the weak yet needy noises you make.

He can’t hold back as he shoots three thick ropes of hot cum into your cunt. Kuroo moans, your ass tightening up alongside your pussy in an attempt to keep all of Bokuto’s warmth buried within you. Bokuto thrusts become sloppy, lazy, eyes wide as he fucks his cum deeper and deeper into you.

“Gunna stay inside, make sure you’re filled.” Bokuto murmurs are more to himself than anyone else. Kuroo continues pushing his cock into your ass, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your lips.

“D-daddy, daddy~” Your voice is nothing but a sob now, hiccups slipping out between moans and gasps as Kuroo continues a pace that makes your head spin. You can feel it, the knot that dangerously taunt in your gut.

“What is it baby girl, too much?” He muses against your lips. When he’s met with a shake of your head his brows furrow.

“N-needa come, please... Wanna come so bad? Can I please?” You keep babbling, plea’s bubbling out. Bokuto hums. This may have been a punishment earlier, but hearing your cute little cries, pleas, being their sweet baby.

He brought his heavy hand over your mound. Keeping his cock buried inside you he pressed two fingers into your clit, leaning his face into the crook of your neck as you gasped.

“There you go, sweet girl. Come on my cock, nice and pretty now.” His voice was pressed into your sweaty skin, the gasp you released making Kuroo groan right along with you. The snap of his hips into your ass echos in the room, your skin jiggly perfectly from each impact.

When the cord snaps within you, you cry out both their names. It falls from your tongue, like a pretty melody. The way you tighten perfectly around Kuroo, the way he watches your arousal coat not only Bokuto’s cock but his finger as well, the way drool freely covers your chin along with his tears.

Man, isn’t he one lucky son of a bitch.

He can’t even help but come undone himself, filling up your ass with thick cum that somehow makes you feel even more full.

“Jesus Christ,” Bokuto speaks, licking the mess you’ve made with a gentle tongue. Even that has you whining though, finally squirming from just how much it really is to have boys in you at once.

“Okay kitty okay, relax now.” Kuroo coos, holding back as hiss when he pulls out of you. He can’t ignore the way your ass leaks with his cum, dribbling down into your already soaked cunt. Bokuto is quick to follow suit, allowing you to finally lay in a heap in his embrace.

You’re nothing but a trembling mess now, unable to stop the wave of tears that come to your eyes.

“T-Thank you daddy, Thank you p-papa, f-for letting me cum. M’sorry, still sorry f-for being bad--”

“It's alright now little one.” Bokuto’s voice has lost its edge, his palm smoothing back pieces of wet hair from your forehead. Kuroo is quick to join, helping you ease out of whatever headspace you’ve fallen into by peppering your shoulders with kisses.

“We love you so much baby, you know that don't ya? Of course, you do. Even when you misbehave and we punish you, we still love you kitten.”

“Mhmm, hear that birdy? We love you.” Bokuto repeats, holding you a bit closer as you cling to him. The three of you stayed curled in on another until your trembles stopped. It was only then that Kuroo urged you all out of bed to get cleaned up and cozier. They had no problem spoiling you in the tub, making sure you felt their love every step of the way until the three of you decided to sleep on the couch, too lazy to change the sheets.

It was safe to say you never touched what didn’t belong to you ever again.

#polycollab #polyamourous #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu smut #hq smut #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #kuroo x y/n #bokuto smut #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto x y/n #bokuroo #bokuroo x reader #bokuto x kuroo x reader #hq fanfiction #hq fanfic

[hajimeiwaswife]

ALL TOO WELL

AN: This is part of the Chubby Chasers Collab by @kyovtani ! Thank you so much for the amazing chance to write for chubby readers. Give love to all the works of the amazing writers taking part in it! Feedback is highly appreciated 💖🥺

Pairing: Toya Todoroki x Chubby!Reader (F!Reader)

Warnings: incest, voyeurism, slight fatphobia, breeding kink, oral (F!receiving), penetration, masturbation.

WC: 2.5K

Summary: Shoto witnesses the sickness of his family.

Sequel

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Formulary for commissions

The Todoroki family was the ideal one in the eyes of society: a good father and hero, three sons of high value and two intelligent daughters. No one knew anything about the mother of the creatures, not that Endeavor was a talkative person, but they supposed she couldn't be that bad if the kids were so well behaved.

Anytime Shoto received a compliment about his family he felt the urge of spitting on the person's face, laugh about the naivety present in front of him. But how could they know? How could they know his family was the most disturbed, disgusting, nauseating and sick of all? His father an absolute abuser; to the point where his mother turned the face of her very own son into a failure painting; to the point of convincing his elder daughter of acquiring the role of a housewife; to the point of causing Natsuo so much trauma that he didn't return after finishing college; to the point where he himself abhorred his left side; to the point where his eldest brother and his little sister turned into monsters.

He knew. Everyone in the family knew. He was surprised it didn't reach the ears of the press yet. It all started after an argument caused by Enji, Shoto was there, he remembers it all too well.

The five siblings and his father were sat at the table having dinner, as a normal Christmas Eve night. Somehow, Fuyumi had convinced everyone to come back home for the holydays, expressing her concern for the littlest Todoroki, who still lived with their father as she was in college.

How could they say no? Their little sister was alone with a monster, she needed them. Shoto's hero instincts boosted and he appeared the 24th of December at his old house with a bottle of wine and some sweets.

Enji presided the table, at his right was Fuyumi, and next to her Natsuo. At his left was Y/n, next to her Toya; and last but not least, Shoto was in front of his father. Silence reigned, awkwardness tensing the air so much that it could be cut with a knife. Shoto was on the edge of leaving when Enji spoke, freezing the atmosphere and causing all of the siblings to frown their eyebrows.

"You should stop eating now, Y/n," he said, voice stern, the voice he used to impose himself over the rest. "I've already prepared the gym for you. Go."

Shoto looked at his little sister, who was making an effort not to cry in that very moment, face turned in embarrassment as she stood up to fulfil her father's wish. It was true she was fat, but that didn't mean she looked bad, and for what he knew, her health was the best out of all of them. Shoto was about to intervene to defend Y/n when he saw movement from the corner of his eye. The eldest sibling's hand stopped Y/n from standing up, taking her wrist delicately and motioning for her to sit on her chair again.

"What the fuck, old man," Toya said between gritted teeth, "she can eat as much as she wants. And why would she go to the gym in fucking Christmas Eve?"

Shoto nodded, as well as the other two siblings who hadn't spoken yet. Toya's hand passed from Y/n's wrist to hold her hand, thumb caressing it. Shoto, who had seen it, didn't pay much attention as his first thought was the eldest was doing his job consoling the littlest.

"Haven't you seen the recent articles? Talking about how she looks? Comparing her to you all? I'm doing her a favour." Enji continued.

"But they also said she was the cutest and most adorable out of all of us, even having a couple of singers claiming how attractive she is." Fuyumi spoke, wanting nothing else but to calm the situation down.

"They also said how her hips were as big as Russia." said Enji, scoffing.

"And is that a bad thing?" Shoto asked, right brow lifted.

"That's actually a fucking compliment." completed Toya "Have you finished?" he asked gently to the girl.

"Uh... yes," she replied, ashamed and with a trembling voice.

"Then come with me."

Shoto watched as his older brother took Y/n upstairs, hand in hand and with a Toya he had never seen before. That gentle tone wasn't what he was used to hear for sure, not even for the precious little Todoroki. But, at the end of the day, everyone was aware of his soft spot for her.

Meanwhile, Natsuo was starting an argument with their father. Fuyumi, on her part, was trying to stop it so it wouldn't escalate as it usually did. However, for what Shoto could hear, there was no way it would end in peace, and he didn't want it to, honestly. He was as mad as Natsuo and Toya about the lack of respect towards their little sister just for being how she was. And he wasn't going to lie, Shoto knew that if she weren't his sister, he would had probably already fucked her a long time ago.

Worried about her, he dismissed himself from the table, leaving the three of them to argue so he could check on Y/n. She would likely be all right with Toya, but that wasn't enough to ease Shoto.

So he went upstairs, the sound of Natsuo's angry shouts dissipating into the air as he advanced. He moved towards Y/n's room, thinking his two siblings could be in there, but the muffled sounds coming from Toya's was enough to alert him of the wrong of his thoughts.

As he approached the wooden door, he noticed the voices weren't exactly talking, but... Moaning? He furrowed his brows, confused, and neared the room even more. It was slightly opened, enough for one of his eyes to peep. And he saw it. And heard it. The sight of his siblings kissing, the sound of saliva and lips parting. He saw the way their tongues played, rounding each other hungrily; he heard Y/n's panting.

She was laid in Toya's bed and he was towering over her, legs on each side of her hips, right hand grabbing her waist and left on her cheek. Her hands, on her part, were grabbing his shirt, which was nearly off him.

Shoto couldn't believe what he was seeing. Was he dreaming? No, he wasn't, he was there, he remembers it all too well. Was he supposed to see it? No, he wasn't. But he did, nonetheless.

He saw how his brother's shirt ended at the corner of his room, torso now naked and being caressed and admired by Y/n. Her hands touching every inch of skin she could, leaving kisses on his neck and collarbone, hands passing his abs as Toya panted, clearly affected.

He also saw how Toya kissed her forehead before taking her dress out little by little. First, her thick thighs were exposed, jiggling at the movement of lifting her hips so her brother could take it off. Shoto was drooling, wishing for nothing more than to be able to die between his sister's thighs, choked by her soft flesh.

The dress kept going up, her wide hips and her waist and stomach exposed, the stretch marks shining under the dim light. Toya grabbed the flesh of her hips, grunting at the feeling, and kissed her stomach, too near to the line of her panties. Y/n sighed, hand caressing the red locks of her brother, who was busy licking her belly, biting her hips and kissing her waist.

Shoto then admired the way the dress was completely taken off and the sight of her breasts kept by her bra appeared before him. Well, before his older brother, but he was too engrossed to care.

"So beautiful," murmured Toya, who had his hands on her waist and head between her clothed chest "you don't know how much I want you."

Toya's voice was hoarse, almost pained, lips brushing over her collarbone. Shoto didn't hear what he asked her when his teeth bit her lobe, but for the way she nodded and how fast her bra disappeared, he realized Toya was asking for permission.

Before both Todoroki men were their sister's big breasts, nipples erect and stretch marks at the sides. A sight to behold. Toya didn't lose time in grabbing her left breast and taking her right nipple in his mouth, tongue licking it, lips sucking and her moans flooding the room. Shoto felt his pants getting tight, he also wanted to touch her.

Toya's hands went down her body, mouth never leaving her nipple, and took the sides of her panties, waiting for a confirmation from her to take them off. When he saw her nodding, he pulled them down, leaving her completely naked.

"Fuck," moaned Toya, taking the nipple out his mouth and observing his sister's body while licking his lips "you're so fucking pretty. Now, let nii-chan take care of you, yeah?"

"Y-yes." she breathed out.

Shoto watched intently how Toya left a thread of open-mouthed kisses down her belly to her mons pubis, and then, the sigh of pleasure his sister let out indicated him Toya had found her clit.

The eldest was licking it carefully, painfully slow, loving how his little sister was begging him to go faster. He closed his lips around her clit, sucking on it while his tongue still worked.

"N-nii-chan!" she moaned, grabbing a fist of his hair and pushing her pussy onto his face.

Shoto felt a throb on his dick, he was too turned on for his liking, but what could he do in that situation? It was too erotic, and her sister was too hot. He was envious of Toya.

The wet sounds coming from the room and the moans and whimpers from the Todoroki girl were all that could be heard, pitch getting higher as she approached her climax. Toya's hands were debating whether he should open her up more or close her legs around his head, pinching at the flesh of her big hips.

"I-I'm coming." she murmured, and the slurping sound only intensified until their sister moaned loudly "Toya-nii!"

Little whimpers came from her mouth as Toya cleaned her up, tasting her fluids. Shoto was absorbed, gazing at them both, wanting to feel disgusted but finding it too thrilling. He needed to release his dick from his pants, for the pain was becoming unbearable.

At that moment, he saw how Toya got riffed off his pants and underwear, a nearly 7 inches dick getting freed, thick and the tip licking pre-cum. Shoto was ashamed to admit it, but it was pretty. His dick throbbed again.

Toya laid above his sister once more, kissing her on the lips, tongue caressing her lower lip. "Let me show you how hot you actually are." he then kissed her neck while positioning himself and lining up his dick with her entrance.

Shoto could see from the door how his brother's dick disappeared between his sister's folds, Y/n whined while Toya grunted, pleased with the sensation of his sister's pussy. Grabbing her thick thighs, he put her legs on his shoulders and started thrusting.

The mattress creaked beneath them, the wet sound of their fluids and the slap of skin against skin filling the room. Shoto took his member, palming himself to the rhythm of his brother's thrusts, the voice of his sister being his motivation to touch himself.

"Such a slut for her nii-chan, aren't you?" asked Toya, laughing when she pouted.

"N-not a slut." she replied, moaning when Toya found a different angle.

"Oh? Really?" her brother laughed, dick going in and out, head in the crook of her neck "Wouldn't tell for how you're begging me to fuck you."

Shoto was now thrusting into his hand, the sight of his sister's thighs jiggling with the movement and the way his brother's dick was entering her was too much to keep himself from masturbating. He needed to see more, closer, to even be able to touch her, just for a little bit. But knowing his older brother and how possessive he was of his belongings, he didn't have a chance to begin with.

The loud moan coming from Y/n took him out of his thoughts and saw how one of Toya's hands was between her legs, touching her clit. Because of her breathing and her non-sense babbling he knew she was close.

"F-feels so good." she said, arms around her brother's neck.

Toya hummed, ego bursting, "Then cum on nii-chan's cock."

A few seconds later, where Shoto noticed the increased in pace of Toya's hand, their sister came with a loud moan, practically singing Toya's name. "Nii-chan, so good!"

Shoto couldn't take it anymore, that was the last stroke he needed to cum all over his hand, wishing for it to be the pussy of his sister, to be in between her legs, to be able to grab her wide hips.

"I'-I'm gonna breed you." Shoto heard, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Toya's unsteady pace. "You're gonna have my babies."

"Yes, nii-chan, breed me, please!" their sister exclaimed, overstimulation starting to be noticed.

And then, the sound of Toya's moan indicated him that he too had come. Horrified, he witnessed how his older brother had come inside their little sister.

It was silent, then, only their breaths could be heard. Shoto observed his own hand covered in cum, blissed now gone and realizing what had just happened: he had masturbated to the sight on his siblings fucking.

"Are you okay?" he heard Toya whispered and then a weak 'yes'.

They were both covered in sweat, Y/n wrapped on her brother's arms, head on his chest. 'They're cuddling...' thought Shoto, staring while Toya leaned to kiss his sister once again on the lips, tongue included.

He then decided it was time to leave, to wash himself on the bathroom and leave the oldest and the littlest be. He couldn't stop himself from feeling disgusted, sick. He had watched a horrible act, incest, his siblings having sex in front of him; and instead of stopping them, he had touched himself. And he had enjoyed it.

That was the first time he saw it, but definitely not the last one. By how loud Toya and Y/n had been there was no way the other Todoroki members didn't hear. It was clear they all knew. They were all aware of what happened and what was still happening between the two siblings, but nobody talked about it, keeping it like a secret. They all knew it was a point of no return, but nobody did anything about it. Shoto knew he now was part of the sickness that engulfed his family, but he sought no help. Was it even real? Were his oldest brother and his little sister fucking every night? Were they really?

Shoto knew it was real, because he was there, and he remembers it all too well.

#touya x reader #toya x reader #dabi x reader #toya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #tw.incest #tw.fatphobia #toya todoroki x chubby!reader #touya todoroki x chubby!reader #dabi x chubby!reader #tw.vouyerism