#namjoon fluff
thebangtancloud · a day ago
hello! may i kindly request an angst reaction to when after breaking up with y/n and her moving out, the members find all the things they gave her over the course of the relationship sitting on their once-shared bed or returned to them via mail? thanks so much i love u
You return the things that he gifted you after a breakup ~ BTS Reactions
Genre: Angst, Post-breakup blues. Warning: Curse Words.
A/n: thank you for requesting this, i love u too <3
Kim Namjoon:
"RM-ssi," a young man's voice floated towards Namjoon.
"Yes?" He looked up, gently setting his book down and holding his hand out for the man who had a small box in his hands.
"This came in with your name," the staff explained. "Here you go."
"Oh, thank you," Namjoon bowed a little, taking his glasses off and blinking down at the box. It felt light, but a sudden heaviness made its home over his chest, gulping anxiously at the brown cardboard.
Rather than tearing it open, Namjoon spent a good two minutes looking for a box cutter, sitting down comfortably and placing the box over the coffee table, ready to open it.
"What's that?" Hoseok wandered towards Namjoon, curious eyes peering over the man's shoulder. "Fan mail?"
"I don't think so," Namjoon shook his head with a slight frown. "I think I know who sent this in."
Gently cutting through the tape over the opening of the box, Namjoon's trembling fingers reached in just as Hoseok settled beside him.
"Oh," both men commented blandly at the sight.
With a touch as soft as a feather, Namjoon pulled out a zip-lock plastic bag, the delicate silver chain glistening under the lights of the practice room.
"(Y/n)?" Hoseok asked gently.
"Mhm," Namjoon nodded a little. "I didn't think she'd return this."
"I'm sorry, bro," Hoseok murmured under his breath. "That was a really messy breakup."
"It's all in the past," Namjoon shook his head. "T'was the best for both of us."
Hoseok hummed a little, picking up the chain after Namjoon set it aside.
"This is really pretty, though."
"Keep it," Namjoon chuckled under his breath. "I have no use of it, now."
"I think you should keep it," Hoseok suggested with a little smile. "What if she comes back?"
"I don't know, Hoba," Namjoon sighed deeply. "I don't think she'll come back to me."
"You never know," Hoseok shrugged lightly, patting Namjoon on the shoulder.
"You just never know."
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Kim Seokjin:
"Seokjin-ah," the sweet sound of his mother's voice brought a smile to Jin's face the moment he entered his house.
"Surprise," the beautiful woman came into view, the sweetest of smiles making her eyes crinkle at the corners.
Regardless of his age, the man skipped his way across the living room, jumping excitedly into his mother's open arms.
"You're here early! You were supposed to be here next week!"
"I wanted to surprise you," she murmured fondly, running a hand across the top of Jin's head. "Happy to see me?"
"More than you would ever know," Jin hummed in contentment, bending down to rest his head against her shoulder. "It's the happiest I've felt in a while now, thank you for being here, eomma."
"My little one," she whispered gently. "It must be a really rough time."
"Really is," he agreed in a small voice. "Come, let's sit."
"Okay, also!" The woman turned on her heel, reaching for the little bag that she had placed in the corner. "This came in for you. The delivery guy was at the door so I picked it up for you."
"He just gave you a delivery? Without asking for anything?"
"That surprised me too," she spoke with a frown. "He didn't even ask me for a signature. Just gave me the bag and left."
"What-" Jin paused, eyes misting over with tears. "Ah..."
"What's in it?"
"It's a watch," he explained, clearing his throat and looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to keep his tears at bay. "The watch I bought for (Y/n)."
"Oh," she gasped lowly. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."
"No, it's okay," he shook his head quickly. "It's all okay."
"Would you like me to..." she trailed off, suddenly feeling uncertain of what she was about to say.
"Nothing, nothing," she quickly waved him off. Jin's eyebrows raised in question.
"Would I like you to what?"
Gulping down nervously, she touched the side of his arm gently.
"Would you like me to go meet her?"
"You'd do that?" Jin's eyes grew wide in surprise.
"Yeah," she murmured gently. "(Y/n) is a sweetheart, from the few times I met her, I had a feeling that she felt comfortable with me. Maybe I could speak with her?"
"About what?" Jin wondered.
"Nothing, really," she shrugged. "Even if I could comfort her, I guess I'd feel a little better about it."
"Eomma," Jin looked away sadly. "I'd be eternally grateful if you did that."
"You don't need to be," she laughed a little. "She's like my girl too."
"I'm sorry," he suddenly whispered. "I ruined everything."
"Don't you go down that road now," she warned, snatching the watch from Jin's hand with a little smile.
"I'll give this back to her. It's her's, after all."
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Min Yoongi:
Yoongi took a moment to simply breathe out the anxiousness that seemed to claw at his throat from within, a nervous hand holding him up against the wall.
It had been four weeks since he'd been home. Four weeks since he'd been out of the country for work and four weeks since you last contacted him after notifying him of your shift from the house the two of you shared.
With a final deep sigh, Yoongi shook his head, entering the passcode and holding his breath until he was in and locked the door behind him.
The house was dark. Even though he was just in the living room, Yoongi could sense the absence of you, the absence of your things. He could feel the emptiness.
After a difficult moment of contemplation, Yoongi decided to text Jimin and let him know that he'd be over to stay the night at his place. There was just no way Yoongi could survive this silence.
Dragging his suitcase behind him, Yoongi left it next to the couch, briefly glancing at the bedroom door and immediately turning away. He'd avoid that room at all costs, at least until he felt strong enough to face the pain of you not being there.
Maybe he could just get himself a quick sip of water and slip out of the house without much thought. Yoongi was beginning to feel suffocated in the otherwise large space of his house. He scratched at his head absent-mindedly, looking around and walking into the kitchen, thoughts as loud as the silence surrounding him.
He stopped his journey not even two steps into the kitchen, hand still on the switch beside the refrigeration, eyes trained on the marble countertop.
Four books, two wooden picture frames, and a guitar that was neatly packed in its black Yamaha cover were all that were there to greet him.
Yoongi simply let his eyes flutter shut. Visual memories flashing behind his closed eyes, some of the purest moments that he spent with you, just the two of you at the top of a hill nearby, the morning sun, the guitar in your hands, and the notebook in his.
Yoongi couldn't stomach the fact that you felt the need to return a memory that he thought would remain burned into his brain until the day he took his last breath. You just had to.
Yoongi shuddered.
Suddenly all he could remember was the pain that he inflicted upon you. Harsh enough to make you leave behind a beautiful piece of the two of you.
Suddenly all Yoongi could think of, was you.
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Jung Hoseok:
"Ew, cobwebs," Jungkook grimaced, still going to the extent of running his hand along the wall and looking back at it with a scowl.
"Hyung, your place is really dirty."
"I haven't been here in a while, Jungkook," Hoseok rolled his eyes at the maknae who was holding up his finger that had darkened with a thick layer of dirt.
"But still," Jungkook frowned, "you should've come by to keep it clean. What about your plants?"
"They must've died," Hoseok's voice dropped in disappointment. "Ugh."
"Uh oh," Jungkook shrugged, sensing danger and choosing not to comment any further. The young man disappeared into Hoseok's bedroom, leaving the saddened-looking man in the hallway.
Hoseok sighed deeply, his hand reaching out to touch the wall, or rather, the empty space on the wall that once had a picture of the two of you with his dog hung up for everyone to see.
Jungkook's voice called out for Hoseok, who dragged himself across the dusty floor in search of the younger lad.
"Look," Jungkook pointed to the bed when Hoseok entered. "It's (Y/n)'s clothes."
"Jungkook-ah," Hoseok reached for the maknae's shoulder. "Can you stay out for a minute, please?"
Blinking in shock at the tears that were shining in his hyung's eyes, Jungkook nodded without a single word, gently patting Hoseok on the back before walking out and closing the door on his way.
Hoseok took a moment to run his eyes over the pile of clothes on the bed. The pain that pinched his heart when he realized that they were only the clothes that he had bought for you made Hoseok look up with a dry chuckle that buzzed through his chest.
"Shit," he cursed with another bland laugh. "This sucks."
His hand reached for the leather jacket at the top of the pile, a single tear falling straight onto the material as he let his fingers trail over the length of the zip. He thought about it for a moment, and then let held the jacket up to his nose, burying the entirety of his face into the black material.
"Fuck, this perfume," Hoseok dropped to his knees, fingers clenched in pain. "Ugh, why did she have to leave this back?"
Jungkook stood outside the door, back to the wall and head tilted up in an attempt to not let his tears fall. Maybe he should just go water the dead plants. Maybe he shouldn't stand by and listen to the heart-breaking cries of his hyung.
Maybe he shouldn't be reaching for his phone to call you.
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Park Jimin:
"Yo," Taehyung whistled, "I haven't seen this in ages."
Jimin paused when his eyes landed on an all too familiar piece of technology.
"Where'd you find that?"
"In this drawer," Taehyung pointed to the little table on the right side of his bed. "I thought you lost it or something, it's here?"
"It's not mine," Jimin admitted. "I mean, I used to use it sometimes, but it's not mine."
"Really?" Taehyung looked surprised. "Whose is it?"
"Uh..." Jimin blinked, deep in thought.
"It needs to be charged," Taehyung observed after trying to turn the iPad on. "If it's not yours, then why do you still have it?"
"Show it to me," Jimin held his hand out towards Taehyung. "I haven't seen that in ages too."
"Dummy," Taehyung chuckled humorously. "It's in your bedroom and you haven't seen it in ages? What's wrong with you?"
"Everything," Jimin whispered under his breath, letting his hand trace the back of the iPad with a sad smile.
"This was (Y/n)'s."
"Oh," Taehyung was quick to deflate. "Sorry man."
"Nah," Jimin brushed it off with a brave smile. "It's all good."
"She left it back?"
"I mean," Jimin chuckled sadly. "She used to draw little characters on this. She used to draw us. It's only natural that she wouldn't keep this."
"Sorry man," Taehyung apologized again, feeling horrible for opening up a wound that he knew hadn't healed yet.
"It's alright," Jimin nodded. "I'll charge this and do something about it."
"I dunno," he admitted in a murmur. "Maybe try sending it to her. Maybe throw it out if she doesn't want it."
"Why don't you keep it for yourself?" Taehyung suggested. "It's a fully functional iPad. I mean, if you want, you could delete the drawings and stuff, but keep the iPad."
"I don't think I could," he whispered, letting his chubby fingers trace the back of the iPad again.
"This is her favorite color."
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Kim Taehyung:
"...yeah, we had a bunch of-"
Taehyung froze at the sight of the package in front of his door.
"Hyung, I'll call you back."
"When wi-"
Taehyung disconnected the line before Seokjin could complete his sentence, the phone slipping into his pocket straight away.
Kicking the door open, Taehyung struggled to drag the heavy box inside, running towards the kitchen to bring a knife to help open the shipment.
It took him a painful moment to register that it wasn't the shoes that he'd ordered online, but almost everything that he had once bought for you.
His hand reached for the white envelope, a low gasp escaping his chest at the weight of it.
"I had to pay you back, please don't fight me on this."
Taehyung read the words out loud, not even bothering to look inside the envelope because he knew he'd find the exact amount of money that he had once paid for the loan that was over your head without you knowing.
Taehyung didn't know whether to laugh pathetically or cry even more miserably when he pulled out the Gucci Teddy Bear that he had bought for you just two months ago, his very own shirt over the stuffed animal which had been tucked in neatly at the corners. He knew just how much you loved wearing that shirt of his.
"Ugh (Y/n)," Taehyung groaned under his breath, pulling out the three broad canvas' that he had once given you, his very own version of the two of you on the day you first met in the middle of a football turf running after the same dog, another one of him holding your hand when the two of you were on a little boat, and the last one was a family portrait that he had attempted to paint, the two of you with a little black and brown furry ball of cuteness sitting on your laps, Yeontan.
"You're so annoying," he grumbled, staring numbly at the paintings before placing them on the floor and settling down onto his butt.
"I swear to God if you've put that camera in here, I'm coming for you."
Even if he felt like shit upon seeing all the things that you had sent back via mail, a strange sense of relief filled him from within when he couldn't find the camera in the massive box filled with things he was yet to remove from it.
"Good," he spoke to no one in particular. "At least you have something to remind you of us."
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Jeon Jungkook:
"Dropping the honorifics, I see," Jimin's eyes narrowed at Jungkook who was marching towards his hyung.
"What- Jungkook-ah!" Jimin squeaked in surprise when Jungkook had him pinned to the wall, collars crushed within Jungkook's mighty grip and his jaw clenched in fury.
"Did you touch my things?"
"What? No!"
"What's this perfume on you? Where'd you find this?"
Jimin turned to look away when Jungkook bent further to sniff Jimin's neck.
"Hey- leave me! Creep," Jimin scowled at the tall man, pushing him by his chest and straightening out his shirt.
"Got my ironed shirt all crumpled, man!"
"Where'd you get this perfume?"
"I got it from that cupboard next to the door, you idiot!" Jimin slapped Jungkook on the chest. "God, you scared the shit out of me."
"The cupboard?" Jungkook turned to face the main door.
"Yeah," Jimin pointed to the brown one that was built into the wall. "There are like five different perfumes there, but why do they all smell so fruity? You don't usually wear that scent?"
Jungkook quickly skipped his way towards the cupboard, opening it and numbly staring at the bottles of perfume that were placed right beside his caps.
Noticing a little paper by the wall, Jungkook pulled it with his forefinger and thumb, his eyes immediately tearing up when he recognized your handwriting.
"They remind me of you. I can't keep them and they're too expensive to throw out. Give them to Jimin."
"What's wrong with you, man?" Jimin wondered out loud when he noticed the maknae grow eerily silent.
"The perfume," Jungkook looked at Jimin over his shoulder.
"Do you like it?"
"I love it."
"Okay," Jungkook nodded softly, a sad smile taking over his expression.
"Pick your least favorite one and leave it back for me. You can keep the rest."
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BTS Reactions Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Permanent Taglist: @hopestastic, @joondiary, @0xnna0, @cuteipat, @koalasandcuddles, @fxndomsqueen, @blissedjoon, @underratedbitch-number13, @tinyoonsblog, @itachi-chi @sparkyprotectionsquad @scuzmunkie
Surprise Serotonin Boost!
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joheunsaram · 2 days ago
On With The Show (knj)
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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.
“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.
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.
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.
“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.
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
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blu-joons · a day ago
Hormonal Wife ~ Kim Namjoon
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Your hand hit the bed once again as tears continued to fall down your cheeks, finding yourself getting more and more frustrated with every passing second. Namjoon was fast asleep beside you, easy to tell from the loud snores that continued to escape from him, leaving you wide awake.
Your hormones were all over the place at the best of times, but the fear of getting no sleep was beginning to tip you over the edge. You didn’t know what to do, sighing continuously only for nothing to give, if anything, for it just to get worse instead.
As your hand came down against the bed once again as another huge snore came from Namjoon, the bed finally rocked. “What are you doing?” A groggy voice mumbled as you finally managed to make Namjoon stir.
“I’m going to batter you,” you said, sniffing back your tears.
His head immediately turned to look at you as you spoke, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Why?” He asked, completely unaware of what it was that he had done, only seeing your hands come up to wipe underneath your eyes.
You couldn’t bring yourself to look across at the clock, worried how many hours you’d wasted being entertained by Namjoon snoring. To say that you were exhausted was an understatement, you felt like you were running on empty.
After so many restless weeks through your pregnancy, the night was really when you tried to shut your eyes for a little while. Most nights, you managed to settle relatively easily, but Namjoon had other ideas for you tonight.
“I am fed up with listening to you snore,” you sniffled, slightly looking across at him, “I’m tired Joon, I’ve been awake all night because of you.”
His heart sunk as you spoke, having not realised at any point in the night that he was snoring. He quickly reached across and took a hold of your hand, holding onto you tightly as you tried your best to compose yourself and stop your tears from falling.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, offering you a small smile. “You should have woken me Y/N, you could have kicked me or anything to get me to wake up.”
Little did Namjoon know just how much you had tried to get him to wake up, only to fail miserably. He was well and truly asleep, unsurprising considering how hard he had been working recently.
“Have you really not managed to sleep at all tonight?” He nervously asked you, letting go of a sigh when your head nodded dejectedly in response to his question.
The guilt quickly caught up with him, knowing how restless you got without any sleep inside of you. You were reaching the point where your baby wriggling around was starting to leave you disturbed almost every night, with little room for sleep.
Namjoon’s eyes remained on you, reaching across with his free hand to pull the duvet up around you properly. “I can go and sleep in the spare room,” he offered, trying his best to fix the situation, “or maybe just on the sofa?”
Your head shook back at Namjoon, the last thing that you wanted to do was force him out of his own bedroom. It was one night, you could forgive him for just one night, even if your hormones wanted to fuss about it.
“If I’m annoying you, I don’t mind going,” Namjoon continued to assure you, squeezing against your hand. “You’re almost seven months pregnant Y/N, you need to make sure that you get some sleep, you can’t just lay awake.”
All you had done through the night was lay awake, staring up at the ceiling. Before you knew it the tears started falling, never knowing yourself to get as angry towards Namjoon as you were whilst he snored beside you.
“I’m too hormonal to decide what I want right now,” you lightly chuckled in reply to him.
A laugh came from Namjoon too, having realised first hand just how indecisive you were. You could never decide to do what made you happy or what made you emotional, whether you wanted to laugh or whether you just wanted to cry.
His head nodded understandingly as you spoke up again. “This is your bed and I’d hate for you to sleep somewhere else all by yourself. At the same time, your snoring is driving me up the wall like nothing else has done before.”
“You need to do what helps you to sleep Y/N,” Namjoon reminded you.
“I don’t know what that is,” you sniggered, “I don’t even know if I’ll be able to sleep not having you right beside me.”
Namjoon’s smile continued to grow as you tried to balance out what you wanted to do. You constantly felt as if you were being in pulled two different directions, your head wanted sleep, but your heart didn’t want to be alone.
“How about this,” Namjoon began to say, “we’ll try one more time to fall asleep and if I start snoring then you can wake me up, no matter how much you hurt me, and I’ll go and sleep in a different room in the house.”
“With how loud your snoring is tonight I think I’ll hear you in any room of the house,” you laughed back across to him.
“Was it really that bad?” He asked you in surprise, stunned to see your head nodding in reply to him. You couldn’t even begin to describe how bad Namjoon’s snoring was, just that it felt like you were living in a nightmare.
“How about I try and fall asleep, and you stay awake for twenty minutes and then close your eyes?” You suggested, “give me time to drift off?”
Namjoon’s head nodded in reply to you, happy to go along with whatever you felt would help you finally get some rest. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to stay up for that long, but he was willing to give it a try just for you.
“And by the way, tomorrow we’re going out to buy something that helps snoring,” you added, “I don’t care how much it costs, we’re fixing your stupid snoring.”
Another laugh escaped from him as Namjoon realised just how serious you were. It was only a one-time thing so far, but you were far too exhausted to ever let it happen again, feeling your hormones toss and turn all over the place.
He had a busy day, but he was sure that he could squeeze in a bit of time to make life easier for you. “When I go to work tomorrow, I’ll make sure to ask Jungkook about what he uses when his snoring gets bad and get some for myself.”
Your head immediately nodded back at Jungkook, the frustrated side of you that was screaming out for sleep wanted him to try anything to make sure tonight never repeated itself.
“Why don’t you try and close your eyes again?” Namjoon asked you, noticing you beginning to get quite quiet beside him. “I’ll sit on my phone for a while until I’m sure that you’re asleep and then I’ll go to sleep too.”
Your head nodded still as you began to make yourself comfortable, finally feeling for the first time that night as if you had a chance to finally get a little bit of rest in you.
“I’m sorry that you’ve not been able to sleep so far,” Namjoon weakly smiled across at you.
“I’m sorry too, perhaps I reacted a little bit too harshly, and emotionally.”
“At least you can blame that on your hormones,” Namjoon joked, “what can I blame snoring on?”
“Just being a giant pain in the ass.”
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moonchild1 · 8 months ago
 kim namjoon fic rec list (Ⅰ)
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here's a list of my ultimate favourite namjoon fics, please show lots of love and support to these wonderful authors and their blogs, some of these fics contain smut so no minors allowed ♡
a- angst s- smut f- fluff
prohibido by @personasintro f s a (brother's best friend au)
more than anything else by @seokkgenie f s a (CEO au)
nothing like us by @jiminimoon s a (ex boyfriend namjoon) ft. fuck boy jungkook
spilling coffee by @bts-roses f a (idol au intern reader)
promise by @joheun-saram f s a (college au roommate au enemies to friends to lovers au)
to make a power couple by @joheunsaram f s a (idol au ceo reader)
daisies and dinosaurs by @dark-muse-iris f s a (single father au)
intro: her by @jamaisjoons f s a (single dad au strangers to friends to lovers au)
out of my league by @ppersonna f s a (office au)
promises by @jeonsweetheart f s a (marriage au infidelity au idol au)
the father, the son and the holy whore by @yoon2k s (dilf namjoon infidelity au)
partners by @btssmutgalore s a (friends to lovers au slow burn)
dimples by @sweetmisery f s (idol au friends with benefits friends to lovers au)
sincerely, but no longer yours by @ttttaehyungie s a (exes au)
lavender honey by @oftenderweapons f s a (chaebol au friends to friends with benefits to enemies to lovers au)
love bytes by @stutterfly f s a (friends to lovers au slow burn)
bass and strings by @jimlingss f (slow burn au slice of life college au music au)
letting go by @bangtan-babe f a (doctor au) ft. Jimin
july kiss by @personasintro f s (dilf namjoon idiots to lovers au)
fool for you by @cutechim s a (rebound au hospital au unrequited love au)
try again by @bangtanfancamp f s (roommate au best friend to lovers au)
it's december (and I still want) by @smoochkooks f s a (ex husband au)
there was a bug @kimnjss f s a (roommate au best friend to lovers au)
the rich man's crochet club by @kpopfanfictrash s (virgin au college au)
dizzy by @joonessence f s (friends to lovers au)
a sight for sore eyes by @siderealmyg f s (established relationship au)
good to me by @httpjeon f s a (dating service au)
what are friends for by @kookdiaries s (best friends au friends to lovers au)
the bodyguard by @rmnamjoons f s a (bodyguard au fake dating/marriage au)
nice guys finish last by @ktheist f s a (arranged marriage au) ft. Ex fiance Yoongi
cyanide on my bedsheets by @jimilter s a (friends with benefits au unrequited love)
after rain by @rmverse​ f s a (patient namjoon patient reader)
once upon an us by @yoonia​ f s a (inspired by the movie sweet home alabama past lovers au exes to lovers au established relationship)
bothered by @lavienjin f s a (brother's best friend)
2AM by @xpeachesncream f s (college au)
black swan by @helenazbmrskai s a (co-workers to friends to lovers tattoo artist joon)
love is blind by @helenazbmrskai f s a (best friends brother au college au enemies to lovers au)
ramen? by @solarwonux f s
only a lifetime by @dopejk f s (dilf joon marriage au pregnancy au)
emerald by @dewykth s a (bodyguard au)
spice by @breakiebunny f s a (enemies to lovers au chef joon)
new parent syndrome by @1kook f s (dilf joon husband au parents au)
hammer it home by @gukslut f s a (domestic au) ft. Jimin
nailed it by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple) ft. Jimin
feels like home by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple)
a wrench in the plan by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple)
totally screwed by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple)
obligated by @underthejoon s (arranged marriage au)
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↬looking for other knj fics or the other members check out my library
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rapline-heaux · a month ago
Stress Relief
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Pairing: Frat boy! Namjoon x chubby college! Reader (poly ot7 x reader alluded to)
Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, smut
Rating: 18+ only
Warnings: Hurt feelings bc of a professor, chubby reader insecurities, reader talks poorly about herself briefly, imposter syndrome feelings, day drinking to cope with emotions, explicit sexual content, Daddy Dom!Namjoon, sub!Reader, over use of the word Daddy, fingering, marking, cockwarming, dumbification if you squint, finger sucking?, talks of punishment, allusions of a d/s relationship
Word count: 1.9k
Note: so this is part of a larger series that’s all about positive BDSM relationships and kink exploration. So keep in mind that all aspects of a healthy D/s relationship are assumed to have taken place previously, ie: limits, safe words, etc. Their relationship will potentially be shown later depending on if anyone likes this and wants to see more. Also this is largely unedited so I’m sorry if there are mistakes. I also don’t love the end but I can’t make myself write more to this.
Thank you @eureka-its-zico for helping me edit this and alway reading the random stuff that comes out of my brain.
She sighed, dropping her bag on the floor, making a bee-line for the kitchen. She figured no one would be home, and by the time someone did come home, she would be wasted. She picked a half-empty bottle of tequila off the counter, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink.
“What’s got you so worked up, baby?” Namjoon’s deep voice stopped her in her tracks. Her eyes slid over to his form, sprawled out on the couch lazily watching her. “Is my girl skipping class to drink all by herself?”
She pouted, walking over to him before plopping herself in his lap, not bothering to discard the tequila bottle as she slotted her knees over his hips. She normally wasn’t so bold as to put all her weight onto any of them, still conscious of her size despite their many, and repeated, protests. His giant hands reached out to take hold of her, kneading into her plush thighs. “No, I didn’t have class today because we had individual evaluations,” she mumbled, taking another shot as the tears welled in her eyes.
Namjoon frowned at her, wiping away a stray tear that she didn’t realize had escaped, “Oh baby girl,” he sighed, taking the bottle out of her hand before crushing her into his chest. She couldn’t hold it in anymore; she let the tears fall from her eyes as he rubbed her back gently, whispering softly in her ear as he held her.
“I just feel so stupid, Joonie,” she whimpered, burying her face in his shirt, her arms wrapped around him.
“Baby you’re not stupid,” he cooed, kissing the side of her head, “I don’t date stupid girls. And you’re my only girl,” he teased gently, making her pout at him.
“You didn’t hear what he said,” she mumbled sadly into his shoulder.
“What did he say to you baby,” Namjoon asked gently, his hand threading into her hair as he held the back of her head. She closed her eyes, releasing the tension in her shoulders, already feeling more calm. Namjoon had that effect on her, he always had. He seemed to know when she needed to be held, and his embrace was a solace for her. “Come on now baby, I know you’re a lightweight but you’re not about to pretend two sips of tequila can take you out.”
“It’s not the tequila, Joonie,” she sighed, nuzzling into his neck, “You know my brain goes a little fuzzy when you hold me like this. It makes me feel safe.”
He laughed, his lips dropping to the top of her head before pulling her tighter to his chest, “That’s because you’re my love, and you’ll always be safe with me,” he said seriously, “Now tell me what your professor said to you, baby.”
“He told me that I should never have been let into the program because I’m not good enough and implied that I stole the spot from someone more deserving,” she recounted sadly. She had felt extra confident walking to class that morning with Jungkook by her side — she had been so sure her professor would have some positive feedback for her final project that she'd even worn the cute, but short, dress Jin had put in her closet the week before. But the meeting had undercut any confidence she’d been building.
Namjoon’s body went rigid under hers, the shame from her professor’s words cutting through her like a knife as she sunk back into herself. Maybe her professor was right and Namjoon just didn’t know how to tell her he agreed. What if everyone agreed but hadn’t said anything to her to spare her feelings? Shame rose in her chest like bile and she tried to push herself off of Namjoon’s lap, but she was caught by his strong arms easily.
“Baby girl, tell me what’s happening in your head right now,” he demanded, his voice dropping an octave in the way he only did when he was slipping into a dominant headspace, or when he was angry.
“Do you think he’s right?” She whispered, earning a sharp inhale from Namjoon.
“I can’t understand why anyone would say something so disgustingly false to you,” he spat out through ground teeth, tugging the hair at the back of her head firmly to tilt her head backwards. The rage burning in his eyes made her stomach flip, a small gasp flying out of her mouth at his sudden aggression. “No one should talk to you like that. You’re fucking amazing, and smart, and talented, and the fact that he suggested that you were anything less, is not only ridiculous, but stupid.”
“I really appreciate you saying that, but he’s my professor and his opinion of me is really important, Joonie—“ she sighed, but was cut off by another firm tug on her hair and the soft moan that followed.
“Do you think that I would lie to you, baby girl,” he smiled darkly as her eyes rolled back, “Do you think that low of me?”
“No, daddy,” she pouted, making him hum in approval, “But you tell me to be a good girl and respect my professors, even if I don’t like them.”
“You’re right, sweet girl,” he smiled softly, releasing her hair before both of his hands wrapped around her thighs tightly. “But I don’t like this professor of yours very much. And I doubt anyone else will appreciate what he had to say about our perfect girl either.”
“But what if he’s right, daddy?” She sighed, her gaze dropping to her hands, “I’m not as smart or talented or driven as the rest of you,” she mumbled sadly.
“Nope, none of that. What’s rule number two?” Namjoon asked seriously, catching her chin between his fingers and tilting her head up.
“I’m not allowed to talk badly about myself,” she mumbled, staring into his eyes.
“That’s right,” He nodded, “Now hold onto me,” he instructed before propelling himself off the couch, keeping her pressed tightly to him as he headed up the stairs to his bedroom.
“Namjoon! Put me down! I’m too—“
“If you say one more negative thing about yourself today, baby girl, I’ll tell Yoongi and I’ll let him decide what your punishment is, you got that?” He said
Her arms wrapped around his neck tightly, “Am I being punished right now?” She whispered into his neck, almost afraid of what the answer was going to be.
“No baby,” he said kicking his bedroom door closed with his heel before settling against his headboard, not letting her move off his lap. “You need to remember how important you are, and how loved you are. I can see you doubting yourself, and me, so we’re going to try something.”
She nodded, grateful that he was able to understand her as intimately as he did. One look and he knew how vulnerable she was, and she trusted him to take care of her needs. His plush lips met hers firmly, making her melt further into his embrace. There was something about the way he kissed her that rendered her brain useless. Her hips started rocking against him of their own volition, his hard length dragging against her core.
She almost didn’t realize his hands were already under her dress until she heard a loud rip, a small gasp flying out of her mouth. “I’m sorry, baby, I’ll buy you a new pair, but I’m not letting you out of my arms,” he shrugged, a finger sinking into her heat. She whined loudly at the intrusion, her hands finding purchase in his wheat coloured hair. She’d helped him choose the colour after he lost a bet against Hoseok. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me already. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” He asked sweetly, making her cheeks flush.
“I always try to be good for you,” she sighed. Namjoon’s hands always made her feel good, giving her more pleasure than pain, and rarely teasing her. Those giant hands of his — the ones everyone else said were the cause of destruction — were only used to destroy her sanity when they were on her body. His long, thick fingers could reach spots she could only dream of, and always managed to remain gentle, even in the most heated moments.
“You’re such a good girl, baby,” he smiled tenderly, removing his finger from her entrance. But before she could protest, his tip was at her entrance, making her eyes roll back. “That’s it, just take my cock nice and slow, baby girl,” he said encouragingly, holding her hips in his hands. He inched himself inside her, painstakingly slow as she whined and shuddered against him, “You’re doing so good,” he whispered into her hair, voice low and raspy.
“Daddy,” she keened desperately, burying her face in his neck as she showered the exposed golden skin in affection, leaving a collection of hickeys across his chest. “Please, don’t tease me,” she whispered before he bottomed out, dragging a breathy moan from her.
He chuckled softly, trailing his fingers up and down her back to calm her, “I’m not going to fuck you into the mattress like I know you want me to,” he grinned, but her mind had gone blank. All she could focus on was how full she felt; it wasn’t an entirely new sensation, but it was usually accompanied by him pounding into her like he had a point to prove. Namjoon was huge everywhere, and he’d always made her feel deliriously fucked out whenever they were together but now, just sitting with him inside her made her realize how entirely consuming he could be when he wanted to be. She felt like she was floating, only half in reality as he settled her weight against him as he saw fit.
She was almost dizzy at the sensation, her words slurring as he held her hips against his with one arm, “Fuck, daddy, ‘m so full,” she mumbled, her hands shaking as she clung to him, eyes trying to focus on his face.
She could see his proud smile, “My perfect little girl, so full she can’t focus,” he hummed happily. Her eyes rolled back as he pulled her almost impossibly closer, changing the angle as her face came to rest against his chest, cradling the back of her head in his hand.
If her mind hadn’t been blank before, it was now. The gentle lull of his heartbeat in her ear, combined with the mind numbing fullness, and the comfort and security of Namjoon’s embrace had her nodding dumbly.
“We’re gonna sit like this until everyone else comes home, and then we are going to remind you how perfect you are,” he explained, getting a slow nod in return. She was struggling to stay coherent, and he knew it. “God, you look so good like this baby, so perfect. Your eyes are all glassy and your cheeks are flushed,” he smiled, lifting one of his fingers to her lips to trace over the curve of her Cupid’s bow.
She gazed up at him through her eyelashes, taking the pad of his finger into her mouth, “Thank you daddy,” she mumbled, not bothering to remove his finger from her lips.
A low hum emanated from Namjoon’s chest as he stared down at her lovingly. Exhaustion overwhelmed her, the security of unconsciousness threatening to pull her under. “Daddy’s got you, baby girl,” he cooed softly, “Just rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Tagging @bibbykins @walkxthexmoon @blushingatyou @smasmashie for telling me to post this 🥴 sorry it’s like a week later than I said
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kimnjss · 4 months ago
smokescreen | knj sm au
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banner by: @dee-ehn
🖇 synopsis:
— don’t judge a book by its cover. unless the book is a six foot tall, dimpled muscle pig who has no problem bragging about the notches on his belt... not to mention his new unhinged determination to add you to the list.
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pairing: rapper!namjoon x photographer!reader
fic type: social media au
side ships: yoonmin!! 2seok.
genre: smut!! idol au, enemies to lovers, boss/employee. angst... maybe
warnings: namjoon is a raging asshole and 100% fictional! i’m sure the real kim namjoon is a sweetheart - just not this one.
updates: everyday! (sometimes twice)
status: ongoing!!
A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!
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prologue: sunday morning scandal
character profiles: cypher v
character profiles: yoonmin stans ft. san
part one: caught in 4k
part two: slapping multimillionaires
bonus: under me
part three: work related
part four: unbelievably down
part five: snotty nose boy
part six: fucking obvious
part seven: alternate universe
part eight: strict asswipe
part nine: grossly whipped
part ten: unwashed dick
part eleven: borderline prostitution
part twelve: producer era
part thirteen: life changing
part fourteen: scared of myself
part fifteen: openly flirting
part sixteen: haven’t kissed
part seventeen: done searching
part eighteen: just peace
part nineteen: deep in like
part twenty: getting attached
part twenty-one: kinda friends
part twenty-two: real unfamiliar
part twenty-three: namjoons girlfriend
part twenty-four: no visitors
part twenty-five: feel comfortable
part twenty-six: real me
part twenty-seven: home
bonus: clearly delusional
part twenty-eight: creating sonnets
part twenty-nine: perfect moment (time jump)
epilogue: lucky shirt
epilogue: i like sushi
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taegularities · 6 months ago
muscle memory | knj (m)
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Summary: The weather outside might be trying to chill you to your bones, but watching Namjoon’s seething hot presence work out is enough to melt every little piece of you – and he sees the longing in your eyes all too soon.
pairing: Namjoon x female reader
rating: 18+
genre: established relationship; some fluff, mostly smut
warnings: namjoon works out + his bicep (yes this is a warning), explicit sexual content: dom!joon, spanking, hitting it from behind + riding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), spanking, some spit involved, bit of masturbation (m.), dirty talk, mirror kink..., squirting. that’s it i think :]
word count: 2.9k
a/n: in the soop joon was the inspiration behind this 😔 this fic is dedicated to my beloved, thirsty, dumb-cat-friend @missgeniality​​​, i adore you and i hope this ruins you as much as you anticipated muah <3 also, wishing everyone happy holidays !! enjoy <3
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Damned be the silence of the forest surrounding you on this late December afternoon.
If you’d known about the seemingly harmless suggestion that your boyfriend threw at you a month ago, you wouldn’t have said yes to this mysterious trip. The reason doesn’t lie in the destination itself – no, in truth, you’ve never felt as tranquil as you have in the last eleven hours.
The sky remains devoid of clouds, rain or snow, the sun shining onto you pleasantly and the oxygen produced deep in the woods so crisp that you reckon you’d been living with suffocating lungs so far. You feel healed – feel clean.
And maybe you’d continue feeling alive and serene, if the voice of the menace groaning in front of your eyes wasn’t dropping an octave with every pull of his body. That certainly does not contribute to the inner peace you’ve been trying to seek these past thirty minutes.
If Namjoon could name two things on this spinning planet that he loves unconditionally, they’d spell your and the gym’s name.
You don’t recall when the obsession started, but you do know that the flexing bicep and the firm chest are somewhat new. His body appears to grow harder like an armour of steel with each day, and instead of waiting for tonight to admire it before falling asleep above his heartbeat, you decided to enjoy the show from front row seats.
“You could’ve told me there’d be a gym here,” you state, absolutely certain that he hasn’t heard you between his grunts and grinding.
“Huh?” Blinking, he stops the pull-ups, finding solid ground under his feet again as he steps closer. “What did you say?”
“I said,” you begin, straightening your posture on the gymnastic ball you’ve occupied, “I didn’t know there’d be a gym here. You could’ve told me.”
He halts when he’s moved close enough to tower over you, but then he gets on his naked knees and looks into your amused eyes. Breathing out the exhaustion, he places a warm hand on your thighs and questions, “Why? Are you bored, baby?”
The fingers caressing the flesh of your leg and the thin layer of sweat shimmering on his face and neck fuel your breathlessness further. You feel hot; feel bothered. You’re sure that the heaters standing in every room don’t necessarily need to fight the cold of the winter for you – Namjoon’s seething presence suffices, too.
There are a thousand emotions and sensations coursing through your body – serotonin and various other hormones burn in your blood and your heart grows excited at his touch.
Simple, human reactions that his work-out session ignites in you – but boredom is definitely not one of them.
“I’m…” you try, your eyes wandering to the glass wall before they dart to his heaving chest. You don’t know what he might be seeing in your expression right now, but when he lets out a soft chuckle, you notice that your sudden lip-biting must be speaking a million words.
“What?” Namjoon teases, raising an eyebrow and a corner of his lips to a smirk. “Did you enjoy the free entertainment?”
You sigh. Watch his eyebrow wiggle. And then finally lose it.
Grabbing him by his sweat-soaked shirt, you pull him closer to your face, his calm, cocky expression never falling as you say, “I’m irritated. The free entertainment is irritating me.”
He pecks the corner of your lips gently as his hands wander upward to your hips. A quiet hum breathing against your face, he smiles at you once more, and when you stare back at him with still furrowed eyebrows, he asks, “Same reason as always?”
“Same reason as always.”
Because with the neediness Namjoon evokes in you on a daily basis, it has by now become a running joke between you that his existence proves more frustrating than anything else.
“I wonder if there’s something we could do about it…” he teases, but judging by the way his fingers begins their journey along the inside of your thighs and under your skirt, he doesn’t seem to wonder all that much.
Calmly tracing the goosebumps on your legs, he looks at you with menacing eyes. You dig your heels into the ground harder, careful to not fall off the gym ball before you ask, “Well… is there?”
Deft digits play with the hem of your panties before he rubs his fingertips against your wet spot lightly. Namjoon admires his immediate effect on your body every single time. Despite your constant compliments, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the burning lust in your eyes whenever he merely shoots you a yearning look.
He finds it baffling – but for you, it makes perfect sense.
“Oh, there are so many ideas in my head right now,” he says, watching your eyelids flutter shut when he pushes into your pussy further.
Leaning in, he presses an open-mouthed kiss against your neck, all hot, sensual touches combined burning up the pit of your stomach. Lovebites follow in the very next moment, and you hiss at the sensation before you demand, “Tell me about one of them.”
“Now that you’re asking so nicely,” he whispers, still sliding his finger between your clothed folds, “I might just show you all of them.”
He backs away as soon as his name leaves your lips, shifting to stand and pull you up with him. Cautious eyes follow each of his movements while his scan your longing body; warm palms wander across your bare arms, tenderness and affection palpable in his touch and incredibly contrary to when he orders, “Turn around. Hands against the wall and ass out.”
Your breath hitches for a moment; not because of the sudden dominant tone he has settled on, but because of the anticipation that floods your insides and sets your guts on fire. You know exactly what he’s going to do – and you’d be damned if you denied yourself the pleasure he can bestow upon you.
Obliging, your body moves a full one-eighty, palms pressing against the white gym wall and feet moving backwards. Namjoon adores this sight with his whole being – if his audible hiss and the lewd curse words don’t give that fact away already, then his following action surely does.
“Tell me, baby… what are you frustrated about?” he mumbles, barely letting the words sink in before you feel a sudden, sharp slap land on your ass as he continues, “You’ve been sitting here all day. Leaning forward with your tits out this whole afternoon, and I’m irritating you?”
His hand meets your ass cheek once more, drawing a lustful whimper out of you, before he pulls down your skirt and your panties in a swift motion. They have barely slid to your calves when another smack rings in your ears, your head spinning already as you feel his soothing palm rub your supple flesh.
Seeking friction, your thighs close desperately, the glistening of your arousal so clearly visible that he lets out a small, quiet moan. Your ardour stirs something inside him that he can’t form into sentences; but the way his cock twitches in his gym shorts seems telling enough. Seems to speak a thousand words in his mouth’s stead.
His feet carry him one step closer to you, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips before he starts grinding his growing bulge against your inviting ass. Moans tumble out of you nearly silently, only stopping when he backs away to rid himself of not only his khaki shorts, but of his tight work-out shirt, too. You don’t see or care where both of your clothes land – with his rock-hard, curved cock suddenly sliding between your ass cheeks, you don’t think this piece of information remains relevant anyway.
Shooting his arms forward, one of his hands pushes your face up by the jaw almost roughly, the other stretching in front of your mouth before his lecherous voice utters, “Spit on it.”
“Did you not hear me?” Fingers press into your cheeks before they vanish fully, squeezing your ass painfully instead as he repeats, “Spit on it.”
And you do. Gather saliva in your mouth before you follow his demand, blinking at the wall in front of you when his hand retreats and pumps his leaking cock instead. Fingers still slick and slippery, he plunges two of them into your cunt for a few, brief moments – the wetness pooling between your legs doesn’t ask for more preparation, he’s sure.
As you attempt to cross your legs for satisfaction once more, he clicks his tongue as a warning; and hesitating not a second longer, he replaces his digits with the tip of his cock, the sensation alone making you gasp for breath. But once he bottoms out, words leave your tongue entirely, barely broken mewls spilling and your eyes rolling back in their sockets. Shifting into position, Namjoon groans in pleasure, closing his eyes slowly as he begins to move.
Like a key to its respective lock, his cock fits inside your pussy perfectly, filling you to the brim, his thrusts hard, but slow. Namjoon knows exactly how to fuck you into oblivion – his body moves as if intimacy with you has become an automatic reflex; like it’s ingrained in his muscle memory thoroughly.
His hips operate precisely, carefully and elegantly, and yet manage to leave you breathless, pressing all oxygen out of your lungs. And before your knees buckle, he tightens his grips around you, holds your hips firmly, his pace accelerating and the slapping of skin against skin gaining on volume.
“Mmmnngh, yes, I’ve– I’ve been waiting… all day for this,” you admit, curling your fingers into fists against the wall and closing the distance between your hands to shield your head. With the force Namjoon seems to be approaching, you’re sure you’ll hit your head against the cement at least once or twice.
“How needy,” he teases, exhaustion slowly becoming clear in his voice, but his thrusts never faltering, “and I thought we were s-supposed to take… long walks and… relax...”
“This is relaxing, too…”
He lets out a trembling laugh, one hand brushing back his damp hair before he places it at the nape of your neck. The sight of his cock hammering into you is dizzying; his slick-coated cock moves in and out of you so smoothly, veins protruding and penetrating every inch of your delicate walls.
He’s certain he could go on like this forever – fuck you till you told him to stop. But when you clench around him not long after, seeking your high with a cry, impatience crashes over him in tidal waves. Endless sex doesn’t compare to the urgency with which he craves to see your face contort in pleasure; and in that sense, he can’t help but aid you, do everything in his power to make you feel body-wreckingly amazing.
And so, he pulls out, ignoring your protest and questions before he says, “Look at me.”
To his delight, you don’t hesitate for a single moment, but the crease between your eyebrows tells him enough to let out a deep, amused chuckle. Shifting closer, he presses you against the wall with a fond smile, pecking your cheek before he drops to his knees and grabs your right leg between his fingers.
“Hurry u- fucking hell.”
Your voice grows in pitch as he places your leg on his shoulder, and your last words stretch endlessly when Namjoon’s mouth attaches to your awaiting pussy hotly. His fingers vary between light taps and rubbing against your clit gently, but his tongue drinks up your juices at a rapid speed, thirsty and eager.
“Close, I’m close– Joon,” you yell, his name so inexplicably beautiful on your tongue as your lungs scream for air.
“I’ve got you, baby. I got this.”
Electricity flows through your nerves like a current, your body squirming above him as he wraps his lips around your pussy. Plays with your clit some more. Circles it with his skilled tongue as his fingers wander to your entrance and pump until they find the rough patch on the upper side of your walls.
And when the stimulation becomes too much to bear, you scream out for him once more, his face immediately backing away as stars finally cover your sight. Your heartbeat goes into overdrive, your mind hazy; and when you open your eyes again, his chest and the ground are covered in your essence, the squirting sensation so messy, but so pretty on him, too.
With a groan, his feet find the ground as he stands again, and he leans forward to let your tongues dance for only a moment before his mouth shifts to your ear and whispers, “I’m not done with you yet.”
The heat of his body leaves yours suddenly, and as you blink at him in question, he takes a seat on the weight bench and pats his thigh with an intimidating smile. You know what he wants without him uttering a word; and soon, your wobbly legs step closer, his hand reaching out for yours as your eyes fix on the cock still standing pretty and proud just for you.
“You have a beautiful dick, you know?” you tell him, and his sweet, little laugh lasts for a split second before he bites into his plush lower lip.
With his jaw jutted, he watches you sink onto his length in one fell swoop. Your arms wrap around his heated neck, pulling him closer to your face until the tip of his nose brushes your dropping jaw. As one hand pushes you into him, merging your body with his, the other lands another tingling slap on your ass brazenly, his lips slamming against yours and kissing you hard.
Your pussy feels sore already, but your body attempts its best to keep moving, to stay zealous. In the mirror attached to the wall, he observes the way your cunt sucks him in and releases him constantly, and the sounds escaping his throat as a consequence fuel you in your quest further.
Almost mesmerised, he comments, “Honestly think that my cock– looks the prettiest… inside you,” before his tongue finds its way back home to your neck, suckling and kissing diligently until your movements slow. Despite gathering your energy to your best abilities, your weakness displays visibly enough for him to chuckle and find your gaze again.
His nails dig into your ass, urging you to continue, but you are so out of breath that he inquires, “Are you tired already?”
“I just–”
You just need a break – Namjoon understands. He knows you must still be recovering from your own mind-numbing orgasm, your limbs limp and your eyes drooping. Longing and pleading to cuddle up with him and rest.
But still, he drawls, “You were so desperate to fuck me. And now you’re giving up already?”
You shake your head no, keen on showing him that you’re not that easy to break as it might currently seem. Determined, your fingers entangle in his hair. And when you keep moving, your legs turning to jelly and your voice trembling when you call his name, he notices your efforts clearly. Flashes a grin and says, “Alright. Hold on tight.”
Namjoon gives you a mere second to adhere to his wishes, and before you can blink twice, he prods into you from below; hard, sharp thrusts, burying himself to the hilt. He wrecks your pussy mercilessly, every prominent and throbbing vein invading your pulsating cunt. He focuses all his energy on his ministrations, and through your blurry vision, you catch sight of a single drop of sweat travelling down his already glistening face.
“Fuck, fuck, you feel so good, so, so good, baby,” he tells you, holding you tight as you cry and moan, curse and scream, fucked out and filled with desire.
“Harder, please, please, I– I love you–”
“I love you,” he blurts, his hips snapping against yours vigorously, “adore you, crazy for you, princess…”
With that, he finally lets go; shoots ropes and ropes of hot seed into you, low, baritone wails sounding in your ears rhythmically. And when the groans slowly turn into sighs, he whispers quietly, “Try your best to keep this in.”
By this, he means his cum, and with closed eyes, you giggle lightly as you tell him, “That’s an impossible task and you know it.”
“Hmm,” he hums, his forehead falling against your shoulder and his cock softening inside you, “if you just tried hard enough. But ‘kay, let’s clean up then.”
With a tired nod, you agree, your eyelids opening to an already dark winter sky filled with stars whose light shines through the glass wall of the room. Your hot and sticky bodies replace pleasure with discomfort, and as you back away eventually, you ask, “Can you read to me after?”
“Why? Can’t you read?” he questions back, cocking an eyebrow in merriment which earns him an amused slap on his bulging bicep.
He laughs, standing when you do before he declares, “Anything you want. A novel maybe? Poems? Oh, or what about the short story Yoongi wrote last month?”
Vacation might not be all that different from your daily life – but with him, every day feels like a relaxing holiday anyway. Because no matter how demonic Namjoon sometimes tends to be, he’s also the gentlest giant you’ve ever had the pleasure to love.
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namjoon, i’m on my knees for u. also, in the soop was injurious to my health :(( if u enjoyed the fic, please consider liking, reblogging and/or sending an ask !! support goes a reallyyy long way <3
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toobsiereads · 3 days ago
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• Here are some of my favourite namjoon fics. Go through these recs and find something to nourish yourself with. Show your support for these talented authors by leaving a comment and sharing feedback on their works. For posting their fics on the internet, each and every author listed here deserves a big warm hug. Thank you to each and every one of these authors for their efforts, we really appreciate your content •
[ Fluff | Angst | Smut ( minors dni.) ]
cruise control by @lavienjin
fire on fire by @sunshyngal
Doe Eyed Angel by @watashijeon
muscle memory by @taegularities
docile by @aquagustd
the bodyguard by @rmnamjoons
brightside by @lavienjin
bigger & better by @lavienjin (ft. taehyung)
mistress by @kaiseuphoria
spice by @breakiebunny
hold the door by @bonvoyagenoona
classroom conduct by @chateautae
just a neighbor by @clumsy-jiminie
bonsai by @leefics
strawberry cake by @watashijeon
detention by @aquagustd
you got me by @parkdatjimin (OT7, but mostly myg and knj) jiminxfem!reader
the sea between us by @kookskingdom
appreciated by @joonscypher
moonstruck by @lovelyspring7
christmas confession by @sunshinerainbowsbts
new books by @sugalaritae
dizzy by @joonessence
come to my studio... by @kookskingdom
Big Bad Wolf by @joonscypher
All too well by @playmetheclassics
On the First Day of Christmas.... by @forever-once-gone (ft. jjk)
How i love you by @ahundredtimesover
on the downlow by @rmverse
under your spell by @rmnamjoons
marry kissmas by @taleasnewastime
somewhere between the lines by @sublimebangtan
one last time by @personasintro
REVERENCE by @chummywchimmy
real me by @kimnjss
sinful acts by @jeonspub
love is blind by @helenazbmrskai
Mr. President by @chemicalpink
Friendship & Erotica by @axigailxono
no regrets by @sunshinerainbowsbts
the top drawer by @spiderlilyserendipity
booty jorts by @miscelunaaa
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voidbts · a month ago
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Apartment #852
summary; In 3 months you illegally spent over 400m of the company's cash with no way of paying it back, so your boss Mr. Kim arranged a private meeting in his luxurious apartment for the both of you to discuss details on payment.
Namjoon DILF CEO au! Reader client au!
Paring; Namjoon x F..reader!
wc; 2k
Warnings; degradation, kissing, force, noncon, kissing, sex work?, perv Joon, groping, monster cock, cocky Joon, asshole Joon, muscular Joon, head, fingering, missionary, vocal Joon, dirty talk, breast play. Spread Eagle, manspreading, praise kink, oral, pounding, rough, sensual.
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Sitting on the bar stool of his kitchen, your heart fluttered with anticipation of what type of payment would be necessary if money wasn't an option. With a look across to the man known as your boss, he grabbed a fresh bottle of wine and popped the cork as your eyes followed the corkscrew.
"Well, drinking isn't something we've done together, or am I wrong?" He asked, opening the cupboards to grab 2 wine glasses.
"We haven't surprisingly, not once since you had offered a basic office job," you replied, thanking him for the glass and waiting for him to sit beside you on the other bar stool.
"That changes tonight, a lot of things well," he says, muttering the last bit under his breath as his lips make contact with his glass. Siping, the dark-colored wine hid the fact his eye's where scanning your breast and thighs as he drank. Taking a slight sip of your glass, you panicked mentally as you physically tried to restrain yourself from showing fear. After all, who invites a client somewhere far from their office to talk about something this serious.
With the both of you placing the glass cups on the holder, you meet the eyes each other. Smiling, you eased yourself a bit snd looked away. Smiling back, he placed a hand on your bare thigh just a few inches in front of the end of your dress. "Trust me, you're in the shit. I'm just waiting for you to show me you panicking" he told, looking deeply at you.
"You spent 400m of the company's money, my money and that's not gonna go unpunished. two options" he paused, moving his hand between your thighs and up a bit. "I'll sue you 2x as much with a jail sentence or you be a slut for the night and show me how your body feels," he told, backing away with his arms crossed. With your heart rate up, he gave you a minute to think which you replied with
"sue me," you told. Getting up, he followed you to the coat racket. Grabbing your waist he pushed you against the wall near the kitchen. Struggling to get out of his grip, he pushed himself on you.
"I never said that was an option for you to pick. Matter of fact, I could fuck you and take everything my money bought you. Even this fucking dress" he grunted, your breath becoming harder in fear. Moving his lips to your neck, his hand moved down to your ass to hold. Kissing up your neck, his lips felt soft but plump and not harsh. Relaxing, you felt his other hand move around your waist to pull you into him. Weirdly it felt nice, the fear once there was gone and turned into pleasure. Moving your neck a bit, so he could kiss more areas you heard a chuckle.
"You are a dirty whore huh, getting turned on by minimal movements. I like that" he whispered in your ear, hands running their way up to your breast to feel them through a dress and a bra. Casually moving his lips to yours, your lips declined before his hand went to your cheek to hold you.
"be submissive for me, I'll promise you'll enjoy it," he told, looking into your eyes. Looking away, you looked back at him and then his filled-out lips. trying again, he leans forward and kisses your lips. Letting him, he takes the lead and doesn't hesitate to use his tongue.
moving his hand away from your cheek, he took one of yours and placed it on his crotch. Palming him with his hand on top, you felt the erection and how constricted it felt in his pants. Taking his other hand he pushed his pants down, then had you cup him a bit. Shocked, his hands guided yours over his hardening cock starting from the base. Feeling him up in this kiss, you knew he was huge and was gonna need some foreplay before fitting just the tip in. Taking his hands off of yours, he starts to pull up your dress to reveal white panties with a gaint wet spot between your lips. Pulling away from the kiss, he takes it off and throws it somewhere leaving you almost naked. Immediately going back to the kiss, he pulls down your soaked panties and takes to fingers to rub at the numbness that was throbbing ever so slightly as you rubbed his erection through his boxers.
moaning in his mouth, he kept going as his lips removed from yours and went to your neck. "Take it out, play with it, jerk it. I wanna be touched as bad as you do love" he says, you feeling wet from how vocal he was. Nodding, he comes closer. Using your hands you pull down his boxers and make a fist to softly pump his tip. With a hum of satisfaction, he took his fingers and sucked on them. Flustered, you watched him put them back and rub a bit faster. Moaning, you watch his hands stop as your clit throbbed on him.
After taking your bra off, he continued. His other hand soon made it up to your breast as the thumb rubbed the numb in circles. Moving his head down, bending at the knees a bit, his lips sucked and licked the skin of the other breast. Moaning, your grip from his tip left and he dropped to the floor on his knees. With one hand on his cock, the other helped open your lips a bit so he could see where to put his tongue. You were trimmed so it made it easier for him to see and lick the bud of your clit a bit faster. Licking, he flicked his tongue softly causing your hands to mess with his hair and push his head more towards your cunt.
"Sir, please~" you moaned, back pushing against the tan wall as his hands held onto your hips. Begging again, he got up and turned you to face the wall. Taking his tip, he softly placed his cock between your thighs and stood close.
"Mm say sir again baby, I like when you call me that," he said, hands going up to your breast to grope. Waiting for you to speak, he took his hands and rubbed the sides of your body, while. your body began to feel needy for his touch to be lower again.
"What's the matter, needy baby?" He asked, taking his shirt off from behind you. Nodding, he smirked and pressed his bare chest on your back. "I am too, but we can do much more on a soft bed than we can standing," he told, placing a kiss on your shoulder before taking your hand and leading you to his room. Opened the door, revealing a gray tan and black bedroom. A room with a good view of the clouds. Amazed at how high we were he led you in front of him as he sat on the bed. Leaning back, his legs spread open to leave his cock standing up tall. Getting on your knees, you looked at how massive his size was in length and girth.
Moving closer, you took your tongue and licked around his tip for a few seconds before licking a trail down to his balls. He too was trimmed and it suited him nicely in your eyes, normally men didn't but he was much older, and by his actions probably had a few love affairs in his life. After all, he was 39 and single, and a hit millionaire who wouldn't want him. Getting on your knees, you go for his tip a suck the tip as your tongue swirls around it. Groaning, his head goes back a bit and then comes back to watch. Taking your free hands you stack them around his member and begin to slowly pump him as your tongue sucks. You weren't a master at blowjobs, but you knew never endings on cock and were to give the most pleasure with limited knowledge.
"Mmm yeah, like that baby" he moaned, licking the bottom of his lip. Watching him, softly move his has back in pleasure you admired his buff Physic. He wasn't flexing his muscles so they were relaxed, but from the way, his broad shoulders came out and how he was laying you could tell how big his muscles were and they looked huge. Not to mention his thighs complimented his build as well. Stoping, you got up and he sat up.
pulling your panties down, you kicked them off and he stood up again. "Mmm, how do you feel about fucking on your back, missionary I mean?" He asked, wanting input.
"I mean, long as it's your cock I think ill be good" you teased, flirting just a bit.
"You've never felt it and your begging, I like women like you. You're the type that keeps my cum deep inside of you when I'm done" he informed, before getting on the bed. Following, you laid down and his legs immediately straddled your hips. leaning over, he opened his nightstand for lube and slathered it around his cock and your entrance before putting it back. Taking his tip, he softly pushed it in and you moaned immediately. Liking that, he placed his thumb at your clit and softly rubbed to help get his tip as you moaned in response.
leaning over you, his hips pushed his cock in a deeper feeling your walls stretch around him like elastic. Moaning himself, he looked down at you and how your body laid out for him. Simply thrusting his cock at a slight speed helped him get a bit deeper, so he continued the pace as much as he could before stopping to do slow but deeper strokes. Arching your back, he held onto it with his other hand and began pushing himself further in as tears rolled down your face.
"Fuck yeah baby!" He moaned, pushing himself deeper as his head felt high and faint. Moaning louder, he placed your back down and laid across your chest. Although it felt a bit suffocating, he was able to push all of himself into you. Feeling your body bloat when he did, he knew he could cause you to feel sick. He liked that, so he webs with deeper strokes to make sure you felt his cock stretch every wall it touched before beginning to pound. Covering your mouth with his hand, he went harder to hear you scream. Crying in pleasure, your legs opened wider which allowed him to pound deeper. Groaning in your ear, he let go of your mouth and held your back for support as his cock dug its way into your body. Hearing his bed creek, he kept going feeling his sense of ecstasy.
"Keep taking it baby, keep taking it" he repeated, feeling your body pulse on his member. Kissing your neck, he went harder causing a sudden stop in your moans as he suddenly felt your hands around his shoulder blades.
"Good girl, cum. You're doing well" he moaned, as your legs spread up and wide in pleasure. "Keep them wide open for me, your gonna have me cum in you" he grunted feeling your wetness multiply as you gripped his back harder. With one big thrust forward and a loud grunt from his teeth, he came inside and pulled out to cum a bit on your slit. Feeling his cum drip down your ass, his tip went back in and he went slow.
"I have something for you to take, it's a natural pill like plan b" he informed, as your moans went silent. Breathing heavily, he trusted slowly and breathe heavily on your neck.
"mm that debt is paid, but only if your body is still mine. Everything of yours is mine, then I'll consider that debt an investment" he whispered, grinding slowly into you.
"I'll take it, better than a jail cell. At least this cell has a heaven like view" you told, kissing his cheek panting.
"Glad, you'll feel like heaven every time you with me too" he chuckled, going up to kiss your cheek.
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thebangtancloud · 5 days ago
hello! can i request a bts reaction where the members don’t show up on an important day for the reader (like a birthday, anniversary, recital, etc.)? pls pls make it angsty hehe like the reader doesn’t forgive them/talk to them for a couple days hehehehe thank you so much!!
He misses an important day ~ BTS Reactions
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Curse Words, Minor character death (not sure if someone dying is an important day but I'd be mad upset if my s/o is absent when I lose someone close to me) Mentions of surgery.
A/n: "make it angsty..." LMAO I GOTCHU BAE *evil smirk*
Kim Namjoon:
"I'm being inconsiderate?!"
Namjoon could only deflate into a low grumble when your voice boomed through the small room.
"You've missed the most important occasion that you know I've been so excited about, and I'm being inconsiderate?"
"You're not getting it, (Y/n)," Namjoon shook his head, wanting to come closer to you but knowing better than doing that.
"I couldn't miss the show."
"But you could miss my birthday?!"
"(Y/n)..." Namjoon dug his fingers into his eyebrows. "Please understand, I'm the leader-"
"And I'm nothing to you, am I right?"
"No!" He exclaimed, eyes wide. "Why would you even say that?"
"I don't like celebrating my birthday for this very reason, Namjoon," you spoke in a small voice, turning to face away from him.
"You know, you know that I've spent so many birthdays alone, with no wishes, no one to get me a cake. Nothing. I thought it would be different this year because I have you. But I was wrong. I shouldn't have expected anything because I'm the one who's hurt."
"Baby," he whispered, taking just one step in your direction. "I'm so fuckin' sorry. Please know that."
"I don't. I don't want to know anything, okay?" You snapped, holding your hand up in the air for emphasis. "I just want to be alone. Can't you do that?"
"I have to leave in two days again, (Y/n)!" He whined, throwing his hands up into the air. "I came to spend time with you, why can't we just be normal? What would it take, for me to get on my knees and apologize?"
You turned to look at him in disbelief.
"Really nice of you to think I'll be all fine and happy if you do that, Namjoon."
"Then what do I do?!" Namjoon huffed in exasperation. "I'm trying, okay? It's not like I can go back in time and be there for your birthday. It's gone! I can't do anything about it! The only thing I can do is make it up to you, take you out, celebrate with you again!"
You nodded stiffly.
"You're right, Namjoon. You're absolutely right. But I don't want to do any of that. I want to just... not be with you right now."
"(Y/n), please," Namjoon sighed deeply. "Please- just...let's just look past this, please."
"I'm sorry that I'm finding it difficult to do that, Namjoon," you tried to explain. "All I think of when I see your face is how I felt when you weren't there. It reminds me of the pain of being alone and I just don't want to feel that way again. Is that too much to ask of you?"
Namjoon looked pained.
"Okay, (Y/n)," he breathed out. "I'll go. But I'll be back, and I hope you know that I won't be leaving the next time I'm here."
"We'll cross the bridge when we get to it, Namjoon."
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Kim Seokjin:
Jin delicately wiped away the tear that slipped past his lower lid.
"Baby, I..."
Kneeling beside you, Jin placed the bouquet of white roses on your lap.
"I'm so sorry, darling."
A dry chuckle buzzed through your chest.
"You finally showed up."
"I'm so sorry," he apologized in a broken whisper. "This shouldn't have happened. Not now."
"Doesn't change anything," you admitted in a flat voice. "She's gone."
Jin's head dropped in shame and regret.
"I'm sorry I couldn't be there."
"I feel sorry for myself too, you know?" You turned to look at him who was kneeling by your side, his trembling hands folded together.
"I feel sorry for waiting for you. I feel pathetic."
"I'm sorry," he mumbled again. "I really wish I could've been there."
"Part of me wants to be understanding," you sniffled. "Part of me wants to do that. But no. I choose to be selfish, okay? I want to feel bad about this. I have every right to. You weren't there for me when I needed you the most. You promised you would when the day would come, that you'd hold my hand and strengthen me. But the day came and the pain followed but the only one that didn't come was you."
"(Y/n)," he inhaled sharply, taking a hold of your hands in his clammy ones. "No words can describe the way I feel. I am so sorry, I would've given everything to make it to you in time. But I-"
"When she was alive, you promised you'd be there. That you'd carry her to her grave. That you'd be there to wipe every tear that fell from my eye because she could no longer do it. But you didn't. You didn't, Jin. It was not just me that you failed. You failed my mom too."
"Forgive me," he pleaded with teary eyes. "I'm so deeply sorry, (Y/n), I can't- I can't tell you how much I tried. I just-"
"Please go," you asked of him in an exasperated sigh. "Go back to where you came from. I want to be alone."
"Just go."
With one last look at the broken expression that you didn't bother hiding from him, Jin nodded, delicately kissing your knuckles.
"I'll go from here, but I'm not leaving."
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Min Yoongi:
"Well, good morning sunshine," you rolled your eyes upon seeing Yoongi set the table. "Guess who's on their man period today."
"Sit," Yoongi snapped, narrowing his eyes at you.
"Damn, funny to see you having a reason to be upset with me."
"Why'd you drink so much yesterday, (Y/n)?"
You looked at the bowl of hangover soup that he placed at the table, dragging the chair out and wordlessly gesturing for you to take a seat. Which you didn't, of course.
"I don't see how that's any of your concern."
"You were sleeping outside the house, for god's sake! What if I didn't come home? You'd have fallen sick, or something could have happened!"
"It should have," you said, looking him dead in the eye. "You didn't come anyway, so don't speak as though any of this bothers you."
"Don't," he warned in a low voice. "Don't get there."
"Oh, I should," you insisted. "I waited, you know? I waited for you, I thought you'd show up when I walk up to the stage, I thought you'd cheer for me - which is so unlike you but forgive me for thinking it would be different this time!"
"Shut up!"
Yoongi froze, too stunned to speak.
"Aren't you even ashamed? Not even a little bit? Your members showed up, Yoongi! They cheered for me, but you? You're too busy collaborating with people who are begging to have you work with them!"
"What's wrong with doing that?" Yoongi frowned at your accusation.
"What's wrong?" you parroted with a laugh of disbelief. "Nothing's wrong with doing that, Yoongi. What is wrong is that you couldn't be there for me."
"I'm sorry, okay?"
"Well, it's not okay, Yoongi. You can take your apologies and this stupid fake concern-" you pointed to the soup, "and stick it up!"
"It's not fake," he defended with a scowl. "You're telling me your head isn't aching right now?"
You laughed in his face.
"It is, Yoongi. It is, but I don't want you to take care of me. It hurts because I drank too much trying to drown the pain of you not being there even though you promised!"
"You're so fucking heartless," you scoffed. "You sent me one text, one text! 'Sorry baby, I can't be there today, got an important meeting,' an hour before the ceremony began! I feel so embarrassed to even think that you were joking and you'd actually turn up."
Yoongi sighed deeply, scratching his eyebrow and looking away.
"What do you want me to do now?"
"Are you seriously asking me that?" you scoffed. "Get out of my house!"
"Stop being so difficult, (Y/n)," Yoongi took a step closer to you. "Look, I'm sorry I couldn't be there. But don't-"
"I don't want to hear it, Yoongi. It's disappointing to see you here now and not when I needed you. I hope you know just how much you've hurt me."
"Baby," Yoongi frowned. "I'm really sorry, love. I sent you so many texts after that but you didn't read them."
"Why? Feel bad now?" You taunted.
He shook his head. "I told you I'd be there a few hours late, (Y/n). I wanted to take you out for dinner."
"A bit too late for that, now."
"I'm sorry, (Y/n)," Yoongi genuinely apologized. "Please."
"Just go back home, for now, Yoongi. I don't want to see you right now."
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Jung Hoseok:
"(Y/n)..." Jimin sighed for the fourth time that evening. "Hoseok hyung is calling, again."
"I don't want to talk to him," you muttered stubbornly, playing with the edge of your hospital gown. "Let him suffer."
"Goodness," Jimin chuckled helplessly at your words, setting his phone down and shaking his head.
"It's too much, you know?" He tried to convince you. "He doesn't even know which hospital we're in."
"I don't care. He brought this upon himself."
"He's human too, (Y/n)," Jimin sighed softly. "We're all very stressed, but Hoseok hyung is taking it worse than most of us. Partly because of your health."
"You're trying to say that he's worried about my health?" You looked into Jimin's eyes with tears glistening in your own. "Might be, when I'm not around. But when he's with me, he's only ever worried about work."
"It's been a week," he urged. "He's desperate. Just talk to him once, tell him you're fine."
"As if you haven't been doing that already," you challenged, watching Jimin's eyes widen in surprise.
"How'd you know?" He asked you.
"I just do."
Jimin's shoulders slumped in defeat.
"He's going mental, (Y/n)."
"I did too, moments before the surgery when he wouldn't answer my call. He can suffer some more."
Jimin finally nodded, looking to the floor sadly.
"I know hyung made a mistake, a big one. I shouldn't even be defending him for what he's done, because I know what it was like. I was there, (Y/n). Hoseok hyung told me to be there in case he couldn't make it in time. But so much happened, the emergency, the change of hospitals, he's really worried, you know? Just...talk to him once, please. For my sake."
"I wouldn't know what to say," you admitted in a whisper. "I'm afraid I'll just cry."
"And that's alright too," Jimin gently spoke, walking closer to your bed to hold your hand. "You have every right to be upset. But avoiding him is not only making him suffer because you're suffering too."
"Why'd you have to sweet talk me, Jimin?" You whined with a pout.
"Because I care for the two of you," he responded with a soft grin. "But I care for myself too, you know? I fear going back and Hoseok hyung throttling me to death because you won't let me tell him where you are."
"Are you sure you haven't told him yet?" You raised your eyebrows in suspicion.
"100 percent," he swore. "I admit, I update him every day about your condition, but never once have I told him where you are. I promise."
You sighed deeply.
"I still don't feel like talking to him. I'm mad at him."
"Then let him talk," he suggested with a laugh.
"He'll probably start crying, but he's been drowning with guilt, I see it on his face every day. And if you wish, you can get mad at him too, yell at him, curse him, he deserves it. But just let him hear your voice, he'll be relieved."
"You're so mean, Jimin," you scowled. "Get me the phone."
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Park Jimin:
Jimin's head was already lowered in shame, taking tiny steps towards your chair on the balcony with a bag in his hand.
"I'm sorry I'm late."
"It's alright," you whispered. "It's over, anyway."
"I'm really sorry, sweetheart," he stood before you for a moment before kneeling down and offering you the beige bag.
"It's a present that I bought for you. A while ago."
"What for?"
Jimin sighed. "Our anniversary, of course."
"The one that you forgot?"
"I didn't-" Jimin looked exasperated. "I didn't forget it, Jagi. I just... I don't know. I don't have an excuse."
You sniffled, setting the empty can of beer beside your chair and moving to stand up.
"(Y/n)," he stopped you by your arm. "Don't go, let's talk, please."
"I don't have the strength to talk, Jimin," you murmured gently. "I just want to sleep."
"I'm sorry," he spoke with urgency. "Really. I just got so caught up with work that I-"
"It's okay, Jimin," you dismissed his attempt at explaining. "I already told you, it's okay."
"But it's not," he frowned deeply, pulling your elbow softly until you were facing him. "I can see it in your eyes, it's not okay, you're not okay."
"There's not much I can do about it," you shrugged tiredly. "I'm going to bed."
"Baby," he pleaded with tears in his eyes. "Please."
"Jimin," you sighed. "I'm exhausted, okay? I haven't been sleeping well and today- yesterday," you corrected yourself, "was a busy day. I cooked a lot and did a bunch of stuff but..."
Jimin looked at his feet regretfully.
"I'm sorry it all went to waste," he said softly.
You nodded. "Yeah, I'm sorry too."
"You don't need to be sorry for anything," he told you, briefly catching your eye and exhaling shakily when your gaze faltered.
"It's me that should be sorry. I kept you waiting, I missed such an important day. Our day, and I'm so deeply sorry for that."
"Okay, Jimin," you whispered. "I'm going to bed."
"Baby," he sounded like he was on the verge of tears.
"Can I at least... can I hug you? Just once."
You looked down at the way he was gripping the last three fingers of your hand, not wanting to let you go just yet.
"Please," he asked you once more. "I know I'm late, but I want to celebrate us, six years of us. Let me just hold you once, please."
Your head dipped in time to hide the tear that fell from your right eye, a slight shake of your head leaving Jimin in pieces.
"I don't think I want that right now, Jimin."
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Kim Taehyung:
The moment your eyes locked with Taehyung's, the smile that was on your face vanished. He walked briskly until he was by your side, tugging at your shirt and pulling you closer to him.
"Why are you here?"
"I'm sorry, Jagiya," he murmured under his breath. "I couldn't come today."
"No shit," you rolled your eyes. "Why are you here now? After everything is done with?"
"I... I just wanted to, uh..."
"Just go back, Taehyung," you shrugged his arm off of you. "You've really disappointed me today. I don't see the point in you being here right now."
"Can I talk to your mom?" he asked urgently. "Let me apologize, please. She invited me over and I couldn't come, I need her to know that."
"Don't you worry," you scoffed at the worry painted across his face. "I told her you had work. She's quite understanding, I wonder why I didn't get that from her."
"Jagiya," he looked sad. "I'm really sorry. I was just so nervous about the whole plan, there were going to be a lot of people and my manager was really reluctant about me co-"
"They're my family," you cut him off. "They respect me, Taehyung. They wouldn't go around clicking pictures or anything that would make you uncomfortable, but you wouldn't know that because you never showed up, so let's chuck this. Go back, and let me be, okay?"
"No," he shook his head. "I'm sorry for being a coward, okay? Let me meet them now, please. Just your parents. I'll apologize. I'll make sure this won't happen again."
"I don't want you to meet them right now," you decided. "I don't want them to see you and me in this state, alright? So just go."
"(Y/n), please, I'm so sorry." He took a hold of your hand.
"I should've spoken to you about everything. That was really wrong of me, and I accept that, please- just... just forgive me this time, please, it won't happen again."
"You sound so ridiculous," you laughed dryly. "Look, Taehyung. I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now. I've been pissed off the whole evening telling everyone that you were caught up with work and I just couldn't take the disappointment on their faces, okay? It was... I don't know, it made me feel horrible. And you being here is not making anything better."
"God, I'm so sorry, ugh," Taehyung groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. "I feel like such a jerk."
"You are," you nodded. "I might regret this later but I'm really upset right now, and you're the last person I want to see. So just... just go back, will you?"
"Can't I stay?" He looked ashamed to even ask such a question. "I'll not disturb you, just let me be here with you, please."
"Goodness, you're being such a pain in my ass."
"I'll make it up to you, I promise you that, Jagiya."
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Jeon Jungkook:
"What happened?!"
The loud bang of the door slamming shut almost gave you whiplash from how fast you turned to face Jungkook.
"The interview, what happened?"
Jungkook was almost on his knees, huffing and looking into your eyes with concern in his own.
"I totally forgot about it, but what happened? Did you get through?"
You could only stare at him in disbelief.
"Did you?"
"No, Jungkook," you stated simply. "I didn't."
"What the fuck?" His eyes grew wide. "Why?!"
"Why don't you go ask them?" You rolled your eyes, turning back to face your laptop screen. "And shut the door gently while you're at it, will you?"
"Baby, are-" Jungkook coughed, still trying to catch his breath. "Are you upset with me?"
Staring at the screen in front of you, your eye twitched.
"I can't believe you're asking me that."
"You are?" The man had the audacity to seem shocked.
Blinking numbly, you slowly turned to face him with a look of utter disbelief.
"You forgot about my interview - with the company that I've been dreaming of working with for your kind information - you didn't show up, even though you promised you would help me calm my nerves before you'd drive me there, didn't fucking call me once the whole day today and you ask me if I'm upset with you?"
"I forgot... I really did, baby. I suddenly remembered in the middle of practice session today, and I came running instantly."
"Wow, thank you so much for doing me the biggest favor, honestly."
Jungkook frowned, finally noticing how affected you were by the whole situation.
"Babe," he murmured softly, walking to your chair and holding a hand out.
"Don't," you warned him. "Don't even think of touching me right now."
"I'm sorry," he whispered guiltily. "I nearly had a heart attack when I remembered about today. I swear it wasn't intentional, I genuinely forgot about it. Please, forgive me."
"I don't want to, Jungkook," you shook your head lightly. "I got rejected up to my face by the person I look up to, I got stood up by my own boyfriend when I needed him the most, what do you expect me to do? Look past this? Act as if everything's normal?"
"No," his eyebrows were pinched together, a light pout playing over his lips. "No, of course not. I understand. If you need time, then that's okay. I can leave if you wish."
"Well, you-"
"But I can stay back if you need me. In any way," he offered gently. "We don't have to talk if you don't want that. But I can cook you dinner, I can clean up, I know that makes you feel more at peace."
"Jungkook, you-"
"Please, let me do this much for you. It's the least I can do, given the situation. Don't say no."
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BTS Reactions Masterlist.
Main Masterlist
Permanent Taglist: @hopestastic, @joondiary, @0xnna0, @cuteipat, @koalasandcuddles, @fxndomsqueen, @blissedjoon, @underratedbitch-number13, @tinyoonsblog, @scuzmunkie, @itachi-chi @sparkyprotectionsquad
Surprise Serotonin Boost!
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ahundredtimesover · 28 days ago
May 2022 Reads
Hi, everyone! These are my reblogs of JK (and a few other member) fics (x f. reader/OC). Please note the angst, fluff, and smut descriptions. And a little note: please, please reblog and comment on stories you like, and interact with authors if you can! A nice little message goes a long way for anybody and it’s deeply appreciated. 💜💜❤️‍🔥
*’read for’ are guides for anyone!
Not my fault by @taegularities (f, s) - college au, fuckboy jk (read for something fun and playful and great smut)
Zipper by @taeshobipop (a, s) - college au, fratboy jk (read for something fun, an emotionally constipated but dependable JK, and sexual tension)
Let you go by @namfinessed (f) - boyfriend au (read for something soft, amusing, and light-hearted, and a dramatic JK to make you smile) 
Gasoline by @btsrunmylife (a) - strangers au, criminal au (read for action-take JK with tension and that hint of sadness, and something written so well)
You’re the one I love by @withlovemilk (a) - exes au (read for something heartbreaking, a story told so well in things they’re returning to each other; this hurts so good) 
The new law by @unknowncryptid (a, s) - exes au, smau (read for something interesting, chaotic, and quite angsty, with hilarious characters and a fun ensemble)
Ivy (ft. JHS) by @alpacaparkaseok (a) - strangers au, arranged marriage au (read for something well-written, mysterious, sad and angsty)
Catch 22 by @alluremin (a, s) - fwb au (read for classic fwb au that’s actually heartwarming and sweet)
Just a boy + Paper hearts + Nothing like us by @eureka-its-zico (a) - friends au, idol jk (read for something that hurts good and something written so beautifully) 
White lies by @noteguk (f, s) - fake dating au, best friends au (read for something fun and unproblematic with great characters and great smut)
No regrets (x NJ) by @sunshinerainbowsbts (s) - friends au (read for something short but sexual tension-filled and rly hot)
Champagne problems by @smoochkooks (s) - fwb au (read for filthy hot and rich JK and a fun OC with the sexy smutty scenes)
Pussy fairy pt.3 by @angelguk (a, s) - fwb au, college au (read for something well-written with charming characters and rly good smut)
How to get a guy pt.1 + pt.2 by @taeshobipop (a, f, s) - roommates au, jock jk, fuckboy jk (read for a rom-com feel that’s so well-written with lovable characters, so many emotions and amazing moments, a right balance of angst, fluff, and great smut; a new fave)
Now we’re even by @smaubts (f, humor) - fake dating au, smau (read for a fun story of cute idiots with entertaining bickering and cute and sweet moments)
Over the odds by @jungk0oksthighs (a, f, s) - ceo jk, sugar daddy au (read for entertaining characters, intriguing plotlines and well-written story elements and great smut)
Maybe if by @withlovemilk (a) - exes au (read for a well-written, emotional but hopeful story with amazing dialogue)
After midnight by @gyukult (a, s) - fwb au, fuckboy jk (read for a complicated but entertaining fwb fic with all the emotions, great smut, and good character development)
In love with love (with you) by @tuanforyou (f) - workmates au, friends au (read for something playful and wholesome, something to make you feel giddy and smile and loveable characters)
The spins by @here2bbtstrash (s) - college au, fratboy jk (read for an unproblematic, rly hot and soft jk and good smut)
Ilym by @parkdatjimin (a, f) - boyfriend au (read for something heartwarming, with a dash of angst and lovely, intimate moments)
Fwb with BTS by @btssmutgalore (s) - fwb au (read the different short installments with hints of *feelings* and soft moments and rly good smut)
Every year by @another-army-spot (a, f, s) - childhood friends au, rich kids au (read for a story told in moments, something soft and heartwarming, and a dreamy Jin)
In the mood by @kinktae (f, s) - husband au (read for something romantic and so, so sexy, with 1940s actor Jin)
The story of us by @eleventoes (f, s) - exes au (read for something written so beautifully well with angst that hurts so good)
Three tangerines by @kithtaehyung (a, s) - brother’s best friend au (read for the great smut, all the tension, amazing characters, and good angst)
Reverie by @minstrophywife (a, s) - sci-fi au (read for something different, captivating, and hurts so good)
What d’you want? Some dick? By @joonsgalaxy (humor) - friends au (read for something quick that’s wholesome and awkwardly cute)
As long as you’re around, I’m safe and sound by @jktones (f) - college au (read for something short and soft and giddiness-inducing and comforting)
Second heart pt.1 + pt.2 by @reliablemitten  (a, s) - strangers (read for Instagram NJ for the softness and imagery, but something heartbreakingly good that’s written so well)
You set my heart on fire pt.1 + pt.2 by @hayjeon (a, f, s) - workmates au, firefighter nj (read for loveable characters and a great, sexy NJ, a dash of angst and humor, good smut, and shirtless bangtan firefighters)
Below your mouth by @7deadlysinsfics (a, s) - fwb au (read for a short read of something that hurts good)
I still want you by @parkdatjimin (a, s) - fwb au (read for good build up and something that hurts good) 
A moment of indulgence by @pffbts (f) - boyfriend au (read for a poetry-like piece of simple and intimate moments)
(monthly reads masterpost)  
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taetaespeaches · 11 days ago
“You’re hot when you tell me I’m right.”
namjoon x reader (oc) genre: fluff; suggestive (bc why not xo) word count: 2.1K
a/n: Hi lovelies! I had this image in my head of Joon reading and Daisy coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around him and him turning toward her to kiss her soooo this is a fic written purely so I could get that scene out into the world lol. Not much plot, just these lovebirds existing together at home. With Monie! That’s all, I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading :)) 
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You were still drowsy as you wandered down the hall, Monie following closely along and just as sleepy. Yawning and rubbing sleep out of your eyes, you nearly turned into the kitchen until the sound of a page turning caught your attention. Namjoon’s dark hair was visible over the back of the sofa as he read a book, and the sight of him had your heart melting in content, happy to see him simply existing. No one deserved to just be more than him.
Kneeling down to the dog standing at your feet, you pointed in Namjoon’s direction. “Go get daddy,” you whispered to Monie, your eyes widening in hopes of transferring some excitement from yourself to the dog. “Go get him, go see dad.”
After a few seconds, the dog trotted across the floor until he sat in front of where Namjoon sat on the couch, and in another second, Monie was jumping onto your boyfriend’s lap. As the man greeted the dog cheerfully, you smiled fondly, admiring the man for his gentleness. He placed the book on the arm of the sofa, holding his place with a single finger between the pages as he dedicated his attention to Monie, scratching the dog’s face and neck.
Leaning against the wall and watching from afar, you listened as Namjoon talked to the pup. “Did you have a good nap? Yeah? You did?” He asked, his voice raised in pitch. “Is mom awake too or did you leave her?” Smiling, you stepped into the kitchen to retrieve two bottles of water, one for you and one for Namjoon. A few more moments passed before his voice called out to you. “Babe?”
“Yeah, I’m in here,” you told him.
“Ah, you’re a good boy,” you heard him praise Monie, your boyfriend happy the dog didn’t leave you mid-nap. “Gotta keep her company.” You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at the man, shaking your head.
“Do you want a water?” You asked, already shutting the fridge door as Namjoon responded with a no. Looking at the waters in your hand, you shrugged and started toward him.
When you exited the kitchen and looked toward Namjoon again, you found him reading once more, the dog surely having settled down in desire for more sleep. Approaching your boyfriend, you peeked over his shoulder to see the book propped up against a pillow that sat on his lap as he sat cross-legged. Monie had settled in on the other end of the couch, already dozing off again.
Draping your arms over Namjoon’s shoulders, you tucked one bottle of water between the pillow and his waist while dropping the other one on the couch cushion next to him. Curling your forearms loosely around his neck, you peppered a series of kisses to his jaw. “Hi,” you greeted as he hurried to finish the sentence before turning toward your face, giving you a happy close-mouthed grin.
“Hi, babe.” His dimple was prominent on his cheek, tempting you to kiss it in utter appreciation for the charming divot. “Sleep well?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, kissing his cheek, unable to resist. “I don’t know why I’ve been so tired.”
“You work hard,” he told you, craning his neck to get a better look at your face. His eyes scanned your features for a moment, studying your eyes, noting the tiredness in them. Reaching behind you both, he placed his hand at the back of your head and pulled your mouth to his, kissing you softly. When your lips separated, you ran your hands down his chest, bringing your lips to his ear.
“You know that’s basically a crime, right?” You asked, looking down at the book as Namjoon folded down the corner of the page. His books were littered with dog-eared pages and it drove you just slightly insane.
“It’s easy,” he defended, a guilty grin on his face.
“And a bookmark isn’t?” You questioned, a teasing smile on your own face.  
Sighing, he gestured for you to come around to the front of the sofa. “I always lose them.” He was reaching for the water bottle in the next moment. You watched as he took a drink while you rounded the couch, a small smile toying on your lips. It didn’t matter that he didn’t ask for it, because you gave it to him.
Standing in front of him, you cocked your head. “But you just keep it in the book,” you told him, as he set both the bottle of water you gave him and the pillow aside. He uncrossed his legs before grabbing your hand in his.
“It’s dangerous to underestimate my ability to lose and destroy things, babe,” he joked, tugging you toward him. Though you giggled, he was right. It was just last week that you gave him credit for not breaking anything in recent history, only for him to accidentally drop a casserole dish while drying it, shattering it all over the floor.
Setting one knee on the sofa, on the outside of his thigh, and then the other, you slowly straddled his lap, placing your hands on his shoulders as his moved to hold onto your thighs. “My casserole dish truly left this world too soon,” you feigned a pout, Namjoon chuckling in amusement, making his eyes crinkle in the most stunning way.
“I told you I’d super glue it together,” he defended, causing you to throw your head back in laughter as his palms slowly dragged up and down your hips. When you looked back at him, you found Namjoon staring at you fondly. His eyes roamed your face, taking in every feature with familiarity and esteem. “You’re so cute when you’re sleepy.”
Smiling softly at him, you rolled your eyes. “I’m really not a nap person, I don’t know why I keep taking them.”
“You must need them,” he replied, squeezing your hips lightly.
Allowing your eyes to linger on his face, taking your turn to appreciate his features, you noticed he looked more relaxed than he had in a while. It was relieving to see. “How are you doing?” You asked him, massaging his shoulders as you posed the question. Namjoon lived a stressful life, and the past week had been no exception. However, he was entering what he hoped to be a calm period in his career, and it was already looking captivating on him.
“Good,” he said simply, but with a definitive tone. “Yeah,” he said, almost to himself, as though he was assuring himself of the truth of his answer. “Really good.”
Smiling at him, you nodded. “And look at you, you had time to read,” you nodded to the book, your eyes lingering on it as you realized it was one of yours. “Wait-”
“Yeah, it’s really interesting, when I’m done we can talk about-”
“That’s mine,” you deadpanned, turning to look back at him with a playful glare. When his eyes widened, you shook your head. “You’re folding down the pages of one of my books,” you pointed out, holding back an amused smile as he held back one of guilt.
Without confirming your comment or defending himself, he instead jumped right into turning the focus on your own reading habits. “So you’ll write all over the margins of the pages but folding the corner of the page over is where you draw the line?” He posed, eyes wide and accusatory, but playful and teasing.
“Yes,” you said simply.
“That makes no sense,” he chuckled, making your beam break through.
“You write on the pages too,” you reminded him, Namjoon smiling and nodding.
“I do,” he agreed. “But I’m not the one accusing you of abusing books.”
“Do you not like my annotations?” You countered, cocking your head at him as his fingers soothed over your hips softly. The touch was barely there, the man doing it almost mindlessly in the comfort of having you close.
“Of course I do,” he chuckled. “They’re the main reason why I read your books.” Reopening the book, he scanned the page, reading over your scribblings. “Like this one,” he started, clearing his throat. “Umm, frowning face, I’m crying,” he read from the page. “Or this one,” he smiled. “This is fucking beautiful.”
“Stop,” you whined, embarrassed by your very un-insightful comments.
“Or when you just put frowny faces or hearts,” he smiled fondly. “I love it.” He could have easily teased you, but instead he spoke so honestly, a love-dazed smile on his face, that you could only sigh in acceptance. The man loved you, and that was the beginning and end of everything.
As your grin morphed into one of fond admiration, you sighed. “Fine”
“Fine what?”
“You have a point,” you giggled. “I mark up the pages anyway, folding them probably isn’t the worst thing a person could do.”
Removing a hand from your hip to search for his phone on the cushion, “wait, wait, wait,” spilled from his lips. “Wait hang on, can you say that again?” He asked, grabbing his phone and holding it up to you. “Can I film it?”
“Shut up,” you laughed, pulling the phone out of his hand and putting it back on the cushion, careful not to disturb Monie on the other end of the sofa who was already awoken by your boyfriend’s excitability.
“My stubborn girlfriend just said I was right, I need this documented,” he teased you, making you crater against his chest as you tucked your face against his neck.
“I take it back,” you mumbled against his skin through your smile. He was warm, soft and smooth, and he smelled of his body lotion that had a natural and light fragrance that fit him perfectly. The scent and the feeling of his skin was just so Namjoon, you felt so content being his arms, on his lap, pressed against his chest.
“You can’t take it back, you said it,” he told you, folding his arms around your lower back. Leaning back, you immediately attached your lips to his, kissing him to distract him. And that’s when you felt it. Your eyes popping open, you looked down at his lap.
“Are you-” you pointed your eyes downward with a smirk on your lips. “Hard?” You asked, whispering the word as you fought back your growing smile.
“You told me I was right,” he defended, his eyes widening along with his stunning beam.
“I didn’t use those words,” you pointed out, Namjoon rolling his eyes.
“Close enough.”
“And that got you hard?” You giggled, your hand finding the nape of his neck as you toyed with the dark strands there.
“Fuck yeah it did,” he replied, unabashedly, as though expecting him to be in any other condition would be ridiculous of you. Laughing at him, you rolled your eyes while Namjoon chuckled at both himself and your reaction to him. In the next moment, he was pushing you onto your back and leaning over you, your movements disturbing Monie as he jumped off the couch and settled on the floor a few feet away. “You’re hot when you tell me I’m right,” he flirted obnoxiously, and yet you were so beyond smitten.
“How about when I tell you you’re wrong?” You posed, watching as Namjoon’s smile widened as he looked down at you.
Giggling, he dipped his head to place a series of kisses against your neck. “Still hot,” he mumbled between ministrations, a chuckle reverberating through your throat, the sensation buzzing against Namjoon’s lips.
“Dimples, not in front of Monie,” you teased, both of you slowly turning to look at the dog who was already rolled onto his side and paying no mind to either of you. Instead of furthering his efforts, however, Namjoon settled his body against yours, nuzzling his face against your chest. A sigh of content left him as he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as your other hand combed through the strands at the side of his head, pushing the hair away from his face.
“I can’t wait to spend more days with you like this,” he whispered against your chest before placing a kiss to the sweatshirt that adorned your frame.
“Me too,” you told him simply, continuing to brush your fingers through his soft hair. A few seconds passed by, both of you enjoying existing in the moment, when you chuckled, Namjoon looking up at you curiously. “I wasn’t serious about Monie.”
Namjoon’s face morphed into one full of that gorgeous smile, those adorable dimples, and the endearing crinkles around his eyes, the man looking so stunning he nearly stole your breath away. “I know,” he placed his head back down against your chest. “But I get to take my time with you now. And that’s what I intend to do.”
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kookiecrumb · 29 days ago
knj || perfect fit
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pairing: lingeriedesigner!namjoon x fem!reader
wc: 1K~
summary: Kim Namjoon is an up-and-coming women's lingerie designer looking for a model to present his highly anticipated spring collection. You've caught his attention and his affection with it.
tags: smut (18+), p with plot, oneshot, strangers to lovers, some fluff, slice of life, also namjoon is bisexual but that's irrelevant to the plot
warnings: fingering, lingerie kink, filth towards the end, unprotected sex*(don't do this), explicit language, a little rough, accidental touching, nicknames (baby), dirty talk + vocal reader, some praise
a/n: here you go! 🤗
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It's a relaxed day at the boutique, with most appointments booked later today instead of in the morning. That's unusual for them, seeing that, normally, morning appointments are preferred.
Namjoon doesn't mind it at all. It means he has the opportunity to leave the shop in the hands of his assistants and venture out into the city to recruit for his newest spring collection, or at least begin formulating an idea for his inevitably anticipated summer collection.
The New York City fashion scene is practically breaking down his doors to get a glimpse at his release this Saturday, and he would be excited if it weren't for the fact that he has yet to settle on a model.
Plenty of women have offered themselves up for the job, even going so far as to accepting lower industry rates just for the exposure of wearing a Kim lingerie set, stylized and tailored to their bodies.
It is not only Namjoon's style that marked his work as exceptional, but also his character that served as a catalyst for his sudden stardom. His models are diverse and representative of the vast market that he is targeting.
That being said, he is looking for a woman who is current Miss New York City. He's not looking through magazines or resumes. No, he is looking for you.
What he did not anticipate, however, was finding the love of his life in the process.
There you are, now.
You're currently having an awkward conversation with the barista holding your coffee. Namjoon looks on unsuspectingly, lending an ear to the exchange from a distance.
"Yes, I did want it with the vanilla, but it's just a little too sweet," you smile, trying not to sound like too much of a bitch.
"Ohhh...yeah, no, no problem. I can have that taken care of right away. We're not busy, so," the barista rambles, taking the drink from your hand and whisking it away somewhere else.
You purse your lips and stand casually, trying not to look too uncomfortable while waiting.
Namjoon raises an eyebrow, a slight smile on his lips. He raises his drink to his lips and takes a long sip, subtly studying your figure.
"Oh, thank you so much," you cheer, respectfully as she hands you a brand new morning coffee. This time, it tastes just right.
Satisfied with your service, you casually push through the door of the shop and walk towards your apartment. As to not raise any suspicion, Namjoon waits a few seconds before getting up and bolting after you.
"Miss?!" He shouts in an attempt to gain your attention. "Miss--" he shuffles through the morning mob of bland business guys shuffling to their respective business places.
Oblivious to his struggle, you carry on. It is a short walk from the coffee shop to your place, so you're not necessarily in a hurry. Stopping by the corner store might not be such a bad idea.
You stand in front of the store window and decide on going inside.
Meanwhile, Namjoon has finally caught up with you. He follows you in, shamelessly.
"Look--" he gasps for air.
You're startled to say the least, but you listen to what the crazed man has to say anyways because it might be a fun story to tell someday.
"I want you to model for my spring collection. I'm Kim Namjoon--" he pats his body down for his wallet and opens it up, pulling out a business card made out of recycled paper, decorated with dehydrated flowers.
"See?" He holds out the card for you to take.
Cautiously, you take it from him. "Yes?"
"Yeah?" He smiles. "So, will you do it?"
"Wait, this is ridiculous, who are you? If you want to hire a model, why don't you just contact an agency?" You laugh.
Namjoon is at a loss of words. "It's...because I don't want any of those models, I want you."
At that moment, it becomes clear that there really isn't any other choice here. Namjoon is sure of his selection. Despite your inexperience, you take on the job to appease his wishes.
"Great! Meet me at the shop tomorrow morning. I'll size you up, personally," he says, cheerfully.
"Sure," you agree, your lips pulled into a line.
Namjoon nods and heads out the door of the heavily-stickered bodega, looking both ways before he enters the busy stream of people.
You glance down at your phone, opened to your notes app with a list of groceries you need for this week. "Oh, right." You still need to go shopping.
That evening, you get home and set all of your shopping bags down on your dining room table.
You actually passed by Namjoon's boutique on your way to the shopping district, but decided against going in because the front looked busy. The variety of looks surprised you, though.
It made you wonder what inspired this Korean guy to go out of his way to create intricate intimate clothing for women. You'll have a chance to ask him tomorrow, you're sure.
You take off your shoes and carefully put them away, and hang your jacket on its hook. It's time for you to relax.
Meanwhile, Namjoon is doing the complete opposite of relaxing. He is leaning over his desk, with his iPad, trying to come up with something-- anything to add to his summer collection.
He doesn't have to have the designs out to ship to the manufacturers for another six weeks, but he wants to have them done early so he doesn't have to worry about it.
The problem is, he can't get the idea of you out of his head. Your proportions are so unique and yet compliment his style completely. He often finds himself daydreaming with his drawing application open, trying to conjure up something that isn't you, draped in satin.
Frustrated, Namjoon rolls out of his chair and walks up to his window to observe the open skyline. "She'll be here tomorrow, and by then I'll have the photos, and I don't have to think about it ever again," he assures himself.
He stands over the city, only noticing his reflection after a few minutes. He traces his thumb over hips lips and shakes his head, walking back to his desk for the remainder of the night.
The sun glistens through the window of your studio apartment. The warm feeling of sunlight on your face almost makes the rent worth it. Swinging your feet over the bed, you get up and stretch until you shake. "Fuck, I'm old..." you groan.
You arrive at the boutique early, but Namjoon doesn't mind that at all. He'd rather do this sooner than later.
"I hope you don't mind. It would be easier for me if we did this naked," he says as you walk, side by side, toward the tailoring lounge.
"Naked? Is that necessary?"
Namjoon turns to his assistant and dismisses her for the rest of the appointment. He won't be needing her assistance here. Instead, Namjoon stops in front of you and elaborates.
"It's to ensure the best fit. If you feel uncomfortable with such a condition, I could bring in somebody else to take measurements for me over the clothes you have on, now."
"I don't see a point in that, though. The lingerie is sheer." He holds up a hand-stitched bralette with a matching set of panties that he'd been carrying, both made from a delicate voile, embedded with the daintiest pink flowers.
Your eyes widen. "That's it?"
"Ah...sorry, I didn't expect this reaction from you. That's my mistake. I should have anticipated your hesitancy. Besides, it is your first time modeling," Namjoon reasons, regretfully.
"I'll wear it for you," you interrupt his thoughts. Even if it means looking a little dumb, you want to do this for him. "I'm just really shy."
He's incredibly sexy. If he saw the way your body would react to being touched by him...you wonder exactly how he'd handle it. You're partially excited to find out, but also terrified.
"I've worked with plenty of models. They've all felt comfortable in my hands. I won't let you do this without your consent," he reminds you, calmly.
You study his face. He's cautious with his words, and his eyes seem to communicate trust. Most interestingly, there is a playful lust lingering behind that strong demeanor. It's something that you can't help but want to explore.
"I want to," you say. "I'll wear it for you. You only."
Namjoon smiles handsomely and pushes through the doors of his personal tailoring room.
The curtains are drawn over floor-to-ceiling, French windows. Natural light streams in from the skylights, the blue sky filling the room with life.
There are several mirrors in the room, but other than that, it appears as a lounge with ornate furniture and soft carpets and blankets.
There's a partition situated near the East wall. A scene of a flowering valley is painted on it, with a poem inscribed adjacent to the painting.
Within moments, you are changed and ready to be measured. The lingerie is far more revealing than you initially anticipated, but it'll only be the both of you, so you aren't too uncomfortable.
Namjoon tugs on the seams of your panties. "That's a little wide," he sighs, taking out his measuring tape. Quietly, he measures around your hips. He uncaps his pen and draws a line at where the tape overlaps.
Then, he asks you to open your thighs so he can correct the measurement. You follow his directions curiously, and without complaint.
"I want to apologize beforehand if I do get hard. I'm a guy who likes girls..." he blushes, looking down at the carpet below. "And more, actually, but...that's maybe too much information."
"Oh," you laugh. "That's alright, I understand how that could be a problem."
"It's a professionalism thing," he replies, scribbling down some numbers on a notepad. Finally, he glances up at you in the mirror, catching a glimpse of your flustered state.
"Can I touch your bust? I need to get...those measurements, too, just to make sure it isn't too loose, either." He clears his throat.
His sturdy hands wrap around the circumference of your bust with the tape. He nicks the measurment and brings his hands down.
His pinky brushes over your outer folds, through the material of your panties. Your heart pounds. Had he done this on purpose?
Namjoon doesn't mention it, instead he's focused scribbling down the remaining measurements. "Did you know you're a--"
"Are you kidding?" You ask.
Namjoon halts. "What is it?"
"You're kidding," you smirk. "You totally did that on purpose."
"What on purpose, y/n?" He laughs.
Convinced that he isn't entirely clueless as to what he did, you turn and kiss him chastely on the lips.
Astounded, Namjoon freezes from behind you. Slowly, he realizes that you had just kissed his lips. He swipes his thumb on his bottom lip, fondly. His eyes soften. "You just kissed me."
"Yeah. Would you like me to do it again?"
After some contemplation, Namjoon conjures an answer.
"No, I'd like you to get on your knees and spread those thighs in front of that mirror right there so I can teach you what touching is," he rasps with a deadly look in his eyes.
Curiosity surges through you. You want to know exactly what he means by that. It's an irrational and yet completely natural progression to the tension created between the both of you. Yet, having his intentions finally revealed to you sends the adrenaline rushing through your veins.
Inevitably, you follow his orders and get on the ground, greeting yourself in front of the unfolded mirror. You fix your posture, spreading your legs and placing your hands neatly on your thighs.
Your head is level with his hips, a convenience too good to pass up. You bring your right hand up behind you to feel his legs and brush your palm over his bulge. He groans teasingly, smiling through your touch.
"Mmmh...You're a tease," he flirts, sighing.
Namjoon kneels behind you and carefully moves the fabric he's sewn with his own hands and plunges both of them deep into your pretty pussy with ease. "You take them nicely, pretty..." he hisses, smirking against your neck.
You feel his cock twitch on your ass, and he's grinding in slow, tantalizing circles against you.
He brings his other hand up to hold your breast and squeezes it lightly, his eyebrows furrowed in deep arousal as he groans in your ear about just how sexy you look taking them.
"They were made for you...look at yourself for me, and keep your eyes there...watch as i make you feel good, baby..."
Your eyes flutter to your body, open and flush against him as he plays with your needy cunt with his thick fingers.
A gentle breeze flows through the room, and the scent of sweet lavender fills your lungs as you melt from his touch. "You touch me so beautifully," you whine, holding on to him carefully. "Don't stop touching me..."
Your dependence reassures him. Namjoon enjoys conditional control over your ultimate pleasure. He won't stop until you're cumming on his fingers, calling out his name.
You can feel his heart pounding through his chest, and his breath quickening with every thrust inside of you.
"Ohhh~ Joonie~" you breathe, squeezing around him lewdly.
"Relax for me, baby...you're doing so good, love," he kisses your cheek softly as his thumb fiddles with your swollen clit, languidly.
The strap to your braette slips, uncovering your figure to him further. In an act of fairness, Namjoon carefully removes his shirt and undoes his belt from behind. Then, he tugs the remainder of clothing off his body, tossing it to the side of the mirror.
"You're so warm," you thrum, panting softly. "Mmmmh, I'm gonna cum for you,"
Namjoon's eyes illuminate with wonder. "Show me," he asks, pumping his digits messily into your heat. "Cum around them, give me all of it,"
"Namjoon~" you inhale sharply. "Ohhh, Joonie..." you pout, shivering as you approach a messy orgasm. It washes over you quickly as you cling to him in overstimulation.
"Good girl," Namjoon praises as he collects all of your beautiful cum to lubricate his cock.
Then, despite you still being modetately sensitive, he sinks into your cunt easily and stretches you so that you can feel it deep in your gut. "Take it. You're so wet...it'll feel good, I promise."
After a brief moment of discomfort, overwhelming pleasure floods your body as you're pressed into the carpet below, witnessing him use your pussy to get his monster cock off.
His hands run down from your back to your ass. He kneads you possessively, his wide palms grabbing you so that he can angle his thrusts perfectly.
He moves his hips in shallow circles before filling you to the brim with his throbbing dick and continuing at a rough thrust. "You're gonna feel my cum spilling from your hot cunt..."
You shutter, quivering under him as you're mercilessly fucked by his powerful form. The feeling of helplessness only amplifies the blissful arousal that buzzes warmly throughout your body. "Ohhhfuck~! fuckk~" you cry.
Namjoon uses his seductive lips to kiss your back as if he's worshipping your body, thanking it for taking his dick so well.
"Mmm!" you whimper in desperation. In your ruined state, you remain still as your body anticipates a crashing orgasm. You cum around him, hard and shaking as he fills you to the brim with his white hot cum.
He examines the state of his work on your body, extremely satisfied.
Namjoon kisses your nose and pulls out of you, careful not to spill on the carpet before grabbing a convenient towel. From then on, he's sure to make sure you're taken care of.
You kiss, entangled in one another for what feels like hours, just feeling one another and cleaning each other until dark.
Secrets are shared. Stories are told, and the seed of a blooming love is sewn in the hearts of two unexpected lovers. You regret to leave his arms, but when you finally do, he says that he needs you back with him soon.
"I'll have those measurements in our database by tomorrow morning...and I want to see you next week for a follow up. I'll have a new set for you by then...one I can actually ruin." He winks.
"Of course," you say, holding his face in your hands. "I'll be back tomorrow, Namjoon."
Namjoon clears his throat.
He smiles.
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permatag gang gang: @kooliv , @koobsessed , @angelwonie , @carolynanderson , @hoseokgrecns , @bangsterz , @swyseren, @sxtaep , @koostarcandy , @hgema , @jjkeverlast , @armys-dna , and @nglmrk
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mercurygguk · 7 months ago
Big Joon pounding you into the mattress the morning after a concert
thirst night #1
pairing; namjoon x f. reader
"oh- fuck!"
your head drops into the mattress, the sheets muffling the high-pitched moans that are falling like a waterfall from your lips.
"right there?" namjoon rasps into your ear, his hips smacking against your ass in a hard, precise rhythm. he's hitting a certain sweet spot over and over again, the feeling shooting through your body and reaching the very tip of your toes and fingers every single time.
"yes," you whimper as your boyfriend starts peppering soft kisses on the skin of your shoulder and shoulder blade. the touch of his lips are a stark contrast to the way his length is sliding in and out of your wet pussy, your juices making it incredibly easy for him to move – a nice, steady and hard rhythm of his pounding thrusts.
"you gonna cum for me, baby girl?"
nodding vigorously, your hands tighten their grip on the sheets, the grip so tight your knuckles turn white. you lift your head, glancing back at the man behind you, biting your lip at the sight that meets you; the glistening skin of his chest and torso, small beads of sweat running down to where you're connected, the tips of his short grey-colored hair wet as well as his eyes focus on the way his cock slides right in and out. the sight of him is enough to make you tremble beneath him, your pussy clenching uncontrollably as you feel your orgasm coming at you with a force so intense you might faint.
"fuck, fuck, fuck-" you cry out, back arching as you begin to push back against namjoon, meeting his hips halfway in a desperate attempt to make yourself come faster.
a moan tumbles from namjoon's lips as he watches you, his hands sliding from their spot on your hips and up your back before sliding back down to your ass, grabbing two handfuls of flesh in them. you look so fucking desperate as you whimper and whine into the sheets while fucking yourself to your orgasm on his cock.
his jaw drops open as he feels your walls tightening around his cock, the feeling of your pussy clenching over and over as your orgasm washes through you, shaking your body. a loud whiny moan falls leaves you, the orgasm blinding you for a short moment as you slump in his grip, too worn out to keep yourself up. namjoon doesn’t seem to mind as he follows along as you lie flat down on the bed, legs spread for him as he continues the torturing pace of his hips, working himself closer to the edge.
“fuck,” he grunts, “you feel so good around my cock, gonna fill you up with my cum.”
a tiny breathy moan emits from you as he grabs your hands, fingers sliding in between yours as his hips work faster and faster, snapping into you in a tempo so fucking good you feel lightheaded. namjoon’s hips stutter as he reaches his high, his abdomen tensing as he stills in you, shooting hot white cum against your walls, filling you up like he said he would.
“wow,” you sigh as he pulls out and falls next to you, breathing heavily as he tries to catch his breath. a small smile spreads across your lips, a tingle in your stomach as you hear him mutter a low ‘tell me about it’.
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joondiary · 4 months ago
my favourite Kim Namjoon fics (i)
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🍁 - oneshots
🍂 - series
try again by @bangtanfancamp 🍁
the rich man's crochet club by @kpopfanfictrash 🍁
abc's of life by @dulcebangtan 🍂
silk series by @bangtanfancamp 🍂
skylines by @joonapeach 🍁
the bodyguard by @rmnamjoons 🍁
happy accidents by @sunshinerainbowsbts 🍂
safe with me by @sunshinerainbowsbts
forever rain by @bangtanfancamp 🍁
meeting mr. mistletoe by @kookdiaries 🍁
it's december (and i still want you) by @smoochkooks 🍁
slipping coffee by @bts-roses 🍂
ristretto by @shina913 🍂
11:44 p.m. by @stayforya 🍁
new haircut(e), who dis? by @alpacaparkaseok 🍁
unhappy holidays by @kissingnamjoon 🍁
the stick notes guy by @juwrites18 🍁
book of soulmates by @alpacaparkaseok 🍁
i believe by @namfinessed 🍁
joon and daisy by @taetaespeaches 🍂
you'll always know me by @jooniesrose 🍁
'tis the damn season by @delacyrose224 🍁
the confession by @blu-joons 🍂
bonsai by @leefics 🍁
who's counting? by @army-author 🍂
it's alright, it's love by @koorara 🍁
morning by @koorara 🍁
homework by @leefics 🍁
testing the limits by @blushedarmybunny 🍁
july kiss by @personasintro 🍁
americano by @army-author 🍂
sunday morning by @wwilloww 🍁
safe with me by @mintjoonlep 🍂
flat sprite and saltine crackers by @miscelunaaa 🍁
lumière by @namjoonchronicles 🍁
home for christmas by @faithalenora 🍁
coffee and cream by @geniuslab 🍁
robes by @namjoonchronicles 🍁
distract by @namjoonchronicles 🍁
fortuity by @namjoonchronicles 🍁
relief by @namjoonchronicles 🍁
endearing by @namjoonchronicles 🍁
shape of love by @namjoonchronicles 🍁
playtime by @sxtaep 🍁
needy by @namjoonchronicles 🍁
questions of worth by @namjoonchronicles 🍁
new parent syndrome by @1kook 🍁
no title by @bangtangalicious 🍁
matching pair by @thisbrokenmask 🍁
almond milk by @guksthighs 🍁
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670 notes · View notes
euphoricfilter · 4 months ago
To Build A Home (Part One)
Part one: One of Many
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Pairing: Ot7 x 9 tailed fox Hybrid! Reader
Fox Hybrid! Jin, Human! Namjoon, Human! Yoongi, Wolf Hybrid! Hoseok, Cat Hybrid! Jimin, Wolf Hybrid! Taehyung, Fox Hybrid! Jungkook
Genre: Hybrid AU || Fluff || Angst || Smut/ implied smut || Strangers to lovers AU || Best friends to lovers AU
Summary: Grey wolf Taehyung didn't like you all that much. Sure he counted down the days until you came to visit, and sure when he came home with you he would watch you in your vegetable garden. But he swears he doesn't like you.
Word count: 10.8k
Tags/ warnings: Hybrid mistreatment, briefly mentioned malnourishment, fluff, angst, m/c has an oral fixation, kinda mean Taehyung for like a while but he’s just wary, play fighting, sketchy namjoon for a second
Notes: i got impatient again... i probably could have looked over this chapter again but i'll regret that later.
Series Masterlist
Part Two
“No mutts allowed unless they’re leashed” the greying old woman harshly slammed the metal collar and chain onto the desk.
Her plump, round hands shoving it towards Jin, before her head motioned to you stood beside him. Thin wisps of hair flinging to the other side of her head.
Jin gritted his teeth, willing himself to not snap at her warty old face.
The chains felt heavy, he knew you’d be uncomfortable and that they’d leave a rash around your neck. He was surprised you hadn’t thrown a tantrum yet, never liking how you had to be collared up if you wanted to leave the house.
His hybrid ears under his hat twitched when the woman muttered something under her breath (how much she hated hybrids. Ironic considering her job), before he carefully clipped the collar around your neck.
The woman scanned her ID card to open the door, it hissing as it slid open.
One of the hybrid centre employees were following close behind the two of you, a burly young guy, muscles bulging from the tight fit of his shirt that had a large company logo sewn over the breast pocket.
Each hybrid was sectioned into concrete rooms, one of the walls were glass to let visitors look into them. Small mattresses were pushed up against the back walls of the room; most having multiple hybrids shoved into the small confines of the room. Your eyes scanned the damp looking rooms, condensation dripping from the ceiling, mould clawing its way up the walls. A few of the lights that hung warily from the ceiling didn’t work, hung by the last two wires. You were pretty sure this went against multiple health and safety rules.
Not all hybrid centres were this run-down and off the beaten track. Most of them working like pet shops where hybrids get groomed and sold for unfathomable prices for the rich percentage to show off.
These places, however, were where unsellable hybrids were often sent, either because of age, or because they wouldn’t fit into the lifestyle most of the rich were looking for. These places were also a lot less official, paperwork limited and no checking the possible owner’s homes. That’s how you and Jin found yourselves slowly walking through the quiet hallway of the centre, the tinkle of the chains around your neck echoing off the walls. Goosebumps rising on your skin, the air cold and moist. The uneasiness you’d felt since you’d entered the building not going away.
They hadn’t asked Jin to take off his hat to check if he himself were a hybrid, trusting that the forged ID card he had was legitimate. If they had pated him down, they probably would have felt the soft cushioning of his tail wrapped around his waist under his knit sweater. They didn’t ask for any papers about how stable he was financially, or the type of hybrid he was looking for that would fit into his home environment nicely. His award winning smile enough to win over the greasy old woman at the front desk.
It was harder to hide your animal features, your nine tails always looking weirdly lumpy and unrealistically like your actual flesh when tucked away under large sweaters, the ends of your tails always somehow peeking from the hems of shirts. Ears getting itchy when pushed against your skull for long periods of time.
As your eyes scanned over each of the hybrids none of them caught your eyes, most of them already in groups. You weren’t looking to try and integrate you and Jin to an already formed pack. That would take a lot more effort than you had time for, each minute ticking away to your own dooms’ day.
It was when you made eye contact with a hybrid in the room at the end of the long hallway you knew that maybe this 3 hour-long journey to the hybrid centre would all be worth it. He was in the room alone. His eyes were a dark onyx, chains around his arms and ankles a lot thicker than the chain currently around your neck.
You abruptly stopped, Jin accidently pulling at the chain unaware that you stopped walking. You let out a small whine at the pain that shot down your spine. Jin turning, eyes wide with worry. He apologized as he inspected your neck, a small cut forming where the chains had pinched the skin. His hands prying yours away from your neck when you tried to scratch the rash that was forming from the metal constantly rubbing the sensitive skin.
You tried to walk closer to the glass wall, the chain of the collar being harshly pulled by the centre worker. You fell backwards, the chains jingled as you fell, cool floor numbing your butt as you sat there in disbelief. Jin whipped his head towards the worker. The hybrid in the room watching, a glint of sympathy in his eyes however he looked away when you looked into his room.
“Was that really necessary?” Jin barks, the employee snarling back at him.
“Stupid mutt don’t leave your grimy fingerprints on the glass” he looked down his nose at you, satisfied smirk on his face. Maybe it was the shitty lighting of the hallway, but he really did have a punch-able face.
Jin helped you stand, scanning if you had any more injuries before huffing out a sigh when he couldn’t see any. Finger pinching between his brows to try and alleviate the headache that was forming.
“Did you see something?” he asked lowly, the employee now tapping his foot impatiently against cold concrete flooring, although it had been less than a minute of you standing there.
“Him” you point over Jin’s shoulder at the hybrid, “Let’s get him”
Jin turns to look at the hybrid, no clear emotion on his face. The worker let out a snort, “Don’t suggest that one, a real brat” he mockingly frowns at the hybrid. Said hybrid snarling back at the cocky worker.
Jin turns towards you, ignoring the worker, eyes asking if this is really what you wanted. Your eyes met the wolf hybrids once more. You tilted your head in thought.
“Can I go in?” you turned towards the worker who bit his lip in thought. He didn’t really want to be responsible if you were to die in there, but then again, he did love to watch hybrids have at it with each other something sickly satisfying about watching you try to kill your own species. When in reality you should be against humans, the ones who put you in these kinds of places, the ones who kill your parents for experiments, the ones who inject innocent fetuses with chemicals that genetically modify them. Your real enemies.
The keys jingled as he pulled them out of his pocket, he bent down and inserted the key into the lock. It clicked open. Jin dropped the chains, it banging against the back of your jeans as you slowly pushed the door open before it was shut by the worker. Jin holding his wrist when he went to lock it again. Not trusting that you would be let out again if the slimy young man locked you in there with another hybrid. One that he’s never met and clearly doesn’t have a good reputation based on the warning sign pasted under the hybrids general information beside the door.
Now you had a closer look at the hybrid he was quite pretty. Sharp, thick eyebrows, a soft slope to his nose with what looked to be a small mole at the tip. Lips naturally a pretty pink, even if they were turned down in a snarl. You stood in-front of him. Far enough that if he were to swing at you, he would miss, but close enough for him to have you in his peripheral vision as he looked down. Even then you weren’t sure how much damage he could do, he looked awfully thin, clearly not having been fed for days.
The room smelt musty, with hints of his own scent mingled in there, his upset scent salty to your nose. You sat down; legs crossed. Small pieces of cement and grime catching on the fur of your pristine white tails as a few swished back and forth behind you. Always active even when you weren’t excited.
The wolf’s eyes were trained on your abundance of tails that flowed like seaweed behind you, seeming to have minds of their own. They also looked like some form of halo cast over the back of your head as they sway out of sync. He had never heard of fox hybrids with more than one tail,
“Taehyung?” you asked, eyes catching the onto the name on his collar.
“What?” he growled, voice not what you were expecting, a lot deeper and smoother than you had imagined. He tried to launch forward, only for his head to whip back because of the chain that connected his neck to the wall.
You just sat there and waited for him to gather himself again. He didn’t seem to mind eye contact, eyes not wavering as you just stare at him. “Wanna go home?” you ask him, and he scoffs.
“I don’t have a home” he snarls, and you hum.
“But you could”
“I don’t want to live with you” he slumps back against the wall, having decided you weren’t an immediate threat.
“There’s a summer house you can live in, in the backyard. Wouldn’t have to see me, Jin can bring you food and clothes” you point a thumb behind you at the fox hybrid who stood up straight when the wolf looked in his direction.
“He’s your human?” Taehyung asks.
“Are the walls soundproof?” your question causes Taehyung to furrow his eyebrows in question.
“Yeah, why?” he asks, and you smile a little.
“Jin’s a hybrid” you tell Taehyung who snorts, not believing you.
“They wouldn’t let a hybrid buy another hybrid, that seems counterproductive” he tells you, your head nodding in understanding.
“I had to look for a week online to find the worst hybrid centre, Jin has a fake ID, and they would have caught us if we went to one of those high-end places that are thorough in their hybrid housing policies. So, is that a yes?” you don’t have time to explain anything else as the door clicks open.
The worker grabbing the collar around your neck, yanking to you to stand before dragging you out of the room. “Times up” he tells you, shoving the key back into the lock. You choke, the collar already tight enough that it limited breathing, him yanking you up making it worse.
You look back at Taehyung one more time, his eyes not wavering as they looked into your own. You tilted your head, a silent question asking if he wanted to come with you two. He turned to face the wall; lips tight. Well, it wasn’t a clear no.
“Him?” Jin asked you, and you nodded.
“You have to visit a minimum of five times before you’re allowed to buy a hybrid. You can set up sessions twice a week. Visiting fees will vary with how long you plan to stay” the warty old woman shoved a teared flying onto the counter, yours and Jin’s eyes scanning over the cover page.
The graphic design was awful, colours mismatched, an array of fonts and poor editing skills.
“This place is a scam” you mutter as you and Jin get into the car.
“It’s the best option we have right now” he starts the car.
It’s a week later when you’re sat in-front of Taehyung, book in hand. He looks at you blankly.
“Why are you here?” he asks, falling back onto his mattress, eyes trained on the piece of water that was about to fall onto his pillow.
“I’ve come to read” you tell him, not looking up from your book and he scoffs, closing his eyes for a nap. He woke up after you left, a weird feeling in his chest knowing you had left without saying goodbye; even if your voice was annoying.
Two days later you’re back, this time sitting a little closer to Taehyung. He ignores you again, as you lay in your bundle of tails crocheting something Taehyung doesn’t even want to start to guess. That would mean he would have to have a conversation with you. (He won’t admit it but after your first 2 visits he was secretly hoping that you would be back.)
“Are you coming back?” he asks when the centre worker opens the door.
“Yeah, see you next week” you wave a little at him.
Time feels like it stops for the next week for Taehyung. He wakes up each day, counting down how many days left until you and Jin come again. He hadn’t met the fox hybrid formally, but he seemed nice enough. Every day would be the same routine, wake up, be thrown the measly scraps that the other hybrids wouldn’t eat, sit and throw stones against the wall, waiting for dinner to arrive, and before he would fall asleep, he would repeat the number of days until you would visit again.
His head shot up when the door clicked open, you dragging your feet into his small room.
You fell onto the mattress beside him. “What are you doing?” he sighed, making no effort to actually push you away.
“I’m tired” you tell him, closing your eyes.
He watches you for a moment before he closes his own eyes. You were both woken up when the centre worker pulled you out of the room by the collar. Your eyes watering in pain, “asshole” you would mutter when he would let go.
You nodded at Taehyung as you got pulled away from his room, the wolf turning his head to look at the wall.
You sat chained to a chair in the waiting area of the hybrid facility as Jin filled out all the paperwork for Taehyung. Your five visits taking three weeks to complete with Jin being so busy.
The woman couldn’t hide her smile as Jin placed the black card on the counter.
Your head turned towards the automatic door when it hissed open, a scrawly Taehyung practically being dragged out into the waiting area, a collar similar to the one you had on around his neck. He was clipped to your chair, eyes looking down at his grimy hands. He felt so out of place sat next to you, clothes smelling of jasmine laundry detergent, ears and tail a snowy white unlike his grimy grey tail and ears, the top of his left ear didn’t have a tip. It was ripped off of him when he got into a fight with another hybrid at the facility months ago, the scabbing just starting to fade. He surprised it had gotten infected, the facility giving him an alcohol wipe on the day it happened and then leaving it to heal alone in his grubby excuse of a room.
They probably would have made him amputate it himself if it got infected, so he isn’t complaining.
“I said I didn’t want to come with you” he mutters, you turn to look at him before your eyes trail back to Jin who looked as though he were to snap at the old woman very soon.
You didn’t want to tell him you went against his wishes because he looked so lonely, you doubted he would appreciate the pity. All the other rooms had a handful of hybrids in them, he looked so, vulnerable? And you could provide a somewhat decent life for him even if it did mean he lived in your back garden with Jin feeding him three meals a day.
“We both benefit from this, and it’s not like we’re taking you to some stuck-up human’s home. You’ll be free. Can go out whenever you like, three meals a day, clean clothes” you tell him lowly, cautious of the centre employees milling around. Worried one of them might overhear you.
“What benefit do you get from this? Surely trying to get into a pack is better than this” he tells you.
You shake your head. “Takes too long, I don’t have time. It’s just easier to find people willing to form a pack for convenience who get their freedom in return”
“You don’t have time?” he looks at the side of your face, tracing each of your delicate features.
“Nope” you turn to look at him, standing when Jin makes his way over to the two of you.
“Let’s go” he unclips and then unlocks your collar, shoving it onto the counter harshly, mimicking the woman’s earlier actions.
Jin then turns to Taehyung, a soft smile on his face. He unclips the chain from the chair before unlocking his collar. “Hi, I’m Seokjin” he tells the wolf who nods once, looking between the two of you.
Jin then turns to you, hands gently skimming along the red line on your neck.
“I’ll put something on that when we get home” he tells you, fingers brushing over the base of your ears causing a shiver to run down your spine, and you let out a low happy purr. Jin then tilted his head, motioning for the two of you to follow him outside of the care centre.
Taehyung stood awkwardly beside the car, not sure if he was allowed to get in or not. “You can sit in the front if you like” Jin offered, seeing Taehyung stood there confused.
Taehyung swallowed thickly before he opened the door to the car and slipped inside. He watched Jin take off his hat beside him, watched as Jin’s auburn ears flicked up, twitching now they weren’t flattened against his head. Taehyung then watched you stretch, head resting on a stuffed bear, eyes closing.
“The ride back is a few hours so tell me if you want to stop anywhere” Jin smiles as he starts the engine, turning back, hand on Taehyung’s seat as he reversed out of the parking space.
Taehyung watched as the scenery changed, the sparce shops fading into green fields that stretched on for miles. He watched farm animals graze, jealous of their freedom, and as the fields faded out into dusty landscapes, he thought that maybe some deity had taken pity on him. There’s no way there wasn’t a catch to this, how had two hybrids bought him?
He knew that hybrid laws were tricky things (with far and few ways to work around them). You’d be sent to a centre if you weren’t part of a government established pack. These were rare and are often hard to maintain, hybrids aren’t allowed jobs so paying to live would be hard for independent packs and living on the streets would mean you’d be picked up by hybrid control sooner or later. The other option was to be owned by a human, however anyone who wants a hybrid usually go to the high-end stores, the more exotic the hybrid the more desirable they are, hence why Taehyung was sent to the beaten-up centre in the suburbs. Grey wolf hybrids were extremely common.
Taehyung wasn’t sure how long he had been immersed in his own thoughts, “Do you want anything to eat?” Jin asked him, head motioning to the gas station shop they had parked at.
Taehyung shook his head. Jin snorted, before he put his hat back on, checking he looked okay in the mirror before he opened the door.
Taehyung turned to look back at you who was lazily sprawled across the back seats. He watched you gnaw at the bear’s hand. He could see the fabric thinning where you must have chewed on it. When Taehyung turned back to the front. What if he just got up and ran? Jin was occupied in the store, and you seemed to be deep asleep.
Before he could make the possibly life changing decision, he saw Jin casually stroll out of the store, a bag in each hand.
When the fox got into the car, he handed the wolf the two bags. “Can you wake Y/n up? Just tug one of her tails, they’re pretty sensitive so you won’t have to pull too hard.” Jin asks as he starts the engine up again.
Taehyung turns to look at you, still chewing away at the bear. His hand gently skims the fur of your tail, it was soft, before he grabbed onto the tip, pulling at it slightly. You grumble, then yawn as you stretch your arms, whacking them on the car door.
“Owie” you open your eyes.
“Sunshine, I got you some food” Jin tells you, and you hum in reply. He rummages through the bags on Taehyung’s lap, pulling out snacks and a drink for you before he turns back to Taehyung pointing at the bag. “I got you some stuff as well” he tells him before he steps on the gas.
Taehyung munches on mediocre convenience store food for the rest of the ride home, eyes widening when he spots the large house on the outskirts of the city. Jin pulls up in the driveway. You hop out of the car, arms stretched above your head, a satisfied sigh passing through your lips as your bones crack. Taehyung follows the both of you inside, eyes wandering over the rustic home the both of you live in. Bags of rubbish clutched tightly in his hands.
“Taehyungie can stay in my old room for the time being until we clean the summer house” you tell Jin before plopping onto the couch.
Taehyung just stands there at the entrance, not sure what to do with himself. You open one eye, seeing Taehung just stood there. “You can sit down you know” you tell him, and he just huffs at you before striding over towards the couch and sitting as far away as he can from you.
You switch on the television, an old-time movie playing on one of the channels, deciding it was going to be background noise you leave it on before closing your eyes again. Travelling always made you sleepy.
Jin tuts, causing Taehyung to shoot his head towards the fox hybrid who was looking down at you, chewing at the sleeves of your hoodie. Taehyung bites back a smile, realising that you must chew on things in your sleep, coughing to cover his grin before he looks back at the movie in fascination. Jin pulls your arm away from your mouth, replacing what you were chewing on with a teething toy, so your teeth didn’t ache from the rough material of your clothes.
“I’ll show you to your temporary room, you can wash up as well. I’ve left some of my old clothes on the bed as well” Jin motions to the large double doors behind him.
Taehyung nods, standing and following Jin up the stairs. “Our room is connected to yours, so, if you ever need anything just knock” Jin explains, pointing to the second door in the room once they both enter. “That’s the bathroom” he points to the third door.
The wolf shuts the door behind Jin once he had left, sliding down to sit on the floor. He took a moment to take all the new information in. Maybe if he stayed for a while, gathered back his strength he could run away in a month or two with some money and clothes. But first order of business was a shower.
He forgot how nice hot showers were, the hybrid facility usually hosed them down with cold water on wash days once a week if lucky. The shampoo smelt faintly like you, a sickly strawberries and cream scent.
He watched the grimy water slip down the drain as he cleaned himself, finding a razor and shaving cream when he stepped out to look at himself in the mirror. Just like Jin had said, there were clothes neatly folded on the bed, they looked a little big, but he supposed anything would be better than the rags he had worn in the facility.
He creaked the door open, the warm scent of home cooking engulfing him. Taehyung navigated his way back towards the living room that was connected to the kitchen where he found you and Jin sat at the old wooden table, a bowl placed in-front of an empty seat for himself.
He slipped into the chair, watching you play around with your spoon. “You can eat now” Jin nudges you, picking up his own spoon.
Taehyung stares down at his bowl of soup. “I thought this would be light on your stomach” Jin tells him, noticing Taehyung just blankly looking at his bowl. It’s not that it didn’t look good, because it did. It looked really good. Probably the most nutritious meal he has had in years.
“Why are you doing this?” he looks between the both of you. You shoving a spoonful of soup into your mouth, Jin looking at him expectantly.
“Doing what?” Jin tilts his head. Spoon clicking against the ceramic bowl.
“All of this” he gestures with his hands, “Why go through all of the trouble to buy another hybrid, they could have caught the both of you” he exasperates, and you sigh, dropping your spoon into your bowl. Soup splashing over the edge, you don’t even bother to check if you had any on your clothes.
“The government wants to take me in for experiments” you tell him before you play around with you spoon in your bowl, the herbs swirling around the bowl.
“What does that have to do with buying another hybrid?” he asks.
“Hybrid laws. I don’t have the time to integrate into another pack, courting multiple people at one time is going to take more time than I have. So it’s easier if I just form one out of convenience” you tell him honestly, “plus I can’t leave Jin behind, he’s my family”
“Can’t you be adopted by a human?” Taehyung now dips his spoon into his bowl, interest peaked.
“I could, but these two guys that are after me are persistent. Would probably pay the human triple what they had paid for me just to get me to go with them” you explain, nose scrunching up at the thought of the two government officials that like to pay you a visit each month.
“Couldn’t they just take you in now?”
Jin shakes his head, “We’re still contracted to our previous owner for another year, even though he’s gone the contract still remains. Legally they can’t take her for another 360 days”
“Your owner, did he- you know?” Taehyung looks into your eyes, trying to find any clear emotion.
“Died 2 years ago. Cancer” Jin tells him, a sad smile on his face and Taehyung swallows thickly.
“I’m sorry” he mutters, and you shrug. The rest of dinner going by silently.
Taehyung sits by himself as you and Jin go and wash up, the sequel to whatever was on earlier now playing on the TV. Taehyung’s head turns when he hears your slippers shuffle against the hardwood floor. Jin sits down first, pyjamas with small angels printed on them.
You flop over Jin’s lap, devil pyjamas riding up to show a sliver of your stomach. Taehyung watched from his peripheral vison, no longer engrossed by the movie as Jin gently brushed the damp fur of your tails, carefully untangling the white fur. Your fingers would twitch each time he got too close to the base of your tail.
It was a lengthy process, having so many tails but Jin prided himself in keeping all of your tails so soft. Grooming was therapeutic for him, something uncommon for fox hybrids. Just taking time out of his day, in the evening to keep you healthy and happy was the most rewarding part of his day. (Secretly he enjoyed shoving his face in your bundle of tails once they’d been freshly washed, an addicting fluffy feeling where he can’t stop his hands from running trough them)
Taehyung then said goodnight to Jin once you’d fallen asleep, bottoms of his feet numbing at the cold wooden floor. He pulled the blanket up to his chin, taking in the fresh scented fabric softener that clung to the duvet, the same jasmine scent as your clothes, the room itself smelling faintly of you.
One month and then he would leave the both of you to figure out whatever issues you seemed to have. He didn’t owe you anything, so why should he stay because you were selfish enough form a pack of convenience. He knew you weren’t the first to do this, thousands of hybrids formed these sorts of packs, hoping that it lasts long enough that they don’t get caught by hybrid control before moving into another pack.
Before he was admitted to the hybrid facility, he had been in one of those packs, he knew it was a bad idea but what other option did he have? No one wants a scruffy grey wolf unless it’s for slave labour.
He had found a small group of other wolves, all in the same situation as himself. Of course, they couldn’t sustain themselves, all of them relying on money that they pickpocketed or food that was thrown out back of restaurants. Forced to live on the streets after half a year all of them were sent to facilities, Taehyung being the only one sent to the suburbs.
It had been a week when Taehyung was sat in the kitchen, Seokjin finishing cutting his hair. The wolf spending most of the day locked up in the bedroom, Jin had given him some books to read, you giving him one of your old consoles to play on the TV, even sitting on his floor, Youtube video playing on how to connect it to the Tv mounted on the wall. Jin would call him down at mealtimes, and he’s listen to the both of you ramble on about your days. He found out Jin had a job, never working up the courage to ask him how or where he worked, but always listening to him complain about how busy he is with no one to help him. You’d talk about the butterflies you’d seen in the garden, whining when telling Jin about the caterpillars that ate through your lettuces.
A few days of him coming home with you guys, Jin had bought him some new clothes and some slippers for around the house, apologising that he hadn’t had the time to clean out the summer house in the backyard yet and he would get to it this weekend.
It was Thursday when the loud bang of the door caused you to sit up like a dog would on the couch. “I’ll get it” Jin puts the scissors down on the table, pulling a beanie over his hybrid ears, tail slipping past the hole in his sweatpants.
Taehyung stayed sat in the kitchen chair, eyes watching you, but his shaggy ears titled in the direction of the door just past the double doors. You had paused the game you were playing; switch controller having been dropped onto the couch.
Taehyung watched as you rolled your eyes at the voices in the hallway, slumping back onto the couch.
A plump looking middle-aged man walked through the doors, eyes catching Taehyung sat rigid in the kitchen. The buttons of the man’s suit jacket looked as though they were holding on for dear life, his vibrant pink tie an awful contrast with the forest green of his suit and light-blue shirt. A second man waltzed into the room like he owned the place, he looked a few years younger than the other man, figure lanky, his all-black suit looking three sizes too large for his lithe frame, top 4 buttons undone.
“No hello?” the plump man asked, and you just turned back to your game, pressing un-pause.
“I told you not to come back” you tell them, voice a lot less soft than it had been when you had spoken to Taehyung this morning when asking if he wanted a coffee.
Jin slowly made his way back into the main living area, going to stand behind Taehyung. “Who are they?” he asked, Jin pulling the beanie off of his head, hand ruffling his hair.
“Part of the hybrid sector of the government” Jin grabs the scissors and shoves them back in the drawer, a loud clank echoing throughout the house. Clearly angry.
“Foxy, we have some news for you” the lanky man looks down at you, pile of papers held tightly in his sweaty hands. You grab the papers, eyes scanning over the pages.
“You fuckers” you throw the pages onto the coffee table.
This was the first time Taehyung had heard you so angry. Even when the centre employees had been rude, pulled at your collar or yanked back the chain so you would fall to the floor, he had never heard you so angry.
Both government men have a satisfied smile on their faces. “What? I think these terms are fair enough”
“Out of my house. Now” you point to the door.
“It won’t be yours much longer. Get rid of the mutt he’s no use to you now. Oh, you have a new pet?” the fat old man motions his head over to Taehyung, Jin snarling at the two men.
After they’d gone you had your head in your hands. “What does it say?” Jin asked you softly as he sat beside you. Hand running down your back.
“They’ve changed the law. To get a government established pack we need a minimum of 6 people instead of 4. Half of the pack needs to be of the same animal species, so we’d need three foxes, unless we find another species that can get around the government. That’s impossible” your eyes brim with tears.
“Why’s that impossible?” Taehyung asks, sitting further down the couch, although a lot closer than he had when he first arrived.
“Foxes tend to go solo” Jin explains lightly.
“But you two..”
“I know” you huff a laugh “but there’s no way another fox would join us. Maybe if it were just one of us, I could make an excuse about breeding, I don’t know. But with me and Jin? Plus 3 other hybrids, it’s impossible” you wipe your eyes.
“I’ve practically watched her grow, we’ve been together more than half of her life, so I think our situations are a little different” Jin elaborates, “Not all fox hybrids are going to be as open minded”
Taehyung nods in understanding. Not sure if he should ask to leave or stay. What did this mean for his place in your lives? He was essentially useless.
“Do you want me to leave?” he worked up the courage to ask and you looked at him deadpan.
“Why would you leave? I still need you” you tell him.
“But that man-“
You cut him off “is a son of a bitch. Don’t listen to anything he says”
“I was thinking of rice bowls for lunch” Jin breaks the tense silence.
“Sure. Wake me up when it’s done” you mutter, pulling the soft blanket over your shoulders.
Taehyung stays in the living room, didn’t sneak back to his room like he normally would. His gaze kept flicking back to you, eyes focused on the papers on the table.
At lunch he noticed your lack of appetite, spoon pushing the rice around. Eventually you just stood up, he watched as you dragged yourself out of the room, feet lightly pattering up the stairs before he heard the click of the door.
“Just give her some time” Jin looks up from his bowl, “Tomorrow she’ll wake up with a new vigour”
Taehyung tightly nods, spooning a mouthful of rice.
The next morning when you sleepily stumble down the stairs, you’re surprised to see Taehyung sat at the kitchen table, a mug of hot chocolate placed at the seat opposite his own. “Jin said he would be back late” Taehyung tells you, sipping his coffee.
You nod, taking your seat, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Are you okay?” you ask Taehyung sceptically; he snorts at our question.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he asks, looking down his nose at you.
“Usually, you avoid me like the plague but you’re sitting at my kitchen table, when it isn’t a mealtime” you take a sip of your hot chocolate, humming at the smooth, rich chocolaty taste that tingled your tastebuds.
“I ran out of things to do in the bedroom” he lies, the 10 untouched books on the desk enough entertainment for another few weeks, plus he was only halfway through the plot of the game you had given him.
“I have a puzzle if you want to do that” you tell him, and he shrugs.
“It’s fine. I saw a movie I wanted to watch on your taped shows” he points over at the TV and you nod.
You tip your mug up, gulping down the rest of the rich chocolaty drink, one Jin had bought home last Christmas because he knew you weren’t keen on the bitter tasting coffee.
“Okay” you stand, “I’m busy doing something so call me if you need me. I’ll probably be in the garden” you wave him off, skipping through the double doors, feet lightly padding against the hardwood staircase.
When you emerged through the door half an hour later, your tails were still wet, droplets of water dripping onto the floor as you scurried through the house into the garden. He watched you push the glass doors open, slipping some old shoes on before you walked to the further end of the garden.
He turned back to his movie, assuming you were at your mini vegetable patch at the end of the garden that you spoke so much about.
No matter how many times he told himself he didn’t care, his hybrid ears were still alert. Listening if you were in any danger or needed any help, leg bouncing when you had been out there for an hour, and he hadn’t heard anything.
He pretended to be watching the movie when the door creaked wider open, you kicking your shoes off, bare feet tapping against the floor. Clearly in a rush seeing you didn’t put your favourite bunny slipper back on.
This time he didn’t hear you shut the bedroom door, only the sound of you milling around, opening cupboard doors on the landing before carefully closing the squeaky doors.
He faced the TV screen when he heard you hop down the stairs and into the room, the action movie of no interest as he turned his head once you walked past the couch, to watch you carry a pile of blankets into the garden. He doesn’t think Jin would be happy with you when he got home, often scolding you when you dragged the nicer blankets on the couch across the floor, and now you were taking them into the garden?
Taehyung’s tail flicked back and forth slowly, debating whether to check on you or not. He would sometimes watch you from the bedroom window, not in a creepy way. Don’t get him wrong, there were only so many hours of video games and reading he could take before he got bored, choosing to look out of the window into the garden. And if he lingered a little longer on the days he could see you playing in the garden then that wasn’t anyone else’s business but his own. He was curious, that was it.
If he smiled when you would feed the stray cat left over chicken that Jin said he would use for soup, no one needed to know. Or the times you would hum a tune from a commercial that you had seen on TV, not knowing the name of the song but liking the way it sounded, then no one needed to know about that either. (He’d leave the window open on those days, the comfort of knowing you were meandering your way around the garden putting him at ease)
His stomach rumbles when midday comes, Jin had said he left food from the night before for the two of you to eat. Deciding to use this as an excuse he slipped some outside shoes on (one of Jin’s worn down sandals that he has grown fond of over the recent weeks). His tail wrapped itself around his thigh when he couldn’t find you at your garden patch.
A loud clank coming from the small wooden hut on the other side of the garden caused his ears to straighten up. His head snapped in that direction, seeing the door open before you popped out onto the small, covered area above the door.
“Oh? Taehyung did you need me?” you asked, brushing some clumps of dust from your shirt.
“I was wondering if you wanted lunch” he cleared his throat, head moving a little to discreetly try and see what you were doing.
“Sure” you shut the door, curtains obscuring his view of what you were working on.
“Go and clean your hands then, they’re gross” he tells you, taking long strides back to the main house. Your shoulder slump in a mixture of disbelief and understanding.
While Taehyung heated up the food from the day before you did as you were told, thoroughly washing your hands. You didn’t think the summer house would be so dirty, sure it hadn’t been used in a couple of years but the amount of dust and mould that had accumulated over the years.
Even with the mask and soapy hot water you’re pretty sure you’d breathed in majority of the spores. But, as long as Taehyung is comfortable then that’s all that mattered, even if your lungs had to pay for the consequences.
“What were you working on?” Taehyung asks when you both sit down opposite each other at the table.
“Secret” you muffle, food half chewed.
“Yeah? Is it some secret weapon to help you fend off those cruddy government officials” he jokes, and you giggle.
“No, but that’s a good idea” you grin, “Maybe that’s my next project”
“Have you come up with a plan yet?” he asks, shovelling another spoonful of Jin’s infamous stew into his mouth. You hum in thought.
“Maybe, but I’m not sure it’s going to work out” you tell him honestly, “I thought about it the whole night”
“And?” his ear twitches atop of his head.
“Plan A is to just carry on what we’re doing and hope we can find another fox hybrid. I’m sure it’ll be easy enough to find 2 more hybrids after that” you tap a finger against the table in thought.
“Do you count as a fox hybrid though?” Taehyung asks, head tilted in thought.
You sit back for a moment and think about it, “I mean yeah. I guess it’s like having different breeds of a cat, I just have an extra 8 tails”
“Plan B?” Taehyung asks and you huff out a laugh.
“Find a human that isn’t money hungry enough to sell me”
Taehyung breathes through his teeth, “That seems..”
“I know but what other option do I have?” you rest your forehead against the cool tile surface of the table.
Taehyung sits back, biting his lip in thought.
“The only other option I have is find another hybrid that knows the ins and outs of the government system, plus two others of their own species. I refuse to be scammed because whoever signs the pack up for the government recognition doesn’t understand the ins and outs of hybrid laws.” you sit up and look at Taehyung who seemed to be looking at you with something close to sadness swimming in his pretty almond shaped eyes.
“There’s still a little under a year left, and there are loads of hybrids out there” he tries to comfort you, but you still slump forward in defeat.
It was when Taehyung was washing up that he noticed how dirty your tail looked, clumps of dust and small rocks having gotten caught between the fur.
“Go and lay on the couch for me” Taehyung calls out, you tilting your head in question but he just ignores you.
After he dried his hands, he rummaged through a few of the drawers to try and find the brush Jin usually used to comb out your tail after a shower. Once he found it, he stood over you, laying on your stomach, watching something on TV with the cuff of your shirt in your mouth.
“You’ll ruin your teeth” he shook his head, opting to go and get you one of those fruity pops in the freezer that Jin makes so you wouldn’t chew up all the furniture and clothes. They were also healthy specially prepared by Jin with real fruit, so he didn’t mind if you had a few while lazing around on the couch.
He gently sat at the edge of the couch in-front of your legs, hands gently grabbing one of your tails. You squeaked that.
“I think it’s too soon for that” you sit up and he looks at you confused before his cheeks turn a light pink.
“What? Oh no I was just going to brush all of the dirt out of your tails” he spluttered, flustered.
Touching someone else’s tail was very intimate. The tail being one of the more sensitive places of the body.
You clicked your tongue, “Tell me next time before you go around grabbing other people’s tails”
“I didn’t grab it” he argued.
“Yeah?” you taunt, and he scoffs.
“Yeah. Not my fault you’re too sensitive” he waves the brush around.
He lets out a growl when you lunge for his tail, ice pop forgotten in its bowl as you try and grab it. Him falling back into the couch, tail whipping behind him. You try and roll him over to grab the base of his tail, trying to prove a point but he just laughs at you. You try and tug the tip of his tail, but it tucks itself under his back, you now laying chest to chest with Taehyung while both your hands try and dig their way underneath the wolf.
Taehyung continues to laugh at you attempts, stomach starting to cramp. When you slump on top of the wolf, he finally lays flat on the couch.
“You given up?” he asks, breathless.
“For now” your fingers clasp the front of his shirt.
Manhandling you over his lap, Taehyung sits up. You reach out for one of the closest pillows, resting it under your head as you watched one of those bad weekday afternoon shows that were running on the television.
“Can I touch your tails?” Taehyung asked, hands held awkwardly at his side. You nod.
He gently holds one of your tails, still soft even with the small clumps of dust and grime mingled in there. Your hips would kick up each time he would get closer to the base. He willed himself to not let it affect him.
“You really are sensitive” his fingers skim against the fur of a tail.
He yelped when you harshly tugged at the tip of his tail that flicked back and forth behind him.
“You brat” he laughed, tugging harder on your tail.
Your hand flew to cover your mouth, a muffled moan reaching Taehyung’s ears and he smirked.
He pulled again, this time you sat up so fast in his lap your head spun for a second. You glared at the wolf hybrid, reaching for his own tail. This time he didn’t have a reaction as he knew you were going to grab it, you tugged again, hoping for a reaction, frowning when he didn’t give one.
“Lame” you flopped back the couch, cushioned by your bundle of tails.
You fell asleep after that, working hard at cleaning the summer house was a lot harder than you had initially anticipated. Sure, Jin had said he would do it at the weekend, but he was always so busy with work you’re sure he would be happier if he could have two days to rest. Plus, maybe he’d even buy you that strawberry cake from the expensive bakery on his way home on Monday.
Taehyung’s focus was on the Tv when Jin got home, your legs still flung over the wolf’s lap as you sprawled across the rest of the couch.
“How was your day?” Jin asked after he hung up his jacket, falling into one of the chairs around the coffee table. His feet were killing him, although that pain was forgotten when he saw the two of you lazing on the couch.
“The same as always” Taehyung’s voice was a lot softer than usual, conscious of you still asleep.
Jin hummed, “How long has she been out for?”
“Since just after lunch” Taehyung replies, eyes flitting back down to you who now had the corner of a cushion I your mouth.
“She’s going to be up all night” Jin tuts in disbelief, “Wake her up for me, I’ll start dinner”
Taehyung leaves you be for a second, (really, he just felt bad about waking you up when you seemed to be so tired). A sinister smile graced his face, his fingers itching to grab one of your tails again, the fur addictingly soft.
You jolt up when he pulls the base, your whole body shivering in response. “Jin said you should wake up” and as if on cue that clank of pots and pans resonated from the kitchen.
You flop back down on the coach, a heavy sigh escaping your lips. “I was having such a nice dream” you pout up at the wolf who snorts back at you.
“Whatever, I’m going to shower again” you mutter, swinging your legs onto the floor.
Taehyung’s thighs suddenly felt cold, he just sat there and looked down at where your legs had just been before he scoffs, gaze focusing back on the new series he had started.
Dinner was a little livelier than the last weeks, for the first time Taehyung actually joined in on the conversation, telling Jin about the trumpet player he had seen that day on TV and how his new dream was to learn how to play too. You lied about your garden adventures, keeping the summer house a surprise, but Jin seemed satisfied enough with your vague answer about the progress of your vegetable patch and how your flowers were browning because the seasons were changing.
“I’ll have to make a vegetable soup with what you’ve grown it seems there are more than last year” Jin hums, picking up the empty bowls from the table, you shove another rice cake into your mouth humming.
“We won’t have any if they keep getting eaten” you sigh, falling back in your chair.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better than yesterday” he scratches the base of your ears.
“I won’t give up easily” you look up at him before over at Taehyung, “Plus I have an idea”
“Yeah? And what’s that?” Jin asks over the running water, you giggle shaking your head.
“That’s a secret” you jump up from your seat, you make eye contact with Taehyung. He shakes his head at your antics, biting his lip to suppress a smile as you flop down onto the couch.
“TaeTae, let’s play” you point to the tv. The wolf tilts head back in thought (of course he would play), groaning he stands up. He makes eye contact with Jin who smiles at him knowingly, motioning with his head to go over to you.
He wasn’t sure what time you both stayed up till, Jin having gone to bed hours ago with a kiss on your forehead and a scratch behind Taehyung’s ears. The both of you so invested in the game, time seemed non-existent.
You both must have fallen asleep at some point, the digital clock above the TV showing it to be way past midnight.
Taehyung shook you, knowing from the way you were sleeping you’d have the worst back ache tomorrow if you didn’t lay down. You mumbled something under your breath, eyes blearily opening to find Taehyung crouched in-front of you.
“What time is it?” you could only muster a whisper, mind still foggy with sleep.
“Almost 4am” he whispers back and you groan, “Let’s go to bed now, okay?”
You nod, legs feeling a little like jelly as you stood up. Taehyung’s hands hovered around you just in case you fell. “Night night Tae” you yawned, creaking the door open to slip inside.
Taehyung got a glimpse of your room, a lump under the blanket where Jin was sleeping on the further side of the bed. He knew you both slept in the same room, both of you smelling a lot like each other in the morning, but he didn’t realise you had a large bed, and what he would call a nest. He knew you liked soft things, the array of pillows and blankets around the house making that clear, maybe your skin was as sensitive as your tails and ears were.
Your room looked cozy, unlike the bleak room he was staying in. Sure, the closet was starting to fill, Jin coming home saying he saw a sweater in the window that he thought would look nice on Taehyung. And the once sparce bookshelf was starting to fill, but it didn’t feel homely. Your room looked lived in, like years of items had been accumulated.
Certificates and photos hung on the walls; dusty ornaments crammed onto the old oak shelves. A mountain of pillows at the head of the bed, Jin having pushed most of the blankets to the foot of then bed, room too hot for his liking.
“Good night” Taehyung whispered once you closed the door, dragging his own feet back to the room next door. He should be grateful for what you’ve both given him. Hot water, three meals a day, the freedom to do whatever he wants around the house, bought him clothes, and entertainment.
He feels guilty that he wants… more.
He wants what you and Jin have, wants the intimacy, the warm feeling you get knowing that someone is waiting for you at home after a long day, or the long gruelling wait for said person to get home. Or to curl up in the safety of a nest where it feels like no one can touch you and your loved ones, wants to groom someone else in the evening, listening to them purr lowly before you drift off to sleep into each other’s arms. Wake up with slices of orange sunlight cast over the bed, warm morning sun peeking in to slowly wake you up, half the morning spent in a haze between being asleep and awake. Sweet kisses that could bring a smile to anyone’s face.
But alas, it was a dream.
The next morning it rains, Taehyung sleepily slouching on the couch, book held loosely in his hand. Jin had been called in to work even though it was a Saturday. You were in the garden again, coming inside less than other days, cautious of not getting the floor muddy.
You had finished cleaning the summer house ages ago, instead choosing to sit under the porch watching the rain patter, puddles of muddy water covering the expanse of the garden.
It was nearing lunch when you glanced around the door to see what Taehyung was doing, his fluffy head of hair and shaggy ears peeked from the top of the couch as he read.
You fingers dipped into the back pocket of your jeans, the leather collar damp against your fingers.
Deciding Taehyung seemed busy enough your footsteps were light as you walked along the length of the house until you stood in-front of the wooden gate. The lock had started to rust, really needing to be replaced but no one ever got round to changing it.
Your cold, wet fingers delicately held the handle of the gate, trying your best to not get it to squeak as you opened it. It creaked a little and you stopped, eyes darting towards the back door, hybrid ears twitching, trying to hear if Taehyung was moving around, the rain making it harder to hear.
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, you turned the rest of the handle. The gate creaked open louder than you wanted it to, but you had no time to worry. Your welly boots splashed the rainwater up your jeans, the fabric soaking in the rain, the heavy material pulling down on your hips.
Once down the driveway, out of sight of the front of the house your shoulders relaxed. You weren’t exactly sure where you were going, just blindly hoping that your plan works out for the best.
You could feel the rain trickle down your face, long eyelashes catching the droplets. Pushing your wet hair out of your face you continued towards the park area that your previous owner would take you to when you were young.
You could see the play equipment sat atop of the hill, your eyes scanning the surrounding buildings. Luckily because it was raining, not that many cars were out, everyone staying inside to get out of the bitter cold.
Your feet took you to a small residential area, houses separated by long driveways. You found a bus stop, paper map weathered where it had sat in the open for so long.
You sat there, feet numbing because of how wet and cold they were. Rain falling through the openings at the top of your welly boots. Your fingers felt the same, they were so cold they hurt to even move.
The sound of a bicycle bell startled you, the man on the bike coming to a stop in-front of you. “Hey, are you alone?” he asks, dimpled smile gracing his features.
The rain made it hard to smell him properly, but he didn’t smell like he had been around too many other hybrids. One good sign that he didn’t sell hybrids for a living.
You take a moment to look over his form, bottoms of his designer suit pants soaked, the umbrella he held in one hand not protecting his legs. His hair looked a little wet too with maybe a mixture of perspiration and rainwater.
The expensive watch on his wrist gave you mixed signals, on one hand if you were to try and find a rich human to own you then they would be less likely to be bribed by those two slimy men that liked to visit uninvited, but then again rich people tend to know no limit when it comes to accumulating wealth.
“Do you have an owner?” he asks when you don’t reply to his first question.
Your fingers pull the collar from your pocket, holding it in the man’s direction. He balances his bike on the inside of his thigh, one hand still clutching the umbrella while he goes to hold onto your collar.
“Y/N? is that your name?” he asks, and you nod. He flips the metal pendent over, as his eyes glaze over the phone number.
“How about we go and get dry and then we can call your owner” he asks you.
What more could you have to lose? If this guy sent you to a facility, they’d see you were technically still owned, and they would send you home. If he kept you however, then you didn’t think that far into this plan.
You were thinking maybe you’d find an old woman that needed some company who would adopt you and Jin, oh, Taehyung as well. Now that you’re thinking about it, you hadn’t thought this through. What sane person would willingly take in 3 hybrids.
“Sure” you tell the stranger.
“I’m Namjoon by the way” he smiles, handing you the umbrella.
You want to tell him it’s pointless, your clothes and underwear already soaking wet but choose not to take his kindness for granted.
Taehyung has never been so panicked. His heart hadn’t raced so much when he watched his friends get hauled away in hybrid shelter trucks knowing he was next, nor the time his first owner had thrown a vase at him and his mother for not following the rules.
His fingers fumble with the landline beside the front door. Fingers shaking as he picks up the post-it note Jin stuck on the table with his mobile number on it.
The phone dials.
He notices your collar isn’t sat in the basket on the shelf under the table, he had noticed it there when he first arrived. The sun reflecting off the metal pendent.
He crouches down, head resting on the table leg.
“Hello?” Jin picks up on the third dial.
“Jin, I don’t know where she is” he notices the panic in his own voice.
“Taehyung? Hey, calm down what did you say?” Jin asks, muffled voices in the background.
“Y/N- I went to go and get her for lunch, but I can’t find her anywhere.” His hands shake, as he stands up to try and look for you again. By now the rain had stopped, the garden a muddy mess.
He had called your name thinking you were in the shed again. But when he didn’t get a reply after calling out a few times he tried his hardest to not smother his sandals in mud, that thought soon leaving his mind when he opened the door to the shed only to see you weren’t in there.
He didn’t have time to think about the décor, large bed covered in an array of colourful blankets and pillows, soft rug on the floor. The new lamp shade that you had taken from one of the bathrooms in the main house, the mini fridge that you stopped using after you kept leaving cheese in there for too long, the fridge stinking of mouldy cheese when you’d open it for a drink.
“I’m on my way back home now. Have you checked our room?” Jin asked. Taehyung frantically shook his head, fluffy head of bouncing before he realised Jin couldn’t see him.
“No, I haven’t but I would have seen her come into the house. I panicked sorry” Taehyung explains as he climbs the stairs two at a time.
“It’s Okay. I’m going to hang up, don’t leave the house no matter what okay?”
Taehyung hears the engine of Jin’s car start. He hums in reply
The wolf bangs against the wooden door, “Y/N? You in there?” he calls out.
He bangs again. “Hey this isn’t funny” he lays an ear against the door to hear if you were showering.
He felt awful for what he was about to do. His hands slid down the door, grasping the handle and twisting the knob.
Instantly a mash of yours and Jin’s scents hit his nose making him feel dizzy. He rubbed underneath his nose with the sleeve of his sweater before he took a step into the room.
The curtains were haphazardly slung open allowing sunlight to pool into the room. He wandered around the room, now having a closer look at the shelves.
Pictures of you and Jin from when you looked to be around 10 collecting dust. Small paper mâché animals with the paint chipping off lined one of the shelves.
His eyes caught sight of the bathroom door, willing himself to not stare at your shelves any longer he knocked on the bathroom door. He got no reply.
He slid down the door.
“Stupid fucking foxes” he whispered.
804 notes · View notes
realifefairy · 4 months ago
I’m Nothing Without You
& i can wish all i want, but it won’t bring us together
…i know it’s for the better
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➥ Synopsis: Most people find their brother annoying. You do, too. Most people also find their brother’s best friend annoying, but that’s where you differ. Kim Namjoon is one of the most important people in your life. After years of hiding your enormous crush on the boy with a dimpled smile, you finally gather the guts to confess before he moves away for university. Only to be rejected.
It’s not until a few years later when you temporarily move in with your brother and his best friend that you two realize that you may have been better together than you were apart.
➥ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader
➥ Genre: Romance + Fluff + Angst + Smut + Brother's Best Friend!AU + Childhood Friends!AU
➥ Warnings: Strong language, teenage yearning, the rejection™, JK’s a stoner (but when isn’t he in my fics?), Joon’s completely oblivious
➥ Word Count: 11,2K
➥ Note: Okay, this was supposed to be a one-shot. It was also not supposed to be filled with clichés. It was also-also supposed to have smut. But boom, before I knew it — drama overload. Whoops. Hope you still enjoy it, though, I worked on this bad boy for so long ε-(´・`) フ
➥ Episode 1 of 4 | Following Episode | Masterlist
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Whenever your brother played basketball, you'd be sitting on the rocky stairs that made the bleachers in your neighborhood's local park, always in the last, highest row. But your eyes wouldn't stick to the ball he would smack around or shoot, the cheers of a goal or whatever they called getting a point were somewhere far away, and you wouldn't have even known the sun had already set and you were supposed to go home if he didn't pull you by the hand. You were much too busy batting your eyelashes at his best friend, the tall boy of wide shoulders and a dimpled smile.
During the few hours your brother would run around on the makeshift concrete court, you'd eat the fresh fruit Namjoon would bring, drink the tea he brewed himself from the same thermos, and burn a few cigarettes together as you discussed Plato's Republic, what episode you caught on the rerun of Friends, and what the meaning of life truly was.
For as long as you could remember yourself, you could recall Namjoon discreetly tapping his feet by your side and breaking a thing or two on the way. Perhaps that was the reason you had no shame in admitting you understood nothing when he'd go on a tangent about some sideways philosophy he had been pondering on lately.
You'd look at him with your big, saucer eyes and blink at him, and his focus would dissolve for a moment before he'd pick apart the tiniest of points and serve them to you on a silver platter. And not once did he get annoyed at your frequent interruptions.
"I wish I could be smart like you," you once admitted as you leaned both your arms over your crossed legs, the warm summer breeze playing with the hems of your skirt. A cigarette burned between your fingertips as you stared at his sharp, brown eyes that always appeared somewhat sad; shiny as if they were permenantly coated with tears.
They scrunched, his full lips pushing two dimples into his round cheeks as he looked away, face hidden beneath the shade of his cap. "I'm not that smart," he mumbled as his thumbs fiddled, the tip of his ear blooming pink.
"Of course you are, Joonie." You held the cigarette out for him when he stopped playing with his fingers to look at you. A sudden brush of wind swept the ash and pushed it onto the rocky stairs beneath you. "You're the smartest person I know."
He didn't have to thank your kind words, for his tiny smile and pink cheeks as he took the cigarette were enough gratitude on their own.
Namjoon was smart. But you'd often end up speechless and dumbfounded when he'd avoid even noticing your skirt had gotten shorter and your eyelashes longer.
You'd tuck a lock behind your ear as you told him about the boy from school who said he had a crush on you.
"Really? Is he nice? Do you want me to check?"
You'd be swinging your crossed foot in the air and wrapping your glossed lips around the cigarette when you described your first date.
"I see. You must really like him."
And you'd ask him for a walk around your quiet neighborhood and cling onto his arm as you confided the problems with your fifteenth boyfriend of the year in him.
"Call me if he does something like that again. Yoongi and I will teach him a lesson."
The slightest change in your demeanor would catch his attention, such as that time you had a fight with your best friend of two years, a relationship that fell apart over something so minor you now couldn't quite recall the true reason.
It was a quiet Sunday morning in your household, when your parents were on a short trip to visit your grandpa. The snow rested on the scenery of the neighbor's yard that stood outside the long windows, and you were lounging with Namjoon and your brother under a blanket and a warm cup of coffee that still wafted steam on your lap. Yoongi's footsteps into the bathroom had barely faded with a slam of the door before he snapped his head to you, sharply-cornered eyes soft and arms that had gotten bulkier in his senior year of high school jumping in a cross.
"Are you okay?"
And that question led him to wiping the joyous tears of gratitude someone noticed and regretful ones of melanocholy as you recited all the events to him for the following month. You barely came out of your rooms or changed out of your sleepwear, and he patiently sat on your bed and let you murmur all your worries into his chest, his warm embrace and the faint fragnance of his airy cologne that reminded of evergreen the only things that shushed your despair.
But there were also times you'd strut out of the schoolyard, the red, plaid skirt of your uniform shortened and the black vest abandoned somewhere home so the tight of your white dress shirt would look prettier, all gleeful and grinning as you clutched onto the schoolbag that hung off your shoulder.
He'd wait before the school gate, a cigarette lit in his fingers as he stood in a small circle with a few of his classmates, your brother already running over Daegu to make it to the basketball game or the piano class he had scheduled for the day.
Namjoon was cool when he was lost in conversation, because he'd shove a hand in his pocket, stand a bit hunched, gesture his cigarette-holding hand around when he spoke, and clench his jaw so his mucle would pop out when he listened. You'd have to tap his arm to get him to notice you, eyes enormous as the expectation of him noticing the new clip in your hair and the fresh shade of your lip tint bubbled in your chest.
You waited for him to call you pretty. But just when you thought he would, when his deep voice would fade into the distant chatter of all the other students hurrying home, and his eyes would stop on your face, he'd only say, "Oh, you're here? Let's go."
And you'd hide the scowl that threathened to bend your smiling lips with a bubbly chatter of something completely unimportant, such as what homework you had due for tomorrow.
And, cluelessly, he'd blink down at you and ask, "Do you need any help?"
You would always tumble the thought around for a few seconds before accepting, even though you'd spend more time staring at his hands and somwhat messy handwriting than what he was writing and explaining.
He’d often smack your head with a pencil when you least expected it.
“Ouch!” You once grabbed at your aching scalp as you pouted at him. “What was that for?”
“Did you even hear anything I said?” He leaned his elbow on your white study desk, luscious lips pursed in disapproval.
You narrowed your eyes as if you were mad but his serious expression was too cool for the sentiment to be genuine. Your hands fell into your lap and snuck between your bared thighs before you shrugged. “…I was listening the whole time.”
“Really?” He raised one of his dark, straight eyebrows, a lock of chestnut hair he hadn’t cut for a while falling over it. “Then repeat to me what I last said.”
You squashed your palms, refusing to back down and blink before he did. “Like what? The last sentence?”
Your whole body flinched when he raised the pencil again.
“You little-“ He slit his own words with a click of a tongue, eyes narrowing as he slowly inched the pencil towards your head. For every inch it came closer, you leaned one back, an eye closing and another on a suspicious lookout.
You almost fell out of your chair when he lightly tapped it, a gentle brush that tickled.
He sighed when his pen-holding hand fell between his spread thighs, hunching. “Don’t you know I blew Yoongi off to help you study? We were supposed to go to a game together but I stayed to help you. Please take this seriously.”
But that was never your forte, so that spoiled pout of yours only became bigger as you straightened, hands crossing. “…You don’t even like basketball, though,” you mumbled.
“Y/N,” he called, sterner than you’ve ever heard him before. And his tone froze you in the spot. He shook his head, the way you’d imagine a disappointed parent would. “I know your head is occupied with boys, and that they’re the center of your world, but try to pay attention.”
His words stung. The condescending tone even more.
But he only looked back to your notebook and rested the pen beside it before flipping it to a former page. “You’ll fail the year at this rate…”
You didn’t know why they stung but the deep scowl already tugged on your lips. “If Yoongi didn’t fail already, I won’t either.”
“And who do you think does his homework?” You couldn’t recall ever hearing such an edge to his voice, to his beautiful, deep voice that never failed to soothe and calm you.
Your mind flashed and went blank as you stared at him. For once, you didn’t have something to respond with. And it wasn’t even when he said something smart.
“Look here.” He pointed at a row of his handwriting.
“I don’t want to,” you said, horrified by the intensity of the ache in your chest and sting of your eye when he turned to look at you. You knew him well enough to see hurt curiosity crack through his icy facade and show in his sad, shiny eyes. “I think you should go to the game, I’m not feeling well,” the airy words rushed out of you and left an awkward beat of silence before he could respond.
And it made your body cringe and twist from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet, panic pumping in your throat. You didn’t even look at him, but grabbed your cellphone off the desk and pretended you had messages to respond to, just so you didn’t have to.
“…Are you sure?” It was a question uttered after a despairingly long few seconds of silence.
“Yeah, my head hurts.” Your eyes and fingers were jumping around the screen but you truly only kept refreshing your latest Safari search.
“Do you want me to get you something for a headache? Make you tea..?”
Your finger stopped when you heard his question. “No.” You sighed as you tapped the ‘x’ on the search bar. “Just go, I want to sleep.”
He cleared his throat and awkwardly tapped his thighs a few times before he curtly nodded. “Okay,” he concluded before standing up and grabbing his backpack off the lightwood floor. “I’ll leave you the book.”
You glared at his broad back as he threw the backpack on his shoulder but looked back down and typed for real when his eyes fell on you for a moment. A fleeting one.
“Bye.” He opened your light bedroom door and waited a moment for you to offer seeing him out or even return his farewell.
But you only stood up and went over to the queen bed in the corner of the room. He quietly gulped before closing the door and you slumped on your neat sheets the same moment, the light screen falling out of your palm.
You didn’t dare move until you heard the his heavy footsteps had faded and entrance door had closed. Only then did you let an ugly quiver overtake your chin, and buried your head into the enormous, soft pillow as you whined out.
The screen with a search bar that spelled, “Why are you such an idiot?” darkened and turned off and you weakly punched your pillow just as you imagined punching him.
When you took your head out of the pillowcase and blinked the black and white specks that clouded your vision, it felt as if you’ve been laying there for eternity.
You sprung up and breathed in, although your inhale was shaky, and grabbed your pillowcase and ripped it off the same moment. After all, sleeping on mascara stains surely wouldn’t be good for your skin.
At the moment you scrunched the soft material and tapped a foot against your floor to stand up, the question couldn’t avoid popping up — why did an offhand comment, that everyone else spewed at you already, hurt so much?
You blinked and blankly stared at your empty room. And then you scoffed. Because you had no damn clue either.
You grabbed your phone and unlocked it, only to see the results of your search.
https://www.urbandictionary.com > t…
Why are you such an idiot? - Urban Dictionary
A common question asked to 99% of the population because they are idiots. “Hey, Fitzy why are you such an idiot?" Answer: "Duh..." by GNUJunkie December…
You only pursed your lips, certain Kim Namjoon was the biggest one of them all.
Still, there was no force to bound you to being angry with Namjoon for too long. The mascara stains on your pillowcase hadn't even dried in the laundry basket before Yoongi and Namjoon stormed into your room, your brother's hand busy with a crate of your favorite flavored beer and narrow eyes in a happy squint, Namjoon's pinkish cheeks peeking out behind the enormous teddy bear's ear.
"I won him at the arcade," his voice came from behind as he raised the bear's fluffy arm and waved it at you. "He wants to tell you I'm sorry for being a prick."
A smile sneaked its way onto your lips as you put the neatly folded shirt onto the closet's shelf.
"Whatever." Yoongi chuckled as he leaned on your doorframe and raised the crate. "Let's drink this flavored piss."
With the strawberry beer sliding down your throat, you watched Namjoon's shiny eyes widen as he paced around your fluffy rug and spoke of how unfair it was they wouldn't let him play with them anymore because he broke the hoop when he'd slammed the ball into it.
Yoongi's raspy chuckles came from the other side of the bed as he laid his dirty, sweaty feet onto your clean sheets. You had to smack his calves until he finally put them down with a grumble of how unfair you are.
The bottles emptied faster than you would've liked and Namjoon left your room with a smile on his face this time, but you and your brother, like true siblings, were both too lazy to walk him to the door. As soon as the entrance door closed and Yoongi's complaints of how 'OCD' you were when you told him to put his feet down again died down, your brother's thin lips bent into a scowl.
Growing up alongside him made an expert at reading his scowls and blank impressions out of you — it was all in the degrees, and this one was his 'serious' one. "He was really bummed out that you got mad at him," he told you, gripping the nearly empty beer bottle he claimed to loathe the taste of. "Imagine how bad his mood was when he asked if he could play to blow off some steam."
Your back sunk into the mountain of pillows at the headboard, finger tapping against your flowery sheets. "I wasn't mad, I just got a headache."
Yoongi's dark eyes narrowed even further as he cocked his head to the side. "He knows you don’t like it when someone calls you boy-obsessed."
You narrowed your eyes right back at him. "Well, it doesn't matter now. He apologized."
He squinted his eyes even more. "He's a gentle soul, be nicer to him."
You squinted too. "Rich coming from you."
He leaned his head in, elbow resting on your folded blanket at the foot of the bed. "I am nice to him."
"Uh-huh, right."
"I am!"
"Are you sorry for being rude?" He cocked an eyebrow.
You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "Sure am."
He kicked his sweaty heel into your ribs and you squeaked out at your beer almost spilling. "Then be nicer to him!"
"I'm already nice, you jerk!" Your eyes bulged as you regained balance.
"You? Nice?" He scoffed as he pointed a finger at you. "Admit you were the one who cut a whole in my Superman underwear!"
"I told you, it wasn't me!"
"You so better say goodbye to your new silk robe."
"I will literally smash your head if anything happens to it. I swear to God." You pointed a finger to make the threat real.
"Sleep with one eye open tonight, you brat."
"Get your disgusting one-foot feet off my sheets right now, asshole, and go shower! You stink."
He smirked as he leaned back, voice falling a few octaves as he said, "Oh, hell no, this is what a real man smells like."
"Out. Of my. Room!"
On your freshly changed sheets, you wrapped your hands around your new furry friend that evening, and buried your cheek into his chest that smelled like Namjoon's evergreen cologne. You drifted off into Dreamland unable to tear off your smile.
And, just like that, it was as if nothing ever happened.
The time of your freshman year of high school was a blur of boring basketball games that weren't all that boring as you snuck out with Namjoon. Parties held in your home whenever your parents were away; you'd escape your brother's freestyle sessions with a trip to the convenience store where you'd pester Namjoon until he'd carry all the heavy bags as you skipped with both hands in your pockets before him and laugh at his silent complaints. Long hours spent in the coffee shop close to your school where you'd hang out with your brother's friends and listen in onto the stories he and Namjoon already gossiped about with you. Sleeping with your humongous teddy bear. And, inevitably, the silent dread of waiting for the D-day where the two of them would graduate and move to Seoul.
Somehow, all the hues of the world became pinker and pinker as time passed by, and no amount of your classmates making fun of your crush on the 'geek' Namjoon could tear those tinted glasses off your eyes.
You'd stare down at your cigarette and lean on the back of your school's wall as they giggled and made fun of you while reapplying their lip balm. How hurt he would be if he ever found out what they said about him?
But you never let that wipe the grin off your face as you shrugged and said, "So what? I still like him."
They'd roll their eyes and pat your shoulder as they spoke their condolences, but you knew they would never understand. They simply didn't know him as you did.
They didn't know how gentle the brush of his fingertips would be when he tucked your hair behind your ear, or how gently he would wish you good morning as he brought you morning tea after a sleepover.
They wouldn't know how his forehead creased whenever you told him a boy hurt you and how his jaw would clench when any of his friends made a mean joke at your expense. Of course they would never know. It wasn't them he picked flowers for when they were little, or the ones he invited to his first dance recital when he was six.
If they did, you were certain they'd all fall in love with him too.
But you were always just a tid bit selfish, so when the classmate sitting by you would joke about him being a nerd between classes, you'd dramatically flip your hair and excaim in true Shakespearian fashion, "But he's my nerd!"
And laugh at her grimace as she smacked your arm. "Gross!"
At least they stopped calling you boy-obsessed as you no longer dated any, too occupied with their graduation day looming over your head.
You wouldn't get even mad if they did. It wasn't a lie; you were boy-obsessed.
It had just never been plural.
And it was that slight difference in the accusation that ticked you off, only when he would say it.
The smartest person you knew was an idiot when it came to understanding women. Really, how couldn't he see it was only him you saw?
You had to be the one to make him.
It was only on their graduation day that you put your pink, heart-shaped sunglasses on his eyes as you two sat at the back of your father’s car. In his red high school uniform for the very last time, Namjoon joined into your giggles as he whipped his phone out and threw a look at the front camera.
“Waah!” He lowered the phone as his head fell on the black seat, plump lips in a wide, dimpled smile. “Look at this, I look like a male Lolita!”
“I think they suit you,” came Yoongi’s voice from the passenger seat as he craned his neck to see in the tiny mirror.
“But be careful, don’t break them!” You snuggled into your puffy winter jacket of beige as you watched straight, pearly teeth peep out his grin.
“I won’t, I won’t.” His voice deepened into that calm tone you adored as he turned his face both sides to properly examine himself.
Pink shadows that warm sun rays of cold February cast through the sunglasses danced on his cheek as the car steadily moved through the traffic. “I think I might keep them.”
“No way.” You grinned. “I just bought them.”
With a chuckle, he carefully slid them off and put them into your hands. Your cheeks blossomed their color as your fingers brushed and you masterfully hid your grin with a swallow and pretend that you had to stare at your reflection in the window to put them on your head as a hairband.
“Are you excited you’re finally going to graduate?” Your father rolled the wheel as he stared at the road through his thick-rimmed glasses. Pride tugged on his thin lips your brother inherited and his black hair was neatly gelled as it was every time he went into an important meeting.
“I am,” Namjoon said. “I can’t wait to get to SNU.”
“Ah, of course.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel as the mention of his own university squashed his wrinkled eyes into crescents. “Our Daegu’s pride. I’m sure you’re going to do great there.”
“It’s whatever,” said Yoongi as he slumped further into his seat, his navy green jacket riding up.
Your father sighed. “I would be more surprised if it wasn’t whatever.”
A few chuckles cost you quite a bit, because the very next moment, he turned and smacked your head with the bouquet of flowers your mother left before going to work. “Shut up!”
“Hey, you’re gonna break them!” Your hands rushed to grab the sunglasses but they clanked into the floor much too quickly. You groaned.
“Min Yoongi! Behave for once in your life!” The click of your father’s tongue was loud as he shook his head.
“It’s not my fault! She’s so annoying!” He threw on his best offended pout but your father only sighed.
“You know, I’ve been too lenient with you! If it was your mother driving, I’m sure you’d be smaller than an ant!”
“What did I even do? You never yell at her when she hits me!”
As your family bickered in the front, Namjoon slowly picked your glasses up from the floor and handed them to you with a slow blink. “Are you alright? Did he hit you hard?”
At the notice of the shine of his dark eye as he examined your face, you made sure to put a smile on it. “Nah. I’m used to it.” You giggled at his cute few blinks as you put on your sunglasses. His arm was pressing on yours. Or was it your arm that pressed against his? “I won’t have to put up with it anymore when you finally move away.”
“Ah, don’t say that.” His shoulders drooped along with his eyes. “You’ll come visit us often, right?”
“What do you mean? Just wait two years and I’ll move in with you.” You crossed your arms as his smile returned.
“How do you plan to do that with a two-bedroom apartment?”
“Easy.” You shrugged. “I’ll kick Yoongi out to the couch.”
“No, dad— What?”
You burst out laughing at his ugly grimace, a palm clapping over your lips.
His betrayed eyes snapped to Namjoon. “The fuck are you two talking about?”
“Yoongi! Language, for fuck’s sake!”
“You just fuckin’ swore too!”
“I am forty-two, I can swear whenever I want!”
“They’re fuckin’ conspiring against me!”
The graduation ceremony was held in your high school’s enormous gym; the polished lightwood floor could barely be seen with all the people standing on it in their uniforms, chatter bubbled through the room as teachers came out before one of the basketball hoops where the area was cleared, and you stared at the proud glint in your father’s eye as you two made yourselves comfortable on the packed bleachers. Yoongi straightened his tie with one hand as he swung off his jacket with the other, and Namjoon was mumbling his valedictorian speech under his breath as he tapped his thigh and stared at the floor.
“Are you nervous?” You grinned up at him as you settled the checkered shawl he had taken off beside you.
His lips stopped moving as he looked down at you, pale and lost. “Maybe a little bit.”
“You have no reason to be,” you said. “I know you’re going to be great out there. I didn’t help you with the speech for something to go wrong.”
His dimples came out as his shoulders loosened. His palm gently tapped your head. “Thanks, bunty.”
You giggled as you swatted his arm away. “Gosh, you didn’t call me that in forever!”
“I just want to say,” your father said as he grabbed Yoongi’s hand. Your brother stared down at him in silent wonder, eyebrows raised only ever so slightly and the scowl on his lips 'neutral'. Your father’s smile made all the wrinkles around his eyes appear. “I’m really proud of you, son.”
Yoongi’s lips parted the tiniest bit as he blinked, dumbfounded. You hadn’t even realized you were grabbing onto Namjoon’s sleeve until his hand slid and took yours. “Dad…”
Father’s lips pursed into a smile as he stood up and wrapped his arms around limp Yoongi. “Who knew my son would finish high school?” He chuckled into his shoulder as your brother returned his embrace, cheek resting on his shoulder.
Both short and red-nosed from the cold, they looked like two little dwarfs from Snow White.
The image made you look at Namjoon to gauge his reaction, and all the worry dropped from your shoulders when you saw he was trying to stomp down his laughter as desperately as you were. Your eyes locked for a moment, and a little pfft escaped him. You smacked his shoulder. “Shh, idiot!”
Yoongi’s eyes snapped open. The hand that was wrapped around your father’s neck popped a middle finger at you, and at that, you couldn't help but laugh.
Your bum already ached from sitting when it was their class’s turn to come out and accept their diplomas, but your father’s enthusiasm seemed to be at an all time high as he happily clapped for every little thing. Namjoon’s checkered shawl was in your tight grasp as you stared wide-eyed at the students being called by name. Finally, a teacher in a slick suit called Namjoon’s.
But the gym didn’t raise in an uproar as it did for everyone else. Only a few reluctant claps echoed through the full room.
Something banged your chest and clenched your jaw as you smacked your palms together, eyes popping out when you saw his dimples disappear when he took a step to take the diploma. You snapped your head to the freckled freshman girl that sat beside you. “Clap,” you gritted out through teeth.
She blinked at you a few times before she reluctantly obeyed. Her short-haired friend gave you an odd look but followed in with clapping before you turned to look at Namjoon who was bowing as he took the piece of paper.
A few heads started looking around and joined in. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Namjoon’s dimples to return. At the corner of your eye, you saw your brother kick the ankle of a guy beside him while stretching his gummy smile, and all of their class lined up in a row gave Namjoon the applause he deserved.
The teacher already called another student’s name and the gym erupted in cheers once again.
When Namjoon returned to his place in the row, diploma tight in his hands, he looked over to you. You raised your hands and made a heart out of them, to which he chuckled as he put the paper under his armpit and clapped for his classmate.
As you four ate jjajangmyeon in a close-by, rundown restaurant of brownish hues after Namjoon’s closing speech, Yoongi cursed at you to let him eat as you hung yourself around his neck. “My stupid big bro graduated, I’m so proud I’m gonna cry!”
“Ah, really, just let me eat in peace, woman! My food is getting cold.” But there was still a small upturn to his usual frown.
Your father put down his chopsticks to pat Namjoon on the back. “You did great on the speech today, kid.”
He bowed his head as he grinned, chopsticks with a grab of noodles freezing in the air. “Thank you, Mr. Min.”
“I’m sure Kim would’ve been ecstatic to see how good you were today if he wasn’t in the States.”
“Yeah,” Namjoon replied before politely smiling once again.
The awkward put of food into his mouth was enough for you to let go of Yoongi and lean over the table. “What about me? I helped him write the speech, where’s my credit?”
Your father scoffed at you. “Let’s see if you even get to senior year first.”
“Ah, dad, don’t nag her. School isn’t all that important.”
Your father clicked his tongue with the shake of his head. “You little- Ugh, really, as soon as I compliment you, you get even worse…”
Namjoon smiled at the two of you, cheeks puffy with ramen. It wasn’t long before he and your father slipped back into the discussion of Seoul National University and what he could expected there — of course, followed with your a brag of how good of a student he was.
Yoongi leaned to your ear. “Good work on getting the applause going.”
You picked at your food as you scoffed. “Always.”
“You’re not all that bad when you try,” he mumbled as he flattened his palm under the table.
“Of course not, I’m the best.” You gave him a silent high-five as you watched Namjoon nodding along to your father’s every word.
“Don’t let it get to your head.”
The dread of the looming D-day sat on your chest the moment your father dropped Namjoon off at his house. It was getting heavier as your careless hangouts became plagued with the discussions of how they were going to decorate the small apartment in Seoul your family had been renting out until now, and plans of all the places they would go to — without you.
They would go visit Namsan tower. Without you. Go to Lotte World. Without you. Eat convenience store noodles and drink instant coffee deep into the night as they prepared for the exams they had the following day.
There would be some new friends they met, someone that wasn’t you that would tag along to basketball games and keep Namjoon’s company as he discussed Plato. There will be someone else whose well-being Namjoon would care for, someone else he’d win a teddy bear from an arcade for, and someone he’d lend his jacket to when they were cold.
You’d come and visit for the weekend and they’d introduce you to their new, interesting lives you had nothing to do with, and meet new friends they wouldn’t gossip about with you.
If a boy disappointed you again, you’d have to call Namjoon to complain but he wouldn’t say he and Yoongi would beat him up because he hurt you, but, “That’s really bad, I’m sorry. I have to go study something you’d never understand for a very important exam, so I have to go. I’ll call you back, okay?” And then he never would.
You’ll have to start socializing with your classmates and find someone else to drink coffee with after school. You’ll have to find someone else to call to your sleepovers and new people you’ll have to convince flavored beer is delicious. “Um… have you ever read… Plato’s Republic?” you’ll have to awkwardly ask someone who’d blankly stare at you. “Actually, stoicism and nihilism aren’t all that similar,” you’ll have to say as you explained why you were a stoic and not a nihilist.
You’ll have to explain why you smoke but you’re not addicted to cigarettes, you’ll have to make someone understand why you’ve never fallen in love with anyone you dated, and you’ll have to tell stories you never had to tell to Namjoon and Yoongi — because they were there — just so the story you’re telling would make sense!
As you sprung from your floral bedsheets in the middle of the night, head as heavy as a rock with all the tangled thoughts — what you must do became clear.
Kissed by the summer’s morning daylight, your hand trembled as it swept mascara over your eyelashes. Your chest heaved with a ragged breath as you placed your hearty locket on it. And your eyes wandered around every inch of your reflection while you smacked your glossed lips and slid clammy palms down the waist of your floral picnic dress of ribbons for straps.
That day, you had to walk through Daegu in no one else's company as Yoongi had already ran out of the house in early morning to attend his piano class. All the familiar streets of gray buildings and cherry blossom trees that were far past their bloom at this time of the year awoke a palpable loneliness that poked the already fidgety nerves under your skin. You'll have to walk these streets all alone from now on.
The step of your blue Mary Janes quickened as a message on your phone screen alerted you he was already waiting.
Distraught by the jitters that tickled in your chest, an uncertain smile tugged on the edge of your lip as you spotted his wide shoulders in an earthy green shirt and an open book in a lap calmly seated on a bench. You scoffed. Only Namjoon would open a book while waiting for someone.
Two excited kids, a girl and a boy, ran through before you, giggling on their way to the swings at the side of the park. They reminded of you two when you were younger. The only difference was — they weren't running away from an enraged Yoongi who had just been picked to seek in hide-and-seek once again.
It took a few clicks of your heel and a loud bark from the Husky a lanky guy was walking by his bench for his eyes to tear from the pages and look up at you, wind playing with his brown hair as you managed to raise your palm for a quick wave. A tiny smile sneaked onto his lips as his fingers pressed down on the page to protect it from bending. "Hi," he said as he closed the book, gaze falling on your dress for a quick second before they returned to your own. "Did you run late because you were dressing up for our last basketball game?"
A snicker escaped you as you straightened the back of your dress before sitting down. "No." You looked at him, a nervous flutter in your throat like you've never felt beside him before. "Why would I dress up for that? I dressed up because I wanted to."
"Really?" His dimples appeared as he neatly put away his book into his navy backpack. "Well, I guess you do like all that girly stuff."
"Why, what's wrong with that?" You glanced down at your outfit before you looked at him. "Don't I look good?"
His head turned in surprise, shoulders tense for a moment before he leaned on the bench. "Yeah, you're alright."
You blinked. "No, seriously, do I look pretty?" All the possible saliva gathered in your throat and all the possible might you had in yourself took for you not to gulp and reveal your uncertainty as you examined him.
"You're always pretty, bunty," he carelessly replied, as if he was talking about the weather. Then he chuckled. "That hairband's pretty awesome, too." His warm palm reached out and patted the blue fabric on your head.
A smile cracked through as the unexplainable tension in your chest dispersed, and his head cocked to the side when he crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. What did you even expect from him?
"Who did you dress up for today? Be honest. Are you meeting a new boyfriend I don't know about?"
"Myself," you lied with a grin as you slid the purse off your shoulder. "But I am meeting up with one of my classmates later.” You pulled out two instant coffees you had picked up from the convenience store and handed him the mocha.
“Oh, so you’re not coming to the game?” His pink lip puckered in a pout and stole a little giggle out of you. “I’m going to be bored to death, then.”
“Tsk, tsk…” You opened the plastic cup and pulled the foil, a grin wide on your lips. “What are you going to do in Seoul if you can’t handle being without me for one game?”
He chuckled as he took a sip. “I’m going to sneak you into one of the boxes. You can sit in Yoongi’s sock box.”
You blinked, dumbfounded. “He has a box only for socks?”
“I was shocked, too.”
You put the plastic cap back on before taking a sip, leg crossing over the other. "Why are you suddenly calling me bunty again, by the way?"
He shrugged. "I don't know, I guess I'm getting nostalgic." With a drop of his cup on the bench, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of Parliament and an old, white lighter you two bought when you heard about the 27 Club. "It's insane to think I'm going to be living in Seoul next week. The time just flew by too fast and I've been thinking of all the things that happened in this town. And how much I'm going to actually miss it — and you know how long I've been saying I want to get out of here." Through a smile and a sideways glance at you, he lit his cigarette. “It's going to be kinda lonely without you there."
You lightly smacked his arm. “Aww, don't say that. I'm seriously going to start crying. It's not like you're moving to the other side of the planet. You're only going to be two hours away."
"Yeah, I know." His eyebrows furrowed as he stole a drag before giving over the cigarette to you. “But, still, I don't know. I'm a little scared that my philosophy buddy won't be there on-call. The last time I tried talking to Yoongi about philosophy, he threw a book at my head."
"Yeah, he really didn't like it when you told him he didn’t know what nihilism was." You pulled on the cigarette even though your throat had dried out, eyes big as you stared at him.
"Learned my lesson when I woke up with a marker-mustache."
"But, seriously now..." Holding the cigarette, you stuck out your pinky. “Promise we won't grow apart. Friends forever."
He chuckled as he stared at it, hand covering his mouth to hide the embarrassment. "God, this is so childish." After a moment of reluctance, he hooked your pinky with his. "Friends forever."
“You have to say you promise!"
He grinned. "Fine, fine, I promise."
"Whatever happens?" You raised your eyebrows.
"Whatever happens." He nodded.
"Really, bunty."
The warmth of his finger disappeared as you handed him the cigarette, and gulped down coffee as if that was going to help calm you. Perhaps you should’ve gone for tea. "Then I have to tell you something."
This was it, you had finally gathered the guts to finally say it. Although they were somewhat fidgety and shaky.
"Of course, bunty. You can always tell me anything." The casual of his tone and the careless manner in which he smoked his cigarette told you he had absolutely no idea what was happening. There was a certain envy you held for the fact he could be so calm and collected while your insides were falling apart and crashing into each other.
You gripped the cup tight, eyes falling on your foot that wouldn’t stop swinging through the air as shyness of looking straight at him overcame you. "Well, it's more like I have to confess something."
"Sure." He spread his arms, chin raising. “Confess all your sins to Father Kim, my child."
You snorted. "You're such a dork." And why were you so wrecked and nervous around this dork?
"So? How have you sinned.” He rested an elbow on his thigh as he leaned closer to you, grin wide. “Tell me."
Your heart knocked against your ribs. This was much harder than you imagined while piecing your wording together this morning. "Well, I have to ask you something first."
"Ask away."
"...Do you,” your voice faded abruptly, something that was out of your control. You blinked and dared to look him straight in the eye. “Like me?"
His eyebrows furrowed as he tapped the ash away on the concrete. “What kind of question is that? Of course I like you. I wouldn't be friends with you if I didn't."
"No, I don't mean it like that." You were short of breath as your face drooped. "Do you like-like me?"
God, you finally asked him.
Genuine confusion stamped itself on his face as he leaned back, everything on him tense. "Does it seem like that? Did I do anything to make you feel uncomfortable?"
Oh, God—no, no, no! Why would he even think that?
"No, I—“
"If I did, I'm sorry. If you were worried about having to 'reject' me, you can relax because—“
"No, Namjoon." You had grabbed onto his wrist before you could stop yourself, the time seeming to stop for a moment when he looked at you. "I like you."
There. You said it. You finally said it without hesitation. But why was he only blankly staring at you? You awkwardly took your arm back and settled it on your lap.
"...For some time now."
The yellow sun rays were generous in painting every inch of his unblinking, unmoving face.
"I... I thought I should tell you before you moved away..."
Why were you stuttering? You never stuttered! All your insides ripped and your brave resolve slowly slipped out of your palms.
And he still wasn’t saying anything.
“Um... Please say something?"
"Wow." He scoffed, and your mind stopped working for a second. "I can't believe this." He shoved the cigarette into his mouth and inhaled it with a hefty raise and fall of his chest.
All your muscles felt like they fell asleep and you just kept dumbly blinking at him as he refused to even look at you. "...What does that mean?"
"God..." His fingers sneaked through his hair and suddenly tugged on it. Breathing out again, he squinted at you, head shaking as he said, "Y/N, I think you're a bit confused."
You had never felt an urge to to curl up and hide stronger than now. It was like a punch in the lungs. "About what?" Your voice has the slightest tremble to it.
"About... that. I know you didn't have a boyfriend for a while, but this is really..." He shook his head again, as if he wasn’t speaking about you to you, as if he was gossiping about you with someone else.
"I'm not confused. I'm not an idiot, I know what I feel."
"No, I didn't say you were.” He sighed and just stayed still examining you for a second. Then, he put out the cigarette on the bench’s leg and threw it in the grass. “I didn't mean that. I think you just misunderstood your feelings about me and Yoongi leaving."
"No. I didn't." Why were you suddenly fighting with him about this? Why hadn’t you bowed your head and ran away? You hadn’t even known this degree of mortification was possible to experience; all your organs were heavy and tingling.
"Are you really sure?"
"Yes, I am.”
He laughed although it was lacking any humor, his arms smacking into a cross. "Don't be ridiculous now."
"I'm not!" Hot, salty tears stung your eyes and you had to deeply breathe in order not to embarrass yourself even further. Why did you want to cry? What were you, five? Crying because something didn’t go your way? You pushed them back somehow, even you didn’t know how, and finally said, "Just give me a straight answer, do you like me or not?"
"It's not— There's not a straight answer, bunty. It's complicated." How could he even dare to call you that right now?
You swallowed. "What is?"
A beat of silence. Then another one.
He didn’t move and you didn’t dare either, until he blinked and his sad, shiny eyes drooped with something awfully reminiscent of pity. Was he pitying you right now? "You know we'd never actually end up together,” he said as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Why? Why wouldn't we if you liked me?" Even to your ears, the question sounded desperate. But you couldn’t seem to stop yourself despite the ache in your chest.
"The problem isn't whether I like you or not."
"Then what is?” Your voice thinned out as you stared at him. “Be direct for once your life."
"We'd never work." What was he even talking about?
"Okay, you're really getting on my nerves now. Spit it out!"
"Well, first,” he sighed, hands falling to rub his thighs, almost as if he was wiping off the nervous sweat. “Yoongi is like a brother to me."
"...So? What kind of reason is that?"
He looked at you for a moment, really looked at you as if he was closely inspecting you for something. The edge of his lip tugged into a smile you couldn’t understand as anything but condescending. "God, you're still such a kid."
The coffee cup bent beneath your fingers, unnerved tone falling flat as you asked, "What's the second reason?"
"That, bunty. You're still too childish." It seemed even he was aware of how harsh his words were, so he sadly smiled as a poor attempt to repair the situation as his palms froze in a spot. As if to say, tough luck, my friend. As if to say he understood how you felt and that he empathized. As if he wasn’t t the one hurting you. "You just don't understand some things yet."
You fought to avoid blinking because if you did, the first tear would slip out. "I have to go meet my friend,” you blurted out as you grabbed your purse and abandoned the cup on the bench, nearly tripping over yourself as you jumped up and rushed off.
Namjoon’s feet stomped on the concrete behind you. "Y/N, hey,” he called as you bowed your head and kept walking, hand rushing to wipe off the heated tear and hide the ugly quiver of your chin.
And just when you thought he'd chase after you — he didn't.
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The beauty of snow-covered landscape of your hometown, cute knitted scarfs, fluffy gloves, and numberless memories in the cold months all led you to adore wintertime. When you were younger — really, really younger; perhaps at the end of kindergarten? — your brother used to shoot a snowball at you every chance he caught. Your mother and father would spoil you with Christmas gifts, you’d make a snow angel in your brand new pink jacket, a steaming hot chocolate would wait for you by your living room’s fireplace… and, of course, little Namjoon would be beside you, snuggled in a blanket, pushing his round glasses back in place, and blushing when you made fun of his runny nose.
Wintertime always had the sweet taste of hot chocolate and childish games, even when you’d grown a few inches. It was then, somewhere in early December, that you had snuck out after school to the park beside your middle school.
You were thirteen and he had freshly turned fifteen that September, a difference in age that looked like it mattered at that period. You were always cool among your classmates for being friends with someone older, but Namjoon would’ve been ridiculed if it wasn’t for the fact Yoongi had already become infamous as someone that wasn’t to be messed with. Whether it was his proneness to kicking kids, sarcastic remarks, or that he couldn’t hold his tongue behind his teeth when someone irritated him — you didn’t exactly know, but you were glad there was always someone to stand up for the shy kid with glasses and dimples that he had then loathed, who’d look at the ground and stay silent whenever someone picked on him.
At the edge of the park, there was a kindergarten of walls painted in rainbows and a peculiar, blue mouse with a tall top hat, and a colorful, wooden fence surrounded it. For some reason, the red gate would’ve always been left open, and you two had giggled as you skipped into their yard, all gleeful and proud at the first taste of rebellion.
You had sat on the cold stairs of the rocky porch despite the cold that bit at your chubby cheeks, and Namjoon had scoffed at himself so loudly that the warmth of his breath made smoke. You grinned as you hid your freezing palms in pockets, eyes set on the pack of cigarettes he pulled out of his own. He had bought them before school, lying they were for his father. And they were Parliament — exactly the ones he usually did purchase for Mr. Kim, all so his masterful plan could work.
“I lit one myself when dad wasn’t home,” he proudly told you as he unwrapped the plastic. “Just follow what I’m doing.”
You didn’t know at that time if it was the cold or the excitement to blame for the tremble of your hand when you put the first cigarette between your lips, but you suspected even Namjoon’s wide smile as he lit it for you had some part in that, as well. “Thank you,” you told him, and his face lit up.
“Actually,” he puffed out his chest, eyes shining beneath his glasses. “I’m supposed to thank you for letting me light your cigarette.”
“Really?” You pulled in the smoke and blowed it out, both of you oblivious to the fact you were supposed to inhale.
“Yeah, I heard my father say that.”
That night, when you came over to your home and spritzed your vanilla perfume all over in fear of someone recognizing the stench of cigarettes, while lying to Yoongi you two had just been taking an innocent walk, sharing secret glances while stuffing your mouths full of popcorn, seated before the old family laptop the latest horror movie was playing on — you couldn’t wipe the smiles off your faces. It was the first secret you had ever shared with anyone. At least the first one you could remember.
And painted with many memories sisters to this one, wintertime was always new-secret exciting and hot-chocolate sweet.
But the winter of your high school’s second year had to scribble in “bitter” in front of it.
“Boy-crazy,” your classmate had just called you on that last day of school before winter break.
“I think they’re actually crazy about me,” you said as you stomped on your cigarette behind the school, puffy pink jackets long abandoned in favor of the stylish ones that were always unzipped to show off your outfit.
“I’m actually so jealous of you,” said one of the girls from other class with a cheesy grin, her half-eaten sandwich in her hand. “I can’t believe you’re going out with Jungkook.”
You scoffed, hand reaching into your pocket until it pulled out a nearly empty pack of Winston XS. “We’re not going out, though.” The bright, white rays shone straight into your eyes, so you swiftly slipped down your black sunglasses before lighting your cigarette.
The girls all stared at you like dazzled sheep, as if their brains couldn’t get through what you just dared to say. It’s only then that it became clear how offhand your comment was, when the girl of dyed ginger hair turned her head, still leaned on the wall. Your former best friend from middle school, Mira. Who always had the fattest crush on your peer with freshly black-dyed hair and a new piercing through his eyebrow.
Well, shit.
It was never your responsibility how she felt about someone, right? You’ve learned people usually didn’t care for hurting others’ feelings.
“Come on,” Mira said in that deep and sultry voice of her that, instead of soothing as it always was, appeared intimidating, and you couldn’t help but furrow eyebrows at her as you lit your cigarette. “We all know you’re dating. He can’t stop talking about you.”
Through the black of your sunglasses, you stared at the big, cat-like eyes under her bangs, tumbling over her words in your head as you pulled on the cigarette to stall responding. How should you even act when she spoke to you after months? The past few must’ve taken quite a toll on you, since you seemed to forget all the facts you had very well known.
Such as Mira stopped talking to you because you’d spent too much time babbling about and being with Namjoon, or how she was Jungkook’s classmate. You also forgot what sort of reputation your new companion of choice had — a jerk who already ran through half of the school. It was like a smack back into reality.
“Don’t worry,” you said. “We’re just friends.”
It was fascinating; the responsibility to appear good that weighed on your shoulders. Unlike some people, you weren’t selfish to intentionally hurt someone you held dear to your heart.
Mira shrugged and looked away, but being the self-proclaimed degree-expert, it was apparent to you there was a slight upturn to her lips.
For some reason, it made you smile.
That day appeared as if it was going to be fine and pretty when you met Jungkook after school and spent hours at his apartment, listening to him play guitar while his mother was at work and stuffing greasy pizza in your mouths after the small blunt he already had rolled in his bedside drawer.
His inked knuckles popped out as he took the blunt from your fingers, you two seated under the slanted, wooden ceiling of his bedroom that was painted in random paintings that were all a work of his own. The wrinkled, white sheets and the messed blanket of his unmade bed underneath you failed to faze you after coming over so many times, and you had gotten used to the strong, spicy cologne that was nowhere near earthy.
He smiled his bunny teeth out, an upper lip that was thinner than the bottom giving an odd cuteness to his intimidating exterior.
Jeon Jungkook was always just on the border of handsome and pretty — everyone said so. But you were certain only you had the privilege of calling him cute and clumsy.
Years ago, sometime when you were in middle school, he had just appeared in the local park where your brother held his basketball games since his building was close by, and you faintly remembered Yoongi allowing him to play because he felt sorry for the short, then skinny boy who had a permanent pout and big, doe eyes Namjoon said reminded him of yours.
He had been surprisingly good at basketball despite saying he had never played before and asking what the rules were after shooting the ball through the hoop, so Yoongi had taken him under his wing, and it wasn’t long before his whole friend group started calling the new boy ‘Kookie, their little talented bro’.
You were somewhat jealous of there being another kid your age to steal away your title of the group’s baby, but when he came over to you with his big eyes and bought you strawberry milk since he remembered it was your favorite while running to the convenience store — and that out of his own pocket money — you couldn’t bring yourself to dislike him.
After all, you hogged Namjoon all to yourself while he was much more interested in pestering your brother; for some reason, Yoongi had an odd amount of patience for the small boy. Now, he looked nothing like he did then.
He grew taller, overgrew Yoongi in a heartbeat. His brown hair were now black locks as long as his pale face, only shaven underneath where no one could see unless he tied a ponytail, his big nose had somehow shrunk, his lips became poutier with the piercing he had in their corner, and his loose clothes now all seemed tight on him, but how they fit didn’t really matter — because being black, they all blended into each other.
He wrapped his lips around the blunt’s filter, his chest underneath a Nirvana shirt heaving before he pulled the blunt away and closed his smile.
His fingertips tickled as they caressed your jaw, gently leading you to him. As the music on his phone changed from one rock ballad to the start of another, your lips pressed against his, soft guitar riffs in your ear as he blew out the smoke for you to inhale.
Your lips curved as your hand settled at the back of his warm neck, finger pressing onto the silver chain of the cross necklace he always hid under his shirts. You’ve asked him once why he never pulled it out, and he smiled down at the joint he was rolling and said, “I don’t know. It’s just something for me to see.”
You blew out the smoke faster than you inhaled it, fluttery tingle in your chest dancing around as he finally pressed his lips into yours. You didn’t know when he abandoned the joint into the ashtray seated on his bedside table, but his hands were around your waist at the very next moment, and, like always, your own ran into his soft locks as you fell onto his pillow.
It was while later, over the cardboard box with grease stains that laid on his kitchen table, that he had proclaimed with a mouthful of pizza, “I really don’t get why you don’t want us to be together.”
Your back covered in his Nirvana shirt that appeared enormous on you leaned back on the seat of one of his dark-wooded chairs as you eyed his prominent, bare chest with the cross he had just put back on, half of a pizza slice between your fingers. “Don’t you like what we have going on right now?”
“I like it,” he swallowed before putting down the crust he had always left behind. “But I wouldn’t dislike having something more.”
You blankly blinked at him, not a thought in your head.
He sighed, black eyes shiny as he stared at you. “Look, I really like you. I’ve liked you for a while now.”
“I really like you, too,” you told him. “But I’m not ready for a relationship, I already told you that.”
“Yeah.” He awkwardly grinned, still as cute as ever. “You did.”
Then he reached for his Winston XS.
Maybe that was why Namjoon rejected you, you thought. Because it was simply so easy to do so.
It was as if you summoned him with that short, quick thought, because when you stumbled into your home while hiding a blooming hickey on your neck with messy hair, he was already sitting on your armchair by the fireplace.
You stared at him and he stared at you, your parents and brother sitting beside him with a cup of hot chocolate each somewhat blurry in the background.
“Hi,” he said, in that deep voice you hadn’t heard for months. Then an uncertain smile tugged on his lips.
“…Hi,” you mumbled.
“Where were you for so long?” Your mother straightened her back, a strand of dark hair falling out of her bun. She pulled a thin blanket over her wool sweater as she shifted on the sofa.
“Oh, I just went to a classmate to help me study.” Paralyzed in your own skin, you slowly pulled off your thin jacket.
“Who, Jugyeong?” She furrowed her eyebrows as you swung the jacket over the armchair opposite to Namjoon’s, attempting your best not to fidget at the sensation of his eyes stuck on you.
“No, Mina. She helped me with Math.” Jugyeong reminded of Jungkook a bit too much for your liking.
“Aah.” Your mother smiled. “Tell her mom I said hi the next time you go over.”
Perhaps it was because you were just a bit high, but the hug your brother gave you as he said he missed you for the first time in his life and the awkward sit with your parents as you tried not to make direct eye-contact with Namjoon’s shoulders that had somehow gotten even broader, were all a messy, uncomfortable blur.
The next thing you’ve known, you were beside Yoongi as he closed the entrance door with a hanged wreath while Namjoon waited to be seen out.
You crossed your arms and stared at the back of Yoongi’s head he had bleached blond as he hugged Namjoon and patted him on the back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bro, I’m coming over for breakfast to see your Nana.”
Namjoon’s chuckle was more melodic and beautiful than you remembered, although you had tried your best not to. “Sure. She can’t wait to see you.”
An odd urge to see his grandma as well awoke in you, but you only kept quiet and pressed your lips together. Wouldn’t it be great if you could’ve just disappeared into your room? Actually… why did you even agree to see him out? It was like you were intentionally torturing yourself.
“Good night,” Yoongi murmured with a small smile before turning around and — simply slamming the door behind him as he walked back into the house.
Your heart skipped a beat as your wide eyes turned to Namjoon, breath caught somewhere in your throat.
He stood with hands in the pockets of his long, dark brown coat, a plump smile above the tight of his white turtleneck. His dimples popped out.
When you were little, you used to poke them, and for some reason, your fingers itched to do the same now even though you had nearly forgotten about it. It used to annoy him so much he’d run away from you.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by coming here.”
“Nuh- No,” you stuttered, voice strangely high. “It’s okay.” You gulped as his lips lightly pursed, forcing yourself to drop your eyebrows and relax your face. “You’re always welcome here.”
He scoffed as his gaze fell on the pathway that led to your front door, cleared from the snow. “That’s nice to hear.” He gulped too, but you wouldn’t tell it if it wasn’t for the bob of his Adam’s apple, prominent even through the thin of the material on his neck. He looked up, eyes shiny and sad even more so than they usually were. “I wanted to say I’m… sorry… for not calling or anything.”
You frowned, voice barely above a whisper as you said, “That’s alright, I’m sure you were busy.”
He pursed his lips again. “But you could’ve visited us too.” His gaze strayed to the side after a brief moment. “But I understand why you wouldn’t want to see me.”
Something in this moment told you at least some kind of words were supposed to come out of your mouth. But you didn’t have any.
He deeply sighed when he looked at you once again, his jaw popping out as he clenched it. You haven’t seen him so unnerved in the past few years. But, oddly, you couldn’t say you were sorry for him. In some way, it made your chest flood with nice feelings, because you must’ve been exactly looked like this on that day.
“Look, I’m really sorry for the way I acted. I know I ended up being an asshole.” He paused. “I… never meant to hurt you. I don’t why I was so harsh.”
“But you were completely right.” A nervous scoff escaped you as you dropped your hands by the side.
He blinked, then froze, as if that was the last thing he expected you to say.
“I’m glad you said it the way you did, because I really was confused. I’m sorry that I dragged you into that and made a mess out of everything.” Perhaps the artificial sweetness of your tone would’ve been enough for him to catch on after knowing you for so long. But it seemed as if you two have become complete strangers in the few months you hadn’t spoken; the man before you was so familiar yet harder to completely understand than ever.
He didn’t seem to understand you at all.
He blinked once more, a corner of his lip raising. A finger couldn’t be pointed at what made it seem insincere. “I still am very sorry. You didn’t deserve the way I acted.” His hands swung around the hem of his coat as he shrugged. “I’d be really grateful if you could forgive me.”
You giggled, although you were aware of how forced it sounded. “Of course I’ll forgive you, Joon. It would be stupid if we stopped being friends after just one fight.” It would be, wouldn’t it?
His smile widened, but it was somewhat sad. Like his eyes. They were so shiny it made him appear as if he was about to shed tears at any moment. “So…” His hand reluctantly escaped his pocket, fingers having the slightest tremble to them as his pinky stuck out. “Friends forever?”
You grinned, finally taking a step closer to him. “Friends forever.” You hooked his pinky with yours.
And you were both a pair of big, fat liars.
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Written 2022.
Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. ©realifefairy 2022
979 notes · View notes
sweetieguk · 2 months ago
golden hour (m) | knj
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p a i r i n g : namjoon x (f) reader g e n r e : established relationship; fluff, smut, pwp r a t i n g : 18+ w o r d  c o u n t : 2.3k
s u m m a r y : ❝ your boyfriend, namjoon, thinks you look like an angel, one that’s sat on a cloud with the way the sunlight hits you like so; making your skin glow and eyes twinkle. though, perhaps the glint in your eye is caused by something else entirely. ❞
c o n t e n t : slice of life, boyfriend au, brat!oc, softdom!joon, but like not really bc he’s so soft for you too...idk. cursing, pet names, kind of silly tbh. n s f w  s m u t : teasing, some praise + humiliation, lazy handjobs + blowjobs, pre + post coital bliss and kissing!
a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e : it’s been so long since i’ve written anything and i’m a bit nervous to post this. it’s just a little drabble for me to get back into the swing of things, so excuse the horrendous writing. i hope you enjoy it regardless ♡︎♥︎♡︎
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“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” 
A small smile finds its way onto your lips, your cheeks widening into the warmth of your boyfriend as his fingers run through your tresses. His large hands manoeuvring the hair out of his way to see your pretty face better. He smiles back, dimpled cheeks and all.
There’s no need to think further on the words he’d just spoken; and yet, you pause the motions of your hand and look up at him from where you lay. Your eyes meet his for a moment and perhaps it’s for a beat too long because he starts to squirm. You hum to fill the silence before answering, “You're only saying that because you made me cum.”
“What?” you question, feigning innocence while your fingers return to lazily glide over his happy trail. Feeling the way his abdomen tenses and relaxes as you mindlessly play with the hairs there. Namjoon takes a sharp inhale.
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” 
 “No, it’s not.”
 Namjoon tuts at you when the quirk in your brow doesn’t disappear.
Lifting your head from his thighs, the bed squeaks a little as you pull away from his gentle embrace. Sitting in front of him now, the soft linen falls off from your shoulders, sliding down your torso and settling on your waist. It pillows around your hips and Namjoon thinks you look like an angel, one that’s sat on a cloud. Everything about you is soft. From the way you look at him, the soles of your feet tucked underneath yourself to the way your breasts sit on your chest; nipples aren’t quite hard anymore, but puffy and supple. You’re warm too, he thinks, as you run your palms up and down the meaty part of his thighs.
Yea, definitely.
Warm like the sun that filters through your sheer curtains. Illuminating the room in a yellow, no scratch that—golden—hue because when it hits your skin, you sparkle. The rays shimmer against you, enhancing the dewy glow that still lingers from your orgasm from no more than twenty minutes ago. Your face is radiant too, he notes, observing how you watch him and your eyes twinkle. Or perhaps the glint is caused by something else entirely.
Looking down at Namjoon’s more than excited length, you trail your tiny fingers from where they rest on his leg to the place where they meet his pelvis. Along the way you feel how goosebumps begin to rise on his skin and he warns you with a call of your name this time.
“What are you doing?”
Glancing at your boyfriend for a brief moment, you return to the task at hand. “What does it—” cupping his balls now ���—look like I’m doing, Joonie?” 
He curses under his breath. You’re in that kind of mood it seems. The one where you push push push and won’t stop until he puts you back into your place. His finger twitches but so does his cock, and the hand that’s been settled by his side finds its way to run through his strawberry blonde hair. He internally groans with a drop of his head, and returns to look at you with narrowed eyes.
Was it not enough when he railed you into the sheets earlier? Driving his hips into you like his life depended on it? It had to have been, you were so drunk on his cock that you mewled and drooled on the comforter. And what about when he played with your cute little clit? Huh? Pinching and tugging on it just the way you liked, that you squirted so much he had to change the bedding twice? God, you were so messy, his cute messy little baby. He’s sure it was enough—his jaw tenses—it had to have been.
When you feel the heat of Namjoon’s glare on your face you return the look with the same intensity. Leaning forward with your arms out in front of you in a way that frames your tits just for him. Your unoccupied hand finds its way to your chest and you knead your breast right in front of his face. Taunting him. You hold his stare. He searches your eyes. It’s a waiting game now. The both of you are impelling the other to break. You don’t waver though, no, determined as ever to get what you want and you cup him harder. A closed-mouth scoff leaves your boyfriend to conceal his amusement.
What happened to his precious angel, hmm? His lovely little sunshine? It seems as though she’s long gone now and has been replaced by a brat.
Luckily for you, though, Namjoon is feeling…generous and is more than willing to play along. He spreads his legs some and gestures with a nod, “Go ahead, baby.” 
Suppressing a squeal, your tiny fingers eagerly continue to fondle his balls. They’re smooth as Namjoon grooms them hairless, hot and heavy in your palms. Your lashes flutter and lips part at the thought of having them in your mouth, tongue laving them like so just to capture each one to suck on them earnestly. A stifled sigh leaves you as your skin prickles from the heat that rushes over and you have to push down the urge to tend to the sudden tingling at the apex of your legs. Patience, you reprimand yourself. If being with your boyfriend so intimately like this has taught you one thing, it’s that the reward at the end is always worth it. Especially when—glancing at him now—it means you get to see your handsome man fall apart, withering, beneath you.
“Do you think I’m pretty, Joonie?” Using a single finger to trace along the thick vein of his shaft, “When I touch you like this?”
Watching him closely, you don’t get the response you were looking for as he remains stoic and silent. Although, it’s almost comical, the way Namjoon’s cock jumps up and away from your touch. The saturated saccharine voice, the feather-like grazes, the assault, far too much to handle. For him, that is. While you, you’re just getting started.
Your attention returns to the actions of your hands. You continue to tread lightly over the silky skin of his spent member, roaming every inch of it to make sure no area was left without your teasing touch. A gleam of light catches your eye at his tip and you stop at his slit where a single drop of arousal pools. Dipping your finger into the essence, a question comes to your mind, “Do you think you can cum again?”
Namjoon answers with a grunt. The sound draws you to meet his face and you’re met with a tongue at his cheek. You don’t mean for it to come out in that sickeningly sweet voice of yours again, genuine concern in the words you’ve spoken and yet, Namjoon can’t hide the way you affect him.
The tell tale signs of him getting worked up as he glistens with a sheen of sweat. His golden skin sparkles from where he sits against the headboard, with his head resting at the top of it. You follow the way he twitches, the itch he has to reach out to you is so painstakingly obvious, despite his attempts at hiding it.
Humming in delight you form a circle with your index and thumb to wrap it tightly around him. Spreading the wetness down the rest of his length provides a much easier glide to play with. You idly work your digits on him, subtly tightening on the downstroke and loosening on the upstroke. Namjoon’s breath hitches.
“Muffin, baby. Yea, right there.” 
“You like that?” Surprise is evident in your tone. Namjoon isn’t usually one for soft and teasing touches, neither are you the type to delve in overstimulation but you enjoy it, and—catching the way your boyfriend’s throat bobs and lips part—he does too. Although…he just might like this better.
Namjoon feels your plush lips against him. They’re ghosting over him and it’s not nearly enough pressure to really do anything. It shouldn’t be, anyways; and yet, he lets out a moan. It’s light and airy but it reaches your core all the same.
“How ’bout now?” You whisper, ignoring the heat that stirs in your stomach and focusing on the boy in front of you. Your stubborn lips brush against his member, it's neither hard or soft, still plump from your continuous fondling from earlier.
Your boyfriend’s resolve falters, he can’t lie even if he wants to, because you always look pretty with your lips wrapped around his cock. But that's besides the point, why can’t you just accept his damn complimen—
“A-ahh!“ The sound is ripped out from Namjoon’s throat. His brows furrow, and he looks down in between his legs to see you suckling at his tip. Tongue poking out every once and a while to lap at his frenulum. He blinks, once, twice more, taking in the sight and his eyelids droop. “I love that,”  he finally says with a sigh, melting the wrinkle on his forehead as well as what’s left of his composure.
You know he does. You giggle and tell him as such. “Joonie, you’re so sensitive,” the words slip out as you marvel, thumbing at his favourite spot. Watching how he steadily oozes precum and makes a mess all over your digits. He’s almost fully hard now. His length, a pretty shade of pink bordering purple and you have to press a hand to your centre for some relief.
With a palm snug in between your legs, you press wet open-mouthed kisses onto his length, making out with the head of his cock while your tongue traces the vein that decorates his shaft. The pulses in your mouth compel you to swallow him whole and you keen at the feeling of him reaching full mast.
Your eyes flick up to watch your boyfriend and the scene is obscene. His face is absolutely lewd with the way it's contorted as if in pain, drenched in euphoria. He moans freely now, his sounds reverberating out into the small depth of your room and straight into your greedy ears and soiled cunt. The torture’s become almost too much for him with the way you slobber all over his length that he can feel you drip all the way down to his aching balls and—
Fuck! His hands have a mind of their own as they roam across his chest, electricity shooting to the tips of his fingers and toes. He feels light, slightly dizzy. Hazy. Like the steady beam that fills the space. Drowsy on the feeling of you and how you make him feel so fucking good. Trembling, Namjoon’s hands desperately reach out for something, anything, to anchor the last bit of his sanity to earth. And when he finds it, he lets go.
Namjoon cums with a shutter, his hand gripping tight into your hair—a bit rougher than he intended. Though, the pleasure that racks over his body is different this time, intense but simultaneously not enough. Wave after wave, ecstasy branches from his spine to his most nether regions. His member jerks every which way into your mouth and you relish the warmth that soothes your tongue with a hum.
A steady stream fills your throat and you deftly swallow before removing yourself with a pop. You bring the back of your hand to wipe away the excess, and glance at your recovering boyfriend. He’s gorgeous like this, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Looking at you all blurry eyed with a dreamy smile on his lips, and you mirror one of your own. Lowering once more, you place a gentle kiss onto his slit. Unintentionally catching the last couple beads of his arousal and mouthing a small ‘thank you.’ Both of which seemingly bring him out of his daze.
Namjoon blinks, once, twice more, getting drawn out of his reverie as you rise once again. “What was all that for? Hmm?”  He asks, it’s with a hand that he beckons you over, and you gladly find your place by his side.
With Namjoon on his back, you drape a leg over his torso and nuzzle into his neck. Taking a moment, you place a hand onto his chest, for no other reason than to just feel him and indulge in his warmth.
Prodding once more, Namjoon soothingly runs a large hand along the length of your thigh, “Muffin?”
You make a sound of acknowledgement and your boyfriend turns towards you to be met with your tired eyes and pouty lips. They’re irresistible as always and he draws you in close for a kiss. It’s languid and lazy, tongues meeting in a slow dance as you exchange the taste of your earlier tryst. It lulls you both into a state of serenity as the sun sets into a peaceful night.
Once you part, you blink up at your boyfriend and repeat once more, “Thank you.”
 A cheeky grin spreads across Namjoon’s lips and he draws out, “For..?”
“For making me cum earlier.”
“—for calling me beautiful,”  you interrupt, adopting your boyfriend’s smile. “Sometimes I forget, but with you I always feel beautiful and…” Your cheeks widen, “I think you’re beautiful too, Joonie.” It’s said with a twinkle in your eye and a hand resting on his cheek.
Namjoon scoffs but not without placing his hand over the top of yours on his face. He plays with the digits for a few moments while whispering sweet nothings into your ear; admiring his favourite facial features of yours before pulling the covers over the two of you once again.
Yea, definitely an angel.
a/n: idk what happened. this was supposed to be all cute and fluffy and than i had to add a touch of brattiness— oops? not joon cumming as soon as oc deep throats him! but fr tho i loved writing this pair sm! i’m thinking of writing a pt. 2 where joonie really puts oc back into her place, yk? but we’ll see! anyways, if you enjoyed reading please do let me know! my inbox is always open, i’d love to hear what you thought of this drabble! love always,
—sana ♡︎
main m. list | mini m. list
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thebangtancloud · a month ago
raaaayyy can we have the classic reaction to the members making you cry? some angst and some fluff too please 🙏🏻
He makes you cry ~ BTS Reactions
Kim Namjoon:
"Just give me a sec," he murmured urgently when you came to face him again.
"Namjoon," you whined. "You said that ten minutes ago! Our tea has gone cold!"
He nodded distractedly. "I'm almost done, just one last-"
His eyes widened when you snatched his phone out of his hand.
"You're coming in, now."
"(Y/n)!" he gasped, pulling the phone from you and checking it. His eyes ran over the screen desperately before he huffed, throwing his hands up into the air.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Why are you yelling?" you frowned, looking away from him. You watched him run his hand through his hair in frustration through the corner of your eyes.
"You freaking - ugh! You pressed the send button before I was done, (Y/n)!" He shouted, showing you the phone for you to see.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were playing a game," a pout was already forming on your lips.
"Well, I'm not like you, (Y/n)... I have better things to do."
Shaking his head, he sat back down on the couch to see what he could do. It was an important text and it didn't look good for it to be sent halfway with the last word making no sense.
Your stomach dropped at his words, continuing to stare at the side of his head in disbelief. Just as he was about to start typing a fresh text, he noticed you walking back into the room, only to return with both the mugs of tea that you had prepared for the evening. He couldn't see you after you entered the kitchen but the splash of the tea against the sink made him sigh.
You placed the cups onto the counter with a little extra force - while being careful not to break them - because Namjoon wasn't the only one who had the right to feel frustrated.
"(Y/n)," Namjoon sighed when he saw you walk past him. "Come here."
You sniffled, a deep frown growing on your face, eyes brimming with tears that you didn't want him to see. You wiped them away with your sleeve, finally making it to the bedroom and shutting the door.
"Ugh," he groaned, shaking his head. He opened your chat and sent you a quick text.
I'm sorry I lashed out at you. Come back, please.
He sat there quietly after sending in the text he originally had to send to his manager, waiting for you to reply. Just as he was about to get up and follow you, his phone dinged.
You have better things to do than texting me.
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Kim Seokjin:
"Oh my god," he gasped. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"Jin," you whispered, eyes wide and rapidly filling with tears as they stared back at the man who was facing away from you.
"You've been whining about your work for the past half an hour! I'm exhausted too, (Y/n)! I've had a tough day too!"
"I'm sorry," you muttered under your breath, your stomach twisting painfully at his words. "I didn't know I was being a nuisance."
"Don't twist my words, (Y/n). You're not a nuisance. Just - I don't know! Stop talking for a while!"
"Okay," you nodded. Jin turned to walk away from the table, your hands immediately reaching up to clutch at your hair. You couldn't hold back your tears anymore, reaching forward to place your arms on the table and resting your head over it.
Jin walked back into the dining room just a moment later to take his phone that he had forgotten. He paused, looking over at you regretfully and sighing. Things couldn't go worse, he thought.
He contemplated taking his phone and leaving the room to give you both the space that you needed, but the light sniffles that came from you made his chest hurt. He walked over, making sure to drag his feet along the floor to alert you of his presence so that he doesn't startle you, simply reaching over and laying half of his body on top of yours.
His arms circled around your middle, his head resting awkwardly over yours, just holding you and not saying anything. You began to cry even more at his touch, feeling incredibly overwhelmed at everything that had been happening to you. You just wanted Jin to hold you, but after all that he had said, it made you feel even worse.
"I'm sorry, Jagiya," he whispered softly into your hair, leaving a light kiss over your shoulder. "I'm sorry."
You didn't say anything, moving a little further into his embrace. His arms tightened around you, bending his knees a little so that he could be closer to you.
"We've both had a bad day. Let's go freshen up. Okay?"
You nodded lightly, raising your head to wipe you tears with the sleeve of your shirt. Jin placed his hand over your head, gently letting his fingers run over your hair and reaching for the little elastic that was holding it together in a braid, releasing it delicately and loosening your hair out.
"We'll talk after changing into something comfy, hmm?"
"I'm done talking," you murmured. He didn't let you walk away, tugging at your wrist and pulling you to face him.
"I know you're not. I just lost my cool, babe. You know I love hearing you talk. I was just feeling really dirty and sweaty and I wanted to freshen up first. We'll talk, okay? I want to listen to everything you have to say. But you have to listen to me too."
"I will," you smiled a little when he swiped his thumbs under your eyes to wipe away the remainder of your tears.
"Go take a shower, I'll make us something to eat."
His head shook in denial, reaching for your hand and pulling you with him to the bedroom.
"Nope. Let's save water and time. Come."
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Min Yoongi:
You were getting on Yoongi's nerves, and you both knew it. It started right from the morning when you accidentally scratched his shin with your toenail while in bed. He simply winced, but didn’t say anything. When he rose to go brush his teeth, you followed him and ran past him, wanting to give him his toothbrush before he could reach it, only for it to slip from your hands and drop to the bathroom floor. Yoongi had stared at it wide-eyed, wordlessly harbouring a little scowl when you picked it up and immediately began to wash it in panic.
Yoongi didn’t brush his teeth.
While pouring the coffee, you almost – almost – dropped the mug onto the table while attempting to slide it across towards him, and the little breath that he held didn’t go unnoticed by you. You knew you were testing his limits and from that moment on, you tried not to get in his way. You let him get ready while you stayed back in the kitchen and you let him leave for work with a little wave and a ‘have a great day.’
He kissed your head before leaving.
And the two of you finally breathed out the tension when he left, him outside the door and you inside the house. You really didn’t want it to escalate into a fight. But that’s when you noticed his car keys hanging on the key stand beside the door. The thought didn’t even strike you before you could leap up and reach for it, running out to give Yoongi his keys.
You really shouldn’t have.
Yoongi turned around – hands still in his bag as he tried to look for his keys – watching the way you were running all the way towards him with his keys held up in your hand.
That’s also when you tripped. You didn’t know whether you tripped over the strap of your own sandal or you tripped over something else, but you went flying towards the floor face first, Yoongi’s yell reaching your ears from somewhere.
The movement was so fast and thankfully you managed to place your foot on the floor before you could fall, running a few more steps awkwardly before stumbling to a stop with wide eyes. What you didn’t realize was that Yoongi’s keys slipped from your grip, flying across and conveniently making its way past the gaps and into the drain by the side of the road.
For a solid minute, both you and Yoongi just stared at the drain wordlessly, not knowing how to react. You could’ve started crying right there, but the way your heart was racing from the fall that you almost had served as a momentary distraction. Yoongi could’ve simply made his way towards you to ask if you were alright, but something inside of him snapped. That was just the last straw that broke the camel’s back.
When he walked past you to go catch a cab or something, you caught his hand with an apologetic look. And he immediately jerked his arm out of your grip.
“Don’t. Just get out of my way.”
That was ten hours ago.
Ten hours that Yoongi was given to blow off his steam and calm down. Maybe nine something hours to drown in guilt when he remembered the look on your face before he left without another word. That was too much of time to dwell on his mistakes and somehow it made it easier to know what he should do when he got back home. But he didn’t expect you to be fast asleep with swollen eyes and wet eyelashes.
He made you cry.
So, with his office outfit, a shirt and a pair of trousers and a belt that really was just poking the skin of his belly the whole time, Yoongi lay on top of you. On top of all the blankets that you had protectively covered your body with. He lay on top of you and held you tight and nuzzled his face into your neck, not bothering to think that he could wake you up.
“I’m sorry for being a jerk.”
He wouldn’t know that you were listening to him, neither could he see another tear slip out of your eye. But he continued to speak to you as if you were awake.
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’m sorry for making you cry. I’m sorry for everything.”
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Jung Hoseok:
Hoseok's tiny voice floated towards you, his arms slipping under the blanket and over your waist moments after. His body dipped onto the bed, tentatively hovering over the side of your face and trying to search your expression in the darkness of the room.
"Are you mad at me?"
"Yes, Hobi," you grumbled. He gasped lowly when he heard the hoarse touch to your voice, immediately pulling you onto your back so he could see you.
"You're crying?"
"What else do you think I should do? Laugh?"
"Baby what did I do?" he inquired gently, feeling his heart sink even further when you covered your eyes to cry again.
"I'm leaving tomorrow, Hobi! I leave in a few hours and I wanted to make the best of all the time I have with you. But you decided to leave me behind and go get ice creams with Taehyung!"
His frown deepened at the way your shoulders were trembling against his chest.
"I was gone for ten minutes, love," he tried to explain. "It wasn't safe for you to come with me so late-"
"I don't care!" you cried, slapping your hands flat onto the bed in frustration. "I wanted to walk with you. I won't be seeing you for a month after this!"
"Shhh." Hoseok bent forward and placed his lips over your forehead. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? Please don't cry. I'm here now."
"You didn't even give me my ice cream!" You probably sounded pathetic but you didn't care. The fact that you had a flight back home in a few hours made you feel incredibly sad.
"I brought it for you jagiya," he smiled a little at the way you were whining. "You came back to the room before we all could eat together."
"Because I was mad at you."
"Okay," he giggled. "Fair enough."
"I felt so horrible when you left me behind. I even asked you, but you refused. Jerk."
"Stop pouting now," Hoseok laughed, taking you into his arms and peppering your face with many kisses. "We still have a few hours, let's eat our ice creams, come."
You sniffled, sitting up and letting him wipe your tears away with his hand. He placed a soft kiss on the warm skin of your cheek, smoothening out your hair and taking a good look at you.
"I bought you your favorite ice cream. Three big scoops."
"Strawberry Cheese Cake?"
"You bet."
You nodded. "Good."
"Would you share some with me?"
"No. I'm still mad at you."
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Park Jimin:
"I think (Y/n) is not alright."
Jimin couldn't help but drop his head in shame with each step that he took, Jungkook's words playing in his mind and making him chew his lip nervously.
The two of you had an argument last night, and even though he remembered the way you pleaded with him to resolve the fight before going to bed, he didn't listen. To provoke you, Jimin woke up earlier than you and left even before you could wake up, knowing that you'd be over for a little get-together that the guys had planned with all of their girlfriends.
Jimin remembered wishing that you wouldn't come, a thought that he immediately pushed away because he really wasn't that evil, but when you did turn up, Jimin avoided you. He walked the other way or took a seat a few places away from you and didn't engage in any conversation that you either initiated or were a part of.
No one really noticed considering the chaos of having more than ten people in the room, but somehow, they did notice you getting up to leave. Jimin saw the look on your face, and it was enough to bring him back to his senses.
You looked defeated.
All of your advances towards him were in vain and after six hours of being in the same room as Jimin but not being with him, you gave up.
So, with a little sigh, Jimin nervously knocked on the door of the washroom and looked around to see if anyone was there, before slipping in and closing the door. His heart squeezed painfully at the sight of you sitting on a little stool with your head kept low, two tissues in your hands, and light sniffles coming from you.
You didn't really know how to react, feeling embarrassed after the number of times he rejected any of your attempts to speak with him. But you also wanted this. You wanted him to speak with you. You wanted him to give you a chance to apologize for all the rubbish you spoke against him last night. You wanted him to hold you and tell you that it was alright and that he didn't mean to be so rude either.
He approached you with tentative steps, dropping onto one knee before adjusting his weight onto the other, bending a little to look at your face.
"Don't cry."
Ironically, that made you cry even more. You used the tissues to shield your eyes from him, a strangled sob leaving you and making Jimin sigh shakily. He hated seeing you like this.
"I'm sorry for being a horrible boyfriend."
Through your tears, you shook your head in disagreement. He wasn't a horrible boyfriend. His reaction towards you was justified after the argument that took place.
"Can I hug you?"
You nodded pitifully, melting into him when his arms touched your waist to pull you into him. He straightened up on his knees, holding you as close to him as possible, tenderly patting your head when you began to cry even more.
"I'm sorry."
"Let's forget it," he suggested in a whisper, leaning away and tucking some of your hair behind your ear. "Okay?"
"Can you forgive me?"
Jimin chuckled lightly, nodding and wiping away your tears.
"Only if you forgive me too."
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Kim Taehyung:
Taehyung was angry. Really angry. But he didn’t dare show it. After months of patiently for this vacation, you had to leave not even two days after you both had reached because of your work. He didn’t react at all, but you knew that he was thoroughly disappointed.
He sat across from you on the train with a notebook in his hand, writing anything and everything that came to his mind – which you know was a simple excuse to occupy himself so that he wouldn’t have to engage in a conversation with you.
When the train stopped at one of the stations, you sprang up in panic when Taehyung stood.
“Where are you going?”
He pointed outside the window to a little stall that was selling fish cakes.
“To get something to eat. Wait here.”
“Please come soon,” you urgently requested, fearful that the train would leave without him.
He didn’t react much except for a nod, walking away to go get some fish cakes. You sat back, a little worried, but to distract yourself, you took his notebook. A few lyrics, a little doodle of a dog and a cat playing together, a few English words and their meaning and then your name written in five different fonts. You smiled a little, running your fingers over the ink.
But when you looked to the side, Taehyung wasn’t standing at the stall anymore. He wasn’t anywhere for that matter. You stood up and placed your cheek against the window to get a better look, panicking when you couldn’t spot him anywhere. Deciding to go look for him, you were almost out of the door when an old lady stopped you.
“Don’t get off now, little one. The train is starting in a minute or two.”
Your eyes immediately welled with tears, waiting for her to move away before you got off the train in search for Taehyung.
On the other hand, Taehyung had gotten into the train from another door, walking towards your seats with two paper plates that had three sticks of fishcakes each. Halting in shock, Taehyung looked at the empty seat blankly, wondering if you had gone to use the washroom.
“This girl got off the train,” the same old lady murmured with a little frown. “I told her not to.”
“Could you hold onto this for me, grandma?” Taehyung placed both the plates of food in her hands, not even giving her a chance to respond before he took off, leaping off of the train and looking around for you.
You were on the verge of falling to your haunches and crying when a hand wrapped around your arm, turning you around to face him.
“Taehyung,” you mumbled, immediately pulling him into a hug and crying into his shoulder.
“I couldn’t find you. The train was about to leave,” you sobbed, your figure trembling in fear.
“I told you to stay in the train, Jagiya,” Taehyung murmured against your ear, his own heart racing in fear of almost losing you.
“Don’t cry now, I’m here, right? I’m with you. Don’t cry.”
“Let’s just go back into the train, I’m scared it’ll start without us.”
“It won’t,” Taehyung chuckled softly. “We have another six minutes before it starts.”
“How do you know?” You pulled away and wiped your face. “An old lady told me it was going to start moving in a minute.”
“If the train didn’t have a longer stop, I never would’ve got off, Jagiya,” Taehyung gently wiped away the remainder of your tears before turning you around by your shoulders and pointing to a big screen.
“You’ll see the time our train leaves over there.”
“Don’t ever leave me like that, Tae,” you caught his hand from the side and held it close to your chest. “I thought I was going to lose you."
His heart dropped at the fear that laced your voice, nodding and hugging you from behind, gently tucking his chin over your shoulder.
“I won’t. I promise.”
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Jeon Jungkook:
"Did you really think I forgot your birthday?"
Jungkook couldn't help but stand across from you with an expression of pure shock painted across his face. It wasn't just the fact that you thought he forgot your birthday and was purposely spending time away from you, but you were crying.
He'd never seen you cry before.
You both had been dating for only a few months, and Jungkook had been over the moon when he realized that your birthday would be the first occasion he'd get to celebrate with you. He'd gone overboard, of course. He bought you everything he soon got to know that you liked, he created a playlist with a few songs that he had been working on so that you could get some 'girlfriend benefits' as he had liked to term it. He'd even made a list of food to order that was way too expensive but he knew you liked it, so he did it just for you.
But here he was, standing with three bags in his hand and his heart sinking with every breath that he took, the sight of you crying before him hurting him to no end.
"I did, Jungkook," you complained through your tears. "You've barely spoken to me all these days because you're busy and I thought I'd at least get a call at 12 AM, but you didn't call!"
Jungkook's mouth opened, then closed back again when he realized he didn't have any explanation for that.
"I was waiting all night," you murmured sadly, looking away and wiping your nose. "It sucks that I didn't get any other call too. No one wished me."
"Baby..." Jungkook's heart physically hurt at your words. "I'm so sorry."
"You should've just called me, Jungkook... maybe I wouldn't have felt so horrible."
"I was so busy preparing these things for you, my love." Jungkook took a cautious step toward you.
"I'm sorry. You're always so strict about your schedule and I've never once seen you awake after 10:30. I thought you would be asleep."
"But it's my birthday..." you muttered sorrowfully. "I've not had a boyfriend for years and I really wanted to... I don't know. I was excited thinking you'd call, or even throw me a surprise party or something."
"Shit," Jungkook shook his head in regret. "I have everything planned, I promise. But it was just set to take place in a few hours and not in the night, baby."
You sighed with a nod. "Okay, I'm sorry I overreacted."
"No, no," Jungkook set the bags on the floor and walked over to you. "You don't need to apologize. This wasn't even an overreaction, baby. I'm sorry. I should've at least known better."
You reached for his hand and he let you take it. You ran your fingers over the ink on his skin, gently playing with his digits before tugging ever so slightly. Jungkook took the hint, moving closer and pulling you into his arms.
"I'm sorry you cried because of me. Especially on your birthday. I'm really sorry."
"It's fine now," you murmured into his chest, your voice muffled and soft. "You're here. That's what matters."
He sniffled lightly, not wanting you to know that he was on the verge of crying as well. Pulling away, he caught your face tenderly in his hands, his thumb gently grazing the skin of your cheekbone.
"Happy birthday, baby."
Your gaze dropped slightly, a shy smile growing on your face. "Thank you."
"Can we pretend like your birthday just started? I want to be the first one to wish you."
"You are," you pointed out with a light laugh. "You're the first one to wish me, don't worry."
A hint of sorrow flashed across his eyes, but he blinked it away as soon as it came.
"Plus it's only 8AM."
Jungkook's eyes rolled in mock disgust. "You're the only person who can get me up and out of bed so early. I even spent an hour dressing up!"
"You do look dashing, as always," you complimented him with a giggle.
"Maybe I do," he smirked. "But only you are allowed to be the star today."
"As if I'm not always," you sassed. Jungkook's eyebrows flew up into his hairline, clearly not expecting you to get back to your normal self so quickly.
"That's right, baby. You're always shining like the brightest star in my sky."
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ahundredtimesover · a month ago
February - April 2022 Reads
Heyy, it’s been awhile and I’m sort of back to my reading groove. Here are my February - April reblogs of JK (and a few other member) fics (x f. reader/OC). Please note the angst, fluff, and smut descriptions.
And a little note: please, please reblog and comment on stories you like, and interact with authors if you can! A nice little message goes a long way for anybody and it’s deeply appreciated. 💜💜
*’read for’ are guides for anyone!
Muse by @satnin-darling (s) - strangers au (read for something enigmatic and captivating with great smut and storytelling)
One-step forward, two-steps back by @oureuphoria pt.1 + pt.2 (a, f) - friends au, college au (read for something that hurts good and fun, lovable characters)
Wherever you will go by @ve1vetyoongi (a, f, s) - childhood friends au, small town au (read for a YA novel/movie feel with lovely storytelling, moving themes, precious characters, and something to make you cry and smile)
Parallel by @satnin-darling (a) - childhood friends au (read for something intriguing with k-drama vibe and something a little sad but hopeful)
In which you’re Jungkook’s lip balm fairy by @onlyswan - boyfriend au (read for something short and soft to give you a giddy feeling about babie and whipped jk)
So it goes by @kookdbean (f) - workmates au, teachers au (read for wholesome flirting, adorable characters, something lighthearted, and if you just want to smile and feel happy; an absolute gem)
The event crasher by @artaefact (f) - boyfriend au, kingsman jk (read for something short but interesting, with fun and teasing/flirty MCs so whipped for each other)
Violet by @bts-bay-bee (a, f, s) - roommates au, fwb au, smau (read for something fun with rly good smut, emotionally constipated but adorable characters) 
Hot ones by @yoon-kooks (f) - idol jk, workmates au, fwb au (read for some hot sauce on chicken challenge shenanigans but something lighthearted, wholesome, flirty, and unproblematic)
Over the horizon by @bangtansmauyeondan (a) - exes au (read for that classic exes au angst with intriguing set-up and background)
Nomads of the dark by @yoondoze (a) - childhood friends au, sci-fi au (read for an interesting albeit heartbreaking and hopeless storyline + a friendship that stopped)
Plastic yellow eggs by @bubmyg (f) - best friends au (read for jk & a claw machine but something so soft and happy, a wholesome and playful friendship, and something to make you smile)
Damsel in shining armor by @jimilter (humor) - workmates au, rich jk (read for something funny, all the sexual tension, and jk’s annoying but lovable ass and a very relatable but kickass OC)
A still day or a hurricane by me (a, f, s) - friends au, single mom OC, pastry chef jk
Please stay by my side pt.1, pt.2, pt.3 by @withlovemilk (a, f) - best friends au, childhood friends au (read for something that hurts good about a special and intimate friendship)
In which you’ve found comfort by @onlyswan (f) - boyfriend au (read for something soft and wholesome)
Re: stacks by @scribbles-rambles (f) - friends au (read for that sitting on jk’s lap scenario that’s tense and sexy)
Call me back by @whatifyoulivelikethat (s) - strangers au (read for something tense but so well-written, captivating, and immersive, GQ jk and rly hot smut)
I gasp once and in that breath, I accept you in pt.1, pt.2, epilogue by @inkofyoonkoo (a, f, s) - neighbors au, small town au (read for that small town novel you won’t be able to put down, with beautifully heartbreaking themes, written so well with such good imagery and dialogues, tension- and emotion-filled and painful and vivid scenes, amazing smut, and perfect storytelling)
Poster boy (ft. Yoongi) by @hamsterclaw (s) - boyfriend au, hospital au (read the Foundation couple for their chaotic and horny energy but still so whipped for each other and for rly fun and hot smut scenes)
Strings by @minsuxga (a, f) - soulmates au (read for something that hurts so good but heals you, and vivid and metaphoric and flawless writing)
Many moons by @onlyswan (f) - royalty au, bodyguard au (read for a fairytale-like story that’s pure and wholesome and would make you smile and giddy, with charming characters)
Blink and you’ll miss it by @satnin-darling (s) - strangers au, lawyer jk (read for the slow build up, fun banter, tiny soft moments, and rly hot smut)
Paint me naked by @gimmethatagustd (a, f, s) - college au, badboy jk (read for badboy but soft and sensitive jk, with tense and steamy but soft moments) 
Wanderers by @kidguk (a, f) - strangers au, memory loss au (read for something that will hurt you but make you smile after, something painful yet soft) 
Kiss me by @sunshinerainbowsbts (f, s) - best friends au (read for something heartwarming and comfortable to make you feel giddy & the loveliest accompanying song)
Brown piano by @yoongiseesawmp3 (f) - friends au (read for that exciting ‘there’s only one bed’ trope with feelings and something lighthearted and soft, and a little awkward but comfortable and caring MCs)
Summer of our youth by @seokth (a, f) - childhood friends au (read for something painful about friendship and youth and love, that will hit you in ways you wouldn’t expect, that would make you cry and feel hopeful at the same time)
Souvenir by @jiminrings (f) - husband au (read for the cutest most adorable and relatable relationship dynamic and the softest cutest yoongi, something to make you laugh and feel good)
Yellow by @hobipost (f) - boyfriend au (*reader is blind* read for the softest fic told like a love letter that will make you all soft and teary-eyed and giddy)
How I Love You by me (a, f, s) - husband nj
(Un)predictable by @yoonjinkooked (s) - arranged marriage au (read for minimal drama but sweet and sexy and entertaining smut)
Landing by @joyfulhopelox (s) - strangers au (read for something super duper sexy with pilot NJ)
Red mercedes by @bubblebeom (s) - strangers au (read for dorky, sexy joon with wholesome flirting and hot smut, something to make you smile)
Number 45 by @btsmosphere (f) - strangers au (read for something quick but a shy and sweet joon to make you smile)
Livin’, leavin’ by @outroshooky (f) - strangers au (read for a mono-inspired story of loneliness and clarity but something that’s comforting)
Seoul redemption by @sahmfanficbts (a, s) - criminal au, single mom OC (read for a romance drama with tension-filled and emotional scenes and well-written characters and rly good storytelling)
Flirt buddies by @jimilter (f) - friends au (read for something quick of a flirty but soft jimin)
Crush by @bubblebeom (f) - neighbors au (read for something short with cowboy hat tae who’s cheeky and whipped)
(monthly reads masterpost)    
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