#reader x namjoon

[jeonbunnie]

promises

pairing: reader x namjoon

summary: marriage life with namjoon hasn’t been the same lately. he’s been cold and distant, always whispering on the phone. and you can’t help but notice…

genre: angst

content/warnings: established relationship; married!au; idol!namjoon; cheating/infidelity; implied sex; eventual smut; explicit sex

soundtrack: lemonade by beyoncé

a/n: this used to be a series but I decided to rework it into a oneshot. The plot is mostly the same, however now the reader gets to choose the big decision at the end (kind of like a choose your own adventure).

word count: 18k

Pray you catch me

♪ you can taste the dishonesty/ it's all over your breath, as you pass it off so cavalier. but even that's a test/constantly aware of it all/my lonely ear/pressed against the walls of your world. ♪

. . .

Something is wrong.

You don’t know how or when things changed, but something shifted between the two of you. There is a distance now, more tangible than the miles that separate you from him when he’s on business trips. Farther than the long-distance phone calls that became less and less frequent. Even now, as you lay in the same bed with him only a few feet away you can tell.

Something is wrong.

Because you can’t remember a time when you and Namjoon had ever been so far apart.

He would always come home late at night. Languid footsteps trailing towards the bedroom. Eyes tired and red from too many hours spent awake working on the newest album. Gravity pulled him down in a slump that could only be from the heaviness of leadership, from carrying the weight of the entire group.

And though he was exhausted, he would still find a way to come and take care of you. Even dead-tired, his warm brown eyes would light up and his lips would curl at the sight of you. He’d make his way over and pull you close, until your bodies became an entangled mess of arms and legs, chests pressed together as you curled into each other's warmth. His fingers would run soothingly through your hair and he’d ask you how your day went. The moments you spent within his arms seemed to make even the bad days good.

But it's been a long time since your husband held you close and melted away your bad days.

The clock on your nightstand reads 1:23 AM in angry red letters when his phone goes off in the middle of the night. You can hear the sheets rustle and feel whatever is left of his presence slip away as he sits up, answering on the second ring. “Hello?” Before you can even stop yourself the words are flying out of your mouth. “Who is it?”

The woman who speaks sounds nothing like you. Her voice is broken and fragile, spiked with worry and fear. He shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes because, “It’s just Yoongi.” The lie rolls off his tongue effortlessly. You are already hurting and the way he brushes you off tears right through you.

It’s not Yoongi. You know better. Your husband’s best friend loves his sleep and would never stir in the middle of the night. You want to confront him, put all your thoughts out in the open but before you can even gather the courage, he stands up, makes his way across the room and closes the door behind him, leaving you alone.

Again.

Somehow you can’t decide what’s more unsettling: the loneliness you feel when your husband leaves or the loneliness you feel when he’s around.

You are too unnerved to go back to sleep. Not that you are sleeping anyways. Now that you are truly awake to the situation before you, sleep does not come. You’ve been staying up for days, eyes wide open. But it was more than just insomnia. Your mind is awake with all the possibilities, visualizing every single scenario. You can’t close your eyes because in an instant you are there. Thinking about it all over again. You can't ignore it, nor pretend not to see it. You are not blind anymore. And so sleep does not come.

With every nerve on edge you throw back the covers and swing your legs out of bed. You can’t just lay there trapped within your own mind. You need a distraction—any distraction from the truth. Even if the only release you can find is putting your body into motion. You find yourself pacing back and forth, frazzled energy bouncing from one point to another.

Until you hear him laugh. It’s a deep and throaty noise that breaks through the walls and interrupts your racing thoughts. You find yourself tiptoeing closer to the sound, trying to be as quiet as you possibly can so you can creep up and press your ear up against the door to listen. How desperate you are, eavesdropping like this. You feel ashamed for sinking this low, but that shame does not stop you from wondering if you should get the glass from your nightstand so you can hear him better. If you could only hear what he was saying! But the words are muffled, like he’s talking underwater.

He used to talk to you all the time, share his innermost thoughts, his nightmares, his dreams. Talk to you about everything and nothing. Work and play. Past and present. But now, nothing.

Now all you got were glimpses of his world.

You used to be his world.

The realization leaves you cold and you press yourself closer to the light trickling through the cracked door. You can see him now. His back is turned towards you and he’s hunched over, phone clutched to his ear like he’s trying to keep all his secrets from spilling out of it. In that moment, you pray he will turn around so you can read his lips and decode whatever it is he’s whispering huskily into the receiver. You pray he will turn around and catch you. You wonder what he will do. Will he jump? Will he be angry?

Ironically, out of all the times you’ve prayed for God to answer you during your marriage, this is the prayer God answers because it happens. He turns around.

You expect to see the face of a cruel man. You could not have prepared yourself for what you do see. Because when he finally turns around, it’s not the face of a monster, but the face of your first love. Namjoon is smiling. Smiling. This is the moment your heart breaks. When was the last time he smiled at you like that? Pink lips pulled back, pearly whites gleaming. Dimples flashing in his cheeks. The way his eyes squint into tiny crescent moons.

When was the last time he smiled at you like that? You can’t remember. Your mind flickers through the memories filed in your head, though each image never seems to be quite right. Maybe because they are now clouded with suspicion. Was that last smile real? Or merely a mask?

The fact that you can’t be sure made you anxious. You can’t tell the difference because you didn’t know him anymore. Where was the man you loved? This person you do not recognize. His eyes are dark, lit with the desire you once thought was only reserved for you. You watch as his lips curl from a smile into a wicked grin.

Something is wrong.

You tried to fix it. The problem. You. It had you be you, didn’t it? Maybe he wanted someone more gentle. You tried to be meek, mild, and kind. Soft spoken, as you were always previously so assertive. You didn’t want to chase him off with harsh words or accusations. You wanted to be what he wanted. You thought that maybe he wanted someone sexy, so you tried to be that too. You made your eyes smokey and put on red dresses, even though you hated the color red. You wanted to be enough. You tried everything to get his attention, but it made no difference. You still ended up in this exact moment.

A sigh slips past your lips, almost a whimper. It’s the sound of loss.

This is when he sees you.

His smile disappears. Then he walks forward and closes the door in your face, shutting out the light and leaving you in darkness.

. . .

When he comes back to bed—wearing a scent that is distinctly not yours—it’s 5AM. He kisses your forehead and climbs underneath the sheets, yet the distance between you remains. Maybe you already know the answer to the questions that keep swirling in your mind. You don't want to believe that he broke his vows. But that hope does not stop the doubt you feel every time you look at his face.

Are you cheating on me?

Don’t Hurt Yourself

♪ I am the dragon breathing fire. Beautiful man I’m the lion Beautiful man I know you’re lying…. ♪

. . .

It is quiet in your house. The sun and it’s warm amber glow have long since disappeared, fading into black. The stillness is unusual. Normally you hate such things, always needing some sort of noise playing in the background like the tv or the radio while you clean up and do work, but not today. You need the silence so you can collect your thoughts and prepare yourself for what you are about to do.

You are done being passive. Sick and tired of sitting and waiting around for a man who did not so much as blink an eye at you. You are done crying. You already cried so much. All your tears have dried up and gone away. You can’t bring yourself to be sad anymore. There isn’t any room for you to hold inside two emotions. Especially when all you can feel now is anger.

You are mad as hell.

So you came home from work and sat down on the couch, waiting on him for one last time. Head held high, poised and collected. Muscles coiled and ready to pounce.

Just like clockwork, keys slide into the door and Namjoon comes in at a quarter to three, completely unaware of the situation he just stepped into. Looking up he stops, surprised to find you sitting in the living room. He can feel something is off. Sense it in your body language, see the difference in your eyes. For a minute, he wonders if you know what he’s been doing all night long...but that’s impossible right? How could you possibly know?

But you did know.

You watched nonchalantly as he flashed a casual grin your way. “Hey babe...what are you doing up so late?“ You didn’t respond right away, taking the time to examine him closely before you decide to speak.

“Where were you tonight?”

The second the words leave your mouth there’s a shift in the atmosphere. Thick silence fills the space between you, but your eyes never leave him. You see him blink, catch the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows down a gulp, note a flicker of emotion pass in his face too brief to figure out the expression. Was that fear? Was he nervous?

But then he laughs. It’s almost a scoff as his eyebrows pull together he shakes his head in what masks as confusion. “What?”

“I know you heard me Namjoon, I’m not going to ask you again.”

“What are you talking about? I was with the guys tonight, we—”

“Don’t,” you stop him, holding up a hand. ”Don’t do that. Don’t lie to my face. I am so tired of you lying to me, please for once just be honest.”

He doesn’t say a word, only sighs and runs his fingers through silver locks and as unsatisfactory as it is, you realize this action is the closest you’ll ever get to a confession. But it’s not enough. Your hands come up to rest on your face almost like prayer before you ask your next question.

“Did you sleep with her?”

“God (Y/N), are we really doing this right now?”

Anger presses up against your chest and before you know it, you’re on your feet. “Yes, Namjoon, we are really doing this right now. Because I can’t stand one more minute of this fake marriage. I’m not stupid. I see you! And I’m not going to pretend like I don’t anymore.”

“Fine. Fine! What do you want me to say, huh? What do you want?”

“I want the truth!”

He fixes his gaze, eyes locked on you. “Oh, you want the truth? Ok here’s the truth. Yes, I was with her tonight, and yes I fucked her, and it was the best goddamn fuck I’ve had in months. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?”

His words hit you like a bullet to the heart. No, you weren’t happy. You wanted his candor but not this. His tone...the way he was talking to you...You almost couldn’t believe it. How could he? The man you called your husband would never so much as raise his voice towards you. Yet here he was, spitting out cruelty. The brutality of his words mixed with his contempt was too much. Your nails dug into the couch as you tried to steady yourself, tried to push through the pain.

Your mind was swimming with information, trying to come to terms with the new knowledge but one question still lingered. You had to ask:

“Why?”

“Fuck, why? I’m on tour all the time, It’s not like you’re around?”

Are you kidding me?

Whatever pain you felt quickly turned to anger and you whipped around to face him.

“Who the fuck do you think I am Namjoon?! You didn’t marry one of your little groupies. I have a job and a life! I can’t just drop everything and follow you around the world like some love-sick puppy!”

“Yeah well, maybe if you did I wouldn’t have needed to find someone else.”

The nerve of this man!

“So you want my entire world to revolve around you? You are so selfish! As if I don’t already do everything for you. I cook, when you come home at night there’s dinner on the table. I keep this house spotless, but it’s not like you’re even here to notice--”

“I’m not here cuz I’m too busy working the job that got you this house in the first place!”

“Wow. So it’s ok for you to be away from me on your job, but if I can’t be there for you then I’m the problem?” You stared him in the face, only to be met with a glare to rival your own.

“You’re a real piece of work Namjoon.”

How is it that he could look at your relationship and see only your flaws, but never his own? You should have known better than to put all your faith in a man with a god-complex. He only ever cared about himself and his own career. All he had were excuses. You started to walk away from him when his next words stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re so perfect. It’s not like you haven’t done it.”

You cast an incredulous look over your shoulder. “Excuse me?”

Just what is he trying to imply?

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Now who’s playing dumb. I’m not stupid either, I know you’re seeing him behind my back.”

This again? “How many times do I have to tell you, Jackson is just a friend.”

“You’re a fucking liar. He doesn’t look at you like ‘just a friend’, I know you slept with him.”

Now you were furious. You took several steps towards him till you were so close you could feel his heated breath on your face. “Let’s not get it twisted, I’m not the cheater—You are!” you said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to put this on me! You and I both know I’m not the one who’s unfaithful!”

By the end of your sentence you found yourself out of breath, panting. You were shouting the entire time. Unable to keep the fire inside; your fury, abated. You looked at your husband, finally eye to eye and sighed.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” You spoke, your voice coming out much softer than either of you had expected. “I wouldn't do anything to disrespect you like the way you disrespect me.”

Once again silence swelled within the room and all you could do was look at him and wonder how you had ended up here. The two of you never used to fight, not like this. It was never this bad. But things were different now.

“W-why did you do this to me? To us?” On your wedding day you both took vows to be united as one in this relationship. He was hurting himself just as much as he was hurting you but he was so wrapped up in his own pride that he couldn't see it.

“Are you even sorry?”

Namjoon didn't say a word.

You closed your eyes and counted to ten, trying to find some kind of peace. But by the time you finished counting your anger still hadn't subsided. You couldn't find peace because there was no peace here.

Everything in this relationship was so, so hard. You couldn't pick up the broken shards of your relationship all by yourself and he wasn't even trying to fix it.

“I can't—I can't do this anymore”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes. “Can't do what anymore?”

“This!” You yelled, throwing your arms out.

“You. Me. Us. I can’t do it anymore and I don't want to.”

And with that you spun on your heel making a direct line for the bedroom. You could hear him follow behind you, but you didn't care. Your mind was focusing on something else now.

All you cared about was getting the hell out of there. You went into the closet and pulled out an overnight bag, snatching clothes off hangers and stuffing them inside.

“What are you doing?”

You had to laugh at his question. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m leaving you.”

You didn’t stop packing. After taking out enough clothes you grabbed your bag and walked out of the closet. On your way you caught a glimpse of Namjoon with a blank expression on his face.

“Don’t tell me you're actually surprised?”

Brushing past him, you made your way to the bathroom. “I was so blindly in love with you that even when I knew—I knew what you were doing, I tried to stay. But I deserve better. I deserve so much more than you.”

After gathering the rest of your stuff you turn around to walk out the door only to find Namjoon leaning against the frame. Taking in his image made your steps falter.

He looked strong and athletic in a white muscle tee. His arms were crossed over his chest, a gesture built out of displeasure, but only served to highlight the curve of his biceps. When you finally tore your eyes away from his body and up to look at his face, you sighed. He was clenching his jaw, showing off all his angles while his lips pushed out into the perfect pout. His eyes as always were dark, intense, and fixed on you.

Well, not always fixed on you.

He was so beautiful and you hated him for it. Or rather how he made you feel. He could still make your heart skip a beat even as it was breaking.

Yes, you still loved him. But clearly his love for you didn’t run quite as deep.

“So what now? You want a divorce? You signed the prenup. You're not going to get any money out of me.” He growled, voice deep and raspy.

There he goes again, always so damn arrogant…..His words served as a reminder. This is why you had to go. You broke eye contact, concentrating on zipping up your bag. “You can keep your money. I’ve got my own, and I can take care of myself.”

You crossed in front of him, swiftly taking a pair shoes then sitting on the bed to put them on. It dawned on you that he didn’t even ask you to stay. But then again, although it hurt to make this decision, you didn’t have to blink away any tears.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

You laced up your shoes, pulling the strings tight. “I don’t know.” You snapped. “Since you seem to think all I do is sneak around behind your back, maybe I’ll go see Jackson. Or maybe I’ll go out and find me another man. All I know is, I’m never coming back to you. I can promise you that.”

You weren’t playing nice but you were honestly so done with his attitude, mistreatment, and all the pain he caused you. Confident in your decision, you got your bag and stood up, striding towards the exit.

“Hey!”

You ignored him.

“Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you!”

“Kiss my ass, Namjoon!” You sassed, walking out the door and out of his life.

Resentment

♪ I may never understand why. I’m doing the best that I can. And I tried, and I tried to forget this. But I’m much too full of resentment…

. . .

Kim Namjoon knew you would probably leave him if you found out about his affair.

You weren’t the type of woman to let yourself be walked all over, and honestly he was surprised you’d let him get away with it for so long. For months you put up with the late night calls, the sneaking around, the constant lies...And he watched the light dim in your eyes as he broke his vows. It wasn’t like he wanted to cheat on you—not at first.

But anytime he was away from you on tour he just got so lonely.

Sure he had his bandmates and his fans but when the stage lights turned off and the cheers died down none of that was enough to keep him going. Whenever he got by himself it’s like the floodgates opened up. And all the pressure, the high expectations, the push for success, the hate, all of it came washing over him.

And Namjoon felt like he was drowning in it.

As much as he wanted to tell you what ailed him, he didn’t wanna put you under any more stress. You were already constantly worrying about his welfare, filled to the brim with your own concerns. He didn’t think it fair to make you shoulder his burdens as well. But holding all his feelings inside only made things worse.

The helplessness, the anxiety...he just wanted to make it go away. Even if only for a moment. And that’s all it was. A moment of weakness.

The first time it happened he regretted it immediately. He stayed up the whole night, staring at the ceiling, consumed by his guilt. It was the biggest mistake he had ever made. He planned to go home and just come clean, tell you everything that happened. Then beg and beg for your forgiveness.

All he could do on the plane ride back home was pray to God you would somehow take him back.

But then he saw your face. The bright smile you gave him when he walked in the door and heard the joy in your voice as you greeted him. Felt your love as you curled into his embrace, nudged your head in the crook of his neck and whispered “I missed you so much”.

How could he tell you the truth then? How could he tell you what he had done, that he’d broken his promise and given himself to another? He wasn’t even on stage, yet here you were, looking at him with stars in your eyes. You were the only person who truly knew him, flaws included, and despite it all you still loved him.

He couldn’t watch the love and devotion in your eyes turn to hatred and disgust. He couldn’t cope with the reality of the situation. The fact that your heart might close to him forever, that you might leave him.

And then he’d really be alone.

No, that couldn’t happen. If you left..? At the time, he hadn’t wanted to even think about it. So instead of doing the right thing and being honest he closed himself off. If only to keep himself from breaking down. Everytime he looked at you he felt ashamed of his actions. It didn’t feel right, lying to you. Maintaining a distance was the only way he could keep his secret a secret.

The second time it happened, it wasn’t a mistake. A mistake repeated more than once is a decision. And when temptation swept by, manifesting itself in long legs and a warm body to hold at night, Namjoon couldn’t resist.

The guilt hit him just as hard, if not harder than the last time. If he had to face you in that moment without a doubt he would have spilled out all the ugly truth. But it didn’t happen that way. He was on tour for an even longer time than usual, and the separation gave him more than enough time to compose himself, to bury the guilt far enough where it would not resurface. But in doing so he had to become a different person to you. Hard. Cold to the touch.

It affected him as much as it affected you. With every shrug and look of indifference, every evasion he could feel himself slipping further and further away from the man he wanted to be, from the man that you deserved.

And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

The third time it happened, you knew. Even now he couldn’t figure out what tipped you off. He knew there wasn’t any lipstick on his cheek or lingering perfume (Namjoon was stupid for cheating, but he wasn’t that stupid). Nothing tangible to hold your suspicion but you felt it. You questioned him, asking things like ‘what’s wrong?’ and ‘did something happen tonight?’, each inquiry only put him on edge and he snapped at you, starting a fight to distract you from the truth.

That night he left home, seeking comfort in the arms of the first girl he cheated with. He crossed a line that night. He knew he shouldn’t have met with her. But she already put her number in his phone and he was too much of a coward to be left alone with his thoughts in a hotel room. But in doing so he opened up pandora's box. He lay in her bed as she stroked his ego, telling him how important he was, how much better he deserved.

And soon enough he started to believe it. That he was better than you and that you were somehow, not enough for him. His superiority somehow justified him stepping outside his marriage. He found himself faultless, thinking it was your job to keep his interest and if he wasn’t happy, it was only his right to seek out happiness elsewhere.

But now, sitting alone in this dark house, all Namjoon could see was how wrong he was. So very, very wrong.

Months. You’ve been gone for months now. At first, he barely missed you. He didn’t have to. The very next day he had to fly out to Tokyo for a concert and he went back to his regular routine. Practice. Performing. Parties. The occasional girl to keep him satisfied. He didn’t need you then. And why would he? When he had all the people surrounding him, screaming his name. Singing his praises. He had no need to miss you until he went home. And that's when reality sunk in.

He came home to more than just an empty house. As the days rolled by he came to realize just how much you took care of him. Not just as a homemaker but as a mate. You were his heart, the sun and moon, his entire world. Namjoon could have killed the man who said you don’t know what you have until it’s gone because as cliché as it was, the expression couldn’t have been more accurate and the truth stabbed him like a knife.

The loneliness he felt when without you was ten times worse than when he was with you.

Your presence had a bigger impact on him than he could have imagined. Something about your ambience was instantly calming. Even if you weren’t doing anything together, whether it be just sitting on the couch or laying in bed beside him your being there gave him peace.

He tried to fill the void, find your image in the millions of girls that threw themselves at him, the women he led to his bed deep within the night. But there was no recreating you.

Namjoon hadn’t known peace since the day you left.

If it was possible he was even more restless than before. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had a full night's sleep. It had to be retribution for all the nights he kept you awake with the creeping thoughts of his betrayal. You, the love of his life, who he took for granted.

He ruined the best thing that ever happened to him, for his own selfish desires.

All because he lied.

And now all he wanted was a chance to get you back.

He pulled out his cell phone, trying to reach you again. He couldn’t keep track of all the times he called your phone, only to be met with your voicemail.

When he watched you walk out that door…a part of him hadn’t really recognized it as real. He was too full of himself to see it happening. His ego told him you’d be back, that you wouldn’t—couldn’t—really leave him. You’d cool off for a couple of days, then come back and try to make things work because that’s the type of person that you were.

He knew you were strong. Strong enough to move past his mistakes. He just didn’t know you were strong enough to move past him entirely.

Namjoon runs a hand across his face, dials your number, and prays. He’s not necessarily sure who or what he’s praying to, but he could really use a miracle right now. Because that’s what it would take for you to actually pick up the phone.

“(Y/n) please, please pick up.”

The phone rings once, twice, three times and then—

"We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

He hangs up, angry.

He doesn’t have the right to be angry, that much he knows. Mercy and grace from the woman he scorned is far too much to ask for, but he needs you, and he’s desperate, so he’s asking anyway.

Namjoon foolishly made the mistake of thinking that you couldn't live without him. But it was he who was the one who couldn’t live without you.

So he’ll keep calling. Even if it only goes to voicemail. He’ll keep leaving message after message after message.

Whatever it takes.

…

♪ I may never understand why. I'm doing the best that I can. And I tried, and I tried to forget this. But I'm much too full of resentment...♪

…

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing. You didn’t have to check caller ID to know who was on the other side of that line. Annoyed, you sighed and rolled over onto your side. Curling up into the couch, you choose the warmth and sweet bliss of sleep over another argument.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?”

“No.” You answered without so much as opening your eyes.

Behind you, you could hear Jackson moving around, presumably to shut off your phone (you didn’t care enough to look).

The ringing grew louder and louder and soon enough you could feel your phone vibrating against your back. “(Y/n), answer the phone.”

“No.” You repeated, throwing the cover over your head. It’s entirely too early for this. Didn’t he have something to do? Wasn’t he busy? You didn’t understand it. Now that you were separated, he suddenly had all the time in the world to call you?

You could hear Jackson sigh behind you. “I swear if I have to hear your ringtone one more time—I’m going to lose my mind. Just answer the phone!”

“If it bothers you so much, why don’t YOU answer it!”

“M-me! Me?” Jackson sputtered. “Do you want me to die? Do you know what that man would do to me if he found out you were staying with me? He would kill me.”

That much was true. Namjoon would be furious to find out you’d been staying with your male best friend, which is exactly why you went to Jackson’s place when you left him.

Was it petty? Yes. Was it worth it? Hell yes.

If his feelings and pride were hurt than good, that made two of you.

“I mean, I could probably take him. But Namjoon when he’s angry is a totally different person. Actually no, he wouldn’t just kill me. It would be murder in the First degree. I’m not answering.”

“Then put it on silent. I don’t care, I’m not talking to him.”

Suddenly, the warmth of your blanket was ripped away from you, forcing you out of your bubble of comfort. “Did you—did you just snatch my cover off? Jackson!”

“(Y/n),” He said, coming closer and taking your hands in his. “You are my best friend and you know I’m only saying this out of a place of love, but this has to stop. You have to go.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“Look, it’s not like I don’t want you here, I love having you around you know that. It’s just—you’ve been hiding out on my couch for a couple of months now—”

“—Hiding! I’m not hiding!!!”

“And I refuse to harbour a fugitive anymore.”

“I’m not a fugitive…” you grumbled.

Jackson shot you a cross look.“Namjoon is searching high and low for you and you’re avoiding him here, in my apartment.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ok, AND?”

“And! I really don’t think staying here is doing you any good. You are not dealing with what happened. It’s not healthy. He’s calling for a reason, you need to talk to him. You can’t run away from this…”

You bit down on your lip, contemplating everything he said. He wasn’t really wrong. But you were far too exhausted to deal with Namjoon again.

You couldn’t go through another fight.

You weren’t angry. At least, not in the way you were before. The last of your anger had been exerted in a fit of rage when you returned to your home to pick up some things you left behind. This is what you told yourself. A lot of damage had been done. Broken dishes, shattered glass, photos ripped out from picture frames. Tiny vengeful acts that piled up to one huge mess. After all of it you were only partially satisfied. But that time had come and gone, you didn’t think you had any more fight in you.

You were filled with too much bitterness, too much resentment for any of that.

No matter what, you still couldn’t wrap your brain around it. How could he do this to you? You thought that having him speak the truth and actually admit to what he did would give you peace of mind but all it did was give you more questions than answers. Now just the thought of talking to him made bile rise up in your throat.

“I...I don’t even know what I would say to him.”

Jackson narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. He’s the one who fucked up, he should be doing all the talking.” His expression softened. “But...I think you should listen. If this is really over, you need closure.”

“And on that note, you’re gonna pick up the next time that phone rings or I will revoke your couch privileges!” He said, standing up with a smile on his face.

“I hate you for this.” You growled at him.

He smiled back at you, “I love you too.” He kissed your cheek, placing your cellphone in your hand, then left for his bedroom.

You looked down at the piece of metal in you hand and sighed. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t talk to him. And yet...there was still this small part of you that wanted to hear his voice. Determined to ignore that emotion you stood up from the couch, headed straight for the kitchen. Stress eating had become a terribly bad habit of yours, but you couldn’t help it. You were the type of person who ate her feelings (and honestly, food does make everything better).

You were shuffling through last night's leftovers, trying to decide if you should heat up a plate of dukbokki or humor yourself with dessert for breakfast when Jackson’s home phone went off.

You waited a bit, figuring he would pick up eventually, but he didn’t. “Jacksonnnn~”, you whined. Nothing. Whatever, you thought. I’ll just let it go to voicemail.

You turned back to the fridge, taking out a pint of ice cream when the beep of the machine sounded and a voice broke through the apartment's silence.

“Hey (Y/n),” At the sound of your name you immediately stopped everything and froze.

“It’s me, Hobi. I know you’re crashing at Jackson’s right now,” Your jaw dropped. How could he know that? You didn’t tell anyone where you were going.

You could hear him giggling on the phone. “Don’t worry I’m not gonna tell. I know you don’t wanna hear anything that I have to say but I’m still gonna say it anyway.”

“Namjoon’s a mess...We've been through a lot together—I’ve never seen him like this before. He made a mistake. A big mistake, and he knows it. But he loves you more than anything. Just hear him out okay? And not for him, but for you...I know you still love him too. Call me back, yeah? If you want, you can ditch him but don’t ditch us! We all miss you over here…..Take care of yourself.”

By the time the message ended you had teary eyes, only half a pint of ice cream left, and a decision to make. Suddenly, you didn’t have much of an appetite.

And then the phone rings. Your phone.

You let it buzz for a bit. Fully determined to ignore his call once again. But you couldn’t stop looking at the phone. Everyone’s words were circling in your head. What if your friends were right? Were you making a mistake? Would you regret this in the future?

The phone just keeps ringing. You wished it would stop so you didn’t have to think about any of this. You closed your eyes and decided to let fate make the choice for you. If he called back, you would use the last bit of fight in you to answer the phone. But if the phone call ended and he didn’t call back...then you’d really be done and let everything be.

Your ringtone died and you held your breath, waiting.

There was a long pause. Nothing.

Maybe he'll give up. Maybe he’s sick of all this too.

Expect—the phone rings again. Namjoon was still fighting for you.

So you pick up your phone, press the answer button, and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

…

♪ Loving you was easy once upon a time. But now my suspicions of you have multiplied. And it's all because you lied. ♪

…

“(Y/n)?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“I......I didn’t think you would actually pick up the phone.”

“Neither did I…”

Silence is a funny thing. It’s nothing, and everything at the same time. Somehow the emptiness is still able to fill a void. Nothing is said aloud, but a thousand words are said in the silent space between you and Namjoon. It’s probably only been a few seconds, but it feels like minutes have gone by, or maybe even hours. In those moments of suspended time you decide you don’t want to listen to anything coming from him. Not even this silence.

It’s almost as if he can hear your thoughts. “Don’t hang up!”

His voice is rushed, desperate…..and soothing. Though you’ll never admit that you miss the sound of his voice. Your intellect tells you not to listen. To block him out. Hang up the phone, and move on with your life, you don’t need anything from him...Maybe that was true. But underneath all the hurt, and the deeply buried anger, there was a part of you that wanted something from him.

What that something was you couldn’t tell, but it was enough to make you linger.

When you didn’t hang up, Namjoon spoke. “I called you. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for months now.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you answer?” His voice was strangled, raw. If you didn’t know any better you would think him to be holding back tears. But you couldn't even remember the last time you saw Namjoon cry.

“Maybe I wasn’t ready to talk. Everything isn’t always about you.”

You can hear Namjoon take in a breath on the other side of the line and you imagine him clenching the phone in a fist, the way he always does when he makes an important phone call. The silence stretches on for a beat too long and you’re two seconds away from hanging up again when he speaks. “I don’t wanna fight. I didn’t call to argue with you.”

His words are soft, yet you still find yourself on edge. “Then what do you want, Namjoon?”

“I want to see you.”

“No.” You said, shaking your head. Not gonna happen. You find yourself pacing against the kitchen floor. “I don’t want to see you.”

“Why not?”

His words are a match, igniting your fury and immediately all of the anger you worked so hard to keep suppressed comes bubbling up to the surface. “Why not? Are you serious?!”

“After everything you’ve done you really think I wanna see your sorry face again?” Tears filled your eyes—but you were frustrated—not sad. You were letting him get to you. Namjoon always made you feel too much. You knew you’d get worked up if you talked to him, it’s why you put it off for so long. You worked too hard to try and keep yourself together for him to tear you apart again.

You want this to end. “I have nothing to say to you. Goodbye, Namjoon--”

You take the phone from your ear, ready to press end call, and you would have, if you didn’t hear his faint voice through the speaker say: “If you feel anything for me at all, don't hang up!”

You can’t do it. Hang up. You won't lie to yourself. But you can’t force out a response either. Instead, you lean against the counter, letting the silence take over as you wait for Namjoon to form his next sentence. “I don’t blame you for wanting nothing to do with me. I didn’t call you to make you upset. I just want to talk about us.”

Us. What a foreign concept. You try picturing it in your mind but no matter what, you still can’t form a full image with the two of you together. You’d been apart for so long, and if you really thought about it, the separation began long before you ever left home.

“There hasn’t been an us for a long time. I tried to talk to you before—look what happened. I’m tired Namjoon. I just—I can’t keep doing the same thing over, and over again.”

“It’s not going to be the same.”

You frown. “How can you say that?”

“Because...I’m not the same. I’ve had a lot of time to think things over. I know I fucked up (Y/n), I’m so sorry.” You scoff at his poor attempt at an apology. “I’m supposed to accept that? You think you can just call me up, apologize over the phone, and everything will be okay?”

“No, of course not.” You hear him exhale sharply. “I know it’s going to take more than that. But it’s not gonna get better if we don’t talk about it. We can’t move forward if we don’t talk.”

“What makes you think I want to move forward?”

“You didn’t hang up…”

You hate that he’s right. You want to pretend like it didn’t mean anything but it did. It would be so much easier to just let it go—to let him go. Beyond all reason, you’re still hanging on to this relationship.

“Can we just talk, please. Just...just come home.”

“That’s not my home. It’s not. So much shit has happened in that place…” Your voice cracked and you couldn’t even finish your sentence.

How could you call that place home? Nothing felt right there. All it held were bad memories. Thinking of it only brought back the nights you spent alone, those times you cried yourself to sleep, and the worst fight you ever had with Namjoon. There was no peace there. You couldn't go back to that broken place. You feel a tear roll down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away. This time you knew the tears you cry come from pain, not frustration.

Dammit, I said I wouldn’t cry for him anymore!

“It is your home. It’s our home. You can come back anytime.”

“I don’t want to!”

“Okay, okay.” he said, his voice gentle. It was the same voice he used to use when he used to talk you down from your bad days. You could tell he was trying to calm you down, and it made you angry that it was kind of working. He suggested an alternative: “You don’t have to come home. Let’s just meet up somewhere.”

You don’t want that either. “Namjoon...Do you have any idea what you put me through?...W-why would I want to see you? Why would I want to hear anything you have to say?”

“I..I don’t have an answer to that. But I know you deserve an explanation.”

That made you quiet. These past months all you did was ask yourself why. Why did he do it? What reason did he have for breaking your heart? And there were so many more questions. You knew you wouldn’t get any peace of mind until they’re answered. It was what you wanted. No, needed.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll do it,” You conceded. “Where should we meet up?” You were not going ‘home’. You don’t feel comfortable there. There was a lull on the other line as Namjoon thought of a location.

“Can we meet at our place?”

. . .

You knew exactly what Namjoon meant when he said “our place��. When the two of you first started dating, it was really hard for you to be together. You work as a stylist at a fashion magazine and you met him and the other boys while working at a photoshoot. Namjoon caught your eye with his intuitive gaze and cool persona. He spoke to everyone on set with a natural esteem you found attractive. You were so surprised when you actually got the chance to speak to him and he turned out to be nothing like he appeared.

Gone was the calm, collected image you saw in front of the camera. Namjoon stuttered when he asked for your name, his cheeks bloomed into a rosy red. His nervousness charmed you, and in that moment, somehow you knew you would end up falling for him hard.

It didn’t take very much for you to give him your number. But finding a spot to go on a date with the famous rapper proved a bit more difficult. You never liked the idea of sneaking around, but you understood why. Namjoon wanted to keep things private to protect you, just in case the news of him dating didn’t go well with the public. For a long time it seemed like there was never going to be a place where Namjoon wasn’t recognized.

All the face masks and hats in the world couldn’t hide his fame. You grew tired of being swarmed in coffee shops and restaurants. You just wanted a place where you could talk, maybe hold his hand, and be at peace. Ironically, you found it when you stopped looking. It ended up not even being in a building, but instead an empty park.

Its lush greenery held quiet beauty. Not very many people knew about it, which made it perfect.

Some of the biggest conversations you ever had as a couple were spoken out here, and today was no different.

You walk up to a table nearby, tugging on the hem of your white summer dress. Fidgeting like this makes you feel stupid. You shouldn’t be nervous. If anyone should be nervous for today’s meeting it would be Namjoon. But ever since you agreed to see him, a bad feeling formed in the pit of your stomach. You didn't want to be nervous. You didn’t feel like you’d make it out of this alive if you were. You had to be steel. Strong, unbreakable. You couldn’t allow yourself to get hurt again.

It did not surprise you to see him there early. He was the type of person who liked to be punctual. Or at least he used to be. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t the same person you married. You didn’t know anything about him. Hell, after the last few months you were still trying to figure out some things about yourself.

Under the shade of the table's umbrella, Namjoon sits, bouncing his leg up and down. The only other time you’d seen him this nervous was during BTS’s first dome concert. His head faces down, staring at the ground with a look so intense he doesn’t even notice you approach him. The daze is broken once you sit down on the bench.

Namjoon jumps up, eyes wide as he looks at your face. “Y-you came?!”

It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes. Obviously...you thought.

He clears his throat, quickly sitting back down. “Thank you.”

For a while you just look at each other. You have to calm your heart as you take in his appearance. He’s just as handsome as you remembered. But something was different. He changed his hair. His silver locks were now a honeyed blonde. The warm glow of his skin had disappeared. And his once bright eyes now hold dark circles underneath them. He looked like shit, but you were still attracted to him, what logic was that?

The air tenses with silence, the way it always seems to do when you’re around him now. This is a mistake. Neither of you know where to begin. You hate it, but you know this conversation will never get anywhere if you don’t initiate it. “You said you wanted to explain. So explain.”

Namjoon looks tense. “I-i don’t even know where to start.”

That irritates you. You came all this way, and he didn’t even plan what he was going to say?

“What about the beginning?”

Namjoon sighed. He licked his lips, folded his hands, and then he did it. He told you everything. He told you about his anxiety, and the loneliness he felt. The desire to make it all fade away even for just a few moments. How he almost came clean the first time around. And the guilt that festered inside him for keeping the secret for so long.

“I wanted to tell you. But I knew I couldn’t tell you I cheated and keep you I—” Namjoon stopped. He looked away from you, biting down hard on his bottom lip before returning his gaze to yours.

“I was selfish. And I was wrong. There is no excuse for what I did. I’m so sorry, (Y/n).”

Your lips parted in shock. Going into this situation, you expected things to go a whole lot different. You expected him to try and defend himself, or at least blame you for the reason he cheated…but that wasn’t happening. Namjoon wasn’t trying to justify what he did, but instead taking full responsibility for his actions. Those words weren’t coming from the same man you walked away from. That man was filled with too much pride to even acknowledge his own actions—let alone apologize for them.

His actions surprised you. It was almost enough to make you drop your guard. Almost.

“I know you have questions. I’ll answer anything you ask me honestly, I swear.”

You paused. This is the moment you've been waiting for, and now that it was finally here you didn't know what to say. There were so many questions you wanted to ask. But you want to be sure you'll ask the right questions. And that you're prepared to hear the answers. Once you got the information you were dying to hear, you couldn't give it back. You’d have to live with it.

Finally, you spoke. “How’d you do it? How’d you keep this a secret for so long?”

“I kept a second phone hidden.”

The answer came with some relief. You knew you weren’t crazy, that there was some secret method to his deceit. The idea had come once or twice to go through his phone, but you knew Namjoon would never be that messy. “Did anyone else know?”

He nodded once, and a wave of aggravation rippled through you. “Some of the members knew.”

“Are you serious?” You laugh, but the sound felt hollow coming from your lips. “They must think I’m so stupid….”

“You know they don’t think that, they love you.”

You grimaced. Yeah, right. “Not enough to let me know the truth.”

Briefly you wondered which members knew and what kept them from coming to you, but you tried to push those thoughts away. You came here with questions for Namjoon. Nothing else mattered.

“Was it emotional?” You asked. “Did you love her?”

He shook his head vigorously. “No. No, it was just physical. They didn't mean anything to me.”

All the blood in your body went cold. “They?”

Namjoon opens his mouth. Then closed it again. “Shit.” He hoped to leave that part out of this meeting. A part of him knew it wouldn't be fair to you but would the truth really be any better?

“.....There was more than one girl?”

He ran a hand down his face then nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Yes.”

Through gritted teeth you ask, “How many?”

You wait for an answer but this time Namjoon keeps quiet. “You said you'd answer anything.”

“I know—”

“So that was a lie?”

“No.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Then why won't you tell me?”

Namjoon tensed, jaw clenching. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You narrowed your gaze on him. “Well it’s too fucking late for that don’t you think? ‘Honestly’, huh? You’re so full of shit Namjoon. Being honest means telling the whole truth. All of it!”

“How many?” You press. Part of you is afraid of the answer but you still need to know.

You wait, staring him down but Namjoon looked away. He can’t say it looking you in the eye, instead he buries his face in his hands then mutters out the word three.

“Three?” You repeat.

You lean back from him, gripping the edge of the table. It felt like the world was spinning around you. Wow. Three girls. Three different girls.

Sensing your distress Namjoon quickly added. “They're just girls. They don’t matter.”

You shook your head, refusing to accept that for an answer. “Of course they matter. You made a choice to go to them, instead of me. I have to know why. What did they have that I didn’t?”

“Everything.”

Ouch, okay. You close your eyes as the pain from that statement washes all over you. The pain you feel isn’t new, but familiar. Like reopening an old wound. But Namjoon isn’t finished. Before you can even process his words he speaks again. “They were selfish, demanding, and manipulative...the complete opposite of you.”

You feel your brows pull together. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? The fact that all the women you slept with are somehow lesser than me?”

Namjoon looks confused and hurt. “(Y/n), I don't know what you want from me. I can’t change the past, all I can say is I’m sorry.”

For so long all you wanted was for him to apologize. Really apologize. No excuses, no bullshit. But now that you finally heard it, sorry just didn’t feel like enough. Instead his words make you feel empty inside. Sorry, isn’t enough to stay. You want to leave now.

Clearing your throat, you got ready to go. “I don’t know what to say to that and I don’t have anymore question so—”

“Can I ask you a question?”

You huffed out a sigh. “Fine.”

“Why did you leave? You said you'd never leave me.”

You feel yourself flush with frustration. “And you said you'd never cheat on me. Promises mean nothing. Words, mean nothing. The only thing that matters is how you act.”

“Besides,” You said, looking away from him to the beautiful summer landscape. “You didn't try to stop me. It's like you didn't even care.”

“Of course I cared. I made a mistake—”

Standing up, you slam your hands down on the table. “It was not. A mistake! Oh my god! How can you still not get it? Cheating is a choice! You made a choice! You think I didn’t get lonely all those nights I spent by myself? You think you’re the only man who’s ever approached me???”

“Of course not—”

“No. Of course not! Because I’m a catch, Namjoon.” Not caring how loud you get, you raise your voice. “I am kind, I am smart, I am ambitious, I am beautiful. You had to be out of your fucking mind to cheat on me!” You said, pressing your index finger against your temple.

You’re crying now, hot tears streaming down your face.“Why can’t you see that? Everyone else can.”

It’s the only question that goes unanswered. Namjoon stares at you, eyes glistening, but he doesn’t say a word.

“I can’t do this,” You wiped at your wet face frantically, standing up to leave.

(Y/n), please.” Namjoon moved to stop you but you ripped out of his grasp.

“I have to go.” You say reaching for your bag, ready to walk away from him, from your marriage, and all the hurt he just laid at your feet.

Love Drought

♪ Nine times out of ten, I'm in my feelings. But ten times out of nine, I'm only human. Tell me, what did I do wrong? Feel like that question has been posed. I'm movin' on.

. . .

You haven't seen Namjoon but that doesn’t stop you from thinking about him.

You think about him almost every single day. What was he doing? How was he moving on without you? Was he moving on at all, or was he just sitting around somewhere...waiting for you to come back?

All these questions only fueled your anxiety and your determination to stay as far away as possible from Namjoon. If you didn’t see him, if you went away...Then those questions would go away too, right? You were going for the whole ‘out of sight out of mind thing’. But it wasn’t working. Because even though you said you were done—Namjoon still had pieces of you. Literally. Your things still remained untouched at the house.

You meant it when you said you didn’t want to go back home. But you needed to come get your belongings. It takes all of your strength to make the drive over without stopping to throw up, or cry. Stepping inside the place where your marriage died was the last thing you wanted to do on your day off. You put off the inevitable for months but it’s time now, you’re moving on, and you’re moving out.

So why was it so hard for you to move past the front door?

You stood there, frozen at the threshold. Heart aching at the thought of what you’re about to do. Fuck (Y/n), you cursed at yourself.You’re a grown ass woman, you can do this. Get in there. It was dead quiet in the house, as you hoped. You’re too much of a coward to call Namjoon and let him know you’re coming to take the last of your things. Couldn’t even text him. No message you typed out felt right. Anything you had to say you already told him. At this point, you both know your marriage is at its end. All you can do is pray that he won’t be there the same time you are. It’s why you chose to come in the evening. Namjoon wouldn’t be home until very late at night because of his schedule. It would give you enough time to get most of your things packed up.

Bawling your hands into fists you gripped your door key tightly, slid it in the keyhole, and unlocked the door. You take two steps inside, close the door behind you, and it feels as though you’ve stepped through time. It’s like nothing’s changed. You don’t quite know what you were expecting. You didn’t have any expectations coming over, but now looking at the space before you, you decided this isn’t it.

The house isn’t spotless, but it’s tidy, neat. In stark contrast from the last time you were here, and the fit you threw. Somehow you expected the house to look exactly in that state: broken. But nothing’s really changed. Soon your feet take on movement of their own, walking you towards the bedroom. Being back in that room is strange. It's almost as if you never left him at all. The sunset pools through the window, drowning the bed in light that looks like honey. The space has the essence of your home. The only difference you feel now is the emptiness. You spent many nights home without Namjoon but it never felt like this.

This time you’re really all by yourself. You don’t live in the same house anymore, but you're not completely alone living off your bestfriends couch. It’s been years since you’ve remembered what it feels like to be without a partner. You wondered...This emptiness...Is this what it would feel like to live without Namjoon?

You swallow down a sob, trying not to drown in your loneliness and turn and walk into the closet. Remember why you're here. Get your things, you just have to make it through these next few minutes. You reminded yourself that the hard part, the confrontation (and the leaving) was already over. All you have to do now is pack.

Strange enough your heart still aches, though not in the way it did before. This is not the ache of betrayal. You truly believed that pain would never subside but it did. Not by time but by choice. You had to choose to let go of the anger and the hurt, choose to free yourself from resentment. No. This ache was something else entirely. But you couldn’t put a name to it.

You step inside your closet, eyes studying your hung up clothes and the suitcases hidden underneath them. Not wanting to spend any more time than needed here, you got on your knees and started pulling out suitcases, folding up clothes, and putting them away. It all went much quicker than you’d expected (you got most of your clothes out during the beginning of your separation). You were picking off hangers at the end of the closet when you came across a garment bag. The garment bag.

Right away you knew you shouldn’t. Only a masochist would unzip the garment bag to their wedding dress when they’re currently living apart from their husband. And yet, you still did it. Tentatively your fingers reached out to grab hold of the bag. You pulled it into your lap and slowly undid the zipper. Then you saw your wedding dress, and you melted. As your eyes traced over the lace detail the memories of that day flickered through your mind.

It wasn’t at all what you expected. When you were younger, you always dreamed of a big wedding, everything you've ever heard about in fairytales. You wanted it to happen early in the morning, in a beautiful church with stained glass windows, surrounded by all your friends and family. You expected there would be flowers everywhere, and something else, something special. The romantic in you hoped for doves or maybe butterflies. And your dress? Only the most regal ball gown would do as you walked down the aisle to the man of your dreams.

Of course, fantasies rarely become reality. The issue of privacy is important when marrying a celebrity. At the time, just getting married seemed impossible, let alone doing it big. With the group's growing fame and Namjoon’s busy schedule, how could you find the time to get married? Or find a venue where fans or media couldn’t find you? You’d have to plan every second, every detail. Nothing could be left up to chance. Both of you were so in love but also, so very stressed with the situation before you until Namjoon made a second proposal.

“Why don’t we just elope?” he asked.

It was late at night. You lay in the comfort of his arms, head resting on his chest and mere seconds away from blissful sleep, so it took you a full minute to process that sentence. You lifted your head to look into his eyes. “What?”

Namjoon smiled down at you, thumb rubbing slow circles against your back. “Let’s just do it. Get married, I mean. Who says we have to wait or plan? I love you. I wanna marry you now.”

You sat up in bed, propped yourself up on your arm, and searched his face. “Are you serious?”

You watched amused as he narrowed his sharp eyes at you in a mock glare. “Why would I joke about this? Of course I’m serious! Let’s do it.”

You looked at him hard for a minute, but when Namjoon didn’t flinch you knew he was for real. Then of course the panic kicked in. “Baby, what? Let’s do it? It’s not like we can just walk into a church and say ‘I do’ !”

“Technically, we can.”

You shook your head, “No. What about all the plans we’ve made? I already booked the venue, and our caterer—”

Namjoon rolled over onto his side, facing you. “So we’ll cancel. The date’s still months away, that's more than enough time to give notice that we’ve changed our minds.”

You laughed,, but your shaky breath came out like a scoff. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get those reservations?! That cathedral is wedding heaven! It is stained glass perfection. The wait time is usually up to a year. A YEAR. And our cake, it’s being made by Giovanni Bianchi—world renowned pastry chef—Giovanni Bianchi. It’s a seven-tiered baked dream. And you want me to cancel?”

To your disbelief Namjoon simply shrugged. “Do we really need all that?”

He reached out, taking your hands in his. He looked down, stroking them with his thumbs in an effort to soothe you. “Grand cathedral or not, as long as we’re together, I’m already in heaven. Our wedding will be perfect no matter where we are because we have each other. And the cake? Well, why would I need a dream cake, when I can have my dream girl?” He said, winking at you.

Your heart swelled at sweet words. As much as you wanted to roll your eyes you couldn’t help but smile. God, he was so cheesy. But isn’t that why you loved him? Still...you felt anxious. He might have melted your heart, but you weren’t fully convinced.

“Yeah okay, very smooth. What about our families? They’ve been looking forward to this so much. Our mothers will murder us!” You made a face, suddenly remembering your wedding party. “Oh the boys…..Jin will be so disappointed if he doesn’t get to be your best man” (you distinctly recalled him rejoicing at the news knowing he’d be “the most handsome” best man ever).

Namjoon brought your fingers to his lips and kissed the tips in between explanations. “It’s not about them”. Kiss. “Jin will get over it”. Kiss. “Our families will forgive us”. Kiss. “We’re not getting married for anyone else but us, we can do it however we want.”

You nodded your head in agreement, though you were still unsure. You knew all these things. Of course your marriage would be just for the two of you. You had no interest in simply performing the act for others approval. You loved Namjoon, you loved your relationship together, and you wanted to do what felt right for the both of you. Still, you couldn’t help but worry about the public’s opinion.

“What about your fans?” you asked. “What if pictures get out?” The whole point of all this planning was for privacy. The world knew BTS was dating, many fans suspected they had secret girlfriends, but a wife? How would they react to that? You didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all Namjoon and his image. You know how hard he and the rest of Bangtan worked to be respected in the music industry. What would happen if the world found out their leader was dating a nobody like you?

Namjoon looked you straight in the eyes, and spoke in a calm voice. “I don’t care. I’m not ashamed of loving you. Let the whole world see that I’m marrying the kindest, loveliest, soul I’ve ever known. I don’t care what they think, or what they say. I just want you. All I want is to be your husband, and for you to be my wife. Nothing else matters.”

You felt another wave of love pass over your heart. His sincerity stunned you. You glanced at him with glistening eyes. “Namjoon…Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He grinned at you, letting go of your hand to reach up and cup your cheek. “Are you done yet?” He teased. “Despite all your protests, I haven’t heard you say no…?”

You took a second to think through your conversation. Namjoon was right. You never said no, because as crazy as it was, you agreed with your fiancé wholeheartedly. You wanted this, you wanted him just as much as he wanted you, and you wanted to get married as quickly as possible. With a new resolve you shifted in the bed straddling him, then wrapped your arms around his neck. “Okay,” you said.

Namjoon raised both eyebrows up. “Okay!? Just like that? Anything else I need to assure you of? We have our marriage license. I have a tux. You already have your dress. I know you’re concerned but we have everything we need.”

You nodded. This time you were sure. “Let’s do it.”

Namjoon hesitated, then his face broke into a smile that was so bright it gave life to one of your own. In that moment you realized what you thought to be nerves earlier was really just excitement. You brought your hand to his shoulders, squeezing tight. “We’re getting married,” you whispered, voice full of awe.

“We’re getting married!” Namjoon echoed.

Before you knew it, you were walking down the aisle. You let him plan it all. You got married at night, in a small church, without stained glass windows. There was no big guest list, but neither of you could stand the thought of going through the ceremony completely by yourselves, so you allowed for your immediate family to be there (that included Yoongi, Hoseok, Jin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk). Flowers did not adorn every pew, but the space was illuminated by soft and warm candlelight. No butterflies or doves. It wasn’t like what you imagined in your head. Life rarely coincides with those kinds of plans. But Namjoon was right. Because you had each other, it was perfect.

In the end, the only part of your wedding that lived up to the fairytale was your dress. It was everything you wanted in a gown. All white with a sweetheart neckline, crystal embroidery and layers upon layers of tulle. The dress felt a bit heavy, but you can still remember the look on his face when he lifted your veil. In one glance, he made all that weight disappear. You felt lighter than air. “You look like an angel.” He whispered, voice sweet and low, so only you could hear. In that moment all you could feel was love.

So how did you end up here? Clutching your wedding dress on the closet floor, desperately wiping away tears. God, what a mess you are. You pushed out a breath and started shoving the white, fluffy fabric back into the garment dress. It was a mistake taking this out. You couldn’t get it back in again. Your fingers slip as you try to grip the zipper, and you can’t tell if it’s because of your sweaty palms or your wet tears, but it won’t budge. Why won’t it zip? You pull up hard, snagging the dress in its teeth.

Shit. Frustration flushes through you as you snatch the zipper back down only to hear the distinct sound of fabric tearing in the process.

You shut your eyes tight, shoulders slumping with defeat. When you opened your eyes again all you could see was the rip in the dress, threads straining and unraveling all at once. It looked as torn up as you feel inside. Part of you is falling apart at the idea of leaving Namjoon, pressured to leave all of this pain behind and let go of the relationship. Call it mind over matter. It didn’t make sense to stay with a man you had broken your heart and your trust. All logic told you to divorce him and never look back. You know this. And yet? There is a part of you aching to repair what’s been broken, pull out the sorrow from this home, and heal all the hurt.

You were so busy wrapped in your thoughts that you hadn’t heard the door unlock, or footsteps tread into the bedroom. From the corner of your eye you saw a glimpse of blond hair, wide brown shoulders. It was Namjoon. You couldn’t help the startled gasp that fell from your lips.

“(Y/n)”, he breathed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Namjoon kept his distance. He didn’t look at you and didn’t cross the threshold of the closet door, generously leaving space between you. Instead, his eyes were glued to the floor. “I saw your car out front, but I didn’t think it’d actually be you here.” He reached up a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just...confused.” Namjoon glanced up at you from underneath his eyelashes then slowly, his smokey eyes rose to meet yours. “Why are you here?”

“. . .” You faltered. Once Namjoon laid his eyes on you, you softened, even after all this time he had that effect on you. You were still consumed in thoughts about your marriage...feeling that again, you didn’t know what to think. You almost preferred it when you felt anger or pain at the sight of him. Instead you felt something else. You looked down at your lap, fingering the dress. Was it longing? You started again, making eye contact. “I came back to get the rest of my things.”

A look passed across Namjoon’s face but before you could identify it, it was gone. Namjoon nodded, looking away from your face. His gaze shifted to your hands. “Is...is that—”

“—My wedding dress? Yes.” You tried to think of an excuse, some reason for you having it out but nothing came to mind. You shrugged, settling for the truth. “I just wanted to look at it I guess.” Both of you ignored your tear stained face.

Namjoon bit his lip, the silence stretching between you until he said, “I’ll leave you to it,” and abruptly walked away. Finally alone you breathed out a sigh.

You felt a tinge of disappointment. And you were angry with yourself for it. You don’t know what you were hoping for, or what you wanted to get out of that conversation. What’d you expect? Did you really think after everything that he’d lower himself one last time and beg for you to come back? Again? The man you married you would have, but the man who cheated on you? No, he had too much pride. This wasn’t a romance movie where the couple fights and breaks up but somehow everything magically fixes itself and they get back together. It was really over.

The finality of it all stunned you. You sat there, numbing yourself to the pain for a minute. Then you striantened out your wedding dress, and zipped up the garment bag. This time it went up without a hitch. You were just getting up off your knees when Namjoon whipped back into the room, surprising you.

“I know you could care less about anything I have to say right now,” he began, raising a cautious hand. “You probably hate me, and I understand that. I hate myself for what I’ve done to you.” He looked up in thought then pressed his hands into his eyes. When his hands fell away you braced yourself for what came next. “I’m asking you for a second chance. I’m asking you for a second chance because I love you more than anything. You are the love of my life, and I’m sorry I forgot that. I know you don’t owe me anything, least of all your forgiveness.”

He stopped, voice thickening as he gulped down tears. “But I’m asking for it.”

“I couldn’t live with myself knowing I didn’t do everything to get you back.”

Tears filled your eyes. “Are you saying that, because you love me? Or are you saying that because you want me back?”

His gaze never wavered. “Both. I want you back, because I love you. Knowing you and loving you has been the biggest blessing in my life. I don’t regret it. I'd do it all over again, just to have you in my life. Even if it meant losing you. ”

All at once it hit you. That feeling, the one you struggled to identify when you held your wedding dress in your arms. It wasn’t longing. It was love. You were still in love with Namjoon.

And so you did the unthinkable. You kissed him.

Sandcastles

♪ We built sandcastles that washed away. I made you cry when I walked away, oh. And although I promised that I couldn't stay, baby. Every promise doesn't work out that way.

. . .

It only takes seconds for you to cross the space between and press your lips to his. For a moment, Namjoon doesn’t move—doesn’t even breathe. Then his arms wrapped around you, brought you flush against him and you melted in his embrace as he kissed you, his lips softer than ever. Deep down, you know you shouldn’t. It would be too painful to become wrapped up in Namjon again only to tear yourself away from him. But your body has a will of its own. When his tongue swept across your bottom lip, you parted for him like the red sea and every emotion you’d ever felt for him came flooding back.

Every kiss you’ve ever had, every whisper of “I love you,” all of it ignited in your mind the second Namjoon kissed you back in a moment so intense you felt your body tremble at his touch. His lips moved gently over yours while his hands came up to cup your cheeks, and before you know it, you find yourself in the middle of the most sensual kiss you’ve had in your life. Namjoon kissed you like he was hungry, tongue rolling into your mouth. You couldn’t help but moan, arching into his embrace.

It was shameful how your body responded back to him. You could feel your heart rate increase, the heat rushing to your cheeks. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted him like this. Your thoughts traveled back to the words that sparked your desire: “I want you back, because I love you. Knowing you and loving you has been the biggest blessing in my life. I don’t regret it. I'd do it all over again, even if it meant losing you.”

All this time you’d been fighting against your love for Namjoon, convinced any feelings he had for you were long gone. But everything he said proved otherwise.

It was confusing to you. You spent so much time thinking that Namjoon didn’t want you anymore, you’d even come to accept it but now? You didn’t know what to think. Your mind was screaming for you to pull away, stop before it went any further. That everything you were doing right now was wrong. Except, it didn’t feel wrong. It almost felt...good. Right.

The truth is you feel exactly the same. Despite everything you’d been through, you still loved Namjoon. He was the love of your life and you wished with everything in you that you could turn back the clock and start over. If what he said was true—if there was even a possibility of Namjoon still loving you, you needed to feel that.

Namjoon’s touch made you desperate. You found your hands tracing the planes of his body, running down his muscular arms before coming back up as you linked your arms around his neck. He kissed you deeper, groaning low in his throat, and the sound was enough to drive you wild. Even this close, you couldn’t get enough of him. All you could feel was the compulsive need for more. More of his touch. More of his kisses. More, more, more.

You could feel Namjoon’s body backing you up to the bed. Your knees hit the mattress and you allowed yourself to fall back against the soft sheets. But Namjoon didn’t fall with you. You opened your eyes, instantly giving way to panic. His pause alarmed you. Your anxiety reared its ugly head, speaking cruelty into your mind. How could you be so foolish? What were you thinking, kissing Namjoon? He didn’t actually want you. He was leading you on, playing with your feelings. That’s why he stopped.

You pulled yourself up, leaning your weight back on your elbows to look into his eyes. You expected to see cold rejection on his handsome face, but what you saw in his gaze wasn’t at all what you imagined. Instead, when you looked into his eyes, all you could see was raw, unfiltered desire. And strangely enough, uncertainty.

Namjoon had a million thoughts racing through his mind, all of them questions.

How did he end up here, with you spread across his bed when only minutes before you seemed worlds apart? The situation didn’t feel real, more like a fantasy, like he dreamed you up. But if this dream was real—if this dream was really coming true—should he let it?

Of course he wanted you. If you kissed him like this a couple of months ago, Namjoon wouldn’t hesitate to take you; he’d have his way with you until you screamed his name. But tonight, the last thing Namjoon wanted. He’d spent months craving your touch; the feel of your lips against his, how the heat of your body felt flush against his. He caused you enough pain acting on his lust. He didn’t want to hurt you further by taking advantage of the situation.

Both of you got caught in an emotional whirlwind but this kiss was a mistake, wasn’t it? He looked down at you, waiting for you to push him away but you didn’t make a move. Instead, you stared at him, desire burning in your eyes. God, that look alone was enough to arouse him. Still, he didn’t make any move to kiss you.

You took a moment to look at Namjoon, really look at him. Trying to uncover the emotion swirling behind his dark eyes. The longer you stared, the more you felt like your heart was going to burst from your chest. You could see his uncertainty but the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Was it insane to sleep with your soon to be ex-husband? Yes. Did it make you want it any less?

Not even in the slightest.

I must be losing my mind. You couldn’t explain it yourself, but kissing Namjoon opened up something in you. Feelings you didn’t know you still had swept all over you. Heat washed over your body. You could feel your skin flush, passion stirring in your blood.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice taut with apprehension.

Your body was practically screaming yes. But Namjoon’s hesitation made you pause.

Reading the confusion in your eyes, he quickly backtracked. “I’m not saying I don’t want to—believe me I do—I just don’t want you to do something tonight that you’ll regret in the morning.”

Your mind wasn’t there. That moment seemed so far off from the ever-present now and the rapid beating of your heart and the warmth of Namjoon’s body. You knew you had to make a choice. Yes or no. There was a small voice in the back of your head cautioning you against this. But tonight you were following your heart. Consequences be damned.

You looked up at him and nodded. “I want this.”

Namjoon leaned forward to kiss you, and you shivered at the feel of his lips against yours. This time, there was no hesitation. You couldn’t remember the last time Namjoon kissed you like this. Slowly, tenderly, like this kiss mattered. Like you mattered. Any inhibition you had melted away as you leaned into his touch. You felt yourself lower back down onto the bed. Namjoon’s hands passed over your body, slimming down your waist, before coming to rest on your thighs. You let them linger there, savoring the feeling of his hands on your body.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. You were so into the kiss, the feel of him you didn’t notice his hands pry off your clothes until you were left in only your underwear.

He stopped then, pulled away from your lips to look at you. Then the only thing you could feel on your body were his eyes drinking you in. The eye contact alone had you squeezing your thighs together. You watched the heat build in his dark gaze until his eyes lingered just a little too long, until your skin tingled all over from the intensity.

Then he was all over you, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your throat. Hands cupping your breasts. The feel of him against your thigh. It was an assault to your senses, but instead of overwhelming you, it only made you crave him even more. You arched your back as Namjoon kissed your collarbone, slowly making his way down the valley of your breasts. You moaned at the sensation of his tongue moving down your body, closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“Namjoon,” You breathed, body humming with pleasure. He looked up from between your thighs, dark eyes connecting with yours for a split second. You watched as he hooked his fingers into your underwear and dragged them down your legs. Then he gave his complete attention to your body, licking a long strip straight down your center that had you moaning his name again.

Namjoon gripped your thighs firmly in his hands, pulling you closer towards him. He wanted you to know that this meant more to him than just sex, that he loved you, and that he was more than willing to show you just how much. He takes his time tasting you. Each lick languid and loving. He didn’t want to tease you, all he wanted to do was to please you. To touch you and erase the pain he caused--even if only for a second. Namjoon swirled his tongue across your clit. Once, twice, a third time, drawing sweet moans and gasps from your lips.

You couldn’t keep yourself quiet. It’d been so long since anyone touched you. Throughout everything, you still remained faithful to Namjoon. And even if you’d been with another, no one could ever make you feel like this. Have your toes curling, back arching. It was almost embarrassing how easily you melted under his touch. Some part of you still wondered how you could give in so easy. Shouldn’t you be feeling some resistance? All you felt was longing.

You found yourself rocking your hips against him, and crying out as his tongue delved deeper.

You wanted to bring your hands up to your face to muffle the sounds but before you could, Namjoon stopped you.

“Don’t,” he said. He took hold of your hands and threading his fingers through yours. All the while his tongue was still swirling against you, making lewd sounds that had you feeling hot.

You could feel your body heating up, the rise and fall of your chest coming faster and faster. When you felt him slide tongue inside you, pressing up against your sweet spot—it was enough to push you over the edge. You came, squeezing Namjoon’s hands tight.

Namjoon lapped up your juices, enjoying the taste of your slick on his tongue. Even then he didn’t stop, coaxing a second orgasm out of you with soft licks against your center.

“Joon,” you whimpered, body humming with oversensitivity. “Too much.”

Only then did he pull away, moving to place a tender kiss on the inside of your thigh. He sat up, and you rose on your elbows ready and willing to return the favor, but Namjoon gently pushed you back down on the bed, shaking his head.

“I just wanna be inside you right now,” he rasped.

God, you wanted that too. They way Namjoon ate you out had your body begging for more. You weren't going to argue with him.

Namjoon sat up and placed a hand around your neck, guiding you back to his lips. It started out slow. Soft, sweet kisses against your lips. It wasn’t until he slipped his tongue inside your mouth that he found himself suddenly desperate for you. Even more surprising was your reaction to him. You kissed him back with just as much fever, completely captivated.

The kiss seemed to go on forever. When you finally pulled away, you looked at each other, panting, the air thickening between you two. Namjoon’s dark eyes stared down at you with an intensity that pierced your soul. You knew he felt it too. This energy...There was still love between you. But you’d already made your decision. You wanted this moment, this passion but you couldn’t trust him with your heart and be sure he wouldn’t break it. I can’t fall for him again. I can’t. You wanted him badly but wanting him, and trusting him were two different things.

“Namjoon,” you started. Then stopped, trying to find the right words to explain. “This isn’t—I can’t—”

“—Stay? I know.” Namjoon knew what he was getting into the second you kissed him. He knew this was goodbye, and that it would hurt like hell come morning. He didn’t care. If only he could change the past, he’d take it all back.

But he couldn’t. The damage was already done. This was the last time he’d ever hold you in his arms again. If he could have you, even for this short time, he’d take what he could get. He wasn’t going to fuck it up trying to make this into something it wasn’t. He loved you too much to be selfish at this moment. If this were the last time, he would make it well worth your while.

“I just need tonight.”

Namjoon pulled you tighter against him, molding you against his body. Before making any sudden movement, he pulled back a little to look in your eyes, to make sure this was still what you wanted.

You cupped his cheek and kissed his lips, reassuring him. Then he aligned his cock against your entrance and pushed inside you with one smooth move. You tensed, freezing in his arms. The feeling of your walls clenched around him made staying still absolute torture. But Namjoon wouldn’t dare move.

You close your eyes and breathe out a shaky breath, familiarizing yourself with the burn of the stretch. He’s so thick it takes a minute for your body to adjust to the size. Though the sensation of Namjoon nuzzling into your neck helps turn the pain into pleasure. You hooked your leg around his waist nudging him forward.

The small act made both of you moan in unison. “Namjoon...please,” you breathed.

He moved, starting out with a pace that had your insides feeling molten. His hands gripped at your hips as he pulled out almost all the way, then slowly slid himself deep inside you. You were so wet, so tight he couldn’t help but groan. The feel of you taking all of him, giving him this pleasure and the look in your eyes...Namjoon was sure he’d never love another the same way.

This wasn’t just sex. Namjoon knew the difference now. What it really meant to be intimate with a partner. To share his body with someone not for a distraction or stroke his ego but for love. To draw closer with one another. This was it for him. You, it was always you. There would never be another. He started to rock into you, deep and slow, desperate to make you feel that.

You closed your eyes, losing yourself to the sensation. Needing more, you raised your hips to meet his thrusts and Namjoon took the hint, snapping his hips to meet yours faster. You cried out as he filled you again and again and again. Right now, you don't have to worry about future decisions. You didn’t have to think about all the conflicting feelings you had for this man.

Not that you could think about that anyways. Your senses were all wrapped up in how good Namjoon was making you feel. His pace was brutal just how you liked it, but his touch was nothing but kind. His hands trailed up to the small of your back keeping you close. Namjoon cupped your face as he kissed you; he only pulled away to rest his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes. You’d slept with Namjoon before, but something about this time was different. If you didn’t know any better—you’d think he was making love to you. He was so strong, yet so loving. You wished he could be this way with you always.

You wanted to stay here, savor this moment. But Namjoon was grinding his hips against yours in a way that had you breathless. You were so close. “Namjoon, I—”

“Come for me,” he said.

Growling, he thrust harder against you and reached down between your bodies to rub your clit, driving you towards your orgasm. Your pleasure built inside you, sweeping over your body like a wave until it crashed and washed over you, sending tremors down your body.

Feeling you come apart in his arms, Namjoon slowed his thrusts. You clenched around him till pleasure flooded his senses and he came too, burying his face in your neck and moaning out your name.

The only sound heard throughout the room was panting as the two of you came down from your highs. Namjoon brushed your hair away from your face and ran his thumb across your cheek.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice full of concern. He rolled off you and onto his side so as not to crush you but remained close, his skin flush against yours.

“Mhmm…” you hummed. You stared at the ceiling as your heart rate slowed back down. You were expecting to feel something. Regret...maybe relief?

You don’t know what you were hoping for. Maybe subconsciously you thought sleeping with Namjoon would help you come to some kind of resolution. A grand epiphany that would tell you what to do with your situation. But really you didn’t feel any different than you did before.

“What are you thinking about?”

You shake your head as if to shake all those thoughts out of your head. “Nothing.”

Namjoon didn’t press you, but the silent tension in the air gave you the impression that he wanted to ask for more.

You’ve never felt so divided. The ego in you wanted to walk away from it all. Say goodbye and cut your losses, no matter the cost. You made peace with leaving because you were so sure that Namjoon didn’t want you. You knew you couldn’t be with a man who had no love for you. But now, knowing that there was still love here. That he still cared, that you still cared. It changed things. You wanted it to work. But you weren’t sure if you could love him the same; there was always the issue of trust. How could you ever trust him again?

“I’m sorry,” said Namjoon. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

You turned to face him then, lying on your side. “It was what it wanted and now…” You trailed off, lost to your thoughts again. You had to think about it. Dig deep and really question what it was you were searching for.

“Now what? What do you need?” His expression was torn but honest.

So you asked for what you really wanted out of him. You asked for the truth.

“I need you to tell me everything.”

. . .

And he does. That night, as you bathe together, he finally tells you the truth. The whole truth.

When the sweat on your skin dried and became sticky, Namjoon ran a bath. You both got inside the clawfoot tub and sat on opposite sides, bodies intermingling as you faced each other. It was thick with quiet as the bath filled up with heated water.

At first, Namjoon hesitated. You could tell he wanted to spare your feelings. So he gave you the truths in little bits. Pieces of information you could swallow, like the names of his past lovers, and when each act happened. Then slowly, bigger chunks that had you holding your breath as you processed the facts of his betrayal. He told you about it all. About the weakness, the desperation, and the loneliness he felt on tour. The need to be touched and seen–really seen–by someone. Even if that someone wasn’t you. How one bad decision turned into two, turned into three. And the guilt. The guilt that accompanied the deception that rose and rose like high flames, eating him up inside.

By the time Namjoon’s done speaking, the water’s gone lukewarm, and your fingers were pruned, yet neither of you gets out of the bath. You let Namjoon bring you to close, till your back's up against his chest. He lathers his hands, and you let his calloused palms wash the pain away. Till the only thing you feel is his light touch. You repeat this action to him, stroking his skin with absolute ease. Then, and only then do you step out of the water. Namjoon drapes a fluffy white towel over your shoulder and wraps it around you.

He looks you in the eyes, and tells you that you're the only woman he’s ever loved. The only woman he would ever love. And you believe him.

. . .

That night, you lay down beside him exhausted. Not the kind of exhaustion that comes from lack of sleep or a long day at work. Not the weariness that leads to nights of deep slumber–no–this is the weariness that puts stress on your heart. The kind that leaves you feeling drained. Empty. Beside you, Namjoon sleeps, but you’re wide awake.

Every nerve in your body is begging for rest. But it’s your heart keeping you up tonight.

Heart over mind, mind over matter. You're split in both directions. Wanting to stay, and wanting to go. You told yourself that you were leaving. Walking away from it all.

But something felt wrong.

Everything was already moving in one way, but your heart was starting to face another. You still hadn’t made up your mind.

You lay in bed with your eyes closed and remembered the first time you left. Before you knew the truth, before you knew anything really, except for the fact that you didn’t want to live in a lie. You packed your bag and drove to Jackson’s, but you couldn’t make it through the night without breaking down and calling your mom. You spilled your heart to her, and she heard you, even through all the tears. You called to get everything off your chest, but you were also searching for answers. You were desperate for her to give you some kind of sign of what you were supposed to do or an out, but she didn’t.

“Do you remember when you were little, and you used to make sandcastles at the beach?” she asked. “You used to love playing in the sand. Barely even went in the water. You spent all day just creating something, building your own world.”

It caught you off guard. You were so shocked that for the first time in hours you stopped crying.

The memory was hazy in your mind, but you could still picture those summer days filled with warm golden sun, and the salty sea air.

“Some days as the sun set, the tide would come in and wash away everything you worked on. And you’d cry. Cry your little heart out. There wasn’t anything I wanted more than to pick you up, and hold you in my arms, comfort you. But you were at that age where you needed to start learning how to comfort yourself. So I let you cry. And after you’d got out all your tears, sometimes you’d start over. Dig your hands into the sand and start building all over again. Make something new. And sometimes you’d give up, walk away and come sit by me.”

“Yeah mom I remember...but, what does that have to do with anything?”

“You built your marriage with Namjoon on a foundation of love, faith, and trust. That’s your sandcastle. And now that trust has been washed away you don’t know what to do, and you're crying out for me. Baby, I love you, but you’re gonna have to make this decision for yourself. I can’t make it for you. Whatever you decide, I will be right behind you, supporting you. If you want to stay and find a way to be together I will be here. If you want to divorce him I’ll be here for that, too. But you have to decide.”

You let her words sink in. You knew she was right. But you were so frustrated, so overwhelmed you burst into tears again. “How am I supposed to decide? It’s so hard to know what choice is right.”

“I don’t–I don’t want to make a mistake…” You said through sobs.

“(Y/n), the only thing worse than staying or going, is you holding your breath and being indecisive. You have to make a choice. Decide.”

You couldn't think of how to act on your mother’s advice back then, but in the present, you understood. You squinted in the dark and looked at the time. The clock on your nightstand reads 5:22 AM in bold red letters. You hadn’t even realized you’d been up all night with your thoughts.

You looked over at the man causing you this great affliction. Pale moonlight streamed through the window illuminated his heart-shaped face. You once thought of him to be a monster, but he wasn’t. He was just human. And for once, you finally sorted your feelings about him. You weren’t in limbo anymore.

You knew your decision:

Leave him | Choose him

#bts fic #bts scenario #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon scenarios #reader x namjoon #my fics.🍪 #poc reader #songfic #fic: promises

[mrworldwideshoulders]

i choose you || reader x knj

When your best friend abandons you at a wedding with a bunch of strangers and the guy she’s trying to set you up with is just not that into you, you decide to have some fun instead of sulking in the corner, which earns you the attention - and the affection - of a stranger named Kim Namjoon.

✓ Pairing: reader x Namjoon (very briefly feat. Jin) ✓ WC: 4.5k ✓ Rating: rated T / PG-13 ✓ Genre: mostly fluff, smidgen of angst, strangers to lovers-ish, love at first sight-ish ✓ Warnings: alcohol consumption, foul language, minho slander (he’s choi minho, he can handle it), seokjin is drunk, loud, and in love, bad descriptions of making out, dimple descriptions, reader is a hoe for namjoon’s forearms, namjoon is a big awkward cutie ✓ a/n: hehehe it's another wedding fic sorry lolololol. this is the prequel to where love finds us and the way you look tonight, if ya wanna check those out afterwards. i meant to have this out last month but oh well, here it is in july :) i like this one a lot because it's a lil bit goofy and i hope you enjoy it too! as always beta’d and bannered by teh amazing april (@onmypillow-onmytable)! thx! ly - robyn ✓ P.S. I do not own BTS or their likenesses, nor do I own the music of Bruno Mars (lol), they just inspire me.

part of the 24k magic collection (masterlist)

“Remind me again why I’m here?” you complain as your best friend, Ji-eun, pulls you by the arm into the reception hall. “When you asked me if I wanted to do something this weekend, crashing someone’s wedding reception was not what I had in mind.” 

“It’s not crashing if you’re invited,” shrugs Ji-eun. “I was invited. And then I invited you. Ergo, you were invited.”

“That is absolutely not how weddings work. Who invited you, anyway? I don’t recognize anyone here.” 

“The bride?” says Ji-eun, as if it should be obvious. “We’re co-workers, or something. She invited everyone from our department.” 

You roll your eyes and sigh. “I’m totally underdressed.” You eye all of the women around you dressed in semi-formal gowns and you elbow Ji-eun in the ribs. “Why didn’t you tell me there was a dress code?” The strapless cocktail dress you thought was such a good idea earlier suddenly seems like the worst decision you ever made, and you didn’t even bring a sweater to save face either, all because the only instruction Ji-eun could bother to give you when she texted this morning was “wear a dress” and “something with lots of cleavage.” Ji-eun, you’ve decided, is bound and determined to drag you into trouble at every opportunity. It’s a wonder you’re both still alive – and not cellmates in jail – with all of the questionable situations she’s been pulling you into since middle school.

“You look hot,” she says. “Don’t even worry about it. You’ll blend right in.”

“Did you just say ‘hot’ and ‘blend in’ in the same sentence?”

“Ugh, you’re so self-conscious. You are hot. I think it’s time you embraced that.” She pouts at the look on your face. “Come on, y/n,” she wheedles. “Minho will be here, and I’ve been wanting to introduce you guys for ages. He’s such a great guy. Did I mention he’s hot? And dying to meet you? Please let me play matchmaker. Then later when you’re happily married to the love of your life, you can say it was all thanks to your best friend in the entire world who loves you enough to set you up with her hot guy friends.”

“Yeah, well, the position of ‘best friend in the entire world’ might be opening up sometime soon if you keep setting me up with these duds.”

“You’re so mean!” she whines. “I told you the last one was just a misunderstanding.” 

“He ditched and left me with the check, Eun. It was not a misunderstanding. It was a calculated move.” The guy even had the audacity to call you later that night to see if you wanted to go out again, claiming “bathroom trouble” as the reason for sticking you with the check. As if you were dumb or desperate enough to fall for that – especially since he’d conveniently been hit by “bathroom trouble” once he was mostly done eating, not to mention your waitress had been kind enough to let you know that she’d seen him slipping out through a side door – apparently completely fine. 

“Stop complaining. Come on. Sparks are going to fly between you two, I just know it.” She resumes tugging on your arm and you reluctantly allow her to pull you along as she weaves through the crowd, finally stopping you in front of a man who must be the fabled Minho. “Oppa!” coos Ji-eun. “This is y/n. You remember, don’t you?” She shoots him a knowing look. 

“Ah, Ji-eun!” he greets her. “I remember. The one you were telling me about, right?” Minho glances at you. “Eun, she’s gorgeous. Where have you been keeping her?” He takes your hand and plants a kiss on it. “Choi Minho.”

“Y/n,” you reply, somewhat taken aback at his outward display of affection. “I’ve heard a lot about you, so it’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“Have fun, you two,” teases Ji-eun in a sing-song voice. “I’m off to snag myself a drink or a handsome groomsman, whichever one comes first.”

“She’s really something else, isn’t she?” you say, looking to break the awkward silence that falls once Ji-eun is gone. “So how do you two know each other? I don’t think she said.” 

“University,” says Minho. “We were in the same major. Same year, too, but she insists on calling me oppa.” He shakes his head and chuckles. Minho says it like it’s something that bothers him, but it clearly doesn’t, or else he would have corrected her before now. 

“Oh, I guess you were a business major, too.” You nod. “Explains why we never ran into each other. I barely saw her the whole time, and we were roommates.”

“We went to the same university?” Minho seems surprised. “I never would have guessed. What major were you in?” Something about the incredulous look on his face rubs you the wrong way. 

“Uh, yeah. We did.” You narrow your eyes. “I was a graphic design major.”

“Graphic design. Wow.” Minho inhales sharply through his teeth. “How’s that going for you? I hear it’s pretty competitive. You know, if you’re ever looking to change fields I’m sure I could find something for you at my company. A favor for a friend of a friend, yeah?

“Oh, um,” you say, “I…have a job. And I kind of like it, so I’m not really planning on moving any time soon.”

“Well, you let me know if you ever change your mind.” He winks and touches your bare arm. “Any friend of Eun’s is a friend of mine. And I’m sure we could take much better care of you than wherever you’re working now.” Minho’s eyes wander from your face down to your chest and then somewhere over your shoulder, where something – or someone – else seems to catch his eye. 

“Uh…thanks,” you say, unsure how else to respond, feeling a little uncomfortable. You wish you had a drink to settle your nerves and a sweater to cover your chest. Why did Ji-eun have to leave? you curse internally. She knows I’m not good at this. “So,” you say brightly, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction. “What does your company do?” 

“We’re in transportation, mostly,” he says, his eyes still somewhere behind you, “but we’ve got our fingers in a lot of pies.”

A few more minutes of conversation with him pass, and it’s already obvious that you and Minho don’t exactly have a lot in common – nor does it seem that you’re really his type, because he keeps glancing at a pretty bridesmaid in a lavender dress somewhere behind you. You’re beginning to wonder what exactly Ji-eun expected the two of you to talk about, because the two of you are polar opposites, and not in the endearing, meet cute, opposites attract sort of way, in the way that even if you did decide to date you’d probably end up butting heads over anything and everything. You steal a covert glance the next time Minho’s eyes wander away from your face and over your shoulder. The bridesmaid is chatting animatedly with what looks like another bridesmaid, cutting glances every so often in your direction – or Minho’s direction, more like. You sigh internally and try to hide your frown. Of course. Minho looks like he could be an idol or an actor; it only makes sense that he wouldn’t be interested in you. He probably only even agreed to meet you as a favor to Ji-eun. Well, if he’s not even going to pretend he’s interested – then why should you? “Minho?” you say sweetly. “I’m going to go get a drink.”

“Don’t miss me too much while you’re gone.” He grins. 

“I’ll, uh, do my best.” You find your way over to the bar and watch as Minho approaches the bridesmaid he was making eyes at, any thoughts of you surely already forgotten. You shake your head and sip your wine. He’s probably better suited for her than he is for you. You blow out a long breath and order a glass of white wine from the bartender. Why does it have to be like this? Every guy, every date, every time you even attempt to put yourself out there – it just never works. Sure, part of it is probably your fault for having unrealistic standards. And part of you doesn’t even really want a relationship, not after watching your parents tear each other to pieces every time they set foot in the same room together. It’s not like it’s always been your dream to fall in love and get married, either. The only thing you’ve ever wanted for yourself is to be happy. If that’s with a man in your life – then so be it. Everyone always says that you’ll know when the right one comes along, but you’re starting to think that has about as much likelihood of happening as you becoming president. 

You throw back half of your wine in one gulp. Ah, should I just leave? you wonder to yourself, scanning the room for Ji-eun. There’s no point in me staying if Minho isn’t interested and nobody else is either. What else am I here for other than that? You debate slipping out the front door, flagging down a taxi, and going home, but eventually decide against it, feeling a twinge of guilt at the idea of abandoning Ji-eun at this wedding by herself – even if she did technically do the same thing to you. Really starting to question who’s putting the most effort into this friendship, you gripe internally. 

You finish the rest of your wine and request another from the bartender. What am I doing? you think suddenly, the first glass of wine beginning to hit you as you start on the second. Am I really just standing here drowning my troubles at a wedding, of all places? This is so dumb. You scan the room. The dance floor is crowded, with people moving back and forth, dancing, reveling in the moment, the music pounding all around. Instead of lingering by the bar, feeling pitiful and alone…the realization dawns on you that you should be out there, having fun. Or, at the very least, keeping your mind occupied enough to forget the disappointment of yet another man having no interest in you. 

“Dance like no one’s watching, right?” you say to yourself, downing the rest of your second glass of wine and hopefully, washing away the nerves that normally plague you, the fear of being perceived when it comes to doing anything in social situations. As the wine hits you, you begin to feel pleasantly warm and tipsy, and you move toward the crowd, the lights bouncing off the lacquered wood floor. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you close your eyes and feel yourself start to move with the beat of the music. You don’t even know the happy couple, but you silently thank them for hiring such a good DJ. 

Minutes pass, though it feels much longer, with you tossing your hair, moving your hips and head back and forth to the beat of the music, forgetting about the fact that your best friend is a terrible matchmaker, and the fact that it feels like she’s genuinely trying to set you up for failure, making you question everything about yourself, forgetting about the fact that you couldn’t even hold a man’s attention for longer than ten minutes, even in a stupidly revealing cocktail dress that your friend made you wear under false pretenses. And in those moments, it’s just you, and the music, remembering that you are pretty, and one guy’s stupid opinion of you doesn’t matter. Love will come, or it won’t, and you’re determined to be happy with your life either way. 

The strappy heels you’re wearing prove to be your downfall, and you eventually decide to extricate yourself from the throng of wedding guests, limping back over to the bar. Your cheeks are flushed, and you’re exhausted, but there’s a sense of exhilaration pumping through you, feeling somewhat revitalized by making yourself do something you wouldn’t normally do on your own. You steady yourself against the bar, standing on one foot while you rest the other, and request another glass of wine from the bartender. 

“Looks like you were enjoying yourself out there.” A low voice materializes next to you. Your head swivels in the direction of the voice to find a man standing just feet away from you, holding a bottle of beer and watching you with interest. He’s much taller than you, but not intimidating, with an approachable air about him, and warm brown eyes that remind you of autumn. A dark blazer is slung over one shoulder, leaving him in a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the folded cuffs tugging at his muscular forearms. His friendly smile accentuates the dimple in his cheek. 

“Oh!” you say, cheeks flushing. You put your other foot back on the ground in surprise. “Yeah. I guess. I don’t normally do that kind of thing, but my friend dragged me here because she wanted me to meet this guy, but they both disappeared, and then I was just standing here all alone feeling sorry for myself.” You lift one shoulder in a shrug. ”I don’t even really know anyone here, but I figured I might as well make the best of it and have some fun.” 

“Looks like we’re in the same boat,” he says with a chuckle. ”I sort of got dragged here too.” 

“Well, from one wedding crasher to another, let me introduce myself.” You hold out a hand jokingly for him to shake. “I’m y/n.”

“Y/n,” he repeats, taking your hand. “Nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Namjoon.” 

"There, now we both know at least one other person." You smile, taking a sip from the glass of wine that the bartender has just set in front of you. 

“So this guy your friend wanted you to meet,” he says. “You didn’t like him?” 

"No?" You make a face. “I mean, he was all right, I guess, but I don't think we had very much in common. Besides, he was making googly eyes at some bridesmaid the whole time I was talking to him." A rueful sigh huffs through your lips. "I’ve got to stop listening to Ji-eun. She means well, but one thing she doesn’t have is a talent for matchmaking.” 

“Sorry to hear that," says Namjoon. "About the guy.” 

“It’s okay. At least we didn’t waste too much of each other's time.” You smile. “Anyway, why aren’t you out there? Isn’t everyone supposed to be dancing? It’s a party, after all.” 

“Oh, no.” He chuckles. His laugh feels affable and warm, just like his smile. “I’m a terrible dancer. It's better that I don’t. I’d probably end up breaking something, or someone. I’m just here for the atmosphere.” He sets his bottle down on the bar top. “Besides, I was having more fun watching you.” His brown eyes twinkle.

Your heart flutters in your chest and you find yourself trying to hold back a laugh. 

“Not buying it?” he says teasingly. You shake your head, still smiling. “Sorry. I’ve never been very good at this. Whatever this is.” 

“I’ll give you a point for trying.” 

“Ah, good. That means I didn’t fail completely, right?” 

“Right. Something like that.” You laugh. “So who dragged you here? Are your friends equally as annoying as mine?” 

"My friend, Seokjin, who's been bugging me to get out for weeks. He claims to know the groom or something. No, wait, it was the best man…or maybe it was the best man’s friend? I’m actually not sure.” He scans the crowded dance floor and points. “Him, right there, with the shoulders.” You follow his line of vision over to a tall, broad-shouldered man, flailing his arms and virtually towering over his dance partner, who, come to think of it, looks a lot like…Ji-eun? "He might actually be more dangerous on the dance floor than me.”

“Funny,” you say. “That's my best friend he's dancing with.” 

“Really?” Namjoon looks at you, then back at them. “Wow. I guess it’s only right that our annoying best friends found their way to each other.” 

“No offense to your friend, but I don’t think it’ll last very long. Ji-eun’s not known for committing long-term. She’s a walking contradiction. Convinced she’ll be the one to introduce me to my one and only, yet has no interest in finding one of her own.” 

“As luck would have it, neither is Jin. They’re a perfect match.” 

You raise your glass. “In that case, may the Seokjins and the Ji-euns of the world always find their way to each other.” 

He clinks his bottle with your cup. “Hear, hear.” 

Namjoon is easy to talk to, and he's especially interested in your job illustrating book covers for a publishing house. "It's nothing special." You wave your hands. “It’s a really small company. And I’ve only been doing it for about a year, so I’m not very good at it yet.” 

"Are you kidding?” he says, awestruck. “I’ve never met anyone who does that. And you must be good, or you wouldn’t be doing it professionally.”

“Well, it pays the bills,” you say, dipping your head modestly, “and it gives me plenty of free time to work on my own art.” 

“Really?“ Namjoon looks intrigued. “What medium do you prefer?” 

“I’m a painter. Mostly. But I like to experiment with a little bit of everything.”

“Wow. She designs book covers. She paints. And now I’m wondering where you’ve been all my life.” A tinge of pink colors his cheeks. “Uh…I just meant…” He rubs at his neck self-consciously. “Anyway.”

He’s awfully cute when he’s flustered. 

The conversation takes a slight turn, and you find yourself listening with interest as he tells you about his work as a grad student, his dissertation on the intersection of art and philosophy, his plans for the future after he finishes his doctorate. Tenure, professorhood, the papers he wants to write. The art he'd like to buy if he had the money. If it were anyone else, you know you'd be starting to zone out by now, but there's something about Namjoon's low, even voice that draws you in and keeps you paying attention. Like a documentary narrator, or a radio host. 

"You're staring at me," he says, his tone light and teasing. 

You were listening so intently that you didn't even realize what you were doing. "Was I?" You turn away slightly, hoping to hide the blooming patches of pink on your cheeks. "Sorry." 

"It's okay." Namjoon's eyes crinkle into a smile. "It's all I can do to get the freshmen in my courses to look at anything other than their screens, so trust me, I don't mind it at all. I'm just glad you don't think I'm boring."

"Boring?" you say, surprised. "Are there people out there who think you're boring?"

"Oh, definitely. You'd be surprised. Jin, for one. He swears up and down that he doesn't think so, but a few minutes in and his eyes are already starting to glaze over. You, on the other hand…well, I've been monologuing for ages, but you've just been standing there with that mesmerized look on your face the whole time."

"Mesmerized?" You chuckle. "I don't know about that."

"No, it's true," he insists. "Admit it. I fascinate you."

"And?” you ask. “What about it?” 

“What do you say we get out of here?” he says, barely blinking an eye. The corner of his mouth quirks. “This party’s almost over anyway. We can continue this conversation somewhere we can actually hear ourselves think.” 

You hesitate. You barely know this guy. But he likes you – you can tell. He’s the first guy in a long time to express genuine interest in you or your job or your personal life in general. It doesn’t hurt that he’s easy to look at, either, with his striking brown eyes and easy, dimpled smile. There’s just something about the way he looks at you that makes your palms tingle and you heart feel like it’s about to explode. And what is it about rolled up sleeves and exposed forearms that just drives you absolutely insane? Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or the letdown from Ji-eun’s unsuccessful attempt to set you up with Minho – but you have to see where this goes. “Okay,” you say finally. “Where should we go?” 

He’s about to speak when Seokjin and Ji-eun stumble up, arm in arm. “Namjoon-ah! My best friend!” Seokjin exclaims drunkenly. He throws his long arms over Namjoon’s shoulders from behind, pink-cheeked and grinning. “I think I’m in love.”

“Oh, really?” Namjoon eyes his friend with a dry expression. “Who is she, then?”

He looks at Ji-eun blankly, then back at Namjoon. "Ah, well, her name isn't important. What matters is…I'm in love." Seokjin pokes a long finger into Namjoon’s cheek. “And I’m going to marry her.” 

“Oppa!” squeals Ji-eun, pulling him back toward her. “Really?” 

“Uh-huh. I’ll bet.” Namjoon’s gaze cuts in your direction. “Sorry. Normally he’s better at holding his liquor than this,” he whispers. “I should really get him home before he gets any louder – and gets us uninvited from future events.”  

“Same here,” you say apologetically. “If we can manage to split them apart again.” Seokjin and Ji-eun are once again furiously making out, hands in places you’re not even sure you’re supposed to be looking. 

“They’ll have to come up for air sometime. I think we might have a chance then. You grab yours and I’ll grab mine?”

“Deal.” The second Ji-eun pulls away from Seokjin to take a breath, you take her firmly by the arm and pull her toward the door of the reception hall, ignoring her protesting about being separated from the love of her life, while Namjoon tugs Seokjin along behind you. There’s a line of people outside already waiting for taxis, given that you’re in the middle of the city, so you join the queue behind another couple, still trying to prevent Ji-eun and Seokjin from devouring each other whole on the sidewalk. 

“Nicely done,” says Namjoon, the dimple in his cheek reappearing alongside his grin, while he maintains a firm grip on Seokjin's arm. “I take it you have experience with this?”

“Only every Saturday night since university.” You chuckle. “Between the two of us I’m definitely the responsible one.” 

“Eonni!” whines Ji-eun. “Don’t tell him that! He’ll think you’re boring!” 

You plant an elbow firmly into the side of her ribs, sending her into silence. 

"That's okay." His smile doesn't waver. "I'm a little bit boring myself, so what's one boring person to another?"

Boring? you think. You're not boring at all. You’re passionate about what you love. You’re the first man to look at me that way: like I’m the most interesting person in the world to you, when really it’s the other way around. You’re sweet. You’re adorably awkward. You’re bad at flirting – but something about you draws me in anyway. And I know we’ve only just met…but I want to know everything about you. What makes you happy, what inspires you, what intrigues you…I want to spend hours listening to you tell me all about it.

The crowd waiting for cabs disperses until it's just you and Namjoon. "I guess this is it, then,” he says as a taxi finally pulls to a stop in front of you. “We should do this again sometime. Minus the drunk people, of course. Not that I don’t enjoy dragging a hundred and thirty pounds of dead weight around with me, but it does put a damper on things, doesn’t it?” 

“Yah, you bastard! I’m not that heavy!” Seokjin bellows, as he's struggling to stay upright, his words still slurring together. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’d like that. Maybe we can actually finish that conversation we were having before we got interrupted.” You nudge Ji-eun, who seems determined to make herself as unwieldy as possible, not so gently into the cab, sending her tumbling into the backseat, and turn back to him. “By the way…I really appreciate it. You talking to me. It made me forget how totally out of place I was.” 

“Ah, it was nothing.” He ducks his head sheepishly. “As a fellow wedding crasher, I’m happy to have helped. Thanks for putting up with me rambling all night.” 

“Please.” You smile, waving your hand. “Nothing to put up with. I had a good time.” 

“Well…good night, y/n.” Namjoon closes the car door after you. “Get home safe. Until next time?”

“Until next time.” You look up at him. “Good night, Namjoon.” You sit back in your seat, allowing the flutter of excitement that’s been slowly building in your stomach to take flight. This guy…he likes you. He really likes you. You’re going to see him again. And for the first time, in a long time, if not ever…you’re excited. Really excited. Your hand goes to your mouth, barely concealing the grin that’s forming on your lips. 

As your taxi pulls away from the curb, a hand suddenly appears in the half-open window, causing it to jerk to a stop. Namjoon appears next to the car, shaking his hand ruefully and wincing. "Damn, that hurts. Guess that'll teach me, won't it?" He leans down, bringing his face closer to yours. "Sorry about that. You were just about to disappear when it dawned on me that I forgot to ask you for your number, and I knew I had to do something before I lost you."

“Oh! My number.” Your heart flutters again. “Yeah, you’re going to need that, aren’t you?” 

Namjoon watches as you tap your number into his phone. “Good thing I remembered when I did. That could have been a disaster.”

“A disaster, huh?” you ask, handing his phone back to him.

“Catastrophic.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “How else would we have found out if we were meant to be if we didn’t go on an actual first date?” He gazes down at you with a teasing grin. “Anyway – I’ll call you?”

“Soon, I hope.” You smile. “I’ll be waiting.”

“I’ll try not to keep you waiting too long.” Namjoon’s eyes meet with yours momentarily before he turns away, letting out an awkward chuckle. “Well…good night, y/n. I mean it this time. Really.” 

“Good night,” you say, stifling a giggle. “Get home safe.” 

The taxi finally pulls away from the curb, and you can’t help looking out the window after him as he walks back toward Seokjin. He’s handsome, even from behind. Ji-eun flops against you, and you shift her to a more comfortable position against your shoulder. “I knew dragging you along was a good idea. Did I call it, or what?” she mumbles proudly. “You know, I saw the way you were looking at that guy just now.” She pokes teasingly at your arm, eyes half-closed. “Like you wanted to dive right in and take up residence in his dimples. And sparks like a fireworks show. It’s so obvious! You are smitten.” Ji-eun sing-songs the last part.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, pressing your lips together to hide your smile. Ji-eun might not have introduced you to the love of your life – but it’s the first time in a while that you’ve felt this way about anyone – and you suppose you do have to thank her for that. 

©2023 by mrworldwideshoulders || series masterlist || collection masterlist || my masterlist ||

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[we-be-writing-bts-stuff]

Thank you so much for requesting this love. I absolutely loved writing this. It morphed into an office au, co-worker au, and a dash of unrequited love. I'm a sucker for only one bed and enemies to lovers. I hope you enjoy!

~Bagel

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

Word count: 1011

“What the actual hell?” You say as you walk into the hotel room. “There’s supposed to be two beds.” You continue to complain as the single queen sized bed sits in the middle of the room. You were on a business trip with your least favorite co-worker and while you knew that the company would cheap out and only get one room, you never thought they would only get one bed as well.

“It was probably a mistake on the hotel’s end. There’s no way that the company would purposefully make us share a bed.” Namjoon says. He looked about as tired as you felt. 

"Nuh-uh. I'm going to talk to the front desk. There has to be a way to fix this." You say. Turning to leave the room before a hand wraps around your wrist to stop you.

"Stop being a hot head and get in the bed. It's 1 am and we've been traveling all day." Namjoon says. Looking over at you. "If it bothers you that bad, I can sleep in the chair or something." 

"You're not sleeping in the chair. You'll fuck up your back and then the presentation tomorrow is gonna suck. And then my ass is on the line if shit hits the fan." You quickly respond. "I can sleep in the chair I guess."

"Or we can be adults and just sleep in the bed on opposite sides. We're here for one night and I promise that I'm not going to do anything. We just need some sleep and get to the meeting tomorrow." He says. As much as you didn't want to do this, he had a point. You were both adults and you had no reason to think he would try something during the night. You were both exhausted from traveling and while he got on your nerves and questioned every little thing you did in the office, he was nothing but a gentleman in every other aspect.

"Fine. Fine, we can share the bed. I'm taking the side closest to the window." You tell him. Walking over and depositing your bag on your claimed part of the bed. 

You make quick work of hanging up your clothes that were necessary for the meeting and gathering your things for your nighttime routine. 

Besides a few snippy comments from both parties, you both got through your routines and ended up in the bed. This was when you began to question whether this was a good decision or not. Facing away from him and towards the window, you move even farther away until you are barely on the bed. 

A groan from behind you making you freeze. “Stop moving and try to sleep.” Namjoon hisses. 

“Sorry.” You whisper out. Finally closing your eyes and forcing yourself to relax.

-----

The sun hitting your eyes is the first thing you notice as you start to wake. The next is the comforting warmth draped against your back and the weight of an arm over your waist. In your half asleep state, you turn towards the warmth. Your face hides in it and you feel sleep start to tug at your consciousness again. Hands reaching out to grab whatever was making you feel so good. You find purchase on some fabric and hear a soft groan. The arm tightening around you and your legs tangling with others. 

Hearing the alarm is when your mind fully begins to wake. Your eyes slowly open and the first thing you see is a gray shirt. It's soft under your fingers and the chest underneath is firm and toned from what you can feel. A grunt pulls you from your reverie and your gaze moves up to the face of the person you were cuddling with. 

It's like a bucket of ice water was thrown on you when you register the face of your bed partner. You let out a squeak and push hard against Namjoon. Nearly pushing the man off the bed in your rush to get away from him. Scrambling to the other side of the bed.

“What the hell?!” Namjoon growls out. His voice deep and rough from sleep. His hand reaching over for the alarm that started to turn it off. “What was that for?” 

“You, me. Cuddling.” You start to babble off random words that were popping into your head as you gesture wildly between the two of you. Namjoon only looking more confused from your explanation.

“Take a deep breath and relax.” He says. Interrupting your rambling and rubbing at his face. “Once you can speak in full sentences, explain what happened.” 

You roll your eyes at his tone but follow what he said. Taking those calming breaths and think about what you wanted to say. If you even want to tell him still at this point. You shake your head and roll your eyes once you calm down. 

“Nah. I don’t think I want to anymore.” You tell him. Pushing off the covers to get up and start your day. Rushing to get to the bathroom and shower before he can.

“You’re insufferable.” He mutters. Just loud enough for you to hear him before you close the door behind you. Blush dusting your cheeks as you think of cuddling with the man just in the other room.

While he would never tell you, he was awake far before you were and knew what was happening. Seeing you so content in his arms and sleeping so soundly pulled at his heartstrings. It felt natural, almost right, to have you so close to him. His heart was still pounding in his chest, those feelings he pushed down for so long resurfacing with wild abandon. 

“Get it together Namjoon. You have a long day ahead.” He softly says once he could hear the water running. Getting out of the bed to get his clothing together for after his shower once you were done. The two of you chose to ignore what happened for the rest of the day even though you both couldn’t think of anything else.

#reader x namjoon #kim namjoon #bts namjoon #enemies to lovers #bts fluff #office au #one bed trope #bts requests #bts drabble

[azucarmorena97]

Roses || (Namjoon Short Story) Pt.1

"I wish you well. I wish you roses while you can still smell..."

The untouchable man let you stroke his ego but could never be what you needed him to be. You both knew what it was from the beginning, but it didn't stop you from falling in the worst way possible...

The night you met him, rain was pouring down like you'd never seen; In hindsight, probably an omen of what was to come.

You were drenched and, not having expected rain that day, you'd forgone a coat over your dress. The usually packed city streets were emptying rather quickly as people ran into different shops to find some sort of shelter, and you did the same. You'd settled under an awning, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched on in horror. "How the hell am I getting home...?" You muttered, kicking the toe of your shoe into the ground.

Suddenly, the door to the business you were standing in front of swung open, bumping into your side. "Watch it," You said irritatedly, furrowing your brows. "Oh my- I'm so sorry. I didn't see you-" A man emerged from behind the door, a bag hanging from his left wrist while the right held his partially opened umbrella. He wore a nice gray suit, though his tie was loose around his neck and his coat sat ON his shoulders rather than him wearing it. He looked oddly familiar...

"It's fine," You said, stepping back to give him more space. You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and then turned your attention back to the rain.

"Are you alright?" He asked, letting the door close, though he made no move to fully open the umbrella. Probably for fear he'd stab you in the eye with such close proximity. You sighed, "Yeah, I'm fine." "This rain is ridiculous, isn'r it?" "Tell me about it," You responded, glancing over at him. "I can't help but notice you don't have a coat." You shook your head. "Nope. The weatherman really let me down."

He chuckled, "Well, lucky for you- I'm always prepared." With one swift motion, he took the coat off of his shoulder and held it out to you, "You should take it."

Shocked by his very random stroke of generosity, you shook your head, "Oh no- I couldn't take that. You need it."

"Just take it," He said, shaking the coat gently. "Really, it's fine. My car's just right there so I'll be fine."

You hesitated for only a moment more, though when you looked back at the unceasing rain, you finally conceded, "Alright- thank you."

You grabbed the coat and put it on; the warmth was instant and inviting Comparable to a bowl of hot soup, in terms of comfort. "Of course. Now, I'd offer you a ride to wherever you need to be but I'm positive you'll turn me down, which I don't blame you for because you don't even know me and, for all you know, I could be some psycho- though I assure you I'm definitely not-" He caught himself rambling and decided to stop before he dug a hole for himself, "Anyway- with that, I will bid you adieu," He said, shooting you a warm smile.

As he was about to step out from under the awning, you found yourself reaching out to stop him, your fingers pinching the fabric of his sleeve gently, "Uh- wait," Your cheeks were getting hot as you spoke, "How can I get you coat back to you?"

"Don't worry about it. Consider it as a gift," He shrugged. "No, really. I want to be able to return it." He chuckled, "Well, if you want to return it that bad, there's a business card in the left pocket. It has my work phone number and business email."

"Okay, thank you," You said sheepishly. "No problem. I look forward to you reaching out- Er, to return the coat, of course," His smirk was unmissable, though you definitely pretended not to see it.

Without another word, he stepped out into the rain, droplets temporarily staining his gray blazer as he walked over to a beautiful little '76 Silver Shadow Rolls Royce.

Your eyes widened at the sight, immediately interested in knowing who the hell that man was. Your hand shot into the coat pocket to fish out the business card and you brought it up to read.

"Kim Namjoon..." You whispered, "Why does that sound so familiar..."

"What did he smell like!?" Your best friend, B/f/n asked, the speaker on your phone practically distorting her voice from how loud she was being.

You laughed, "I don't know, dude. I wasn't even that close to him." You set your phone up against the carton of milk so that she could see you eating your nightly bowl of cereal. "Ugh, you're the worst at details. How am I supposed to live vicariously through you if you can't even tell me what he smelled like!?" She threw herself backwards on her bed. You laughed, "I think you're a bit more invested than I am." "Oh please. You're the only woman on Earth who can have meet-cute in the pouring rain with a handsome stranger, and not fall head over heels? Yeah, Okay," She rolled her eyes, her sarcastic tone unmissable.

"You know it's so weird, I feel like I recognize him from somewhere but I can't put my finger on it." "Well, did you get a name?" "Uhm, yeah actually- well, technically I did. It was on a card he'd left in the coat pocket. Has his business email and everything," You said with a shrug. Suddenly, she seemed to freeze- her eyes staring dead at you. "B- B/f/n?" You ask, furrowing your brow, "Did you freeze?" "GOOGLE HIM, YOU GOOF!" She yelled out exasperatedly. "GOOGLE! YES!" You felt incredibly dumb not having thought of it yourself.

"I swear, Y/n, if your head wasn't screwed on..." She let out a loud sigh. "Shut up."

You got up from the kitchen table and ran over to the living room to retrieve the card from the pocket. "Okay, so it says his name is Kim, Namjoon." "Kim Namjoon..." She repeats as though she's tasting each syllable, "It does sound kinda familiar." "Mhm," You focused on typing his name into the search bar and when you do-

"Oh my God." "What?" She asked, practically shoving her entire forehead into her camera, "What'd you find?"

"Dude... it's Kim Namjoon- as in, OUR STATE SENATOR, KIM NAMJOON."

"Wait- what? There's no way. Dude probably used a fake card," She scoffed. You shook your head violently, having scrolled through various images of him accepting awards and cutting ribbons. "This is the guy, I swear to you."

"You're sure?" "Yes-" You opened another tab and opened up your email, "Look, I'll prove it." You immediately began typing, intent on getting more information on this supposed stranger:

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐌𝐫.𝐊𝐢𝐦, 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 Y/n (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫). 𝐈'𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐝𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮!

"Now, we wait."

The next morning, you'd woken up bright and early, having expected to see a response when you'd looked at your phone though you were surprised to see a absolutely nothing. You shrugged it off, telling yourself he was probably just busy and hadn't had the chance to check his email. You went about your day, driving to work and sitting at your desk, answering calls, in and out of meetings; you almost forgot all about that email when the notification finally showed up on your work computer screen.

Immediately, you scrambled to open it.

𝐇𝐞𝐲 𝐘/𝐧. 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭. 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭, 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝐒𝐚𝐲, 𝟔𝐩𝐦? 𝐖𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. -𝐊𝐍

You bit your lip, unsure of what to respond, though admittedly, you already felt the butterflies at the thought of seeing him again.

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫.

Not a minute after hitting send, he had already responded with the name and address of the coffeeshop. You didn't respond afterward, but you had a hard time focusing on anything else for the remaining 4 hours of work- and when 5:30 came around, you were packing up quickly and rushing out to your car.

When you got to the coffee shop, there was almost no parking at all; seeing as how the business was smack dab in the center of down town, you had to drive around a couple of times before a space finally opened up.

You were already feeling flustered, bagged coat hanging over your shoulder as you looked for the door to the coffeeshop.

Once you found it, you had to brace yourself so that you could look as calm and collected as possible. When you opened the door, your heart skipped a beat as you saw him there looking completely engulfed in whatever was projected on the laptop screen in front of him. You didn't even really want to disturb such a beautiful sight.

After a moment, he glanced up, immediately noticing you and waving you over to him.

You gave a small smile and proceeded to walk toward him, getting more and more nervous with every step. "Hey," He said with a smile, "You made it." "Yup, I made it." "Please, sit." He motioned to the seat across from him, flashing you a polite smile that revealed two prominent dimples. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude on your work." "Oh, it's fine. I'm just being an overachiever anyway." "Well then," You draped the coat over the top of the chair and sat down, "as long as I'm not imposing." "Not at all. Would you like a coffee?" "Coffee would be great." "Coming right up," He said, standing up and taking his wallet out of his back pocket, "I'll be right back."

He walked over to the register, and you took the opportunity to just look at him. The day before under the awning, he was a handsome stranger- unexpected and mysterious, but even now that you knew who he was, the allure was ever present. "Here you go," He snapped you back down to Earth as he handed you your cup of coffee. The delicious warmth traveled through your hands and to the rest of your body. "Oh God, Thanks- I didn't realize how cold it was today until I touched this cup." He nodded, "I know- but hey, at least it didn't rain this time." "True- I'd have been in the same position as yesterday since I still haven't learned my lesson of bringing a jacket in the car with me." He laughed, "And I'm fresh out." "Do you make a regular habit of doing that?" "Doing what?" "Giving your coat to strange girls in the pouring rain?" "Goodness- when you say it like that, you make me sound like a creep," He laughed, taking a sip from his cup. "Are you?" You asked, only half kidding as you narrowed your eyes at him. "Definitely not. You just looked, I don't know..." He trailed off, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. "Cold?" "Exactly," He said, a visible smirk on his face. "Well, I appreciated the gesture." "Any time."

There was a moment of silence, but it didn't feel uncomfortable at all. You could feel him looking at you, but you didn't squirm under his gaze the way you usually would have with anyone else.

"I just realized I never asked for your name," He said, a soft expression on his face that gave you that butterfly feeling from before. "Y/n." "Y/n," He repeated, "Nice to meet you, Y/n. I'm-" "Kim, Namjoon," You finished for him. He laughed to himself, "Of course, you knew that." "Of course... You know, I googled you last night." "Oh?" He raised an eye brow, seemingly intrigued, "And what were your findings?" His expression was smug. Of course he knew what came up. "Well, you're in politics, for one, you live in one of the most populous cities in the state, two dogs, a wife..." Your eyes met his, gaging his reaction to the last statement, though he didn't look like he'd gotten caught at all, "And yeah, that's basically it." "That's all? No social security number? Criminal record?" You chuckled, "Guess I gotta do a bit more homework." "Well, what about you?" He asked. "What about me?" "Well, you know all this stuff about me now, but I can't just Google you. So tell me about who you are, Y/N," The way he said your name made your heart skip a beat, though you tried to ignore it. "There's not really much to know," You shrugged, "I mean, I live in an apartment not far from here. I hold a crappy position at a crappy call center. No pets (because my apartment won't let me), I like to cook, I dabble in photography, and I sing a mean karaoke." "Nice- I love a good karaoke session, myself. Don't let me around a mic after I've had a few bottles because I will sing SZA's greatest hits on a loop." "Hey, SZA's awesome." "Tell me more about this job," He said, leaning forward and propping himself up with an elbow on the table. You sighed, "I mean, it's just kind of a regular mundane job, you know? I get to the call center, sit at my desk for a few hours wearing the most uncomfortable headset known to man, hit my quota for the day and then pack it all up to do it again the next day." "Sounds like hell." "Oh trust me, it's worse." "Well you know," He seemed to hesitate but only for a split second, "I have an opening right now for a personal assistant. I know it doesn't seem like a luxurious position but the pay is great and you're not stuck behind a desk all day. I don't know if that's something you'd be interested in." You thought for a moment, letting the idea marinade, "I don't know...I've never really done that before." "It's not really something you need a lot of experience in, really. You run basic errands but also help me fill out some paperwork and take notes during meetings. You follow me around and just kinda hang out until I need something," He chuckled, "Maybe that makes it less appealing." "No, that actually sounds kind of interesting." "Well, hey, if you're interested, I can email you the link to the application and you can give it some thought. Sound good?" "I think that'd be great, thank you." "Of course," He smiled, those dimples making yet another appearance. Get a grip. He's married. He held his watch up to look at the time and furrowed his brows, "Well, I've actually gotta get going." "Yeah me too," You lied, slightly disappointed that he was leaving already, but not at all wanting to show it. He shoved his laptop into its case and stood up, fixing his tie and smoothing out his shirt. You also stood up, grabbing the coat from the back of your chair, "Your coat, sir," You extended your arm and urged for him to take it, which he promptly did. "Why, thank you," He smiled, "It was nice talking to you, Y/n." You smiled back, "Likewise, Mr.Kim." "Oh please, call me Namjoon." "Alright them, Namjoon it is." "Here, I'll walk you to your car." "You don't have to," You tried to deter him, but just as he did the day before when you tried to reject his offer of the coat, he waved you away, "What kind of man would I be if I just let you walk to your car alone. Don't be silly." You walked down the block in that same comfortable silence and when you'd gotten to your car, you turned to him to say your goodbyes, "Thank you for escorting me to my vehicle," You said, jokingly trying

to sound sophisticated. "'Twas no trouble at all. Hey, listen- I'll send you the email with the application later tonight but in case you need it, let me pass on my number." "Okay, sure," You took out your phone and passed it to him, "Type it in." He took the phone and proceeded to tap away. He handed it back and then stuck his hand out, "Talk soon?" He asked. You took his hand, and immediately it was like electricity circulating throughout your body. "Definitely," You said, feeling yourself getting shy. He gave a slight bow and then turned around back down the street on his way back to that same car he'd driven the day before. When you got into your own car, you had to sit for a few minutes to try to process this very unexpectedly pleasant evening. "I've gotta call B/f/n," You said excitedly, turning the key in the ignition and racing back home.

That's it for part 1! I'd love some suggestions in my private messages. Feedback is always appreciated. I'll try to post part 2 asap <3

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan boys #namjoon #rapmon #rapmonsta #reader x namjoon #jungkook #jimin #suga #taehyung #hoseok #jhope #jin #angst #bts love story #bts imagine #bts fanfiction

[ratedbangtann]

The Bachelorette 🌹 (18+)

Summary: Three finalists. Two broken hearts. One rose.

You are part of the hit TV show, The Bachelorette, and you've whittled down your 25 men to just three. The trouble is, two of them you have… a history with. With just one more week to decide who you will choose, your heart is split between the final three. Pasts rise back to the surface, and the heat gets turned up… Pairing: namjoonxreader, jungkookxreader, changkyunxreader

Word Count: 15.6k

Warnings: 18+, smut, talks of past lives including drug addiction, toxic relationships, lots of angst, some fluff. Smut will include: oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (m+f) ((assume birth control)), super passionate. A/N: Hi all! It's been a year since I've posted any new content. I'm so sorry… Being an adult sucks, but I've got my groove back so expect some more content from me soon!

This fic was a paid commission, from one of my favourite people on Twitter. She specifically asked that this fic be tailored to her as a person of colour, and so we worked together to make sure that the descriptions were right and I did the POC community justice. I'm a white writer, so it was important that I get this right for her. I haven't changed that description, haven't white-washed the reader in any way so it is tailored towards women of colour, specifically black women. However, feel free to enjoy this fic no matter what your race.

If you think I can improve on my descriptive work for POC characters, then please do let me know!

If you like this fic, then maybe consider tipping me HERE? 💜 -------------------

This was never going to be an easy choice. You never expected it to be, but here you were – five perfectly eligible bachelors in front of you, and only three roses to give out… The last time you’d be sending anyone home before the final, and you had to choose just one to win.

Jimin. Jungkook. Changkyun. Namjoon. Hoseok.

All five of them were stood in front of you, smartly dressed in bespoke suits that fit their personalities to a T. You found yourself scanning over each man, weighing up your options in your head. But this was getting harder and harder each time you narrowed down the line up.

Jimin was kind, a sweetheart. He was funny and adorable. He’d never once made you feel uncomfortable, or question him in any way. But romantically, you weren’t so sure about him. You could see yourself being good friends after the show was over, but more seemed strange to you.

Hoseok? He was very charming, a great kisser, and again he knew how to crack a joke, daft as they were. He was a goofball, but he was the most wonderful kind.

Changkyun was a contender for you since the start. He came across so reserved, and so quiet. At first you thought maybe he felt like he was above it all, that he was too good to be on a show such as this. But you’d learned he was nothing like that, and actually, was perhaps one of the sweetest introverts you’d ever met. He made you feel safe, protected. He was the first date you had of the season, and it didn’t take him long to break down his defences around you – you just made him so comfortable.

And then there was Jungkook and Namjoon. This is where things got… complicated.

From the moment you met the men during the first episode, your eyes had zoned in on them like a radar. You couldn’t believe they were here – why?

Your heart had just dropped the moment you saw them both. It didn’t make total sense as to why they were here, you thought you’d never see either of them again after…

But no, here they were. And surprisingly, neither of them seemed to know who the other was – which was quite the relief. You’d like to keep it that way.

When your eyes met his, Jungkook had smirked a cocky little smile in your direction. It felt almost like a challenge, like he was ready to play the game and grab his prize. He’d added a few more tattoos to his collection since last you saw him, and his hair had grown out to tickle the back of his neck. You had to admit he looked good; far better than he had the day you left him. His hollowed-out cheeks had filled to a normal and yet still strong jawline, the dark circles under his eyes had faded and the ashy colour of his skin had bloomed into his usual light tan. Perhaps he was better, now. You certainly hoped so.

And Namjoon? Well, he looked much the same as he did before, except he’d cut his hair short and gone back to his natural dark colour. Not to mention the way he had seemed to fill out. His arms, his shoulders, his thighs… they all seemed to have doubled – if not tripled – in size. You were shocked at first, never taking him for a gym nut. But then, you weren’t sure you truly knew him at all anymore.

When he had caught your gaze, he smiled a soft and subtle smile, dimples deepening and eyes mollifying. He seemed so happy to see you, but that had made no sense at all. Not after the way you’d left things with him.

So this was fantastic – a room full of eligible bachelors and two of your ex-boyfriends.

Wonderful.

You suppose the writers had done this on purpose, hoping to cause some drama. And well, some drama it did cause. You were sure many would be shouting at their TVs to drop the exes, that an ex is an ex for a reason, that you should never go back to someone who once had caused any pain or misery in your life.

But you just couldn’t let them go. You were so attached yet avoided them where possible. Why? Well, even you couldn’t make sense of that. Scared of being hurt again? Scared that spending more time with them would reveal the reasons why you’d left in the first place? You’d built them both back up in your minds, even with Jungkook causing trouble and stirring the pot from time to time as he found so amusing to do.

You didn’t want to give them the opportunity to prove to you that they were anything other than ‘improved’.

And now here you were, with a choice to make. The penultimate choice.

The first rose you gave, was to Jungkook. Why him first? Well, you weren’t sure. Perhaps because he was the first on the left, and by default, you went straight for him. Yeah, that sounds like a decent explanation.

The second rose you gave was to Changkyun. It’s true, he really was a contender. You were sure of this rose, and sure as hell not ready to say goodbye to him just yet.

As you picked up the third rose you could feel the tension settling in the air, like some kind of invisible thickness that weighed heavy on everybody’s shoulders. Jimin gave you a soft and knowing smile – it seemed the friendship feeling was mutual, and he was happy to take the hit. Hoseok, well he looked a little more hopeful, but kept glancing at Namjoon as if he just knew this decision was an obvious one. Perhaps it was – Hoseok at noticed a feeling around you and Namjoon during recordings, and when he asked, he got the full story. The one that got away, so to speak. Although whether it was you or him that ‘got away’ was unclear.

Namjoon, however, looked nervous. Very nervous. He wasn’t ready, hadn’t been able to say what he needed to yet. And you weren’t ready either. You needed answers, maybe some form of closure you hadn’t got with the house being so populated up until now. His eyes were darting from the rose in your hand to the floor, to anywhere in the room other than your eyes as his fingers twiddled in front of him.

Before you’d realised it, you had placed the rose between his hands, thus solidifying his place in the final three. You not only saw his shoulders visibly sag from the loss of tension, but you heard the breath he’d been holding freely rush from between his lips.

‘Thank you,’ he mouthed, smiling sweetly. You could only reply a weak smile as you stepped back, your heart heavy with guilt for sending Jimin and Hoseok home.

“I’m sorry, truly,” you said to them both, giving each a hug and a sweet kiss to the cheek as they left the room at the host’s request.

“And now, only three remain. Our top three of the season; Jungkook, Changkyun and Namjoon!” the host said gleefully to the camera, “Who will ____ pick to be her knight in shining armour? Tune in same time next week to find out…”

“CUT!” yelled one of the staff behind the camera, and immediately the bustle around the set picked up. People were switching off cameras, lighting, speaking on top of each other – some of them whispering about how they’d have chosen Hoseok or Jimin, or sent home on of the top three instead. You paid it no mind.

After each elimination, you felt that same heaviness. And it was well versed by now that you would say goodnight to the remaining bachelors, thank the production team, and head off for some privacy until the morning.

Now, the real game would begin. -----------------------------------------------------------

A week. You had one week, to decide who you wanted to win and choose to be yours and the pressure was on.

Of the three men left, each had you in their grasp and for different reasons. Choosing just one was going to prove extremely difficult.

But hey, you had signed up for this, it was in your contract even. And who was to say who you picked you would actually date after. Plenty of these shows end with the final couple splitting when they try a real relationship.

But this did feel real to you, all of it. There were real people here who you had real feelings for, some even real history with. And the thought made your head spin.

Nonetheless, you put on a brave face for the camera and forced yourself to continue the game. Perhaps in this final week it would become clearer who you would choose. With just three contenders left, the house already felt more intimate, and casual exchanges felt more important than before.

On day two of the final week, you had pushed past your negative emotions left lying around from the elimination and were starting to get your head focussed and back on track. You had forced yourself out of bed early and made your way down to the small gym in the house. You figured a long run on the treadmill with some earphones in pumping music through your ears to match your elevated heartrate would do you some good, and true enough, it did.

As you were coming to the end of your run, the sliding door had opened and in stepped Jungkook, in his clingy workout gear ready to get started on his daily session. Your eyes drifted over him as he waved with a smirk, and you smiled as best you could as your feet pounded against the treadmill.

He turned his back to you, sitting down on a weight bench and strapping some wrist supports on. He fiddled with his hair, hanging down past the bottom of his neck, and tied it into a more convenient bun. The muscles in his back showed through his vest, rippling and contracting with every movement.

When you had dated Jungkook, he had looked very different. The last time you saw him, he was merely a skeletal shadow of his former self. His eyes had sunken further into his skull than you had ever seen, his cheeks hollowed to give him a sickly look. The tattoos he’d spent so much time and money getting looked dull on his ashen skin, and you barely recognised the bad-boy heartthrob you’d been captivated by in the beginning.

Leaving that day was the toughest decision you had ever had to make, but you knew it had to be done. You couldn’t let him drag you down any longer, after all the help you had tried and failed to provide him, he had only got worse. You had known that you staying as long as you did was like a get-out-of-jail-free card. He thought he was untouchable, that he would never lose you.

You’d had to prove him wrong, and hoped that that might save him.

But that man wasn’t here now. He had filled out more so than you had ever seen him, his skin returning to a beautiful tan colour and adorned with more tattoos than you remember. His eyes sparkled with mischief again, his jawline sharp but cheeks still filled out as they were when you met.

He had been taking better care of himself, but better care hadn’t meant he was a better man. You still had no idea who Jeon Jungkook was now. His smugness, his attitude, his mysterious aura had kept you at arm’s length this entire time, and perhaps you had kept him in the competition hoping that the longer he was here, the more you might break down his walls, brick by brick.

You continued to run, managing to keep an eye on Jungkook as he lifted his weights in reps of ten, switching positions, arms and even using his feet to lift his dumbbells to work on his already thick and muscled thighs.

You started to drift back into your memories, thinking of time with Jungkook from those years ago. Both of you were so young, yourself a college freshman when you’d met. He had captivated you, dare you even say corrupted you. Late night studying had been replaced with heavy drinking sessions at pep rallies, or DJ sets that boomed until the sun rose through the cracks of abandoned buildings holding illegal partygoers.

Jungkook, in his tight black trousers and leather jackets had excited you and spun you into a world of parties, drinking and eventually, onto drugs. College came second and by some miraculous strain of luck you had still got your degree. While your life spun out of control, you tried to turn to the man at your side for some comfort, for someone to ground you. But he’d progressed further down that road than you ever had…

“Hey,” Jungkook’s breathless voice took you by surprise. You hadn’t even realised he’s removed one of your earphones, and you stumbled a little on the treadmill, managing to catch yourself and stand on either side to avoid being flown into the wall a few feet behind you.

“Oops, sorry…” he smirked. “You were out of it then, huh?”

“Uh… yeah, guess so,” you panted, catching your breath. Jungkook’s eyes didn’t falter as he stared into yours, perhaps a moment too long, with that smugness he always seemed to have.

“You know…” he starts, leaning on the arm of the treadmill next to where your hand gripped it for support. He reached over and turned it off, the motors slowing to a stop. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in better shape, ____.” You scoff a little, rolling your eyes at him. Jungkook was always such a flirt, even through your relationship.

He liked to toy with girls, to make them think they stood a chance and then point to you across a dancefloor and tell them all about how gorgeous his girlfriend was, how you were everything to him, you just got him. He was good at it, and boy you remember those nights he made you so jealous with flirting you’d end up in some of the steamiest situations of your entire life. Nights filled with so much passion, fuelled by lust and anger with choruses of “you’re mine, no one else’s” and “I belong to you as much as you belong to me”.

It was without a doubt the most toxic, yet thrilling relationship you had ever been in.

“Yeah, well… Gotta look after myself, y’know?” you retorted. A beat of silence passed by as his eyes scanned over your body, toned and sculpted like he’d never seen in your activewear. And then his eyes met with yours once again. “You look better, Kook…” you observed, your voice coming out softer than you’d intended, a tone of care laced in your words.

For a moment, you were sure you saw something flash across his face… Could it have been a hint of sadness? A memory? Regret?

But as soon as it had appeared, it was gone again.

“Well, I look better in leather with this body, that’s for sure,” he winked. “You always did love me in leather, didn’t you ____…?” He left the question lingering in the air between you, but your mind couldn’t deny that he was in fact right. He chuckled and leaned a little closer.

“You know, I really missed you. We used to have a lot of fun.”

“Y-yeah… we did…” you agreed, a little nervous now. As if by magic, you were being transported back in time, feeling like that same silly 18-year-old girl who was so easily taken in by his bad-boy act.

“And we’ve had some fun times since we’ve been here, too…” he leans closer again, only a few inches from you now. “Couple of great dates…” he tucks some loose hair that had fallen from your ponytail behind your ear. “Even one great kiss…” he whispers, his lips hovering just above yours.

You could feel your heart pounding in your ears, a heat rising on your cheeks that no doubt had you looking flushed. How quickly he could turn you to this, with barely any build up.

“But I think I can do better…” he teased, and it triggered something in you. You closed the distance, pressing your lips to his with a strange hunger for him you hadn’t felt in years. You felt him snicker against your lips as his hand snaked around the back of your head, holding you in place as the two of you melted together.

You let go of the treadmill, arms wrapping around his neck to bring him closer. Every touch excited you, as if electricity was sparking at every point of impact. Your lips moulded into perfect complimentary shapes, passionate and deliberate movements that had you chasing more.

Jungkook stepped up onto the treadmill, forcing your back against the control panel as his free hand lifted your thigh, holding it against his hip. A ripple of arousal hit you, memories flooding back from the incredible, lustful nights you spent together in the past. Jungkook had many talents, and pushing every button of yours happened to be one of them.

“Fuck, I missed you baby…” he mumbled against your lips, not for one second removing himself from your kiss. The breathlessness in his voice struck another chord in you, a flutter hitting your abdomen.

“I mis-“ you began, until…

“Ahem!” you heard from behind you, dragging you from your intense make out with Jungkook and bringing it crashing down. Jungkook didn’t let go of you, your thigh still in his grasp as his face hardened into a stony expression of pure resentment. His eyes looked right past you to the source of the obnoxious cough, and your head turned slowly to follow.

Changkyun stood in the doorway to the gym, hand still on the handle of the sliding door. How you hadn’t heard it open, you weren’t sure. Too wrapped up in the moment, you supposed. Changkyun himself looked mad, staring down Jungkook in a very ‘guns at dawn’ manner.

You looked between them both, rolling your eyes a little at the stench of testosterone that emanated from them both.

“I’m sorry, are you about to draw your duelling pistols?” you mocked, annoyance clear in your tone.

“My apologies, ____. I just wanted to get in a morning workout. I had no idea I would be interrupting something,” Changkyun spoke in a darker tone than you’d heard from him before, usually such a soft-spoken man around you. But his eyes still hadn’t diverted from Jungkook’s.

Jungkook scoffed audibly, looking off to the side and shaking his head as he laughed darkly to himself and dropped your thigh. You turned to him to scowl as he got down from the treadmill, folding his arms across his chest.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to just give us a little privacy, buddy…” he spat.

“You’re in the gym. Not exactly the most private of spaces,” Changkyun deadpanned as he walked into the space, sitting down at the same bench that Jungkook had been lifting at and readying himself to do the same.

“Could’ve turned and walked the fuck out again.” “I’m sorry, is there a problem here?” Changkyun turned to look at Jungkook again. “As far as I see it, it’s probably a good thing I came in when I did.”

“And why’s that, big guy?” Jungkook hissed. You stepped down as Jungkook edged forward, your instincts kicking in. You knew Jungkook well enough to know that he was pissed, and edging forward was not a good sign…

“Come on, Jungkook,” Changkyun started, turning to face him. “You really think you’re gonna win this? No way am I gonna let some junkie drag ____ back down with him again.”

Jungkook saw red.

“The FUCK did you just call me?” he screamed, lunging forward and grabbing Changkyun’s shirt in both fists, pulling him to a standing position.

“Jungkook, HEY!” you yelled, dashing forward to get between them. Jungkook pushed him as he let go and stepped back, darkly staring at him with a look that frankly could have killed.

“Out! Go, cool off,” you ordered, gripping his chin to make him look down at you. His expression softened just the tiniest bit to see you so stressed in front of him, like he suddenly realised you were still there.

“Now,” you told him, raising your eyebrows.

With a huff, he stormed past you and left the gym, running off to God knows where to cool off like you’d told him to. You took a deep breath, and turned back to Changkyun, sat looking sheepish and apologetic.

“____, I…”

“Save it,” you interrupted, holding your hand up to him and leaving the gym yourself. You just wanted to be alone. -----------------------------------------------------------

You spent the rest of your morning in your bedroom after the incident in the gym, taking time to have a long and hot shower, letting yourself relax. You tried to stop your mind from going overboard, thinking too much about what Changkyun had said, about your past with Jungkook. But it was rather impossible.

You lay on your bed, overthinking into the afternoon. True enough, Jungkook had been a junkie when you ended things with him. That in itself was the entire reason why. His partying had got out of hand, and instead of the occasional joint the two of you would share, he had turned to harder drugs, drugs that were sucking the life out of him and spoiling the Jungkook you thought you loved.

Not only that, but he had started using your savings, your hard-earned money from endless shifts at the bar you once worked to fund his growing addictions. You can’t remember exactly what the final straw was, but you’d put up with it for far too long by the time you built the courage to put yourself first.

And now you were just letting him back into your life, letting yourself get cast under his spell again as if he hadn’t ruined his life and tried to take you down with him. You let him put his hands on you again, sweet talk you, kiss you without any apology, any explanation, or any acknowledgement of what he used to be.

Had you kept him in the game hoping that eventually he might bring it up? You surely knew him better than that. Jungkook had too much pride; his reaction to Changkyun’s words was evidence enough of that…

A knock on your door snapped you out of your thoughts and brought you crashing back to reality.

“____? Are you… um, would you rather be alone?” Changkyun called through the door. You sighed, sitting upright.

“No, it’s okay. Come in,” you called, waiting for him to come in and sit at the end of your bed, shutting the door behind him.

“I just… wanted to apologise. If you want to hear it, I mean. I wasn’t really sure but I didn’t just want to not try,” he started, fiddling with the button on the casual shirt he’d put on after his workout. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position, I’m so sorry. Jungkook, he just… he bothers me.”

You nodded in acknowledgement. Jungkook did tend to rub other men up the wrong way, leaving bitter tastes in their mouths. He was a ladies’ man, after all. Men? Not so friendly…

“I get it, but you have to trust that I know what I’m doing too.” A lie; you had no clue. “And that I can stand up for myself if I have to.”

“Yeah, of course. I guess I feel a little protective of you, is all. I knew about his reputation before I came here. Word gets around, and I just really… I don’t know, ____, I like you a lot. I wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t, or at least trying so hard.”

“That’s sweet of you, Changkyun. You know I must like you a lot too, right? For you to still be in the game. I appreciate you looking out for me, I really do,” you smiled, shuffling closer to him to sit at his side. Out of comfort, Changkyun rested his arm on your knee, his fingers tracing the seams of your trousers along your calf. He smiled at the thought of you liking him in the same way he did you, unable to look you in the eye out of shyness.

“You’re forgiven,” you tease, smirking as you plant a sweet kiss to his cheek. His shy smile spread into a grin as his eyes finally met yours.

“Thank you,” he said, his eyes flitting between your gaze and your lips. In such proximity, he was finding it increasingly difficult not to kiss you. Not too long ago, before the last elimination, had been your first kiss together. Shared on the decking after a night of getting to know one another on a much deeper level, it had been a long time coming for you, having already developed a real attachment to him.

“Would you mind if I kissed you again?” he asked sweetly, tracing the tip of his finger along your jawline. “Be my guest,” you breathed, leaning in out of instinct.

When your lips touched, it wasn’t anything like the kiss you’d shared with Jungkook that morning, full of passion and fire. This was sweet, filled with a longing and a desire that truly, you reciprocated.

Changkyun hummed softly, savouring the moment of peace with you. Always, he wanted to do this. Whenever he saw you, he wanted you all to himself, to dote upon and take care of. He knew you didn’t need his protection, but he would give it to you in a heartbeat if only you asked.

Your lips parted from each other’s, but he rested his forehead gently against yours keeping you close.

“Are you okay, ____?” he asked softly. “You seem a little tense still, stressed…” His concern was so sweet to you. You suppose you were still a little tense. “Is it this morning?” he asked again.

“Yes, and no… I’m just in my head a little. Need to let go, relax.”

“Hmm,” he hummed in thought. “Maybe… maybe I could help? You, to relax, I mean…” he offered, stumbling a little as if he were nervous. But you pulled back a little to get a clearer view of him, a small smirk on your lips.

“And what did you have in mind?” you toyed, playing with the strands of hair that tickled the back of his neck.

“Just… relax. Let me take care of you,” he whispered, leaning in for another delicate kiss, one that sent butterflies flitting around your body. He leaned forward a little more, pressing his lips to yours firmer than before, and encouraging you to lean back until your head hid the pillows. Changkyun easily slotted between your legs, hovering above you whilst maintaining a very sweet and beautiful kiss that had you melting under him.

He kept one hand next to your head to hold himself up, the other gently holding your hip. Your arms reached up above you, wrapping around his neck to gently pull him in and encourage him whilst your lips were too occupied to speak. The two of you simply enjoyed each other’s embrace, with no rush to go anywhere, no fear of time running out. Instead, just being in the moment.

Changkyun began to run his tongue lightly against your lip, advancing only a little at a time, until he was leaving slow, calculated open-mouthed kisses to your jawline, and further down your neck to the collar of your shirt. You let out little moans at the feeling that sounded more like hums of pleasure as the excitement in you began to build.

True to his word, Changkyun was taking care of you. He was bringing you out of your head and giving you something to focus on that you hadn’t realised you so desperately needed.

His hands began to bunch up the material of your t-shirt, rolling it up to expose only your mid-section and allow him more room to leave his incredible kisses against your skin. With every kiss, something in the pit of your stomach grew and grew until all you wanted was him, his touch, his kisses, all over you.

As he kissed along your stomach from left to right, his hands came to fiddle with the button of your trousers, slowly at first to give you ample opportunity to stop him if this was going too far for you. But you didn’t, and you wouldn’t. You wanted this as much as he did.

He progressed past the unfastening of your trousers, dragging them down your legs and dropping them to the side before returning his lips to your skin. Only this time, his lips had landed on your right knee, and were slowly progressing up your thigh, moving inward and towards a growing heat between your legs.

He took his time, as if every little movement of his lips and tongue against your skin was his way of worshipping you – a goddess who deserved only the best he had to offer. He had waited long enough to get to this moment; no chance at all was he going to rush this as some superficial act of lust when it was so much more to him than that.

Closer and closer he got to your core, your hands threading into his hair for something to touch, to connect to him in some intimate way. When his lips did land on top of your core, pressing kisses to your underwear, you let out a sharp hiss. Finally, a little relief to the ache that had been building. But your underwear was still creating a barrier – however thin – between you and what you really needed.

He didn’t tease for long, wanting nothing more than to give in to your desires and if he was honest to himself, he so desperately wanted to taste you. His fingers hooked themselves into your underwear, slowly dragging them past your hips until he had to sit upright to drag them from your ankles. Seeing you laying beneath him, your thighs pressing together tightly – whether for friction or out of shyness – sent an urge through him like no other.

He lunged forwards, supporting himself by one hand that slammed against the sheets beside your head as he dipped down to crash his lips to yours. His passion was unmistakable, and you thrived off of it. Your legs parted for him with ease, back arching up to push your chest against his. You wrapped your arms to pull him closer to you, but his solid frame and strength holding him up meant that your efforts simply pulled you from the mattress to cling off him.

But his end goal was still heavily in the forefront of his mind, clear by the way he pulled on your wrists around his neck to force you to let him go and hit the sheets once again. In a flash, he was hovering over your midsection, his strong hands slowly and gently parting your knees to present you to him – glistening like a freshly glazed donut. He looked up at you through his eyelashes and smirked, before he finally connected his lips to your clit.

It knocked the wind out of you - the jolt of electricity that shot from your core to your heart. An audible gasp caught in your throat as Changkyun let his tongue past his lips, expertly lapping at every. single. nerve. in your clit – or so it felt.

Had you looked down between your legs you’d have seen his eyes on you, watching your every move and learning exactly what reaction he got from each slightly different movement. But you couldn’t force your head off the pillow, let alone your eyes to open as soft mewls and breathless moans slipped out.

Perhaps five minutes had passed, perhaps twenty, but it didn’t matter – it could have been an hour and yet your orgasm was approaching all too suddenly, all too soon.

‘No, not yet… More. I want more,’ you thought to yourself, his name barely recognisable as it left your lips. But he showed no signs of quitting, and you didn’t have it in you to slow him down.

“Ch-Changkyun… I… oh god, so close…” you choked, giving him his cue that just a little more and you’d tip over that edge. And so his hands that held your legs apart spread wider, his tongue delved deeper, and the fire in your stomach grew hotter, and hotter, until there was simply no fighting it.

Bursts of intense pleasure racked through your body, ricocheting off of every nerve available. Your thighs tensed in his hands, your fists balled up in the sheets, your back arched from the bed and you reached your high.

He didn’t stop, only gradually slowed as you came back down, teetering between soft aftercare and overstimulation. And only once you finally took a deep breath with a blissful sigh did he come to a stop, sitting on his knees as he rubbed soothing circles into your thighs.

Coming back to reality, you opened your eyes to look at him, noting the sweet smile that sat on his lips, watching you and waiting for you to return to some kind of normal. But the strength of your orgasm had left you feeling drained, completely relaxed but utterly exhausted. You could see that Changkyun had clearly enjoyed himself too, from the slight bulge in his jeans but whilst the spirit was willing, the flesh was far too weak.

“You look sleepy,” he said, finding it quite endearing. “You should rest.” “But… you…” you wanted to protest, to give back. How could you when sitting upright would take the same effort as a Himalayan hike to you right now?

Changkyun chuckled softly , still tracing gentle patterns on your thighs. “Forget about it, just rest, hm?” he crawled off the bed, heading over to the little dresser at the far end of the room, assuming you had fresh underwear and perhaps some lounge shorts in one of them. He wasn’t wrong, finding both in two out of the four drawers.

He took his time, gently re-dressing you as your eyes drooped heavily, content. He leaned over you to place a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek and quietly left the room, leaving you to drift off into a blissful and much needed nap. -----------------------------------------------------------

The tensions in the house had barely dissipated in the few days since the gym incident. In fact, if anything, Jungkook seemed to only have gotten angrier with each passing moment. He’d leave the room as soon as Changkyun would enter it, or turn and walk away if he saw the two of you hanging out together.

And the smug little smirk on Changkyun’s face each time didn’t go unnoticed by you either. You weren’t sure how you felt about that… Whilst Changkyun was exceptionally sweet with you, you didn’t that he seemed to be playing some kind of game with Jungkook. It hardly seemed fair, even at this late stage of the competition.

And whilst this had been going on, Namjoon seemed none-the-wiser. In typical Namjoon fashion, he held quite the same ‘golden retriever-esque’ innocence as he had when you’d been together before. His focus had just been on you, and trying to win your affections.

And so, he’d organised a date night for the two of you as the date of the final choice loomed closer. Only something simple, but intimate nonetheless.

As the sun began its descent, Namjoon was hard at work in the kitchen, following a recipe book to cook something that for him was of course far too advanced – but he persevered, attempting to follow the instructions down to the letter. He leaned over the counter, glasses hanging low on his nose as he read the pages. He wiped a light sweat from his brow on his wrist.

Somehow you managed to sneak down to the kitchen, now ready to meet him to begin your date. You leaned against the doorway, a beautiful burgundy silk dress clinging to your waist and hips, but draping freely just below your knees. Had he looked up, you’d easily have distracted him, so you kept quiet instead, fondly watching him concentrating so hard and admiring how he looked from afar.

He clearly was working hard to impress, his long sleeve of his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. He’d found a cream apron from somewhere, using it to wipe his hands on and to shield the white of his shirt from any splashes he was destined to make whilst cooking.

As you watched him scurry around, oblivious to your presence, you couldn’t help but wonder why on earth he had decided cooking was the perfect date night for the two of you. Namjoon had never been a very good cook, to put it mildly. Perhaps he was just so intent on impressing you that he was willing to do anything. Perhaps it was the hopeless romantic in him trying to give you a date that most women would find utterly endearing.

“Hey, you,” you purred from the doorway. His head snapped up suddenly from behind the kitchen island, and his shock turned quickly into a large puppy-dog grin when his eyes landed on you.

“Wow… You look beautiful, ____,” he gushed. “Please, take a seat,” he motioned to the stools that lined the other side of the island to him, and you gladly stepped into the kitchen and took one, watching him as he worked.

“Since when was cooking your thing, Joonie?” you asked with an amused smile. He stopped in his tracks; no one had called him that for… so long. It was yours and yours alone, and oh, how he missed it.

“Uh, well it’s not,” he began, avoiding eye contact in the hope you’d miss a blush creeping on his cheeks, “but it’s never too late to learn, right? I just wanted to do something nice, y’know?”

“It’s sweet of you, I look forward to trying your food,” you flirted.

“Oh, well you can taste test it right now, if you’d like? It’s almost done.” He picked up his chopsticks, grabbing a piece of meat that he’d been frying amongst an unidentified sauce and vegetables and lightly blew on it to cool over his free hand, before reaching over the island for you to take the bite.

You so wish it had been good… lying was so much harder.

“Mmm… Mmhmm… Mm…” you mumbled as you chewed, trying to find the heart to swallow the mouthful. How on earth could it be that salty?

Namjoon’s face fell, and without another word he picked more of the dish up from the pan and tried it himself. His own grimace said it all.

“Ah, fuck… How did that…? Damnit!” He stomped back to the open recipe book, trying to find the place he’d gone wrong. In the meantime, you managed to swallow the food and had joined him by his side to figure this out with him.

“How much salt did you put in that, Joon?” you asked.

“4 tablespoons, like it says…” he pointed to the list of ingredients and their quantities. You looked closer, and his mistake became obvious.

“Honey, ‘tsp’ is TEAspoon, ‘tbsp’ means tablespoon… It’s meant to be 4 teaspoons…” you sighed. But you had to admit, it was kind of funny… And absolutely classic Namjoon.

“I… oh. Oh for fucks sake,” he groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance. “I can’t make you eat that… Let me try something else? I swear I’ll choose something fast, I won’t keep you waiting,” he panicked. You just laughed, holding your hand up to stop him from rambling on about how sorry he was.

“You know what? It’s fine. Don’t worry. I know a meal you can make without making a mistake, and it’s super fast…” you teased, walking behind him to the pantry. He watched in confusion as you disappeared inside and came back holding only two things.

“Instant,” you waved one hand with a cup in, “ramen,” and then the other. Namjoon smirked, his shoulders dropping in relief.

“I mean, it’s not exactly the fancy dinner I had planned, but whatever my girl wants, my girl gets.” He stepped towards you and took the two instant ramen bowls from your hands, heading over to the stove to heat the water he needed. But you couldn’t help but mull over those words, stood frozen in one place trying to fight the butterflies that flooded your stomach.

My girl.

His.

You weren’t, not anymore. But old habits… -----------------------------------------------------------

With your ramen cups in hand, the two of you had made your way to the balcony just off of Namjoon’s room to eat at your suggestion. The sun was dipping lower behind the horizon, and with a clear sky that night you had thought it would be romantic to watch as the moon rose, and the stars came out from hiding.

With ramen cups and fluffy blankets.

It wasn’t exactly what Namjoon had in mind when he had asked you to join him for dinner that night, but any time with you was considered a luxury in his eyes. And this was much more akin to the kind of dates you used to have together – simple, but intimate. You liked it that way.

“How’s the ramen?” he asked from beside you on the wicker bench, still wearing his apron in case he spilled ramen on that crisp white shirt of his. He looked quite adorably comical in it, particularly since he had filled his muscles out in your time apart from him. The apron seemed more like a bib on his chest than something to cover the majority of his torso.

He caught you mid-slurp, but you managed an appreciative hum which seemed to satisfy him at least, judging by the fond smile that showed off his dimple.

“So, how are you doing? I know there’s probably a lot of pressure right now…” he began, turning the conversation slightly more serious than expected. But you were grateful that he was asking; he always had cared about what you thought.

Which is why the ending of your relationship had felt so… unexpected.

“Oh, you know… three hearts, two to break. It’s not so fun…” you brushed it off, but of course you were in utter turmoil over this decision, spending every moment alone trying to figure out pros and cons and why’s and wherefores’. “Wishing there was a fourth option that made everyone happy, but that’s not on the cards…” you sighed.

“It’ll be okay, in the end. Whoever you choose, as long as you are happy that’s all any of us can ask for.” You felt your heart squeeze itself inside your chest, and your head asking so many questions…

I was happy with you, but then…

“That’s sweet. Thank you,” was all you could muster. The confusion on your mind had threatened to spill out, but somehow your self-control set in.

The pair of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, finishing your ramen, watching the sky’s changing gradients in peaceful quiet.

Once finished, Namjoon took your empty ramen cup with his and set them on the floor beside the wicker bench, getting himself comfortable again as you shuffled slightly closer with your blanket.

“Do you mind, if I…?” his question trailed off as he lifted his arm closest to you, gesturing as if he’d like you to fill the gap at his side. You just smiled him and slid closer, lifting your feet onto the bench beside you and allowing your body to lean into his, his around your shoulders.

It was comfortable, safe. Namjoon wasn’t competing with anyone but himself. He paid no mind to the other men in the house, his sole focus was you.

You talked a little, sometimes about the stars coming into view, sometimes about memories of the past, people you once knew with him. You talked about your life since each other, the god and the bad, and it was just as easy as it always had been.

In the moments of silence, however, you replayed the day you left him. The Namjoon you knew back then, seemed to be the same guy he was now. So then… why? Why did he change his mind? What went so wrong that made him get so sick of you? -----------------------------------------------------------

A weekend away was always a nice idea, but one without Namjoon felt strange… The ‘no guys allowed’ policy of a bachelorette party was a sacred oath though, and you weren’t one to mess with traditions. Especially not when your best friend was the definition of ‘Bridezilla’.

But hey, it was over now at least. And thankfully, you’d made good time on the road back from the airport. Namjoon wasn’t expecting you home for a good while yet, but the extra time together over the rest of the day would be nice after a few days apart. You were sure he’d love the surprise.

You crept up to the front door of your shared apartment, and wrestled with the key in the lock as quietly as you possibly could, trying to not announce your arrival until the last possible moment. Somehow, you made your way into the apartment almost silently, but Namjoon hadn’t noticed.

You heard his voice before you saw him, coming from the living room. Only a one sided conversation – he must be on the phone. So you crept up silently and stood yourself in the doorway to the living room, waiting patiently behind him for him to finish the conversation.

“No, I just don’t know what to do anymore though, Yoongi…” he seemed to be in some kind of turmoil. Your brow furrowed – maybe it was something you could help with? Did something happen while you were away? But either way, it made sense that he’d call his best friend for the answers, since he thought you’d still be travelling home.

“No, of course I haven’t told her… Well I don’t know, I just don’t know how she’d react to this!”

Okay, that was strange. Did he mean… you? How you’d react to what?

“I’m so sick of her… I can’t do anything without her just being there. Like, have you got nothing better to do? It’s pathetic.”

He… he just… No way?

Your heart beat hard in your chest, and yet slower than it should, like it was just fighting to keep going… He was sick of you? But… he loved you, didn’t he?

“Yoongi I gave it time, and it worse. I can’t have her around me anymore, I have to do something about it. I’m just glad I have the weekend off, at least.”

That cemented it. You couldn’t listen to this anymore, and you didn’t want to confront him either. It hurt too much to know he’d been lying to you, he was sick of you, he didn’t want you anymore.

He didn’t want you anymore.

With just as little sound as before, you left your apartment again, silent tears streaming down your face. -----------------------------------------------------------

The memory of that day was one of the most painful you had. The least dramatic of your breakups perhaps, but you were so in love with Namjoon. And for him to decide he couldn’t stand you anymore… it cut deeper than any man had ever hurt you.

“Hey, um… Could I… ask you something?” he asked shyly, halting your train of thought. He  avoided eye contact with you, playing with the edge of the apron he was still, for some reason, wearing.

“Yeah, go ahead…” You spoke softly, still reeling a little from the hurt you’d brought back up in your own head.

A beat or two of silence went by, Namjoon lifting his gaze to the horizon and take a deep breath. Whatever it was, it was hard for him. He was nervous.

“Why did you leave me?” He looked at you then, with such sadness in his eyes. But… he couldn’t be. He knew why. Sure, you had upped and left without saying anything to him, ignoring his calls, his texts, just telling him when you were picking your stuff up whilst he was at work. But he had to have put two and two together by now…

“You know why, Namjoon,” you deadpanned, sitting up straight again. This didn’t feel like a particularly affectionate turn of conversation. In fact, your guard was back up, the wall you’d spent weeks bringing down around him rebuilt in a matter of seconds.

“No, I really don’t… I thought everything was good with us.”

Anger boiled under the surface; was he just doing this because he wanted to win? Because the prize of a damn TV show was just more important than your feelings? Because he wanted to prove to you and everyone watching that he could win you back?

“Namjoon don’t, pretending and gaslighting me into thinking I was wrong isn’t going to work. God, I can’t believe you!” you stood up, the blanket around you slipping from the silk fabric of your dress. You strode over to the balcony railing, looking out instead of looking back.

“I’m not pretending anything, ____. I don’t get it. You went away on a girl’s weekend and then I never see you again. You just up and leave with no reason. I spent months trying to figure out what I did, if you met someone else… It fucking killed me, ____!” His tone matched your level of anger, spilling over. Clearly, he’d been repressing this for some time.

You span around on your strappy heels, “someone else?” you squealed. “It was only ever YOU, Namjoon. YOU broke MY damn heart, how dare you try and play victim!”

“WHAT DID I DO?” he yelled, sounding out every syllable with each step he took towards you, invading your personal space. “’No, I haven’t told her’, ‘I’m sick of her, Yoongi’, ‘She’s always there, it’s pathetic’, ‘I’m glad I had the weekend off at least’.” You were paraphrasing, but you remembered what he said well enough to reel off the basics as tears threatened to fall. Not now, you got over this, you were okay…

Namjoon looked bewildered, like you’d just told him his uncle was the Pope. The confusion knitted his brows together as he stepped back just a little.

“How did you hear all of that…?” he asked when realisation finally set in. At that, you smiled. Not amused, not happy, but because he proved you right.

“Snuck in quietly to surprise your stupid ass,” you spat.

“And you never thought to ask what the fuck I was actually talking about, hm? You just thought that out of nowhere, after all that time together, I was hiding being sick of you? Jesus ____, you know I’m not a good liar how the hell would I have managed to do that?” He was still shouting, but his anger wasn’t directed at you – it was directed at all the lost time. And for no reason.

“Then what…?” you began, but he interrupted.

“Do you remember that blonde girl in the green dress at my work Christmas party that one time? Alice? You made a joke, said she looked like she was into me and jealous of you. Well, you were right.

“She was getting worse and flirting all the time, but then she started getting creepy, leaving me weird little love notes on post-its at my desk, and sending me emails asking if I wanted to meet her. She started following me around the office, to my car at the end of the day. She got my phone number off the system, was texting me all the damn time…

“I didn’t tell you, didn’t want you to worry or do anything rash – I knew your temper and I knew you’d freak. I only told Yoongi, and with you gone, he was worried she’d find out and try something. The ‘weekend off’ you mentioned? That was my weekend off from WORK, not from you. Never from you…” his voice cracked, the vein in his forehead straining as he yelled.

You stood in stunned silence, processing. Watching him. He looked broken, his eyes glossing and tears falling and he ran his hand over his shorter hair, taking deep breaths to steady himself.

You felt like a complete bitch.

“You left, and I… I didn’t know what to do with myself,” he sobbed, hiding his face in his hands and aggressively wiping the tears away.

“Namjoon, I…”

“I loved you so much,” he yelled, looking at you with so much hurt in his face, “and you threw away two years of something so good!” he stepped towards you again, towering over you. He didn’t feel intimidating; if anything, he felt desperate. Like he so desperately wanted to touch you and was fighting with himself to just be close to you. His defences were up too, and his resolve was crumbling.

“I just wished I’d heard you… I could have run after you, I could have explained,” he sobbed, staring at the space between your feet at the floor. He’d taken to blaming himself instead of you in a split second – a sign his mind was racing with thoughts, processing but not really processing anything because it was all just too fast, too much at once.

“No, no… Namjoon, no please, don’t blame yourself,” you begged, choking on your held back cries as you cupped his face in both hands, trying your best to comfort him but letting him cry at the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” You repeated it, over and over.

His shoulders shook as you held his face, pressing your forehead to his in an attempt to comfort him. Being shorter than him, he had to lower his head to be held by you, but he needed to be close to you. You could feel his tears running from the tip of his nose to yours where they met, and the guilt you felt was phenomenal.

You shushed him quietly like a child as he whimpered and nuzzled his nose against yours, finding comfort in the contact, losing himself in his emotions. The first light brush of his lips against yours was purely accidental, just angling his head a little too far as he sought your comfort.

But the second had been intentional… followed by a barely-there peck to the lips. Then another when you didn’t pull away. And another, that you reciprocated.

And then in a flash, his hands were on your waist, holding you as he pressed his lips to yours. It took absolutely no encouragement for you to kiss him back, the need too great to ignore. Both of you were desperate for each other. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he leaned into you, holding you up by your waist as he chased your lips. They moved together with such a synchronicity, one you were familiar with but hadn’t felt in so long.

His arms wrapped around you so tightly, like he was terrified this was all in his head and if he let you go, you’d disappear forever. He couldn’t cope with that again…

Neither of you knew who took the first step, but it didn’t matter – the two of you, still locked in each other’s embrace and caught in the most passionate kiss of your lives, edged step by step back in through the French doors of the balcony. Namjoon’s legs eventually hit the edge of his bed, and he sat down, immediately parting his thighs for you to stand between.

He stared up at you for a moment, cheeks still wet with tears and just took a moment to drink you in – the way your make-up matched your dress, simplistic yet complimentary, the way you’d pinned your hair up of your face, but a few of your natural curls hung loose around your face and the way your tiny little baby hairs were perfectly styled against the chestnut complexion of your skin.

His hands rested comfortably on your hips as he stared, his eyes scanning every tiny little feature on your face that he’d missed so much, engraving them into his memory once again. Your hands cupped his face, thumbs swiping over the damp trails under his eyes to rid him of his sadness.

Wordlessly, you gathered the hem of your dress up to the middle of your thighs, lifting one knee to rest next to his hip, and the other as he kept you steady. You sank down to sit comfortably on his thick thighs, and dipped your head to connect your lips with his.

You didn’t want to waste any time – you felt like you had wasted plenty with Namjoon, all because you had made an assumption – and so you reached your arms under his to wrap behind him, untying the knot of the apron that he’d mindlessly forgotten to remove himself. He smiled into your kiss at his own moment of idiocy, allowing enough space for you to pull the strap from around his neck over his head, and discard the apron to the floor.

Up close and personal like this, you could finally see the efforts of his self-care since you’d split – his shirt felt tight against his chest and arms, rounded muscles defined under the creases. He felt different under your touch now, the familiar contours of his body still there yet, filled in.

One by one, your hands undid the buttons of his shirt as you got lost in another kiss, exposing the golden tone of his chest. You pulled it from the waistband of his pants and quickly peeled it from his shoulders, that too now discarded to the floor.

For just a moment, you pulled your lips from his to take in his expression, reaching up behind you to pull the long and singular hair pin that held your curls in place. Namjoon felt like he was watching a scene from a movie, time moving in slow motion as your hair fell and bounced past your shoulders. The moment almost felt surreal to him, but he knew it wasn’t – you’d always been this mesmerising.

The hands that sat at your waist slipped along the silk of your dress to your exposed thighs, dipping under the fabric to slide it out of the way, past your hips, your waist, your arms, raised over your head to allow it to come off in one fell swoop.

At the exposure of your chest, held up by the strapless bra you’d worn to accommodate the thin straps of the dress, Namjoon shifted a little under you. You knew what that meant, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t send a little shiver of excitement down your spine.

Namjoon couldn’t stop himself from planting his lips to your collarbone, leaving damp little kisses in his wake as he swept from the left to the right, and starting his descent down to the fullness of your breast above the cup of your bra.

As his lips lowered, he undid the clasp of your bra, giving more room to descend further. The cold air from the open balcony door hit you, goosepimples erupting over your body. A barely audible moan slipped from between your lips at the kisses he was leaving, until finally he reached your nipples, hardened already with arousal. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut, that little moan growing into something more.

The hunger in Namjoon’s movements grew, hands tightening around your waist, his kisses turning from small to open-mouthed, little groans vibrating against your skin. The warmth of his tongue lapping at your breast was heavenly, pleasure rippling through you. You couldn’t help the way your hips rolled in his lap, grinding against the bulge in Joon’s pants. It was getting harder and harder to ignore, and whilst you so badly wanted to take your time with him, to feel every moment with him, you couldn’t ignore the need screaming inside you.

“Need you, Joonie…” you whined, rolling your hips again. He lifted his head to look back up at you, broken from his trance by the sound of your voice.

“You’ve got me, I’m here,” he reassured, ghosting his fingertips over your cheek and reconnecting his lips with yours.

It was all too easy to get lost in kissing Namjoon, and every single time your lips had touched tonight it felt like you were soaring. It had always felt like this, and mentally you had kicked yourself for ever believing that Namjoon could get sick of you. You had become comfortable in your life together once you’d moved in with him, that much was true. But it didn’t remove that feeling of desire you had for him, and it definitely didn’t for him either.

Before you really knew what was happening, Namjoon’s hands slipped to beneath your thighs, and he stood up, holding you to his waist just long enough for him to turn around, and lower you to your back against the bed. He too had waited all too long to have you back, and your admission of need flipped a switch that made him all the more desperate to be with you.

Before he could crawl on top of you however, you sat up, reaching for the belt buckling his trousers and undoing it, along with the button and zipper, quickly rolling them and his boxers past his thick thighs until they dropped for him to step out of.

And in a flash, he was on you, pouncing like a lion on its prey. He slotted himself between your thighs and dove into a hungry kiss, ignited by the clear intention in undressing him as fast as you did. He knew what you wanted – he wanted it too. And he couldn’t deny it of either of you any longer.

You could feel his length pressing against the material of your underwear, the thinnest barrier between you and what you wanted. Namjoon made the most beautiful groan when he felt your hips raising, creating a friction he craved so bad.

With one hand by your head to steady himself, his other dipped below the lace that covered you, the pads of his fingers sliding through your folds with ease, coated instantly with your arousal. You moaned against his lips, parting them just enough for him to bite gently on your bottom lip.

He remembered easily what you liked, how you like to be touched, teased, where your most sensitive spots were as he dipped inside of you.

“Joonie, please…” you rolled your hips, pushing his fingers deeper inside of you. It drove him absolutely wild…

So wild, that he slipped his fingers out of you and sat up on his knees, gripping the waistband of your underwear in both fists and tearing the fabric apart. He’d never done that before, not in the entire time you had dated before but my god your heart pounded in your chest.

With your underwear in tatters and tossed somewhere else, there was nothing between you anymore. And after that little display, you had to have him – now.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you brought him back down to you, showing your desperation when you parted your legs for him and moaned against his lips at the contact from the head of his swollen cock against your core.

He loved your moans, could get high from them. With every one he needed more, like an addict. He needed another hit.

Slowly, he lined himself up, the head of his cock catching on your waiting hole, and he pushed inside you. The stretch felt like heaven, his girth not a surprise, of course, but always so welcome. He made sure you were comfortable, all the time still kissing you with clear intent. He was slow, meticulous, and very aware of your pleasure despite his own being unbearably good.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he bottomed out, completely sheathed inside your warmth, and hugged so tightly by your walls. He felt himself pulsing, his body willing him to continue, so let him feel.

It took no encouragement at all for him to begin his movements, his hips rolling in long, languid strokes that drove you wild with desire.

“M-missed you so much,” he stuttered, attaching himself to your neck and suckling lightly. God, he wanted to leave pretty marks there, darkening your skin at his will but he thought better of it. He didn’t want the questions from the others, the obvious speculation surrounding them all over TV and social media.

“I know, Joon… Missed you too,” you keened, arms around his neck and playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck – a little thing to focus on to keep you grounded. With how good he was making you feel, you needed grounding or it would all be over far too quickly.

But with each stroke, it was getting harder to stave off the impending high – for the both of you. Namjoon could feel the way your body fluttered around him, how you would tighten every so often when he hit a precise spot and it was driving him to distraction.

No other words needed exchanging, not when Namjoon looked up at you and connected your gazes – his face told you everything you needed to know, and yours for him. He knew that at the end of all of this, there was a possibility he could lose you all over again. His heart ached at the thought, but he had answers now at the very least. Whether he had done enough in the past few weeks to win you over again wasn’t clear, but he so hoped so.

He knew of your past with Jungkook, how much that had hurt you. He knew from open conversations with him that he was different now, no matter how he presented himself. He wondered if you’d rather try again with Jungkook or himself, or if you’d wipe the slate clean and start something new with Changkyun.

But he hoped you could read his mind, just in that moment, and could hear him telling you how much he absolutely still loved you. Hope was all he had, and he’d be damned if he let that go.

But he had to push that aside and focus on the here and now, and how incredible it felt to be with you again in the most intimate way possible.

He managed to snake a hand down between the two of you, his fingers toying with your sensitive clit. Your eyes rolled back at the new sensation, hands toying with his hair curling into fists holding onto absolutely nothing. He made a mental note to grow it out a little again if you chose him, wishing he hadn’t cut it to feel your fingers pulling at his hair the way you used to.

Your moans grew louder, more frequent, and he could feel you squeezing him with every thrust over and over again. It was getting harder to ignore the heat in your stomach, building and building with such intensity. Namjoon was losing his mind, thrusts becoming harder and faster, his fingers working their magic. He was chasing your high instead of his own, staving it off to give you what you wanted, what you deserved.

“J-Joon, I can’t-“ you panted, dangling on the edge.

“It’s… It’s okay baby. I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he cooed. His encouragement sealed your fate, and you just let go.

Pleasure burst inside of you like a firework. Your moans turned to cries, your arms and legs tightened impossibly around Namjoon and your eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t stop his movements, still working you through your orgasm, giving you the best he could muster. It was a struggle, keeping his pace when you were tightening to much around him and writhing underneath him. Nothing could possibly turn him on more…

But it wasn’t until you came down again that he really picked his pace back up, able to steady himself to bring his own end. You coaxed it out of him, peppering kisses to his lips, his jaw, his neck, hands all over his body as you lazily induced as much pleasure from him as possible.

“Cum, Joonie…” you cooed in his ear, pressing another kiss to his neck just below before regaining eye contact with him. His eyes were hooded, lust clear in them as he drank you in – sweaty, sleepy but so beautiful.

With one final, deep kiss he lost his rhythm, hips stuttering as he came inside you, whimpering against your lips. You held him close, kissed him through it, letting him enjoy those last few thrusts until he couldn’t do anymore. Totally spent, he lowered himself gently to lay against your side, his length slipping from between your legs and softening contentedly.

You held him close to you, both of you exhausted and in your own little thought bubbles. Namjoon couldn’t help but think of the end of the show, wondering who you might pick, if it could be him. After such an incredible high with you, he was terrified he was hurtling towards another low when you chose someone else.

And you? Well, you were more conflicted than ever, imagining every possible scenario in your end for that final show. Each of them getting that winning rose, each of them having several different reactions. It played out like a movie scene over and over in your mind and you were absolutely terrified of the outcome of each.

As you lay with Namjoon, you wrestled with so many emotions. Comfort, happiness, fear, sadness, heartbreak, adoration; but one settled in the pit of your stomach, perhaps the bitterest of all of them to swallow.

Guilt. -----------------------------------------------------------

On the morning of that final day, you lay in your own bed alone. You figured if you just stayed there, time would stop and you wouldn’t have to make that horrible decision. You wouldn’t have to let down two people you adored – two you hadn’t even made your mind up on yet.

You’d barely slept, tossing and turning until the early hours when your poor mind had had enough and simply couldn’t stay awake any longer.

Namjoon; the love of your life, the one that got away. The one you had ruined. The one you never got over.

Jungkook; the bad-boy recovered addict. The party animal, ladies’ man. The heartthrob you fell for, and now cannot deny a connection with.

Changkyun; the stoic newbie. The sweetheart introvert. The passionately defensive you had grown to adore.

Your head span with the different possibilities, imagining lives with each of them outside of the villa. What would living with each of them be like? What kind of life could you picture with them?

With Namjoon, you imagined very much picking up where you left off. Integrating back into his life, his friends, his family merging back with your own. In six months or so, being able to laugh about the stupid mistake you had made. Perhaps after a year, a proposal, two a marriage, maybe a kid or two. It was so easy to imagine it with Namjoon, because you had been here before. You already knew what you wanted with him – but what if you couldn’t move past the separation? What if he held it over your head, even unconsciously?

A life with Jungkook was harder to imagine… You kept coming back to the life you left behind so many years ago. The parties that went on until the sun rose, the drugs you found yourself so willing to partake in, the jealousy followed by the passionate make-up sex. But you were so young then, so naïve. You fell for his bad boy act, and at face value Jungkook was still a bad boy. However, you couldn’t disregard his progress.

Upon seeing him on that first day, you immediately noticed he’d filled out from the skinnier muscled man you remembered. The dark circles he used to wear under his eyes daily had vanished, the pale and translucent skin much more opaque now, no longer tinted by the blue of his veins beneath the surface. He looked well, and you must conclude that he was sober – from the drugs, at least. But the ladies’ man in him, his intimidating aura and possessiveness… well, they very much still seemed present.

But you couldn’t deny that connection, that passion and attraction. And after spending time with him again in the villa, you were sure it may have grown to some genuine feelings.

A future with Changkyun? Well, that felt a little more unknown. Of course, you didn’t have experience in dating him. He was the new guy, the only one left who wasn’t a past boyfriend. Getting to know him had been like uncovering a new part of a Russian doll, exposing the artwork underneath each layer as you stripped him of his exterior walls.

He would come across as uncaring, unbothered in the beginning with a cold manner, but the more you put into your relationship, the more you saw his introverted self. He was sweet, despite speaking his mind often. He would seem to be arrogant, judgemental even but you knew now that he wasn’t – not at all. This was a man who liked to be held, to be touched, to be close to the person he loved.

A life with him seemed like an exciting prospect, full of unknowns and of firsts. The pages of those chapters were empty, just waiting to be written. There was no past to worry about, no expectations based on the way things used to be.

But no matter what you imagination could cook up about all three of them, you knew one thing was certain – you loved all three.

As you struggled, wrestling with your mind for an immeasurable amount of time in bed, avoiding what was beyond your bedroom door, you heard a light knock on the wood. Three rasps.

You sat bolt upright, eyes wide. You weren’t sure who was on the other side, but you didn’t want to see anyone right now, didn’t want to admit that anything else existed outside these four walls. But your natural reflex was to shout to them, allowing them entry. Your door creaked open slowly, and a black mop of hair peaked around and smiled at you softly. “Hey, gorgeous,” Jungkook cooed, hovering behind the door. “Do you mind if I come in?” He chewed his lip ring anxiously, waiting. “Yeah, sure.” Your smile was weak, and Jungkook noticed. He wondered what you were thinking before he came along, if you were doing okay given the gravity of the situation you found yourself in today. He had no idea if you’d chosen, or if you were stuck on your choice. Not knowing anything was killing him. But he shuffled over to sit on the edge of your bed, shutting the door behind him. He carried a little wooden box in his hand, locked with a gold hook clasp.

For a moment, he didn’t look at you. He simply stared at the box in his hands, perhaps trying to find the words to begin the conversation he’d been holding off on having the whole time you were here. Jungkook wasn’t one for feeling vulnerable. He wasn’t good at that, never liked to feel small. You knew this was probably something to do with his childhood, but even in your two year long relationship, he’d been particularly vague about that too.

But he had to force himself to come to you today, to tell you what he needed to before it was too late. ‘This isn’t about you, Jungkook. This is for her,’ he had told himself. And then he found his way here, all practise of the words he wanted to say vanished from his head.

“Are you alright, Jungkook?” you asked after the silence seemed to go on for just a touch too long. “Yeah, yeah… I just-“ he began, but paused for thought again. “Well first, I wanted to apologise to you. For the other day, with Changkyun. I guess I was annoyed that we’d been interrupted, but when he called me that, I just… it hurt, and I saw red. I’m working on that, I swear.” His eyes met yours as he was speaking, and you could see a sincerity there. His eyes seemed wide, almost childlike. You got glimpses of this part of him when you were together, and you learned that this was the face of truth for him. You trusted his word when he looked at you like this, because he had nowhere to hide.

“I understand, it’s not a nice word. He was out of line for that…” you agreed, reaching your palm out to his shoulder to give him a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah… Well, we talked it out. I apologised, he apologised. We’re square.” “I’m glad,” you smiled, but Jungkook could see the weakness still in it. “But, I have more to apologise for – especially to you. I mean, I ruined your life,” he chuckled, with absolutely no humour to it whatsoever. “I stole from you, I made you jealous, played you. I didn’t cheat, but for all the emotional trauma I caused you I may as well have… I was a shit, ____. I’m so sorry.”

His wide eyes seemed glassy, like he was fighting back tears of regret. You hadn’t expected an apology of this nature from him, nor did you realise you needed one until he’d spoken it. But there was closure on that era now, and a slight weight from your shoulders. The fact he was even acknowledging what he had done showed growth, because you remembered vividly the insane denial he was in when you chose to leave.

“I forgive you, Jungkook.”

His head, that had dropped with his apology in shame, snapped up to look back at you.

“Y-You don’t have to… I understand if you don’t, I was such a-“ “Jungkook,” you stopped him, holding his chin in place to look at you, “I forgive you,” you said again. He looked at you with tears in his eyes, threatening to spill, and pulled you into a hug. His arms wrapped around you so strongly, like he’d been so desperate to hear you forgive him. He let a few of his tears go, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair as you rubbed his back.

“I, um… I wanted to show you something,” he started as he let go, sitting upright and wiping the tears from his cheeks. “Part of me worries that you might still see me as that junkie,” his nose scrunched at the word, “that addict… I wouldn’t blame you, but here,” he handed you the box he brought in with him. You looked at him with confusion, but he nodded at you to open it, and so you unhooked the clasp, and lifted the lid. Inside were an abundance of what looked like coins, golden and shimmering like they’d been recently cleaned, kept with care. As you picked one up, you read the inscription. ‘To thine own self be true,’ it read around the edge, with a triangle in the middle. On each edge of the triangle, ‘Unity’, ‘Service’ and ‘Recovery’. And inside it, the number one.

“That’s from day one, my welcome chip,” he explained. You looked up at him, realising what this meant.

“Narcotics anonymous?” you asked. He nodded. A swell of pride flourished in your chest.

You put the coin back, and started to drag your fingers through the rest of them, and there were a lot… One month, two months, six months, a year, two years, right the way up to five years. Five years.

“There’s a few welcome chips in there, a couple of one months… I relapsed a few times, but now it’s been over five years,” he explained. “I learned a lot about myself in that time, ____. And I’ve made the mistake of not showing you that side of me while I’ve been here.

“I guess I showed you the same Jungkook you fell for in college, but we’re not kids anymore,” he chuckled at that. “I should have shown you the new me from the start – the same Jungkook, but mature now. Well, to an extent…” he winked at you, still playful. “I know what I did wrong, I mean… our relationship was thrilling but Jesus, it was so unhealthy. We were like a couple from Euphoria or some shit, y’know?” he laughed.

“That’s exactly what it was,” you joked. A moment went by whilst the quiet settled, and you couldn’t help but run your fingers over the shine of the coins in your lap. “I’m really proud of you, Kook.”

You smiled at each other, a silent understanding between the two of you. “I couldn’t let you go without giving you some kind of closure, ____. I’m sorry it took this long,” he reached for your hand, holding it gently in his. “If you don’t choose me today, that’s okay. The most important thing about all of this was making sure you could close the door on that chapter now. All I want is for you to be happy, whether that’s with me or with somebody else. I’ll keep working on myself either way.”

You sniffled, wiping away the few stray tears that dripped down your cheeks. You hadn’t realised you needed this, but you really did. You had healed as much as possible in the years since you left him, but this? It felt like the final stitch in an open wound.

“Thank you,” you sighed, before leaning into him to give him a soft kiss. Jungkook’s shoulders dropped, tension flowing out of him as he kissed you back.

And Jungkook simply left you to it, taking his little box of sobriety coins with him but leaving you with a slight morsel of clarity, but an immense sense of pride. -------------------------------------------------------------

Sat in the make-up trailer, you still weren’t sure who the hell you were going to pick. As the stylists worked on your hair and painted your face, you stared at yourself in the mirror.

Your mind raced as fast as your poor heart, beating like a hummingbird’s wings in your chest. In no less than 10 minutes, you’d be walking down the path in the rose garden, confronting the three men you knew you loved in front of a live audience or God knows how many at home.

To them this was just a reality show, but to you? This was your reality. This was your life, your feelings and theirs too – Changkyun, Namjoon and Jungkook.

Three men you adored, that you wanted to keep in your lives but after today, two of them would blink from existence again.

“Five minute call!” someone shouted outside the trailer, and a swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach. The stylists stepped away from you, ushering you towards the rack of dresses you’d worn throughout the season for each rose ceremony, the final one hanging on the end. A simple, wine-red, floor-length gown that clung to your waist and fell to the floor, corseted at the back for a sleek fit with a sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder sleeves. Elegant, beautiful, sexy – exactly what you would expect from a season finale dress.

But you could barely focus on how you looked right now, or what you were wearing. The butterflies in your stomach were too violent, throwing themselves at your stomach walls desperate to escape. You understood – if only you could escape too.

With only two minutes left, a member of the production crew helped you step down from the trailer in your heels, and walked you to your hidden spot at the end of the path to the rose garden. You could hear the distant chatter of the host, but kept your eye on the production crew who listened to his headset intently, and began counting you down on his fingers.

He hit one, and you began to walk the path, steadily, ignoring those damn butterflies. You took your place, facing the three men you’d brought this far into the competition. They each smiled at you, but clearly all absolutely terrified.

Next to you was a table, with a small purple table cloth draped over it, and a single red rose resting, waiting for you to make your choice. “Welcome, ____. You look beautiful, this evening,” the host welcomed you. “Thank you,” you smiled sweetly. “So…” he began, “this is it! In front of you, three bachelors. Only one of which, you will choose as your bachelor. _____, how are you feeling right now?”

You knew that question was coming, merely a formality of the show, but you had no idea how to answer it.

Sick. Terrified. Guilty. Torn. “Just trying to stay calm, I think,” you joked, “This isn’t easy at all…”

The host shot you a sympathetic look. “No, I’m sure it isn’t… But ____, the time has come. If you’d like to pick up your rose…”

You did as instructed, reaching for the delicate flower and holding it gently between your fingers.

“In your own time, you must walk to your bachelor of choice, and hand over the rose.”

You’d been told beforehand that ‘in your own time’, meant you had to address each of the men individually, say a little something then take a bit of a breath before you made your choice. TV magic, of course. All so they had time to signal you, to match the tension music that only the audience could hear, to build the atmosphere.

To you, it sounded like deafening silence.

You turned to the first of the three, Changkyun.

“Changkyun…” you began.

“Hey ____,” he smiled sweetly. He looked fantastic as always, a dark navy shirt tucked into grey pants.

“I’d like to say thank you, for opening up to me and letting me break down those walls. It means a lot that you trust me,” you said. You hadn’t practised any of this, just letting yourself speak from the heart – there was no possible way you could have planned lines to memorise when your head had been racing all day.

“Of course, you made it easy,” he said, kissing his fingertips and blowing an air kiss your way. You smiled and looked down at your feet as you turned to the middle man – Jungkook.

You sighed, shoulders dropped as you looked at him – classic Jungkook, all in black.

“I can’t believe the change in you, Jungkook. I’d always hoped you could do it, for yourself. I’m so proud,” you smiled sincerely.

“You were the wake up call I needed, ____. Thank you.”

And finally, you turned to Namjoon. He looked effortlessly timeless, a black suit with a white shirt, the top button undone.

He looked visibly terrified, more nervous than the other two seemed to be. But then, maybe they were just better at hiding it. Jungkook had been hiding his truth the whole time after all, and Changkyun? Well, he too was able to mask his emotions if he felt too vulnerable.

But Namjoon wore his heart on his sleeve, and that was evident now.

“Namjoon,” you started, “I’m glad you came here.” And honestly, you so were. The air had been cleared, and you could see his growth since you had split too, his commitment to himself unwavering. “I’m glad I did too, ____.”

The exchange was so simple, but loaded with so much that the viewers could only guess at given the footage of your talk, your argument and your passionate night together – minus the sex, of course. There had to be limits to where and when the cameras were rolling.

And now, the moment of silence to build the tension…

But your brain wasn’t silent. Instead, your brain went through every scenario again, from the past weeks in the villa, the lives you had already shared with two of them, the resolutions, the new love, the images of the possible futures…

You looked at each of them again, eyes darting between them all but Jungkook caught your eye…

He was the only one smiling, the one who didn’t look nervous. When your gaze stopped on him, his smile grew a little. Not out of cockiness, or because he thought he’d won. But what it really was, was an acceptance.

‘It’s okay,’ he mouthed to you. ‘I’m okay’.

He wanted you to know that if you didn’t choose him? That’s okay. He knew. He knew he wasn’t the one, but he had made his peace with you. He did what he came here to do, and he was happy.

You smiled and nodded slightly, understanding. And then you took a moment, just a flash of time, to look at all three of them at once, taking all of it in.

But it became so clear, the more you looked at them all. You knew who you wanted, who you wanted all this time. And it came down to one very simple thing.

The future.

Who could you see spending your future with. Who did you want a life with?

The producer behind one of the cameras gave you your signal, and with a deep breath, your feet started to carry you.

Your head was finally quiet, the raging war inside at a ceasefire. This made sense to you, and you almost kicked yourself for not seeing it sooner. You needed that clarity though, that moment with all three of them in front of you, imagining the future you could have with all of them individually but able to really see them.

Your feet stopped, and you looked up.

It took everything in you not to laugh – his expression was one of comedic shock and disbelief.

“M-me?” he stuttered.

“You. Always you,” you replied, reaching for his hand and wrapping it around yours that held the rose.

“I want you to have this rose, Namjoon.”

His shock turned to a grin, his eyes filling with tears as he wrapped his fingers around yours, stepping a little closer to you.

Of course, it was Namjoon. It had to be him. It had always been him. You were picturing your future with him just weeks after you had met for the first time. And the thing was, that picture hadn’t changed.

He was still him, except the growth he had made personally was exactly what you had hoped for, exactly the kind of man you knew he would grow into. You realised he had been proving you right, living out the future you had planned for the two of you despite you not being in it.

But you wanted to be, and you knew you could be. The rest of your fantasy was just waiting to become reality.

“I never stopped loving you,” you cried, your own tears starting to fall as he held you.

“Neither did I. I’m so glad I found you again,” he grinned, leaning into you to give you a soft kiss. Now he knew you were his again, he was yours.

About now, the credits had started to roll on the scene, little snippets of singular interviews playing alongside the live scenes to the viewers.

You pulled apart, and turned to the other two who had graciously been applauding the two of you. Jungkook, smiling widely, happy for you. Changkyun smiling too, although a little more disappointed than Jungkook.

But you turned to hug them anyway, bringing them in to apologise – although the audience couldn’t hear it over the credits – whilst they each took turns shaking hands, giving one armed hugs and accepting their positions now.

The dust was settled, and the choice had been made. Even Changkyun had to admit, it felt like the obvious choice. Much like Jungkook, seeing you happy was quite enough for him, whether he loved you or not.

And it was. Namjoon was your obvious choice. The right choice. The one that felt right in your mind, that calmed the butterflies when you stood in front of the three of them.

You would never make the same mistake you had before. He was the love of your life, he had been since you fell for him the first time.

But your time in the villa proved that you had fallen for him again, harder than before. The foundation of a relationship felt sturdy, now.

You were satisfied with your choice. You loved Namjoon, and he loved you.

Always had. Always will.

#BTS fic #bts au #bts smut #bts #bangtan #bangtan smut #bangtan fic #bangtan au #namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon au #namjoon fic #kim namjoon #namjooner x reader #reader x namjoon #jungkook #jeon jungkook #kookie #kook #Jungkook fic #Jungkook au #Jungkook smut #Jungkook x reader #im changkyun #changkyun #monsta x #monsta x fic #monsta x smut #monsta x au #changkyun smut

[btsfanficsbykj]

Tickets To Paradise, Chapter 1

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Hello! Welcome to my first BTS fanfic!! I hope you enjoy! I have no idea who I'm pairing our lovely reader with yet, but I have lots of romance planned, along with all the angst, adventure, drama, reconciliation, and smexy times!! I hope you enjoy!!

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Relationships: BTS ensemble and Fem!Reader

Summary: Our lovely reader and her clever best friend have gotten their hands on tickets to the nearby BTS world tour concert, which had seemed impossible thanks to scalpers and jacked upped prices. Now, preparing to meet her beloved artists, she faces dealing with insecurities, anxiety, and a hell of a lot of just-plain-scared-out-her-mind.

This journey will follow her as she meets the boys of BTS and surprisingly catches their attention by means of her tattoo work, bright and shiny on her best friend's shoulder.

Warnings: none so far

Word Count: 1660

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Part 1 Part 2

“Hey there, darlin,” came the sly laugh from behind me.

“Hey, Smurf,” I responded, sniggering down at the copy machine as I made the 50000th copy of the day. 

My coworker and partner-in-crime, Sarah, or “Smurf” as I affectionately named her, leaned against the Beast of a machine to my right, crossing her arms and feigning a nonchalant sigh of boredom.

It had been a long day. A ghastly week. In some ways, it mirrored the movie “Office Space” with the same monotonous routine, over and over and over again. The same managers droning on and on about better customer care and faster call times and working as a team, blah blah blah. Us worker bees of course just side-eyed each other with subtle rolling of the eyes, knowing we had to devote time to each individual customer to fix the problems, which meant longer call times. Which, of course, upper management just didn’t seem to get and completely ignored.

All in all, it was just another week, stuffed into another month, dragged into another year in this slightly stifling office job in the middle of the midwest, surrounded by cornfields and cringey political signs. Honestly, my only saving grace was the few tattoo gigs that popped up every now and again. Usually the loyal clientele that needed a touch up or new artwork done. I was a favorite at the only tat shop in the little town and was allowed to pick my hours. Nice, right?

Smurf huffed out another sigh, this one edging on annoyed, and I huffed one back at her. 

“Whatchu want, Smurfs? I’m trying to get His Majesty’s sheets done before closing time.” His Majesty was none other than the Big Boss’ son, slave driver and all around mysoginistic jackass. He really enjoyed giving out the lesser jobs to his more feminine employees. Seemed to get a kick out of lording his authority over them. I swear, he was born in the wrong decade.

“I knooooow,” Smurf grinned, studying her acrylic nails as she swayed her curvy hips in place. 

Taking my eyes from the Beast and rolling them in my bestie’s direction, I copied her stance and leaned against the wall behind me. “Smurfs, it's Friday,” I whined. “We’re almost outta here. Why you buggin’ me?”

Smurf finally let her inner demon glee shift her mouth into a huge grin and looked up at me. “So,” she spoke in a bored voice, betraying the utter joy evident all over her face, “You know The Concert That Shall Not Be Named?”

I stiffened. Of course. She HAD to mention the damned concert. Of all the gigs in all the world she had to bring me down with this shit. 

I was an ARMY, through and through. Lover of all things BTS, a solid fan, albeit for only half a year, I had been taken into the massive group of fans by a random tiktok that played a piece of their animated music video, “We Are Bulletproof: Eternal”. The vocals, the harmonies, the lyrics, the beautiful artistry, and their incredible dedication to their fans all smacked me right in the face. And I knew it. I was hooked.

Of course, living in the midwest meant I had to show my love from afar. I lived too far away from any concert venue and was way too poor to travel to any shows in the neighboring states. But it was ok, I didn’t allow that to dampen my adoration. The boys were hardworking, dedicated, talented people and I absolutely admired their commitment to their craft and their followers. Honestly, I had never witnessed such love for the fans in any other musicians, never seen the power the fans hold acknowledged in such a precious way. Their humble hearts and minds continued to surprise and endear me with every new song and episode of their shows discovered.

However, the Impossible had happened. On their newest world tour, the PR team announced several new locations to their travel venue. And my heart had nearly lept out of my chest when I realized the boys were coming to the Big City merely an hour away from my little town.

Smurf had called me, nearly in tears, wailing that the tickets were already sold out and the scalpers were selling the hacked tickets for 4 times the original price. It was a Dark Day for us midwestern poor ARMYs. There were many mourning candles lit. 

Hah, not really. But Smurf and I were happy for those who could attend, and continued to live our humdrum lives, secretly vibrating in excitement to have the boys in close proximity to us in just a few months. 

And now, my traitor of a best smurf, decided to remind me of this damned concert. Right as I was about to declare freedom and make a run for the exit. I already had my weekend planned. Bubble bath, pineapple rum, stuffed crust pizza, the new Dr. Strange movie…. 

I glared daggers at my friend-turned-traitor. “You dare to mention said concert? On this, the day of my cat’s quinceañera??”

Smurf burst out laughing at the mention of our favorite cat meme. After a moment, she quickly returned to her former stance and glared back at me. 

“Be prepared for your life to change, bitch.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” I laughed, clueless to her ramblings.

“I. Got. Tickets.”

My heart stopped.

“I’m sorry, I just hallucinated. What?”

Smurf huffed and dropped her hands, gripping my shoulders. “I. Got. Tickets. To see the babies. Our boys. The fine ass brigade. The glorious hip thrusters, the—”

“SMURF, YOU WHAT??”

My slightly unprofessional shriek in the middle of the large room filled with small cubicles and people readying for the weekend caused a sudden silence. 

Ducking low, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the vicinity, I grabbed Smurf by the elbow and dragged her into the nearest conference room. 

Tossing her dumb ass at the massive table, I slammed the door shut and stood staring at her, chest heaving. 

“You, what… how??” My brain refused to believe anything that was said in the last 5 minutes.

Smurf placed her hands together in prayer form and giggled maniacally. “I got tickets. To the BTS concert. The one close by,” she gasped out. 

My brain reeled, trying to imagine how this dirt poor office worker could manage to afford thousands of dollars worth of scalped tickets.

“Smurf, did you take your meds today?” I asked cautiously and slowly.

“Oh pfft,” she replied, waving her hand in the air as if to shove that very important inquiry aside. “You remember back in the day when they would give away tickets on the radio?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. But… how the hell would they manage the phone lines for a BTS concert?” I pondered, imagining millions of phone calls bombarding a poor haggard DJ.

“See, that’s the thing. My uncle has connections, right? And it was a private giveaway. Apparently for certain… members of his club.”

I… did not even want to delve into that information. The infamous uncle of a supposedly… shifty background was also something we never really discussed. Even with some of the seedier clients that passed through my tattoo shop, we really tried to avoid dipping our toes in that area of the underworld. It was just acknowledged and then put aside. 

“So… you called in.”

“I called in.”

“And won tickets.”

“Won front row tickets.”

I blanked, jaw hitting the floor. Front row… the ones that cost tens of thousands….. Holy fuck.

After my brain came back online, cue the AOL start up noises, I blinked several times and closed my mouth.

“....How many tickets did you get?” I asked in a very tiny voice, my brain starting to vibrate with the smallest of hope. 

“Bitch, I got 2. Two mothafuckin tickets to see mothafuckin BTS!!!”

We both screamed and batted our hands at each other like absolute twelve year olds, shrieking and jumping around and losing our ever loving minds. 

Suddenly, reality came crashing down. In the form of His Majesty himself.

“Uh, girls?” he shouted, head peeking in through the open doorway.

We immediately froze and turned, smoothing down our skirts and hair (damn dress codes).

“I believe it's a bit early for a sexy pajama party,” he sneered, laughing at his joke like the arrogant ass he is.

Smurf and I laughed weakly and nodded, apologizing for making such a ruckus.

“Now, get your butts back to finishing up the week, we aren’t paying you overtime. I’ve got a table at Delgado’s with my name on it.” He winked disgustingly and slipped his oily self back out into the beehive/workroom.

Smurf grimaced and gagged. “Ugh, woe be the woman who got snagged into that date.”

“Mmhmm,” I mindlessly agreed, my hindbrain going over every single detail of every single thing that we need to do to get ready for this experience of a lifetime. 

Huffing and shaking off that creepy encounter, Smurf wrapped her arm around my shoulders and dragged me back out into the work room, shoving me at the copy machine. 

“Alright, babes, finish up, we got planning to do, this shit is going down next weekend!!”

My heart skipped a beat and I gripped the Beast in shock. One week. Holy hell, the concert is in one week. I need a drink. I need a Xanax. I need a fucking horse tranquilizer. 

All silly fangirling aside, my soul shivered in happiness, goosebumps spreading all down my skin. I would have the chance to watch these boys perform right in front of me. I will have the chance to witness their talent and voices and silly goofing and see the adoration in their eyes as they serenade their beloved ARMY. 

I will have the absolute honor of witnessing the most acclaimed group of musicians perform on stage. 

And I was absolutely panicked.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts x reader #bts and reader #reader insert #bts concert #bts tickets #reader x jungkook #reader x jimin #reader x jin #reader x namjoon #reader x yoongi #reader x taehyung #reader x j-hope

[dde719]

Mood video for these last two chapters ❤️.

#bangtan #yoongi x y/n #reader x taehyung #jin x yn #reader x namjoon #fanfiction

[ugh-yoongi]

a word from our sponsors | knj

you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it. 🎙️

pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: podcast, friends to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact. warnings: parasocial relationships galore, a m*n with a p*dcast, author abuses italics, swearing, alcohol, reader uses a pseudonym/nickname (piper) because writing the meta fanfiction scene would've been too weird without one and i refuse to use y/n, dialogue-heavy but it is a fic about a podcast, everyone is down horrendous, mentions of social media & fake r*ddit posts, ex-boyfriend yoongi but in a good, healthy way. let me know if i missed anything but mostly this is just two goofballs not realizing they're in love with one another. smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex (fiction), protected vaginal sex (nonfiction), a lil squirting, mild degradation, mentions of a p*ss kink but there is no actual pee i promise (...lest?), i didn't intend to write size kink but it's namjoon so it just showed up anyway, slight dom!joon, everyone orgasms. wordcount: 17.5k credits: this was entirely inspired by that one episode of the basement yard where frankie reads the smut fic of him and joe, so credits to both that author and that podcast. spotify, for their podcast name generator. astro-seek for helping me drag namjoon astrologically. an extra special, gigantic thanks to @effortandmore for writing the meta fanfic (3k of it, no less!) and not batting an eye when i said it could have pee in it as a joke. this is as much yours as it is mine. finally, @hot-soop and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me and telling me i'm funny. author's note: happy birthday, indigo! here i am to validate every fear you've ever had that the people you write porn about may one day read it. live and on air. :)

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years.

You can learn a lot about a guy in that amount of time.

None of it is especially salacious. You know all about his family and his dog and the brand of recycled paper towels he insists on buying in bulk. You know what he’d written his grad school thesis on and what he’d looked like in the thick of it, when he was staving off his fifth mental break of the week. You know how fidgety he gets when it’s closing in on Friday night and he’s got a date—how much he stresses over which restaurant to pick, which cologne, which expensive cashmere sweater to wear.

You also know what the internet thinks about him. Intimately.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is peak husband material. He has cheeks ripe for pinching and thighs small countries would go to war to defend. He has a lap that doubles as a seat and dimples people want to get baptized in. He has Instagram selfies with hundreds of thousands of likes and comment sections full of intelligible keysmashes, especially the ones he posts from the gym.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is a man written by a woman.

Looking at him now, you aren’t sure that’s true, you think people just need to raise their standards. Namjoon is just… Namjoon. He’s intelligent and kind and up to date on modern feminist theory, is all. And, sure, maybe in the current political landscape that puts him far above the rest of men, but the way the internet has latched onto him is a little concerning.

“There’s another post about whether or not we’re dating,” you say, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

sooo let’s be real here, we ALL think they’re dating, right?? Posted by u/pod-shipper 2 hours ago

Just like he always does, Namjoon huffs out a soft laugh, makes his way around to your side of the table. Puts his large hands on your shoulders as he leans in close to read from your screen, snorting every time he reads a sentence he finds particularly amusing. Whichever cologne he’d chosen this morning is, admittedly, very nice.

It’s sooo obvious, especially in the episodes they film and post on YouTube. The way they look at each other?? I don’t even look at my HUSBAND like that! (+1264) ↳ omg ur sooooo right! i could MAYBE buy that they aren’t full on dating, but they’ve def at least slept together. Namjoon is so 🔥🔥🔥 (+791) ↳ um how can namjoon be dating her when he’s already married to me 😌💅 (+3) ↳ For the millionth time, can we not speculate on their personal lives? This is weird and reinforces really harmful ideas that men and women can’t just be friends. (-51)

“How come they never talk about how hot you are?”

You can tell by the look on Namjoon’s face that he hadn’t meant to say that—or, if he did, he didn’t mean to say it like that, with an entire pout, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Cursed to be ugly and dumb,” you joke to ease the sudden tension, reading the comment that simply says you’d have to be the dumbest person alive to not sleep with Namjoon.

He scrunches his nose at that. Returns to his side of the table. “Yeah, I don’t think so, lots of people haven’t slept with me.” Starts to unpack all the gear from his bag before he says, “Hey, all that stuff—does it bother you?”

“What do you mean?” you answer, the corner of a protein bar stuck in your mouth. Namjoon always insists on recording at the most inconvenient times.

“People thinking we’re together,” he clarifies.

You shrug. “I dunno. Not really. Comes with the territory, I think, not to mention how much you love to overshare—”

“Hello?”

“I’m just saying,” you retort, hands raised in self-defense. “There really was no need for you to mention you blew your grad school stipend on a porn scam.” Namjoon looks affronted, like he can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to bring that up. “Or that you lost your virginity at fifteen.”

“We have a relationship podcast,” he states simply. “That’s kind of what we do, right? Talk about relationships? And the spectrum of human sexuality is part of that.”

You slump back in your chair as you quirk an eyebrow. “No one said it wasn’t, I just said you overshare. Which you do.”

“And that’s why there’s a dozen Reddit posts a week discussing whether or not we’re dating? Because I overshare?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the kind of behavior that leads to parasocial relationships. People latch onto that shit. Makes them think they’re your friend.” He glares. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right. It’s bad enough you’ve word-vomited all this highly personal information about yourself, but to not even do it under a pseudonym? It’s like you’re begging for trouble.”

Another comment he doesn’t even realize he’s making: “I don’t beg. For anything.”

To this day, you’re not sure why Namjoon asked you to co-host a podcast with him.

His reasoning had been simple: “You’re my best friend and we don’t agree on anything.” Hard to argue with that. Namjoon has seemingly endless patience, even in the face of things he shouldn’t entertain, and you… do not, to put it simply.

You’re not a cold person. Your fuse isn’t short. You’re just a little jaded, is all. Have far less propensity for bullshit than Namjoon does, so the two of you play well off each other. You end a sentence with a well-punctuated full stop and Namjoon’s right behind you to sigh and say maybe you shouldn’t be so hasty, not everything in the world can be so black or white.

Except some things are. Somewhere along the way, the podcast—which Namjoon had affectionately named Place Him Gently in the Garbage, even though some people should be shoved in there with force—had picked up a following. A big one. And now, every week, you’re inundated with emails ranging in severity. Sometimes people just want to vent after their tenth bad date in a row or share funny stories, and Namjoon lets you take the lead on those, but sometimes it’s a little more serious. That’s where Namjoon shines, all that endless patience, and people love him for it.

“What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, accepting a thick stack of papers from Jungkook.

Ah, Jungkook.

You aren’t sure what he actually does. Some kind of social media manager, which is obvious from the wildly out-of-context clips he posts of you to TikTok, and it’s his responsibility to go through the thousands of emails you get from listeners, but aside from that all you’ve got are your suspicions that he just sticks around to swindle Namjoon out of more and more money.

“I’m in a silly goofy mood,” comes Jungkook’s reply, and you let out a witch cackle as Namjoon winces. Nothing good ever comes of Jungkook being in a silly goofy mood, and that’s quite alright by you.

Fifteen minutes later finds you with a camera in your face that you greet with an unamused, flat stare. Jungkook is used to it by now. Just films for a few seconds before turning his attention to an unaware Namjoon. Head down, pen and highlighter going a mile a minute as he pores over the stack of papers with all the doggedness and eagle-eyed stare of a literature professor.

That’s the thing about Namjoon—he takes this really seriously. So do you, but not in the ways Namjoon does. He’s all skill and determination and you’re color commentary. It works. It clearly works, so you aren’t too bent out of shape about it, but sometimes you worry. Namjoon takes this really seriously and sometimes you worry that he takes it too seriously, that he carries the burdens and worries of all these strangers, that he’s trying to solve and fix things that aren’t his responsibility to solve and fix.

So he takes it really seriously and you don’t take it as seriously as you maybe should, and everything is by design. Balanced.

Twenty minutes later finds you staring across the table at Namjoon, who asks, “Are you ready?” and does one last equipment check before he launches into, “Welcome back to another episode of Place Him Gently in the Garbage with Namjoon and Piper. What’s new with you, Pipe? Any fun news?”

Pipe. It drives you nuts. Feels like nails on a chalkboard. “I see you almost every single day,” you respond dryly. “But for the sake of entertainment, I’m thinking about getting a cat.”

“A cat?” Namjoon parrots, and his eyebrows disappear beneath his fringe because he knows what that means.

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, but you’ve known him even longer.

Since your first year of college, which is also when you met Yoongi. Yoongi, your ex. Yoongi, the person you’d been with for six years and had planned a life around. Yoongi, now one of your closest friends, because the two of you still love one another but no longer in that way, which is fine. But also—Yoongi, allergic to cats.

So, yeah. Namjoon knows what that means, and he has the good sense not to mention it. Unlike him, you’re intensely private and keep your cards close to your chest. Your listeners don’t even know your real name, let alone that you’d gone through a breakup a year ago.

“What kind of cat?” he continues, like his entire world hasn’t just been turned upside-down.

You shrug. “Eh, I don’t know. Probably one that’s been in the shelter a long time, I guess. I’m not too fussy, you know?”

“Right, a cat is a cat,” Namjoon says, thinking he’s done something. You and Jungkook gasp at the same time. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Because that’s a fucked up thing to say! A cat is not just a cat. They have little personalities, just like people. You’ve got—”

“But you just said you’re not fussy,” he interjects. “And I know they have personalities and that you have to find one that suits your lifestyle! Like, you can’t have one of those really cool cats that likes to go kayaking and shit, it’d never work—”

“What does that mean? Why couldn’t I have a cool cat?”

“Hey, all you cool cats and kittens,” Namjoon mocks, and you can tell he thinks he’s done something again, but his impression falls flatter than flat. An awkward silence fills the studio. He coughs. “Anyway. Do you have pictures?”

“Yeah. I also have a list of candidates ranked by how cool their names are. Number five, Casserole.”

“That’s cute.”

“Mhm,” you agree, “but Casserole is a kitten, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“They do say you should adopt kittens in pairs.”

“And that’s how they get you. You want one kitten and they talk you into two, and before you know it you’ve got, like, twelve cats. Number four, Party Girl.”

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

“And, finally, number one: Human Torch.”

“Yoooo.” Namjoon laughs. “You have to adopt Human Torch. Let me see.” You pull up a picture on your phone and hand it over. “Okay, for our listeners—Human Torch is a young, male Domestic Short Hair. He has stripes. I don’t know what that’s called.”

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

“Jungkook says he’s a tabby. He’s cute. Adopt him.”

You return your phone to your pocket. “Maybe. I still think I want an older cat, but I’ll consider it. What about you, though? Any new dating horror stories to share?”

Ah, the dating horror stories. Your most dedicated shippers are convinced they’re fake, that Namjoon just makes them up on the spot to keep them off your trail. If only. Not in the if only they were fake and Namjoon and I were actually dating kind of way, but the holy shit one of my closest friends is a fucking disaster and it’s a little embarrassing kind of way.

“Not really,” he answers. “I’ve got a date this Friday, though. Trying to decide if dinner and a movie is too boring.”

“It’s a classic for a reason. What are you gonna see, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3?”

“Three?” Namjoon emphasizes, truly sounding scandalized. “Since when are there three? I haven’t even seen one or two.”

“Okay, first of all, the original is a classic and it’s a crime you haven’t seen it.”

“And second of all?”

“There is no second of all. Repeat point one.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna see that, anyway. Maybe the re-release of Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

“I like both,” he chickens out. “Now, let’s stop wasting time and get to the point of the show.”

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

“I—no, we’ve just got a lot on the agenda today.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s lots to talk about on the celebrity front—”

Namjoon loves this part. As esteemed and educated as he is, not even he is immune to good old celebrity gossip. (Inside him there are two wolves.) Lives for it. Texts you about it at all hours of the night. Sends you links to Reddit threads with hundreds of comments. Has more opinions on Celebrity Big Brother than he does on Ludwig Wittgenstein, sometimes, and when that’s the case you know you’re in for a long evening. You’ve never even seen an episode of Celebrity Big Brother.

But Namjoon loves it, so you’ve become fond of it by association. Reminds you a bit of Yoongi and his love for sports and sports anime.

“—one should we start with?”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, because you haven’t been paying a lick of attention and you aren’t sure it matters anyway. Namjoon can talk to a wall on a good day, but he’s an entirely different beast once mundane, innocuous celeb gossip gets involved.

And even though you hadn’t been paying attention, it seems like this was the right thing to say, because Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples crater his face. “Cool. Let’s start with Taryn Manning. Did you see that bizarre—”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

Namjoon looks a little dumbstruck. Even Jungkook’s arching an eyebrow at you. “Are you serious? She was in Orange is the New Black and Crossroads.”

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

Your co-host shoots you a very pointed look. “I will, thanks. Anyway, she posted a video on social media talking about this affair she had with a married man. Like, she pulled over on the side of the road to record this. Said she can’t stand the man’s wife because she called her a quote-unquote lunatic.”

“I—huh, thought we weren’t supposed to say that anymore. Alright.”

“But wait, it gets even more bizarre. Listen to this quote—and this is direct. This is a direct quote from the video, I can’t stop thinking about it: ‘Don’t you ever threaten me when your husband came to me to get his butthole licked.’ Can you—”

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

“It’s crazy, right? She was gonna buy this guy a boat.”

“Namjoon, this is a family show, you can’t just talk about ass-eating unprompted.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well, you still shouldn’t talk about ass-eating unprompted. It’s unbecoming.”

“You’re unbecoming,” Namjoon fires back, because he can’t help it. The words are out of his mouth before he can think. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

You sigh. Know whatever look Jungkook is catching on his camera right now is exasperated and pointed, the corners of your mouth probably tugged up just a hint. “Unbecoming, like I said.” Namjoon scoffs. “Anyway, so this actress was gonna buy this married guy a boat and was eating his ass?”

“Yeah. Apparently it was her friend’s husband? They all went to a Taylor Swift concert together.”

“Jesus, this keeps getting worse. Big year for Hollywood cheaters.”

“It is, right? Cheaters and divorces. Something in the water, I guess.”

“I saw the astrology girlies saying a bunch of planets are in retrograde, so—”

“Can you explain that to me? Like, what does it mean for a planet to be in retrograde? Why is it causing divorces?”

“I don’t know, I’m not an astrology girlie. That’s why I said the astrology girlies. What are your big three, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

“Ugh,” you intone, “don’t worry about it, I’ll do it myself. What time were you born?”

Namjoon rattles off a time.

You grab your laptop. Pull up the page, type in Namjoon’s date of birth and birthplace, and wait. Then you’re staring at a circle with a bunch of lines in it that also don’t make a lick of sense to you. You roll your lips to keep from laughing and school your voice into something deadly serious. “Bad news: it says you’re a virgin.”

“Virgo,” Namjoon corrects, not taking the bait. “I already knew that.”

You scroll a little further down the page. “Your moon is in Sagittarius. Oh god, listen to this, they’ve got you pegged: ‘The greatest need is to always search for something. In order to feel safe you need a philosophy or belief’—”

“Haaa, that’s not—”

“—’You need to have a goal or mission that gives your life meaning. Your faith must be voluntary and it is a paradox that fighting against dogmas may lead you to other dogmas.’ Yeah, that’s you.”

“That could apply to anyone,” he argues. “There are seven-billion people on this planet; I’d imagine a sizable amount of them would say that also describes them.”

“Hm, sounds like your faith in astrology is not yet voluntary. Did you know you’re a Scorpio rising?”

“No. I’m sure you’re gonna tell me all about it, though.”

You smile. “Correct. ‘People with Scorpio on the Ascendant need to fight against dark and destructive power in their life.’ Is that true?”

“Yeah, you’re the dark and destructive power. You keep sidetracking me and we need to get to the point of the podcast.” He grabs the stack of papers Jungkook had given him. Looks more highlighter than paper, if you’re being honest. “I guess Jungkook thought we needed a lighthearted kind of day.”

“That was nice of him, considering what he gave us last week. I guess we’re allowed to have faith in humanity today.”

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

“Alright,” Namjoon starts, putting on his Very Serious Podcast Guy voice, “first up we’ve got a question from one of our listeners in Canada. It says, ‘Hi, Piper and Namjoon. I recently agreed to go on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She said he was a bit old-fashioned but really talked him up so I thought I was in good hands—and then he showed up to get me in a ‘67 GTO and exclusively referred to me as doll. He didn’t use my name once. I’m torn, because he was really nice and I had a good time otherwise, but this is weird, right? Should I see him agai—’”

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

“You don’t have to. This guy sounds greasy.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “And why is that?”

“Ignoring the fact that this guy has arguably one of the lamest classic cars around, he didn’t use their name once? Not once, in all the time they spent together? That’s really disrespectful.”

“Some people are just pet name people,” Namjoon argues.

“With absolute strangers, though? It’s really giving the impression that he didn’t even know it, not to mention some people are uncomfortable with pet names. The whole shtick is super lame.”

“I agree it sounds a bit misguided, but—”

Ignoring Namjoon, you say, “Sorry you had to go on a date with the ghost of less-cool James Dean. Into the garbage he goes.”

And, just like he’s done a million times before, Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, “If you really like this guy and want to see him again, a bit of communication will go a long way. Tell him the pet name made you uncomfortable—if it did—and offer to pick him up for the next date. I don’t think he’s completely destined for the garbage, yet.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have a license. You probably think a 1967 Pontiac GTO is the pinnacle of romance. That’s probably like picking someone up on a Specialized Aethos to you, eh?”

“That’s a fifteen-thousand dollar bike, I’ll have you know.”

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

I think Namjoon had the right idea on this one. Sure, the car can be considered lame, but I think a lot of men are deeply insecure and therefore overcompensate when it comes to dating. Women are hard to impress when they have unlimited options. You have to stand out, so I’m glad he advocated for him. Piper can come off like such a misandrist sometimes. (-649) ↳ just shut up bro namjoon would fuckin hate u (+204) ↳ Imagine caring about something like this when they’re getting a cat together 🙄 (+19)

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

Adopting a cat is certainly not the worst idea you’ve ever had, and truth be told it’s been a little lonely, living by yourself. No more Yoongi in your space; no more Holly. So, having a new little friend around might do you some good.

It’s just—

It’s a big commitment, and there’s also the dog sitting-shaped elephant in the room. Ending things on good terms means you’re still Yoongi’s second-choice sitter whenever he has to go out of town, and while you love Holly dearly (the two of you had adopted him together, after all), he’s a lot like his father in a lot of ways.

Should I get a cat, you type out, and it’s only been in Yoongi’s inbox a few seconds before the most unflattering picture you’ve ever taken of him is flashing across your screen.

“Are you dying?” you ask, because Yoongi doesn’t call you for much else.

And you already know what his response is going to be. “We’re all dying.”

“Lighten up, Yoongi. One might say being so existentially nihilistic before noon causes wrinkles.”

There’s a split-second pause. “It’s nine p.m.”

“Sure, but it’s before tomorrow’s noon, so it still counts.”

“Whatever. Listen, before you adopt that cat, I need a favor.”

“You going out of town again?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be long, though. A week at the most, five days if I’m lucky.”

“That’s fine, bring him over whenever. Yijeong’s busy?”

This pause is far, far longer. “No,” comes Yoongi’s eventual response, but it’s slow. Unsure. A two-letter word has never taken so long to say in the history of ever. “He’s, uh. Coming with me?”

Oh, you think. This is where your ex awkwardly and hesitantly breaks the news of his new relationship. You’ve known this day was coming, and this is what you get for staying friends with him. “This is a fanfiction plot,” you accuse. “Hot, mysterious man moves into a gaudy apartment complex after ending a long-term relationship and meets his equally-hot and mysterious neighbor and they fall in love.”

“I—that’s not—my apartment is not gaudy.”

“Yes it is. There’s a giant gold bust of a weird bird in the lobby.”

“Weird bird?” he parrots. “It’s a swan.”

“I see you’re not denying the in-love-with-your-neighbor accusations.”

“Am I on trial?” Yoongi retorts, and it’s such a Yoongi thing to say when what he means is, is this okay? He means, are we able to talk about this without it being weird? He means, I won’t ever say as much out loud, but your acceptance means a lot to me, and I’d like for you to give me this.

So you lower your voice and soften the edges because it’s not really something to joke about, and you say, “No, of course you’re not on trial,” and Yoongi knows what you mean. “And if you were, you'd get locked up for fifty years. You can’t lie for shit.”

There’s a beat of silence before he clears his throat, mutters a thanks that is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Send me pictures of the cats.”

Later on, once you’re freshly-showered and tucked into bed with a candle and a book (Eloge de l’amour by Alain Badiou at Namjoon’s insistence and request), your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi—

Yoongi: toddler is a fucking hilarious name for a cat but so is flat Yoongi: it’s a tie for me You: Okay well pick one 🙄 Yoongi: yijeong says get both You: Both???? Is he paying my vet bills? Yoongi: kinda out of line to proposition him for money. flat is also good with dogs, js You: If he’s now being raised by you two, my perfect, well-behaved son is probably long gone. Does he even count as a dog anymore? Yoongi: me and yijeong both say fuck off Yoongi: holly too. he says he doesn’t miss you anymore and he’s not coming over now Yoongi has added Yijeong to the group Yoongi has changed the group name to #ThirdWheelChat Yijeong: Please don’t drag me into this. Also I did not say “fuck off” You have changed the group name to People Who Have Seen Yoongi Naked Yoongi: fuck you

You should’ve known something was going on with Jungkook, because it’d started like this:

(When you and Namjoon started the podcast three years ago, it was in the living room of his apartment.

Surrounded by books and plants. He loved to record in the afternoons back then—Namjoon loved to say it was because of his grad school schedule, but you’ve always suspected he just wanted to preen in the golden hour light, much like he’s doing now.

“Is this really necessary?” Jungkook whines from his spot on the couch. He’s already swindled Namjoon out of two bags of microwavable popcorn and three cans of sparkling water. “It’s a Saturday afternoon; I could be doing something so much more fun than this.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Are you saying this isn’t fun?”

“Yeah. It sucks, actually. This could’ve been an email.”

And because Namjoon is accomplished, mature, and absolutely incapable of not taking Jungkook’s bait, the space between his brows creases as he sends a murderous glare Jungkook’s way. “Stop eating my food, then. And drinking my drinks. And lounging on my couch like that—”

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

“Well, knock it off! My couch is only for fun and people who think I’m fun!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “So you fuck on it?”

“What?”

“What other fun things could you possibly do on a couch?”

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

Jungkook groans, throws himself backwards against the pillows as if he’s suffering a Victorian ailment. “Jesus. No wonder you can’t score a second date.”

“Okay, that was a little uncalled for. There are a ton of reasons a person might not want a second date, and no one is obligated to go out with me—”

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

You clear your throat. Try to hide your own can of seltzer you’d taken from Namjoon’s fridge in the midst of his and Jungkook’s bickering. “Not trying to be rude, but I have an appointment at the shelter at three. If, y’know. You wouldn’t mind speeding this up a little.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

“Oh, so you’ll speed this up for her but not—”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “She,” he begins, jerking his thumb in your direction, “isn’t needlessly complaining and actually has someplace to be.”)

It was just a quick little rendezvous in Namjoon’s living room to come up with a rough draft for the following month’s episodes. He couldn’t do it over text because he’d fallen down the steps at his office and landed on his ass on the corner of a step and his phone had been in his back pocket. Cracked clean in half. And he couldn’t do it over email because he—rightfully—knew Jungkook would ignore them because he has his inbox set up to send all of Namjoon’s personal emails to the trash.

But Jungkook holds onto things like that. Grudges. Loves to let Namjoon think bygones are bygones and pop up a few days later with some evil scheme. Hence:

“What is this?”

Jungkook smirks. Rocks back on his heels. “It’s fanfiction.”

“I can see that, but… why?”

This is where Jungkook shines: the ominous, cheshire cat grin; the aw, shucks demeanor that gaslights Namjoon into thinking Jungkook couldn’t possibly be fucking with him. “Well, you were having trouble coming up with ideas for episodes, and there’s an email in there from someone whose partner reads really expli—”

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Of all the weird shit you’ve seen on the internet (and there’s been a lot), fanfiction of people you know—your friends—was something you’d managed to escape. Probably by virtue of not knowing anyone famous enough to warrant fanfiction being written about them.

But you should’ve known. You really, really should’ve known.

“Oh my god?”

You’re not sure who says it. Could be you or Namjoon, but the sentiment is the same. He mouths a what the fuck at you that’s met with a shrug. You’re in uncharted territory now, too. “Where did you even find this?” you ask, taking the stack of papers from Namjoon. “And why did you print it out?”

“Because I’m going to track down whoever wrote it and get them to autograph it. Then I’m going to buy a nice frame and hang it on the wall behind him, so we never forget this historical moment in Place Him Gently in the Garbage lore.”

“It’s a podcast,” Namjoon deadpans, “how can it have lore? And how much lore can there possibly be?”

“It’s the internet,” you concede. “The lore possibilities are endless. Don’t tempt them.”

Jungkook nods sagely, well-versed in the degeneracy of the internet. “Yeah, that’s how you end up with shit like 4chan.”

“4chan? There’s Space Jam porn on there.”

As the youngest, all Jungkook can do is roll his eyes. “Sometimes explaining this shit to you feels like trying to teach old people how to rotate PDFs—”

Namjoon scoffs. “I’m not that bad. I know how to rotate a PDF.”

Wow, Jungkook mouths. “Anyway, back to the fanfiction—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Namjoon interjects. He looks at you. “It’s weird, right? Like, it’s weird that people have written this about us?”

About us.

Your scope of the world narrows to the size of a pinhead. It’d just been about Namjoon before. This is fanfiction about me, he’d said, and you hadn’t been included in that. Now it’s written about us and you’re included.

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

Jungkook rolls his lips. “It’s about the two of you fucking, to be specific.”

“Can you not—”

“Fucking a lot,” Jungkook continues. “So much fucking.”

Namjoon looks at you, and it’s all you can do to keep from laughing. The look on his face is pure bewilderment, both that Jungkook has cooked up this idea and is hell-bent on executing it and that he remains employed. And maybe it’s a little bit of nerves, too, because neither of you are ignorant of the risks. Reading fanfiction about yourselves—about the two of you as a couple, specifically, or at least two people who have sex—is weird. Not something you can unread.

And maybe it’s because you’re so determined to not make it weird that you send Namjoon a cheeky, exaggerated wink, shrug your shoulders, and say, “I’ll need a couple drinks, but I’m down.”

Jungkook throws his head back and cackles wildly, and that look of bewilderment on Namjoon’s face morphs into something else. Trepidation, maybe; definitely disbelief, because sometimes he lets himself get swept away in Jungkook’s schemes, but it’s rare that you follow suit.

As Jungkook continues to laugh, you wonder if you should’ve said no.

Namjoon has two stipulations: the two of you have to film the episode completely alone, and he, too, needs to be a little drunk.

The latter? Piece of cake, considering Namjoon has become some sort of whiskey aficionado in recent years. His drinking is streamlined and to the point—he knows exactly how much and what to drink to get him where he wants to be. You can’t say he isn’t efficient.

The former, though? Borderline impossible. From the second Namjoon states his terms, Jungkook is having none of it. Argues that he’s the one who found the story and the one who cleared it with the author, so he deserves to witness the fruits of his labor.

“No,” Namjoon repeats for the nth time, “no way. I’ll barely be able to do this with just her, let alone both of you.”

And that—that doesn’t bother you, right? You force a laugh, because why would it bother you?

There are few secrets between you and Namjoon, except your respective sex lives have been staunchly off-limits. Namjoon could be a virgin for all you know, and as you study him—the way he keeps bobbing his leg, the slight shake in his hands—you wonder if that’s the reason he’s being so weird about this.

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

Most people don’t have to worry about someone writing stories about them fucking their friends. If they do, you reckon even less actually read them. So, sure, it’s a little strange, but people from all over the world send in stranger stuff all the time, don’t they? It’s literally the reason you’re in this predicament.

Eventually Jungkook agrees. His whining has gotten him nowhere, so he just throws up his hands. Posts a cryptic little “u guys won’t believe what the next patreon ep is lmao” that sends the internet into a frenzy. Doubles your Patreon numbers almost immediately, and both you and Namjoon do a good job of pretending the pressure isn’t overwhelming.

Jesus. You have to read explicit fanfiction about yourselves. On camera.

Namjoon gets caught up with work and isn’t available until the weekend, so you’re forced to sit with the nerves for a few days. Not too bad at first, but you’re nearly coming out of your skin by Thursday with the need to know. You’re well-versed in the world of fanfiction, but this is fanfiction about you: your name, your likeness, maybe even your personality.

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

Will they get it right, the way he looks with his jaw clenched? How impossibly deep his voice can go, both when it’s raspy with sleep and when he’s fully at ease? Will the Namjoon in the story be closer to the Namjoon you know, or the version of himself he presents to the public?

And you’ve known him a long time—long enough that there are few secrets between you, but you don’t know the most intimate parts. All the parts the internet loves to speculate on. All the little gaps that, apparently, need to be filled in by fanfiction.

Will they know what Namjoon looks like when he gets off?

No, you scold yourself, jerking awkwardly like you’ve been burned, and neither will you.

Because you are not going to think about this. Your thoughts are not going to go there. Namjoon is your friend, and you’ve listened to him scold an endless amount of men on the podcast for exactly this behavior. Sexualizing their friends. You’re not going to do it, too.

Maybe that’s why you’re kind of seeing double when it comes time to record. Namjoon needed an extra shot and offered you one as well. You’d necked it without a second thought and now you’re here, trying to ignore the slight tilt of the room as Namjoon adjusts the camera.

“How’s the shot look?” he asks, gesturing vaguely behind him at his laptop screen because Jungkook had refused to lend you his fancy cameras if he wasn’t allowed to be involved.

It’s a completely normal question.

It’s a question you’ve asked and answered a million times.

Except—there’s something horribly distracting about Namjoon in this moment. The outline of his back muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The way the sleeves are tight around his biceps. He’s always been a gym rat, always carries around a protein shake that smells and looks completely foul, but you can’t remember it ever being this obvious.

And you take too long to answer, because Namjoon straightens up just enough to send you a concerned look. Which does not help. You are not imagining what else might cause his brows to pinch like that, what might have his lips parting, have sweat dotting his hairline.

You swallow. Hard.

“Looks fine,” you manage to say. He’s still staring. Are you on fire? You feel like you’re on fire, which would make sense. Would explain Namjoon’s sweating and concerned stare and the fact that he cannot stop staring at you. “Maybe a tiny bit to the right if we’re being picky,” you tack on, hoping it’ll break whatever spell the two of you are ensnared in.

It works. “To the—the right, yeah, makes sense,” he rambles.

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

Recording hasn’t been this awkward since your first episode, or maybe ever. You’re sat across from one another like you always are, and usually Namjoon would be making quip after quip by now, talking endlessly until Jungkook shushed him long enough to get the intro filmed. Now, there’s just silence.

“Should we…?” Namjoon startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table and drops a string of curses. “Sorry, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he says, cutting you off. He gestures vaguely toward the camera. “I’ll just… yeah.”

Showtime.

You wipe your hands on your jeans, unsure of when they got so damp. Unsure of when you’d grown so nervous, too, because you’d been fine an hour ago. Had strolled in with two cups of tea and a little too much confidence, giddy at what you were about to do.

Maybe the nerves had shown up alongside the alcohol. This sounds reasonable, and you do not, under any circumstance or for any reason, think about Namjoon’s back. Or his biceps.

Namjoon makes it through the intro, dimples deep and wide as he smiles, and you also don’t think about the way his voice cracks and gets a little breathy when he introduces you. It’s only because he’d been drinking, and the flush on his cheeks attests to that. The same flush that creeps down his neck, still a little sweaty; disappears beneath the hemline of his shirt.

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

Now it’s your turn to startle, and there’s not much you can do to hide the obvious except ask Namjoon to redo the shot. Because it’s bad enough the internet already overanalyzes every move you make, every word choice, every instance you’ve stared at Namjoon a second longer than they thought you would—this is a blatant display of… affectedness.

“Sorry,” you say, “I wasn't paying attention. Can we redo it?”

You’re expecting a playful scolding. A ha ha, get it together, because that’s what you usually get. But there’s nothing aside from Namjoon studying you and nodding. Asking if you’re okay. Saying, “Is this—this is weird, right? Is it too weird? Maybe we shouldn’t—”

An out. Namjoon is giving you an out, and you should take it, you know you should take it, so there’s absolutely no reason at all you shake your head and say, “No, no, it’s fine! I think I’m just a little, uh. Drunk?”

“Are you sure? We can—”

“It’s fine, Joon,” you insist. “Besides, it’ll be good content, right?”

“Good content,” he parrots. “Yeah, for sure.” He fidgets in his seat, runs his hands down the span of his thighs. Very, very thick thighs. “I’ll grab us some water.”

You faceplant onto the table as soon as he’s out of the room. When did his thighs get so thick?

But the water helps. Cures whatever strange, insatiable thirst has come over you, because you feel much more human after a few glasses. Less drunk, too, which makes sense. Yoongi could barely escape your drunken, horny wrath when the two of you were together, so you chalk it up to a Pavlovian response.

Namjoon does the intro again. Introduces you strong and steady, not a hint of nerves, and explains, with a fresh blush taking over his upper body, what the episode’s going to be about. “Someone wrote fanfiction about us,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, pretty explicit. Jungkook thought it’d be funny if we read it.”

You snort. “He might get fired, depending on how this goes.”

“He should get fired regardless,” Namjoon deadpans. “Anyway, we have permission from the author to read this so don’t come after us, and, as always, we’ll put all the credits in the video description.”

“Special shoutout to Jungkook, though, who was not allowed to be here with us for this momentous occasion.”

Namjoon laughs. “I’m sure he’s having plenty of fun at home.” You both pause. “That’s not—I’m not implying anything with that! I just meant—you know, like. He’s hanging out and enjoying his day off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Moving on. I have two copies of this. Do you want your own?”

You grin, wicked and wide. “Nah, just read it to me.”

“Making me do all the work,” he huffs. “Typical.”

“There’s a stack of papers in front of you that might say otherwise.”

It’s clear you catch him off-guard. He cocks an eyebrow, opens and shuts his mouth a few times like a goldfish. An obvious question sits on the tip of his tongue: You think you’d be in charge? Instead he coughs, jerks his head to the side, and says, “I guess we’ll see.”

It sounds like a challenge.

Thirty seconds is all you get before Namjoon’s shuffling his stack of papers and clearing his throat. Asking if you’re ready and jumping right into it once you say you are. Reads the first few lines like they’re some old lecture notes, and they’re conservative and safe-for-work enough that you start to relax.

And then Namjoon reads, “A louder one wonders if Namjoon is a pet name person—if he’d call her ‘honey,’ or ‘gummy bear,’ ‘babe,’ or ‘baby,’” and you choke.

“Gummy bear?”

Namjoon laughs along with you—the weird one that almost sounds like a dog panting. “You want me to call you gummy bear?”

“I want you to call me a Lyft,” you snark. “I’m leaving.”

He continues:

And that’s how it starts, wandering thoughts, wandering fingers—the first time Piper comes to the thought of Namjoon calling her baby, pushing inside her, showing her that he definitely doesn’t beg, but she does… Well, she’s a little ashamed. She’s apparently got a reputation to maintain, anyway, not to mention a friendship.

His eyes leave the paper and lock onto you. “Or maybe you’d prefer baby?”

“Fuck off.”

Weeks after that first time, it’s become a habit, thinking about Namjoon as something more than a friend. It’s confusing and a little mortifying and it’s starting to affect her in ways she hadn’t expected. When they record, she feels fidgety—she’s jumpy when he gets close, has all the stupid obvious tells of an unwanted crush: her breath hitches when he whispers (why the fuck is he whispering in her ear, anyway? Doesn’t he know what that does to a person?) inside jokes to her so Jungkook can’t hear, her heart rate spikes when their fingers accidentally brush, she feels itchy and hot and a little embarrassed whenever he holds eye contact with her. It’s terrible, and it’s only made worse by the way he’s doing all of those things more than usual. Or, at least she thinks he is, thinks she’s not imagining the way his eyes linger on her more than she can remember happening before or the way she’s caught him staring at her lips when she chews on the end of her pencil mindlessly. 

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

Namjoon’s staring again. You need to salvage this. He’s only on paragraph three and you’re already squirming in your chair and imagining things that are not appropriate. So you roll your lips, return his teasing. “Well? Do you stare at my lips?”

It works. “No,” he scowls.

“You sure?” you joke, morphing your face into something half-pout, half-duck face.

“We’re never gonna finish this if you keep making comments.”

“You started it,” you point out. “Go on, then.”

There’s some dialogue. Some prose that hits way too close to home, has you wondering who on earth wrote this and how they plucked every single thought from deep within your psyche. A pang of fear that maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you’d thought all these years. A moment to confirm to yourself that, no, you haven’t been harboring a secret, deeply-buried crush on Namjoon.

Then he reads—

And then he kisses her. It’s greedy and hot, his lips like a branding iron. She moans a little against her better judgment when he licks at the seam of her mouth, and in return, she can feel Namjoon’s lips curve into a smile against her own. It’s better than she’d been imagining it, really. He’s a good kisser—firm at the right times, soft when she needs it, careful but not cautious. He holds her jaw with one hand and keeps her right where he wants her beneath him (as if she’d want to move, anyway).  When their lips finally part, he rests his forehead on hers. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t expected, and he looks at her as if she’s the answer to every question. Finally, he whispers, “What’re we doing, Piper?” His lips are still wet and pink and a little swollen from kissing, and she barely hears the question—she’s too busy thinking about kissing him again, about pulling his plump bottom lip between her teeth, teasing and…  “Kissing,” she says finally.  “What do you want?” he asks, sinking to his knees in front of her. And if that alone isn’t an answer to his question… “Whatever you’re willing to give,” she replies. It feels like she’s wanted this forever, this and so much more. Once she got the idea in her head, it’s hard to know if she ever felt differently, ever truly thought they could just be friends. Or, if in the back of her mind, in the dark corners that she never lets see daylight, she always knew she wanted Namjoon. Always knew she loved him.

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

Namjoon sits with those words for a moment. Scans the paper in his hands and frowns a little when he confirms what you already know. “The rest is, uh. Porn.”

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie. “Are you? You’re the one who keeps stalling.”

He huffs. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he retorts, and then nothing is all that funny anymore.

Because Namjoon was right: the rest is straight-up porn. He’s barely able to read the part where he goes down on you with a straight face, turning a deep shade of crimson. Stutters through the part where you pull his hair, and that is not something you needed to know about your friend. You think he loses his grasp of language entirely when he reads, “When he slides a long finger into her and brushes past her most sensitive spot, she arches into him and lets his name fall from her lips in a soft cry. Piper, notorious skeptic, is a babbling, trembling mess as she gets closer to her orgasm,” because all the words are garbled together, producing nothing but gibberish. You think he’s ready to keel over and die when he reads, “Namjoon pulls away briefly, lips slick with her juices, and licks over his top one, pausing to tell her how good she tastes before he dives back in.”

“That was nice of them to include. I appreciate their attention to detail in regards to my personal hygiene.”

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Gimme. I’ll finish it.” He hands over the papers immediately.

Except you regret it immediately. The words you’re staring at are not words you ever thought you’d read or recite in your entire life. Not even for a million dollars. “Oh,” you say instead.

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

“This is really embarrassing,” you confirm. “I might need another shot.”

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

Namjoon staggers forward obligingly, looks completely fucked out and pliant, willing to do whatever she asks. She remembers the sounds he made when she pulled his hair, wonders if he likes being bossed around, if he wants her to tell him what to do, to be a little mean to him. Maybe it’s different from her dreams, maybe he will beg her. She wants him so badly, she’d do anything for him. So, she pulls his briefs down to expose his absurdly large member, already mostly hard, and slaps it. Gently at first to see how he’ll react, and when he shudders and jerks his hips, she does it again, a little harder. “Look at you,” she whispers, “such a needy boy.”  He whimpers at that, eyes pleading. “Please, Piper…” he whines.   “Please what?” “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. She wants to, wants him so much, wants to feel him stretch her open, and from the looks of his cock, thick and long and drooling with precum, he could. “Should I?” she asks. She musters all her confidence to keep the condescending tone up. It feels wrong given how desperate she is to get him inside her, but it also seems to be getting him worked up and equally as desperate. “Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”  Namjoon’s cock twitches, and he begs, “I—I’ll fuck you so good, Piper…. I know how, I promise. Just… please?”

“Oh my god,” the two of you say in unison.

You so badly want to ask if this is biographical. How Namjoon feels about a little degradation; what he’d do if someone actually called his cock stupid. Ifsomeone has called his cock stupid. You dare a glance at him and conclude that someone’s had to. Namjoon just has that kind of energy.

But you can’t ask because it’d be weird, so you keep reading.

“How do you want me?” she asks softly when their lips part. There’s a wild look in his eyes, like he’s processing all the possible options out of everything he’s considered. And then it occurs to her. “Have you imagined this before? Thought about how you’d fuck me?” she teases him as she stands, stepping into him. Piper pushes one hand through his hair, brushing it back off of his forehead and wraps her other around his dick, squeezing a little for emphasis on her words. “Yes,” he groans as she strokes him, thumbing at the head of his cock. “Tell me what you want, then. Want me on all fours for you? Want me to show you how it’s done, to let you lay back and ride you so you don’t have to put in any work?” Namjoon’s breathing is getting heavy, pupils blown wider with each suggestion. 

“I told you!” you shriek, laughing in between the words. “I told you I’d…” And then your gloating tapers off, because what happens next has your brain malfunctioning.

“All of that,” he whines as she lets go of his hair and brings her hand down to run a fingertip over his perineum. “Want all of that. Want to bend you over the table and fuck you right here. Hear your sounds in the microphone.” Even in her dirtiest thoughts about him, she hadn’t considered the microphone, hadn’t considered recording it. When she thinks about it though, it makes sense. Namjoon is exactly the kind of person that would get off to someone’s voice. So, she does. She makes a show of turning around and slowly bending over the table, sliding her upper body across it carefully until she can reach her microphone and turn it on. When she says into it, “What’re you waiting for?” she sees over her shoulder the way that Namjoon shivers.

This is… not good. You’re never going to be able to look at a microphone the same way, which is extremely not good for a person who supplements their income with a very popular podcast that requires them to speak into a microphone for extended periods of time.

This is very, very bad.

Namjoon must be thinking the same, because he lets out a strangled a-haaa that’s less of a laugh and more a plea to God, the gods, the entire gamut of higher powers that might be able to save him. No one’s going to, you think, staring down at the paper again. This godless piece of fanfiction will be preserved on the internet forever, will be seared into your mind forever, and no amount of praying is going to erase it.

“I should, uh. Just read the rest, yeah? Get it over with?”

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

Don’t say please, you almost say. You can’t take it; not after what you’ve just read.

So you put on a show. Steel your expression and your nerves and take it seriously. Use voices and sound effects and desperately try to stave off the awkwardness you know is inevitable because a smut fic is probably only going to end one way, and that’s with you acting out Namjoon having an orgasm.

Maybe you’ll have another one, too, if the author is nice.

It’s sweet, she thinks, the way he’s easy for her, takes his time with her. Strokes his fingertips along her sides and kisses the back of her neck reverently. As much as she loves it, part of her hopes he’s not always like this—hopes he’ll give as good as he takes, hopes he’ll put her in her place. She can feel his cock hard against the cleft of her ass, not even inside her yet, and still, she thinks about next time and the time after that. “Still okay?” He breathes into her ear as his tip rubs against her cunt.  “Yeah—want you, Joon.”  “Never thought I’d hear you say those words.”  “I never thought you’d record them,” she teases, eyes glancing up to the flashing light showing the mic picking up all of this as he starts his slow slide into her.  Piper falls even further forward when he bottoms out, letting her forehead rest on the table. He’s whispering filth in her ear, about how he has something to prove, how she’ll never want anyone after this, how no one can fuck her the way he does.  She hates that he’s right.  Each stroke brings a new sensation: sparklers, butterflies, nerve endings on fire as he fucks into her and licks and sucks at her neck, her shoulders, her ear. Piper can’t even think, and this is what people mean when they talk about being fucked stupid, she decides.  It’s perfect.  Every time she thinks she’s getting close again, he changes something: fucks her a little shallower, moves his hips just a little, slows down, speeds up… It’s driving her crazy.  “Come on,” she whines. “I’m so close…” At least she can tell he is, too. No longer able to sustain the dirty talk, he’s breathing heavily, letting out broken moans and sighs of her name. He’s moving rhythmically now, thrusts consistently faster.  “Oh, fuck, Piper,” he groans, “Gonna cum.” One of his hands finds her clit and he rubs careful circles over her, bringing her to her peak along with him, no more teasing.  When she comes, it’s with a loud moan into the studio mic, and that seems to be what tips Namjoon over the edge, too. His hips stutter into hers as he comes, her cunt clenching around him for what feels like forever.

You deserve an award, you think. An Oscar. You didn’t even groan when you had to read the word “cunt,” and that’s a feat in and of itself.

“Is it over?” Namjoon asks, words muffled by the hands covering his face.

“Not quite,” you answer. “There’s some aftercare, and at the end you ask if I’ll piss on you.”

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

“Today’s episode has been brought to you by Stamps-dot-com—”

HOLY SHIT THE NEW PATREON EPISODE???????? Posted by u/pod-shipper 4 minutes ago NO WAY. NOOOOOOO FUCKING WAY DUDE THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY THEY DID THIS AS AN ACTUAL EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT HTE FUCK WHAT EHTU FKF DFGLKDG;L (+705) I wasn’t sure if they were messing around before, and I was quite critical of the “shippers,” but now I’m pretty convinced. (+423) ↳ we’ve been telling y’all for YEARS 😤 (+197) ↳ Glad you’ve seen the light, u/RandomAcorn2058! (+5) ↳ ugh. they weren’t messing around before and they aren’t messing around now. do you guys not listen to what they say? namjoon’s been dating, and piper got out of a six-year relationship just over a year ago. if they’ve had something going on for “years” that means they’re both cheaters, and that’s a really shitty thing to assume about them. not to mention it makes the entire point of the podcast moot. (-63) Why do you guys think Jungkook “wasn’t allowed” to be there? (+314) ↳ So they could fuck lmao it’s so obvious (+329) ↳ because it’s awkward af? would you wanna read porn about yourself w all your coworkers in the room? (+2) ↳ the “it’s awkward” excuse is sooooo lame he’s the one who found it and is the one who edited the episode, he’s gonna see it regardless. (+15) ↳ Tbh I’m more curious about how he even found it to begin with? Do they have a throuple thing going on? Like, why was he looking for smut fic about his bosses? (+38)

You do not get through recording unscathed.

You are very scathed. Perhaps the most scathed a person has ever been.

Jungkook texts the group chat sporadically throughout the week, cracking jokes and making memes at your and Namjoon’s expense which is par for the course and shouldn’t have you off-kilter, but something inside you feels deeply wrong. Feels like someone’s given you devastating news; feels like it used to back in uni when you knew you’d failed an exam and were just waiting to see how badly.

It both helps and doesn’t that the internet is so invested. All the clips Jungkook keeps posting have re-doubled your Patreon numbers, and jumping up a tax bracket never hurt anyone, you included. But all of those jokes and memes largely went unanswered by both you and Namjoon, still too close to the incident to find the humor in it from the other side.

The two of you had sex.

Not literally, of course, but you figure you might as well have with the way you’re feeling. The way you’re avoiding one another. Someone wrote a story about the two of you having sex and you both read it and something about that, days later, feels really fucking unsettling.

In a bad way? You aren’t sure. It’s not like you’re mad or upset or any other synonym. You just feel… off. Itchy from the inside out, and that’s far from the norm in your and Namjoon’s friendship. In all the years you’ve known one another, you’ve never once avoided each other, including the time you’d set him up with a close friend and he showed up 45 minutes late to their date and ghosted after.

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

Maybe it’s because Yoongi had always been there as a buffer. You aren’t of the belief that men and women cannot be platonic friends, but being in a years-long committed relationship nixed a lot of awkward interactions and assumptions off the bat. Even Namjoon had known Yoongi first. Had introduced himself to you in your shared 100-level psych course with a, “Hey, you’re Min Yoongi’s girlfriend, right?” because they ran in the same underground circles and Namjoon had idolized him from afar for years.

Pretty fucked up, then, that Yoongi’s off in Los Angeles with his hot new boyfriend and you’re on your couch, Holly at your feet, pointedly ignoring your texts.

“I’m gonna get a cat,” you say to the dog, trying to redirect his attention when he starts chewing on your sock again. Holly doesn’t offer any input, of course, and he’s a lot like his father in that way. “I can’t believe you have a stepfather. You’re a proper child of divorce now, Min Holly.”

There are a pile of unread texts you continue to ignore in lieu of showing Holly pictures of adoptable cats. A few more memes from Jungkook, one from Namjoon’s new phone asking to move the recording date a few days because “something came up at work,” one from the food delivery service you admittedly use too much offering 10% off your next order, and two from Yoongi. This reminded me of you, the first one says beneath a picture of an ice cream cone on the ground, and another one of him holding a water gun that says send me a picture of my son or else.

You eventually reply back with a picture of your middle finger, Holly nothing but a blurred brown blob in the corner of the frame.

That’s how it goes for the better part of a week. Namjoon’s work issue lasts four days. He doesn’t offer an explanation and you don’t ask for one, you just wait for the all-clear text and try to quiet the nerves once you get it.

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

The more popular the podcast became, the more money rolled in. The more money that rolled in, the more you could afford nicer things. That meant going from recording in Namjoon’s living room to a bona fide office space. Third floor, an expanse of windows and natural light, thirty-five minute commute by train.

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

You can hear Jungkook’s witch cackle from the stairwell, and your mind fills in the blanks of Namjoon’s exasperated sigh. It helps, your brain reminding you that you know these people. You know this is Jungkook’s late gym day, so he’ll be in a pair of sweats and a hoodie that drowns his frame. You know that when Namjoon has work issues and feels like an inconvenience, he always shows up with two boxes of baked goods from the bakery near his place, and you know both of them will save the best donut for you.

So you walk in and Jungkook’s in a hoodie and sweats just like you expect him to be, and there are two boxes of baked goods next to the coffee machine. Both of them say hello and wave and, for all intents and purposes, everything is normal.

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

Not in a bad way. Not in a bad way. He almost always dresses nicely, always looks polished and put-together, usually because he’s either going to or coming from campus—fitted shirts, either of the tee or dress variety, and earth-toned cardigans; tailored trousers that are sometimes corduroy; polished loafers. Sometimes, if he’s feeling extra casual, a stark white pair of tennis shoes.

Today, he wears none of those things.

No, today torture comes in the form of form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt a little oversized so he can roll the sleeves. His hair is brushed back off his face instead of parted down the middle. He’s wearing gold jewelry that glints in the sun. A pair of off-white Converse high-tops. And, much to your horror, he’s also wearing his glasses.

According to the internet, Kim Namjoon is peak husband material, which you can usually ignore, but not when he’s wearing glasses.

You avert your gaze, convinced you’ll burst into flames if you stare too long, not to mention Jungkook will notice and that’s a ribbing you’d rather die than take. So you avert your gaze and pointedly ignore Namjoon, who’s talking about his work crisis to no one in particular. Something about a co-worker going on an unexpectedly early paternity leave, and Namjoon being asked to cover some of his courses until they could find a more permanent fix.

Jungkook asks a question you don’t catch. Because paternity leave means his co-worker and his partner had a baby, presumably via old-fashioned methods, and it’s not a direct mention of sex but it’s close enough to send you into a coughing fit you have to blame on your donut. Neither of them buy it, but Namjoon is a good enough person to look genuinely concerned. Reaches out, probably to slap your back, but the thought of him touching you is just… too much.

So he barely gets out an, “Are you o—” before you choke down whatever’s left in your mouth and cut him off with a, “Yep, all good!” before you’re scurrying off to the opposite side of the room like a little rat.

It doesn’t get any better.

Both of you are so stilted and awkward during recording that Jungkook has to be the voice of reason and call it, suggest trying again tomorrow. Luckily he has enough b-side stuff he can release if need be, Namjoon’s work emergency providing a decent cover, and he sends the two of you home for the afternoon with all the exasperation and incredulity of a disappointed parent.

Thirty-five minutes back home.

Thirty-five minutes to sit in the embarrassment of not being able to do your job. Thirty-five minutes to catastrophize and wonder what you’re going to do if you can’t get it together. Namjoon will keep the podcast, of course; you’ll be replaced with someone else. Maybe someone less cynical, maybe someone more, but undoubtedly a man. After this mess, you can’t imagine Namjoon would want another female co-host.

But as embarrassed as you are, your traitorous brain keeps thinking about Namjoon.

Thirty-five minutes to think about his glasses and his rolled-up sleeves and the way the denim of his jeans contoured perfectly to his thighs. Thirty-five minutes to think about, “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. Thirty-five minutes to squeeze your thighs together and overanalyze the way he stumbled over his words today; how he could barely make eye contact. Thirty-five minutes to draft a dozen resignation texts and delete them all.

You groan, head thunking against the train window. You’ll take a cold shower as soon as you get home.

That’ll cure you.

You get home and walk Holly so long he gives up halfway through and you have to carry him back to your apartment. You take a cold shower and actually find it pleasant once the initial shock wears off, so it doesn’t work to keep all your rogue Namjoon thoughts at bay. You make a simple dinner and don’t think about Namjoon sitting you on the counter and having his way with you. You tuck yourself into bed far too early and consider going back to therapy, because clearly something very, very bad has happened to your psyche.

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

But it’s a new day, and you’re determined to get your shit together. Yesterday was a fluke, because you’re so normal and so capable of being in the same room as Kim Namjoon.

Except—you’re not.

Jungkook’s there when you arrive, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Barely looks up at you to say hello, and barely returns it when you do. You double-check the time, because you can count on two fingers the amount of times you’ve shown up and Namjoon wasn’t already there, jotting down extensively-detailed notes, circling and highlighting and chasing down Jungkook to ask questions.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

You roll your eyes. “Super helpful, thanks.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes right back. “You don’t pay me enough to also be his handler.”

You bite your tongue. Arguing with Jungkook means you’ve already lost the war. Not worth it. But it still eases your worries a bit that he doesn’t know any more than you do. That Namjoon hadn’t only texted him to say why he was running late because he didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk to you.

So you wait. And you wait and you wait and you wait. Jungkook lets you talk to people on his dating apps and tells you about his new gym routine until your eyes are glazing over. Orders food delivery for the two of you because he gets hungry after an hour and had already eaten what was left of the snacks before you arrived. Cracks a joke that isn’t really a joke about calling the police, because Namjoon still hasn’t shown up and he hasn’t said anything and none of your texts are showing as delivered.

You’re halfway to hour two when the office door bursts open and Namjoon stumbles through, soaked with sweat and stammering over apologies.

“I am so sor—I broke my phone again so my alarm never went off and then I missed my bus? And apparently they’re not running the regular bus schedule today so the next one was a half-hour wait, but then I…”

You don’t catch the rest, because Namjoon is covered in sweat and breathing heavily and a week ago you could’ve survived this. A week ago you would’ve cracked a joke and handed him a towel and told him to get to work. A week ago you would not have been paralyzed in your seat, transfixed on the sweat rolling down the side of his neck.

You are fucked beyond belief.

Jungkook elbows you in the ribs, bringing you back to reality. “...even paying attention?” You startle, face warming in embarrassment. Namjoon still isn’t looking at you. “This is so sad to watch,” Jungkook mumbles, and thankfully it’s only loud enough for you to hear. “Like some stupid shit you only see in nature documentaries.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that, now can you?

But you’re a professional above all, so you hum an acknowledgment and take your regular seat. Pointedly ignore Jungkook. Wait for Namjoon to assume his position as well, and you’re surprised to see the space in front of him empty. No notes. No script. There’s just… nothing.

“Are you okay?” you ask, gesturing to the space in front of him when he seems confused. ���I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a stack of notes in front of you.”

“I forgot them.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that, either.”

Your tone is light and airy, not at all accusing or confrontational, but Namjoon’s jaw clenches nonetheless. He scoffs, fires a shitty little, “Were you not paying attention when I was talking about what a horrible fucking morning I’ve had?” at you that makes even Jungkook flinch. A few moments of stunned silence, and then, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, that was rude—”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, and all of a sudden you feel too big for your body. Feel like there are ants beneath your skin, feel like everything is wrong, and you don’t want to be here anymore. “It’s fine. Let’s just—”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and says, “I—yeah, okay.”

This is where Namjoon would usually launch into the intro, a dimpled smile already plastered on his face that’d drop as he discussed another failed first date with that brand of self-deprecation that makes him so endearing. This is where he’d say what have you been up to, Pipe, and you’d try not to groan because how hard could it possibly be to add one more letter, another syllable, but Namjoon seems incapable of it. This is the part that, for three years, has been seamless and easy and instinctual, just two friends having a conversation.

There’s a red light on your microphones that indicates you’re recording. It’s on and it mocks you, because Namjoon is not doing the intro or telling you about a failed date. He doesn’t use that cringey nickname. He doesn’t say anything at all. His mouth opens and shuts and no words come out. What’s worse is that you know exactly why he can’t speak, because you’re thinking about it, too.

“So, uh,” you begin, and Jungkook makes a gagging sound from behind you. “Come here often?”

Namjoon ignores you. “Right, right, the intro…” He sucks in a breath. “Welcome back to another episode of Put Him in the Trash, I’m—”

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

“Piper. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

“You said Put Him in the Trash.” Namjoon just blinks. “It’s Place Him Gently in the Garbage.”

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

He looks at Jungkook, who is hiding behind his hands. “Is she right?”

A beat of silence. “I can’t do this,” he half-shouts, half-whines. “Are you two going to be like this forever? Because if you are, I’m quitting. I’m so serious. I’m gonna quit. I can’t take it anymore. The two of you are insufferable.” Another beat of silence, before Jungkook stands at full height and lords over you and Namjoon. “Forget today. Just go home and try again on Monday. This is so—I’m seriously gonna quit.”

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

Yijeong isn’t with him, which is almost disappointing. Now that he’s dating again, you were looking forward to seeing just how awkward it could get with the three of you in the same room, but he looks good. Refreshed. The trip clearly did a world of good for him, and you can’t even bring yourself to crack a joke at his expense.

He, however, has no such hang-ups. “You look like shit.”

“Weird way to say thank you.” You click your tongue and look down at Holly. “Do you see how your father treats me? You should bite him.”

“My son would never. But also, thank you.” He flops onto the sofa. “You do look like shit, though. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not with you, preferably.”

“Oh, gross, is it a dating thing, then?”

“I—no.” You pause. It’s not a dating thing, but you still feel like you’ve got motion sickness whenever you think about it. How would you even begin to explain this to Yoongi, anyway? Someone wrote a porn fic about me and Namjoon. You remember Namjoon, right? Namjoon, that I’ve known and have been friends with since college. Yeah, that Namjoon. Anyway, someone wrote fanfiction about us having sex, and it fucked me up so bad I can no longer be in the same room as him.

No fucking way.

“You look like you’re holding in a fart.”

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you. Did you just come here to insult me?”

He snorts, but his smirk dissipates a few seconds later, a familiar seriousness filling the void. “We’re okay, right? Was the Yijeong thing too soon?”

“No,” you answer immediately, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. “We’re fine, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.” He still looks doubtful. “You want me to start singing ‘I Will Always Love You’ or something? It’s just… weird work stuff.”

“Depends. Are you singing the Dolly Parton or Whitney version? And real work or podcast work?”

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

Yoongi seems surprised by this, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. “Like, the podcast with Namjoon?” He presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek when you nod your head. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Like I said, it’s weird. It wasn’t, like, an argument or anything.”

“How weird?”

“You’re so fake, Min Yoongi. You act like you’re so distinguished and above drama, but really you’re just as hungry for gossip as the rest of us.”

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

God help you, you’re going to rip off the band-aid. “Someone… Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Someone… wrote? Fanfiction? About us.”

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

“About us… uh. Having sex? Specifically.”

“Oh my god—”

“Jungkook found it and thought it’d be funny if we read it for an episode.”

“Oh my god?”

“So we did? And it was really weird, which I expected, because I’ve known Namjoon for a long time, and I never, ever thought about having sex with him because we were together and me and Namjoon are friends, so yeah, it was fucking weird. But now… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about it? And now we can’t even be in the same room as one another.” Yoongi is a concerning shade of red. “So our show is gonna get canceled, because we can only release b-side stuff for so long until people realize something’s up, and it was Namjoon’s podcast to begin with so obviously I’ll get fired—”

“Oh my god, you want to fuck Namjoon.”

Yoongi sounds like a strangled cat when he says this, which does not help the way you feel like you’ve been hit square in the face with a frying pan. “No,” you argue, though it sounds more like a question. You do not want to fuck Namjoon. “No, no. No. It’s just because it was weird.”

“Did you forget I dated you for six years? I know what you look like when you want to fuck someone.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be weird if someone wrote fanfiction about you fucking your friend?”

“Not if I didn’t actually want to fuck them, no.”

“You’re a liar. Get your dog and get out of my apartment.”

Yoongi laughs as he stands. Pats you on the back in the most condescending way you’ve ever had someone pat you on the back. “Let me know how it goes. No need to give me credit for your moment of horny clarity.”

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

Unfortunately, as you come to find out, he’s also a correct bastard.

You want to fuck Namjoon.

Which is… not great, you have to admit, considering he can barely stand to be around you, so you take another cold shower and decide you’re going to take this to your grave. You’re going to spend the rest of the weekend getting your shit together, and you’re going to show up on Monday and be a consummate professional. You’re going to look at Namjoon and say, ha ha, isn’t it so funny someone thought we would have sex? I don’t think about it at all because I am so cool and normal about it.

You’ve got it all planned out. You’re going to show up fifteen minutes early with your own box of pastries. You’re going to look nice, if not a little pretentious—maybe a nice sweater. You’re going to be prepared with notes of your own. You might even be nice to the villain of the week so Namjoon doesn’t have to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh at you.

And then someone knocks on your door.

You find Namjoon on the other side, and all your plans immediately go to shit.

Has he always been this tall? You can’t remember. You can’t remember a lot of things, including how to speak, because Yoongi had launched you into a crisis of epic proportions and now here’s the source of it, standing right in front of you. With all of his… height. And thighs. And that heady, musky cologne he always wears, that you can still smell now even though there’s an unfortunate amount of distance between you.

“Uh, hi.”

You blink. “Hi,” you parrot, and it’s a little insulting how one single word seems to have sucked up all of your brainpower. “Namjoon,” you tack on, not awkward at all.

“Sorry to just show up,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Very bad idea; makes his biceps bulge. You barely swallow your whimper. “It’s just—my phone’s still broken, and it felt bad leaving things how we did? So I was hoping we could talk.”

Talk. Namjoon wants to talk to you. Normally: not a problem. Currently: big problem. You manage a nod, open the door wider to let him in, and you don’t think about how jarring it is to have Namjoon in your space. You don’t think about how your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden, or what it’d be like if Namjoon bent you over the couch, or the kitchen counter, or the—

You cough. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, sure. Maybe just some water if you have it.”

If you have it. What kind of person doesn’t have water? But you tell him to make himself comfortable and get him some anyway, and you mull too long over the size of the glass. Ultimately decide on a smaller one, because if things get unbearably awkward you can excuse yourself to the kitchen to get more.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Namjoon says from the living room, and when you look up he’s sorting through a stack of books near the window. Some he’d lent you months ago, notes jotted in the corners, sticky notes in the shape of sea animals on important pages. “You ever wind up reading this?”

The Idiot. Namjoon had raved about it when he was in the midst of his 19th century Russian phase, right after he’d read a bunch of Tolstoy and Pushkin. You shake your head—though, judging from the title, you wonder if someone hadn’t written your biography.

“It’s good. If you have the time, you should definitely give it a shot.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, handing over his water. You take a seat in an armchair, pull your knees to your chest. Namjoon’s still looking through your books, isn’t looking at you, so it feels safe to say, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He moves to sit on the floor, massive thighs spreading until he’s comfortable. Thank god he can’t see the look on your face. “I just wanted to make sure we’re alright. Things have felt pretty weird since we filmed the, uh.” He coughs. “Thing.”

“Right, yeah.” You realize he’s waiting for an answer, and you offer up a very rushed, “We’re fine, Joon.”

“Are you sure?”

Yeah, you’re sure: sure you absolutely cannot be having this conversation in the safety and sanctity of your own home. It’s tainted now, contaminated by all your uncontrolled horny thoughts about the man in front of you. You’ll have to fumigate. Might have to pick up and move, actually, or call an exorcist.

“I’m sure,” you assure him. “The… thing… was weird, but it’s fine. Temporary.”

“Do you think we shouldn’t have done it?”

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because, in isolation, reading a porn fic about yourselves wasn’t a big deal. No one got hurt. Everyone who needed to be consulted was consulted. The episode made the two of you a lot of money, and Jungkook even promised to send some of it to the author, so your bases are beyond covered.

So, should you have done it? There wasn’t a good enough reason not to, because the story itself was never the problem.

The problem is staring you right in the face. It’s sitting on your floor, a book cracked in half at the spine and forgotten in his lap. The problem is looking at you like you hold all the answers to the universe’s secrets, and it’s no small thing to be looked at like that. The problem is that Namjoon is looking at you like that from across the room but you’re wondering what it’d look like from on top of you.

The problem is that you’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, have known him even longer, and you’ve just realized today that you want to have sex with him.

And you can’t say that, can you, because Namjoon came here to fix things which really does not lend itself to a hookup. Namjoon cares about your friendship and your working relationship so much he came here to try and salvage it, so you’re going to keep your mouth shut. You’re going to say, “I think it’s okay that we did,” and leave it at that. Because it is okay.

Because you’re the problem.

It feels like a small victory when Namjoon sags in relief. When he exhales and says, “Okay, good, because I think so, too.”

“It made us a lot of money,” you tack on.

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he laughs. “Right? Like, that was almost too much money. Just to watch us read porn?”

“About ourselves. I think that was the selling point.”

He stands. You do, too. “Never thought I’d be doing that,” he says, returning the book to where it belongs. “Definitely the most embarrassing thing I’ve done for money.”

“Being a man with a podcast wasn’t embarrassing enough?”

He snorts. Gets closer to the door. “Hey now.” You’re going to survive this. “Thanks for entertaining me, by the way. For a second there I was really worried we’d fucked it all up.”

Just the ending. Just one more thing to say and you’ll be done with this, and then you can take your third cold shower in recent memory and triple text Yoongi with a full-fledged mental breakdown. Maybe he’ll bring Holly back and you can register him as your emotional support animal.

And Namjoon must sense the awkwardness that’s crept back in, because he tries to cover it with a joke. Says, “Haaa, like you’d actually piss on me, right?”

Except it sounds like he’s got a mouth full of marbles.

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

Because he says like you’d actually piss on me but you hear like you’d actually kiss me, and there isn’t a universe that exists in which the following makes sense: you, stunned into silence in the doorframe, Namjoon saying his goodbyes, you thinking fuck it, last chance and saying, “Yeah, I’d kiss you.”

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

Your entire body is on fire. “Is, uh. Is that not what you said?”

“I don’t think it matters anymore what I said.”

“I’d argue that it does, for the sake of my digni—”

“You’d kiss me?” Namjoon… doesn’t look put off of the idea, which is surely a point in your favor. Interesting to note that his diction is crystal clear, now. Bastard. “You’d kiss me right now?”

There’s also no explanation for the way you say: “It’s only been an option for ten seconds and you’re already begging for it?”

You’d say there’s no explanation for the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches, the way he repeats I don’t beg for anything, but maybe the simple fact is: the two of you want to fuck each other. And, judging from the way Namjoon crowds your space, keeps dropping his gaze to your mouth, it seems very likely to happen.

All that fixating you’d done on Namjoon’s thighs was wasted, you think, as you take in the shape of his mouth. His lips. The way his tongue darts out to run along the bottom at the last second before he reaches out, tilts your head up, and finally presses his mouth to yours.

And you’ve got to laugh, because no piece of written fiction could ever accurately portray what it feels like. How soft his lips are. The way he touches you—gentle, but still dominant enough to have you moving the way he wants, have you backing up into your apartment so he can smile against your mouth as he closes the door behind him.

No piece of fiction would get it right, the way you’re unsteady on your feet, breathless at the way Namjoon’s kissing you. How he only breaks apart long enough to ask where do you want me in that throaty, deep voice of his. How you’re so overwhelmed you can’t decide: unsure if you want to waste the time it’d take to get to your bedroom, but if it’s only going to happen once, wanting to make it count.

So you decide to risk it. Plant your hands in the middle of his exceptionally broad chest and push him in the direction of the hallway, and if the two of you can’t wait, can’t control yourselves, well.

But the story had gotten one thing right: Namjoon does kiss like a branding iron, hot and greedy. Namjoon kisses you like there’s nothing else he wants to do in this lifetime, and it makes you dizzy. Has you off-kilter, stumbling into the wall as you try to remember where the fuck your bedroom is and why it’s so far. Just like the fictional version of you, you also moan when he licks into your mouth.

“Should I do it the way we did in the fic?” Namjoon asks as the two of you cross the threshold into your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face. “Do it like this?” he questions, pushing you gently until you’re on the back in the middle of your bed, chest heaving as you lift your head to look at him.

Namjoon is so, so big from where you lay, just hovering at the foot of your bed. Cheeks ruddy, bulge prominent. “What’d you say you wanted?”

Takes a second to remember how to breathe, let alone what you’d read. What do you want, Namjoon had asked, right before he’d sank to his knees in front of you. “Whatever you’re willing to give,” you answer.

Namjoon smiles. Puts one knee on the bed, and the way it dips beneath his weight is unsettling. Why does he have to be so fucking large. “That’s right, baby.” Christ, you think, because there’s another thing that fic had gotten right. No one on earth would be immune to Namjoon calling them baby in that tone of voice.

The riposte biting at the back of your teeth gets swallowed whole as Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “May I?” he asks, hands poised above the waistline of your leggings. You nod, and Namjoon drags down your underwear with them. “Fuck, look at you,” he groans, awe creeping into the edge of his words.

“You want me to do it the same way? Hm? You’re being awfully quiet; thought you were giving me shit about being the one in charge,” he chides.

Because you’re short-circuiting. Namjoon’s on his knees, just like you’d envisioned, and his mouth is dangerously close to your cunt. How can you be expected to think and speak under these conditions? But if Namjoon can find the brainpower to be a bastard, so can you, because what you’d read and the way he’d reacted can both never be forgotten. So you thread your hands into his hair and pull. The resulting moan is enough to sustain you for years.

“Are you gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna make me come on it?”

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

There’s precedent. Fictional Namjoon ate you out like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough. Had fictional you writhing and insatiable, so it’s a lot to live up to, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He hesitates for only a second, giving you one last chance to back out before the two of you set every last boundary on fire, and then he’s settling between your thighs and making you see stars.

Now you know what it’s like. Now you don’t have to rely on fiction, and it doesn’t matter because it’d never compare to the way Namjoon feels as he works to bring you to your ruin. The way he flattens his tongue to lick long, thick stripes; the way his lips suction around your clit. The way it feels when he groans against your core. The way he says, “Fuck, you do taste good,” like that’s a completely normal thing to say. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you.

But you need more and Namjoon knows it. His mouth doesn’t leave your cunt for a second, but his fingers find your mouth, so you put on a show. Wrap your lips around them, suck on them the way he’s doing to you, make sure they’re slick. Namjoon groans again, doubles his efforts. Slides one thick finger inside of you and barely lets you adjust before he’s adding a second.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Namjoon has you unraveling. Presses incessantly on a spot that has your vision whiting out. Has you trembling, a little panicked as you say, “Joon, fuck—Namjoon, wait—” as it builds and builds and builds.

You might black out for a second, because you come to and Namjoon looks… stunned. He looks like he can’t believe any of what just happened, and you blink a few times, try to come back into your body, and when you regain enough consciousness, you’re extremely aware of the large wet patch beneath you.

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

“Namjoon, that’s not—that’s embarrassing—can you grab a—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Presses the taste of you into your skin, and all those silly protests die in your throat, because if Namjoon was needy before, he’s desperate now. Covers your body with his own, hips dipping down low enough to press his erection into the juncture of your thigh, and the weight of him is delicious. Has you fisting the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer, has you pulling it over his head, his pants following. Has your hands skimming down every thick part of his body until you reach his cock, hard and aching and slick with pre-cum.

“I need to suck you off later,” you say, done with overthinking. Time to just be honest, and Kim Namjoon has a dick you need to feel down your throat. “Remind me.”

He whines, thrusts into your hand a little harder. “How could I forget that?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t know if this would be the only time,” you answer. “Did you bring a condom?” Namjoon nods, fetches one from his wallet and rolls it on.

He hovers above you again. Looks nervous, all of a sudden, like he can’t tell his lefts from his rights. All out of sorts. You’re about to tell him it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to, don’t have to do anything at all, when he says, “It doesn’t have to be.” You just stare. “The only time.”

There’s a conversation to be had. You know that. Both of you clearly have feelings you need to talk about and sort out, but you reckon they can wait. They’ll still be there in the afterglow, in the morning. So you nod, say okay, Joon, and kiss away the insecurities that still linger.

You think about the fic. Think maybe Namjoon would appreciate it if you cracked a stupid joke, just like he’d tried to do earlier. “Has anyone ever called your cock stupid?”

He laughs, breath fanning against your skin. “No. Wanna try it and see what happens?”

Might as well. You try to remember the exaggerated tone of voice you’d used. Repeat the line—“Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”—and wait.

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

Namjoon swallows thickly. “I, um. Unfortunately, I think that really works for me.” You laugh. Pull him closer. Wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to move against you. Has jokes of his own. “Please. Please let me fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, laugh tapering into a giggle. “Do you know how?” Namjoon nods, looking all too much like a puppy eager to please its owner. “Do you promise?” He nods again. “Okay. Okay, come here.”

You expect him to move fast; expect the first time to be frenzied and a little awkward. It isn’t. Namjoon lines himself up and pushes the smallest bit inside, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you. Threads your fingers together, squeezes your hand. Pushes further inside and mumbles praise just beneath your ear.

It’s dizzying, the amount of care Namjoon handles you with. How soft he is. Does nothing to ease the discomfort of the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, but he talks you through it. Tells you how good you feel, how beautiful you look. Spills a lot of words you’d probably be embarrassed to hear and he’d be embarrassed to say if this was any other time, but in the heat of the moment it all just works to unravel you faster.

He bottoms out. “Okay?” he asks, and you’re rewarded with a dimpled smile when you say you are. Namjoon is a devastating kind of beautiful.

But, as he gives you time to adjust and you give him the all-clear, he also fucks like a demon. What once was hand-holding is now your wrists pinned to the bed, your body caged beneath him as he rolls his hips at a pace that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve been deceived. Lured into a false sense of security.

It’s almost a shame this isn’t being recorded, because you want to memorize all the sounds Namjoon’s making. Want to hear them for the rest of your life. Don’t want anyone else to be the reason he sounds like this, and as he ups his pace and presses his lips to your neck, you don’t want to sound like this because of anyone else, either.

Maybe one of those times in the future, you can talk him into it.

Namjoon reaches down, rubs circles into your clit. Every time you think you might be close, he pulls his hand away, smiles like the devil. You let him have his fun for a while, let him think you’re keen to lie back and take it, and then you tighten your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back.

He doesn’t think it’s very funny. Looks up at you all bewildered. “What’re you—”

“You were taking too long,” you snark. “Figured I’d take matters into my own hands.”

“Yeah? Shit,” he says as you begin to move. “Fuck, baby, like that. Ride me just like that.”

You do. Don’t change a thing, because Namjoon’s cock is long and thick enough to hit exactly where you need it to. You can feel yourself clenching, feel yourself getting wetter, and the sight of Namjoon beneath you does nothing to stave off the inevitable. He looks even better than you’d imagined: skin flushed, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, sweat-slick. You want to make him cry. Want to give him the entire world. You will.

Namjoon thrusts at the same time you roll your hips, and that’s what does it. Has you crying out, has stars flashing behind your eyelids. Has you saying fuck, fuck, fuck as he drives you over the edge for the second time. Has you on the brink of oversensitive as he thrusts a few more times to chase his own end, almost delirious at the way Namjoon moans as he spills into the condom.

Has you swooning, just a bit, at the dopey way Namjoon smiles at you, eyes half-lidded and crinkled at the corners.

“Was that okay?”

You snort. “Yeah, I’d say it was decent.”

“Maybe next time you could pee on me,” he jokes.

You whack him on the chest. “Sure. Or we could record it.”

Has you a little shocked at the way his cock twitches inside of you at the mention of it.

On Monday, you don’t wear a pretentious sweater.

When you stroll in, Jungkook’s already got the best donut shoved halfway into his mouth because he’s a shithead. He eyes you warily, probably hoping with all his hope that you spent the weekend finding God and getting your shit together.

And then he realizes you’ve got on Namjoon’s hoodie and he nearly chokes to death.

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

Namjoon appears at that very moment, and it’s so hard not to take credit for the way he’s glowing, the dazed smile on his face. But Jungkook notices, because Jungkook notices everything, and his gaze darts between the two of you: your hoodie, Namjoon’s face, your face. He opens his mouth, something inappropriate bound to spill out, but Namjoon beats him to the punch. “Ready?” he asks you, and you nod.

It’s seamless.

No hiccups, no awkward stuttering. Namjoon gets through the intro without a hitch, and it feels exactly like it used to. Just two friends having a conversation. It’s obvious Jungkook still wants to say something, but after suffering through last week, he stays quiet lest he makes it worse and sends the two of you back to the bad place.

“How was your weekend, Pipe? Do anything fun?” Namjoon rolls his lips, tries not to laugh.

So you play along. “No, not really, just some dog sitting. How about you?”

“Oh, you know me. Had another first date on Saturday.”

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

It’s a blessing Jungkook isn’t filming this, because your eyebrows raise so far they nearly disappear from your face altogether. There isn’t even a hint of hesitation in Namjoon’s voice, and although you would’ve described it the same way, hearing him say it with such conviction has you a little stunned. “Wow. You gonna see her again?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, sharing a private smile with you. “I think I am.”

who the FUCK is namjoon dating Posted by u/pod-shipper 7 minutes ago This has honestly ruined my entire day. I thought all the stories he told about dating were a bit… Like, what kind of guy has a podcast about relationships but can’t seem to be in one? But you could just HEAR it in his voice how much he likes this woman he went on a date with over the weekend and I’m sick to my stomach. (+2195) ↳ bro you and me both 😭 i genuinely thought him and piper had something going on fr (+1302) ↳ Seriously might stop listening because of this! Any woman with self-respect would never let their partner host a podcast with someone they’re obviously in love with. If he gets serious with this woman, Piper will be gone within 6 months, mark my words. (+927) ↳ I wouldn’t worry about it too much! My cousin works at a really nice restaurant in the same city Namjoon lives in, and she said she saw this “date” on Saturday and that it wasn’t anything serious. (+788) ↳ Piper got a cat and Namjoon finally got a second date. Face it, it’s over. (+325) ↳ cannot believe him and piper aren’t dating.. do you think i should delete all my tiktok edits? (+4) ↳ this is unhinged lmfao i thought y’all hated piper? you’re in here bitching abt her being a “misandrist” every week and now ur gonna stop listening bc namjoon isn’t dating her? pick a lane and stay in it (-64)

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and reblogs/shares are always welcome! I appreciate you very much~ ♡

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jewel writes

[marxy-06]

Favorites Rec List 3

More of my favs -> Thanks to all these incredible writers for making my day a little better :))

Kim Namjoon

Stretch you out (@chateautae)

A little bit in love with you (@joonbo)

Mr. masseuse (@lavenjoon)

"Let me take care of you" (@mintelepathy)

Fantasies (@sweetwritertanya)

Kim Seokjin

24/7 Marriage counselor (@jimlingss)

A better grip (@jinkookspencil)

A helping hand (@jjungkookislife)

You again (@gashinabts)

Soarin' (@aquagustd)

Seokjin's ho ho ho (@yoongsisbae)

Jealous (@youtifulhobi)

Sacrifices (@justcallmenikki7)

Influence (@aquagustd)

Min Yoongi

Back burner (@yoonpobs)

Escapism (@yoonlattesworld)

Finding home (@helenazbmrskai)

Strawberry icecream (@euphoricfilter)

When I needed you (@dreamescapeswriting)

The cockpile: love birds (@httpjeon)

Crescendo (@ugh-yoongi)

Apricity (@delightfulserendipity)

Jung Hoseok

All it takes (@yoongiofmine)

Nibbling it (@jjksblackgf)

The promises we keep (@vyduan)

Your body is an artwork (@borathae)

Maybe the first, but not the last time (@euphoricfilter)

Park Jimin

Oh so reluctant (@back2bluesidex)

Pretty like you (@axigailxo)

Serendipity (@angellesword)

Blowing dandelions (@httpjeon)

All I need (@joonberriess)

Apricot (@vminity21)

Triads and tribulations (@rendaze)

Star light, star bright (@readyplayerhobi)

High school sweethearts (@choiwrites)

Taste of little (@maliby)

Cherry king (@jiminrings)

Turning to stone (@jjungkookislife)

He makes you insecure (@kookiesbuckethat)

Kim Taehyung

The art of touch (@chateautae)

Nude (@btssmutgalore)

Triads and tribulations (@rendaze)

Match made in heaven (@beenbaanbuun)

"I'll take care of you" (@guqwrvte)

Library kisses (@kwanslvr)

Jeon Jungkook

Way Back Home (@solemnreads)

Stretch you out (@chateautae)

Seven Days (@bonny-kookoo)

Jock!jungkook (@joonberriess)

Tracing your tattoos (@btsugarush)

Shades of red (@thatlongspringnight)

Pu$$y fairy (@angelguk)

Idealizations concerning real life relations (@venusiangguk)

Little blue pill (@dreamescapeswriting)

Brown eyed baby (@jeonstudios)

Superstar (@jinkookspencil)

Spicy n' sweet (@thvhoe)

The ability to fathom (@hanniwrites)

Bad omega, sweet omega (@helenazbmrskai)

"I couldn't live without you" (@jungk0oksthighs)

In my eyes (@axigailxo)

"Besties for the resties?" (@jessikahathaway)

You're leaving me (@delukoo)

Love; weakness (@akinnie75)

Bloodline (@jjkeverlast)

Greek god (@bonny-kookoo)

Size kink (@lavenjoon)

Ex on the beach (@beahae)

Off-league (@hansolmates)

Accidental roommates (@jjkeverlast)

Good girl (@bonny-kookoo)

Crazy (@kookiecrumb)

Curious boy (@jinkookspencil)

Confident (@h0neypjm)

Still perfect (@cupoftaae)

OT7

Trouvaille (@spookyserenades)

A comforting hand (@purpleyoonn)

Abundance (@angelicyoongie)

Appreciation (@vminizzle)

Reaction: faking orgasms (@dreamescapeswriting)

Mean kitty, soft kitty (@purpleyoonn)

Best of us (@bts-trash-blog)

You belong (@imnotlauriane)

(If you have any recs pls share, especially for Hobi, Jin, & Rm :))

#writing #bts namjoon #bts v #bts jin #bts suga #bts x reader #bts smut #bangtan #namjoon #jimin #taehyung #run bts #bts jung hoseok #bts jung jungkook #bts jungguk #bts jungkook #bts recs #fanfic #fanfic rec

[euphoricfilter]

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• ° kinktober masterlist

31 days of smut let’s get it °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

please read the warnings for each chapter!!

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

☆ day 1 ~ taehyung: breeding kink

tags/ warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, breeding kink, baby talk (but no actual kids because yuck)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 2 ~ : jimin: pet play

tags/ warnings: pwp, pet play, ass play, fingering of both holes, butt plugs, mild dumbification

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 3 ~ jungkook: thigh riding

tags/ warnings: pwp, thigh riding, cumming untouched, implied use of recreational drugs (weed)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 4 ~ hoseok: somnophilia

tags/ warnings: pwp, somnophilia, consensual drugging, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ .��:☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 5 ~ yoongi: praise kink

tags/warnings: pwp, oral (m. receiving), praise kink, vaginal fingering, cum swallowing

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 6 ~seokjin: corruption kink

tags/ warnings: pwp, corruption kink, he’s a little condescending too, just jin teaching you how to touch yourself?, fingering, cumming untouched

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 7 ~ namjoon: double penetration

tags/ warnings: pwp, use of a dildo (the ones that have a hole for fake cum), double penetration, unprotected sex, creampie x2 ?, squirting

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 8 ~ jungkook: size kink

tags/ warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, he’s hung okay? whatever you’re thinking make it bigger— he has a fat cock, belly bulge

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 9 ~ taehyung: watersports

tags/ warnings: pwp, watersports (pee), cumming untouched, literally wet and messy

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 10 ~ jimin: cock warming

tags/warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 11 ~ hoseok: oral fixation

tags/ warnings: pwp, fingers in mouth!!!! (lets gooo), oral (m. receiving), cum swallowing, subspace, condescending dom hoseok!!! (lets gooooooo!!!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 12 ~ yoongi: overstimulation

tags/ warnings: pwp, vibrator, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, minor oral? (f. receiving), unprotected sex

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 13 ~ seokjin: creampie

tags/ warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, creampie, cum kink, lil spanking action

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 14 ~ namjoon: face sitting

tags/ warnings: pwp, touched on insecurities, face sitting, namjoon’s a munch, grinding, pleasure dom joon

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 15 ~ jungkook: fingering

tags/ warnings: pwp, fingering, a singular slap to the pussy, squirting, cumming untouched, cum swallowing? sort of? cum is ingested basically, all very lighthearted and fun

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 16 ~ taehyung: spit kink

tags/ warnings: pwp, spitting in a mouth (yum?), wet and messy, unprotected sex, creampie

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 17 ~ jimin: mirror sex

tags/ warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, fingering, exhibitionism? kinda, they just fuck in a public gym, the panties stayed on, finger in mouth !!!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 18 ~ hoseok: squirting

☆ day 19 ~ yoongi: free use

☆ day 20 ~ seokjin: spanking

☆ day 21 ~ namjoon: voyeurism

☆ day 22 ~ jungkook: exhibitionism

☆ day 23 ~ taehyung: knotted dildo

☆ day 24 ~ jimin: role play

☆ day 25 ~ hoseok: primal play

☆ day 26 ~ yoongi: shibari

☆ day 27 ~ seokjin: vibrator

☆ day 28 ~ namjoon: cum stuffing

☆ day 29 ~ jungkook: pantie kink

☆ day 30 ~ taehyung: belly bulge

☆ day 31 ~ yoongi: mask kink

#bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts kinktober #jungkook smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut #hoseok smut #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #seokjin smut #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #namjoon fic #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts #hoseok fanfic

[curryshesus]

bts fics that radiate sheer utter brilliance

(aka my favorite fics of all time) pt. 1

hello, hello! please make sure to show your love and support to these lovely authors if you enjoyed any of these reads as much as i did <3 note: all of these fics contain nsfw content (minors dni please). enjoy!

➺ the road to you - by @bonvoyagenoona

| ot7 x reader (tae focus) | 110k

au of all aus, best friend!taehyung, high school boyfriend!jimin, professor!yoongi, college boyfriend!jungkook, art enthusiast and city heartthrob!namjoon, barista!hobi, actor!jin, angst, fluff, smut, series

>>summary: "armed with your quick wit, creative passion, talent for storytelling, and innate understanding of your fanbase, you have met every challenge, surpassed every goal, and achieved the unimaginable. despite the earth shifting erratically under your firmly planted feet, you’ve always had a plan. you’ve made peace with the sacrifices you’ve had to make, and you’ve long forgotten the rejections and heartbreaks that came as a result. your agent keeps reminding you that you’re at the precipice of something new, that your audience is waiting for your next project with bated breath. this is usually when you thrive. so why do you feel so lost? and who can you count on from your past to help you find your way?"

➺ matilda - by @babystrcandy

| yoongi x reader | 141.8k

brother’s best friend au, f2e2f2l, slice of life, angst, fluff, eventual smut, series

>> summary: "loneliness had always been a constant for you, haunting you like a ghost; until your older brother’s best friend, min yoongi, came into your life. you both promised each other something back then - you’d always have his support and he’d always have yours. but with time and age, you weren’t sure how much that all still stood to be true."

➺ bitchin' - by @kinktae

| jungkook x reader | 49.5k

1980’s au, inspired by to all the boys i’ve loved before, e2l, fake lovers/college au, frat boy!jungkook, smut, series

>> summary: "the 80s were a time of choices. which perm was right for you? what color neon would you wear next? none of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with jeon jungkook."

➺ flower - by @readyplayerhobi

| hoseok x reader |

online dating au, fluff, future angst, future smut, series

>> summary: "you finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the flower dating app. one of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. what happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

➺ suncity - by @jamaisjoons

| hoseok x reader | 17k

strangers to lovers au, vacation au, angst, fluff, smut, oneshot

>> summary: "when you’d taken a spontaneous trip to barcelona, you hadn’t expected to meet hoseok. more than that, you hadn’t expected to begin a torrid affair with him."

➺ idealizations concerning real life relations - by @venusiangguk

| jungkook x reader | 40.9k

fuckboy!jk x hopeless romantic!oc, s2l, fwb, smut, angst, oneshot

>> summary: "jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return."

➺ peach parfait - by @jamaisjoons

| seokjin x reader | 19k

enemies to lovers au, fluff, smut, slight angst, two parts

>> summary: "you and seokjin have always been at odds as the top two chefs at big hit academy of culinary arts."

➺ tell me no lies - by @jeongi

| jungkook x reader | 15.1k

ceo au, criminal au, robbers au, angst, smut, minimal fluff

>> summary: "you chose to rob your boss, however; you never expected to fall in love with him."

➺ concrete king - by @bratkook

| jungkook x reader | 16.7k

sweet summer romance, fluff, smut, himbo energy, two parts

>> summary: "when a cute boy in a tacky hawaiian shirt lands a trick in your honor there's no way you could ever say no to him."

#bts fic rec #fic recs #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x oc #bts angst #bts smut #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #jimin angst #jimin smut #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #bts fan fiction #fic rec list #namjoon angst #namjoon smut #hoseok angst #hoseok smut #seokjin angst #seokjin smut #bts masterlist #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #seokjin x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader

[jeonbunnie]

promises

pairing: reader x namjoon

summary: marriage life with namjoon hasn’t been the same lately. he’s been cold and distant, always whispering on the phone. and you can’t help but notice…

genre: angst, drama, choose your own adventure,

content/warnings: established relationship; married!au; idol!namjoon; cheating/infidelity; implied sex; eventual smut; explicit sex

soundtrack: lemonade by beyoncé

a/n: this used to be a series but I decided to rework it into a oneshot. The plot is mostly the same, however now the reader gets to choose the big decision at the end (kind of like a choose your own adventure). This is one of the endings, if you want to read from the beginning, start here.

word count: 871

Choose Him

When Namjoon wakes up the next morning–you’re not by his side.

It was just a little after dawn. The sun finally peaked its head out from around the clouds, stretching across your home in vanilla sunlight.

At first, Namjoon is too tired to comprehend what it means to not feel your warmth pressed up against him. But as soon as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he realized he was waking from a dream into a nightmare.

Namjoon was so overwhelmed with grief for the loss of his marriage, for the loss of you, he didn't hear the click of the front door opening, or see the look on your face when you finally, finally came home.

You opened the bedroom door to find Namjoon sitting with his face buried in his hands. You went to him, sat by his side, and gingerly pulled his hands away from his face. “Namjoon...what’s wrong?”

He looks up into your face, and there’s shock, confusion, and tears in his brown eyes. There’s a look of disconnect as he takes in the sight of you, the suitcases standing by the door.

“You left.” He says.

You shake your head.

The tears in his eyes spilled down his cheeks. “You did. You left, and all your stuff was gone. You were gone.”

“Not like that.” You said. You did leave, but not in the way he might have thought. You went to think. To find peace and quiet so you could listen to your heart.

You made your decision. You decided to love him anyway, and keep loving him, and keep working at your marriage. Even though it failed, you would keep trying. Because love didn’t quit. It wasn’t pride, or anger, or hurt. It didn’t hold grudges or keep resentments. It was patient, and kind, and forgiving. Healing.

And that was what you wanted, right? To heal.

“I’m sorry, I should have approached this better.” You said. “I figured you’d still be sleeping by the time I got back. I just needed to be on my own for a bit. Clear my head, think.”

Alone, you had more clarity about everything. Though knowing Namjoon’s truth didn’t make anything any easier. It did help you find your truth.

Namjoon kissed the back of your hand and held on tight. His palms were wet, but you didn’t let go. He looked at you, and something softened in his eyes. “I thought–” he said, voice cracking. “I thought…”

“Me too.”

“You said you’d never come back.”

“I know. That was a long time ago...I promised you that I would leave. But that’s not how promises work anyway. And I don’t want a relationship based on promises. Those are just thoughts. And words. And they don’t mean anything unless your actions match up.”

“We said we’d be honest with each other so,” you took a deep breath, holding it for a minute before saying what you could only admit to yourself in private.

“I know I could start over. Find someone else. There are other men... but when I think about it, when I think about it, I’ve only ever wanted you. I don’t want to start over with someone new. And kiss strangers. And hope to fall in love again. I want you. I still love you.”

“I love you, too,” Namjoon said. Softly. Without hesitation.

“But things have to change. We just stopped talking. You were my best friend, but we were living like strangers because we didn’t communicate with each other–I can’t do that again. You can’t just keep all your feelings bottled up inside. You need to talk to me. I don’t know if I can be everything that you need me to be, but you have to give me a chance. Don’t shut me out.”

“Can you do that for me?” You finished. You looked at his face and honestly stared back at you.

“I can. I can do anything for you.” Namjoon whipped at his wet face. “If I could take it all back I would…I’m far from perfect, and I’ve done things that hurt you, things I’ll live to regret for the rest of my life. But I want to do better. Be better. And I know that I’m a better man when I’m with you… And I want to be by your side. Always. I can’t pretend it never happened. Like everything’s fine and that it’ll all be okay. I don’t know that. But I want it to be. I want to try...”

Now you were tearing up. You squeezed his hand. “So let’s try.”

“But Namjoon, I swear, if you try this shit again—”

“I won’t. I can’t. After everything...baby, all I see is you. I don’t want anyone else.”

Namjoon smiled at you, a real smile, eyes turning into crescent moons.

And you smiled back.

He leans forward then, till your forehead to forehead, nose to nose, and you both close your eyes, savoring the moment. That feeling came back. The one from the night before. Overwhelming, unfiltered love. And at that moment, you know.

You know you can move on. Fall in love again, rebuild your trust.

And you’ll do it together.

#bts fic #namjoon fic #namjoon angst #namjoon smut #reader x namjoon #fic: promises #songfic #poc reader #my fics.🍪

[mrworldwideshoulders]

where love finds us || reader x knj

Pairing: reader x KNJ Word count: 5.4k Rating: PG-13+ Genre: established relationship au, fluff (like a lot), (light) angst, the teensiest implied smut for good measure Summary: An evening with your fiancé's parents to celebrate their anniversary has the two of you reflecting on how lucky you both are to be in each other’s life – even if it took a long time for you to get there. Inspired by If I Knew by Bruno Mars. Warnings: discussion of ~feelings~, discussion of pregnancy, cute romantic moments, joon keeps trying to touch reader’s butt (hehe), tongue kissing (bleurgh), reader is a child of divorce and has ~trauma~ A/N: hi! this fic is a giant sticky sweet glob of sap. please forgive me (or don’t) and be sure to check your blood sugar at the end to make sure you haven’t gone into diabetic shock. i know it’s out of order but this is the same couple as the one from the way you look tonight (shameless plug) though both can be read as standalone oneshots if ya want. i freakin love this fic so i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing. beta’d and bannered as always by the amazing april (@onmypillow-onmytable​)! thx! ly - robyn T/N: eomeonim = used when speaking to one’s mother-in-law, specifically on the husband’s side; abeonim = the same thing but for father-in-law. PS. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers lately (eeeeee) – thanks for joining me! if you’d like to be added to any taglists, just ask in the notes or in my dms or the ask me a question thingy :) PPS. I do not own BTS or their likenesses, nor do I own the music of Bruno Mars (lol), they just inspire me.

part of the unorthodox jukebox collection (masterlist)

You check your reflection and fidget nervously while you're waiting for your fiancé to get out of the car, making sure the skirt of your dress is laying the way it's supposed to, that the clasp of your necklace hasn't shifted around to be in the front instead of the back the way necklaces do sometimes, checking in the mirrors to make sure your lipstick hasn't smudged. You were supposed to be here earlier – much earlier – but the festivities are already in full swing, due to the unexpected obstacle of trying (and failing) to drag Namjoon out of the house in a timely manner. His parents' anniversary party has been on the books for weeks. He knows that. It's like everything goes in one ear and out the other these days, no matter how often you swear you've reminded him. It's frustrating, really. Namjoon is practically a genius. He can remember the most obscure bits of trivia to insert randomly into casual conversation and quote long passages of literature verbatim – yet he can never seem to remember where he's supposed to be or when he's supposed to be there. His best friend Jin keeps making cracks about how he’ll probably be so immersed in whatever it is he’s doing beforehand that he’ll end up being late to his own wedding – which would be funny if it weren’t one of your exact fears. Deep breaths, y/n. Deep breaths, you tell yourself, exhaling, envisioning all of your irritation drifting away like dandelion fluff. 

"You almost forgot this." Namjoon hands you a carefully wrapped box as he gets out of the car. He looks you up and down and smiles. Damn that smile. It's almost enough to erase all of the morning's frustrations. "Gosh, you're beautiful. Have I ever told you that?"

"You may have mentioned it a time or two," you say, tilting your head with a sly smile. "You're not so bad yourself." You reach up to straighten his collar. "That’s a nice suit. Dressing to impress?" Your fiancé always looks ten times better in a blazer, as opposed to his more relaxed everyday style, despite him always complaining of being too hot in suits.

He glances down sheepishly. "Ah, you know. Just threw on the first thing in my closet."

"I like it. Did your girlfriend buy it for you?" 

"My fiancée picked it out, actually. Her taste is very discerning.” Namjoon chuckles, giving you a quick flash of that adorable dimple in his left cheek. "She chose me out of all people when she’s so amazing she could have had anyone.” He leans in and drops a kiss on your forehead. "Kind. Intelligent. Great kisser. Too wonderful for words. I can't even hold a candle to her."

“Sappy.” You give his lapel a tug. “Come on. We’re already late.” 

“Hey, it doesn’t matter when you come, you’re never late for a party.” 

“Says the man who’s late to every party.”

The atmosphere inside is lively, filled with party chatter and the sound of music playing from somewhere. “Ah, y/n, Joonie, you’re here!” exclaims Namjoon’s mother, pushing her way through the crowd to wrap you tightly in a hug. “Welcome! It’s about time.”

“We were beginning to wonder,” adds Mr. Kim, “but then we remembered who you were dealing with here.” He pats Namjoon on the shoulder good-naturedly. “Be careful, son, or y/n might decide she’s tired of putting up with you before you’re even married.” 

“I’m…working on it,” mutters Namjoon, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Looking for a way to change the subject, you remember the box you’re holding. “Abeonim, eomeonim, this is for you.” You hold it out to them. “Happy anniversary.” 

Your mother-in-law takes it from you and pulls you into another hug. “Oh, y/n, thank you! How lovely! You shouldn’t have.” She cuts a knowing glance at Namjoon. “Joonie, why did it take you so long to ask this one to marry you? I thought you were supposed to be smart.” 

“I have no idea,” sighs Namjoon. 

“Anyhow, you two enjoy the party,” she continues. “There’ll be toasts later, so stick around.” Your mother-in-law winks and disappears with her husband. 

You peer around at your fiancé's face. He looks a touch dazed. “You okay?”

“Oh…yeah,” he says. “I’m fine. Just wasn’t expecting all that as soon as we walked in. Well…shall we?” Namjoon motions in the general direction of the party.

“Absolutely.” You loop your arm through your fiancé's and look up at him, as the pair of you weave through the mass of party guests. "Do you think they'll like it?”

“Hm?” says Namjoon absently. “Like what?” 

“The present, Joon. The one you handed me not ten minutes ago?”

Realization appears on his face. “Oh, sure. Definitely.”

You poke him in the arm. “You don't even remember what we got them, do you?”

“Of course I do. We got them, that, uh, thing. For the kitchen. It’s a kitchen thing. Right?”

“No.” You sigh. “It’s a vase. For decoration. Namjoon, you were sitting right next to me when I ordered it. And you helped me pick it out. How could you have already forgotten what it was?”

“Because that was like a month ago, and you know I can’t remember anything unless I’m reminded about it a million times? And if it’s remotely breakable, like I know most vases are, you wouldn’t let me anywhere near it anyway.” He leans over to plant a kiss on your cheek, before you can open your mouth to chide him. “They’ll love it, y/n. I know they will. My parents adore you. You could gift-wrap a rock and they’d love it because it’s from you. Me, on the other hand…" Namjoon makes a tsking noise with his tongue. “It'd just be a rock in a poorly-wrapped box if it came from me. You know, I’m getting the feeling they might like their future daughter-in-law better than their own son.” 

“Of course they like you.” You reach up, patting him on the chest. “I mean, how could they not? You’re their pride and joy, Doctor Kim.”

“It’s still just Professor Kim for now,” he corrects you gently, though he looks amused. “I won’t be finished with my dissertation for another year, and I still have to defend it before anyone can call me Doctor.” 

"Even so. You're already Dr. Kim in my eyes." 

He smiles and opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but gets interrupted by another party guest approaching. The interloper is one of Namjoon’s aunts, who can’t stop gushing over the two of you. “You make such an adorable couple, it would have been such a shame if one of you couldn’t make it,” she exclaims warmly, beaming from ear to ear. “When’s the big day again?” 

“Second week of May,” you answer, glancing bashfully at Namjoon, who squeezes your hand and smiles. 

“Oh, not long now! It’ll be here before you know it.” She pats Namjoon’s arm with a knowing smile. “You’d better behave yourself until then, Joonie.” 

The faintest hint of a blush finds its way onto his cheeks. “I always do, Auntie.” 

“Tch! I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Namjoon sighs as she disappears back into the crowd. “What a piece of work.” 

“She’s just happy for us.” 

“I know. Everyone is. Of course I am too. But I haven’t heard the end of it from any of them since they met you. It’s all, ‘don’t let this one get away,’ and ‘behave yourself, Joonie.’ As if they think I’m going to scare you away months before I finally get to marry you.” He leans over, his voice a low whisper in your ear. “If they only knew what we get up to when no one else is around. I wonder if they'd still be telling me to behave myself.”

“We’re in public,” you whisper back, cheeks burning. “Maybe you should listen to them.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” His hand drifts to rest on your ass, giving it a small pinch. “You know I can’t help myself around you. And everyone knows you drive me crazy.” 

Now your ears are burning too. “Well, try.” You gently move his hand and give him a pointed look. “Please? Your parents are right there.” You look pointedly in the direction you last saw them.

“Y/n, they’re not even looking at us. Nobody is. And you can’t seriously think everyone expects us not to touch each other just because—” Namjoon starts, but stops at your slight frown. “All right, fine. I will attempt to contain myself if it bothers you that much.” If you’re not mistaken you’d say he almost looks wounded. “You do realize we will have to kiss each other at the wedding, right? In front of people? We could do a lot worse than a few public displays here and there.”

“Yeah, well, let’s test that theory another time.” Your voice comes out harder than you mean for it to. 

“Okay. Duly noted.” His tone is clipped. “Am I allowed to hold your hand, at least? Or is that off-limits too?”

“If that’s the way you feel about it, then maybe you just shouldn’t hold it at all.” You pull it away, letting out a frustrated huff. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I’m just nervous, that’s all. You know I get uncomfortable around lots of people. Even if they are lots of people who know and love you, because they’re people I haven’t met yet.”

“Yes. I get that.” Namjoon sighs. “But you got so touchy all of a sudden, and when have we ever been shy about that kind of thing?”

“Never,” you murmur. 

“Exactly. I just have to wonder if everything’s okay, that’s all.” He takes both of your hands, his large ones nearly covering yours. “Everything is okay, right? I know I’ve been busy lately. We both have. That’s no excuse, but—” 

“No, everything’s fine.” You shake your head, despite feeling like it’s the opposite. “Forgive me. I don’t know what my problem is today.”

“It’s okay. I worry about you, that’s all.” Namjoon smiles, but it seems a touch forced. “We should make the rounds, yeah? Say hello to everyone?” 

You plaster on a smile to match his. “Yeah. Let's do that.”

His hand stays firmly tucked in his pocket the whole time, except for the few times it brushes against yours, which makes him pull it away as if he’s been shocked. You find yourself missing all of his little touches: a hand on your waist, on the small of your back, your neck, your shoulder. You’d forgotten just how physical he is with his affection, and you’re beginning to wish you hadn’t snapped at him and just let him touch your ass like he wanted, relatives be damned. 

Kyung-min, Namjoon’s sister, eyes the two of you suspiciously the whole time you’re talking to her. “What’s going on with you two?” she demands, mostly addressing Namjoon. “You’re both acting super sketchy. Are you in a fight?” Her gaze turns to you. “Y/n, you can tell me if he’s being a jerk. I can handle him. Seriously.” She glares back at her brother.

“No!” You shoot a glance at him. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine, right, Joon?”

“Right!” He smiles, almost imperceptibly. “Just some…pre-wedding jitters. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” She narrows her eyes. “Sure. Let me know how that works out.”

You sigh softly and watch Namjoon for a moment. He’s watching Kyung-min leave, his one free hand still tucked in his pocket, a drink in the other. You pull gently on his sleeve to get his attention. “Joon, I think I’m going to step outside for a minute. Get some air. It’s a little hot in here.”

“Oh.” His eyebrows lift in surprise. “Uh – do you want me to come with you?”

You shake your head and feign a smile. “No, that’s all right. You stay here. Have fun.”

“Okay, well…I’ll be here.” He raises his glass slightly.

The lanai is deafeningly quiet compared to the clamor inside, giving you a chance to finally sort through your jumbled thoughts. It’s nearly dusk already and you stare distractedly at the sun gradually beginning to sink behind the trees and houses in the distance. “Oh, why did you have to go and snap at him over nothing?” you mutter to yourself. “So what if he touched your ass? You’re about to marry the man. Is this what we do now? Blow up over nothing?” Your hands clench anxiously at the sides of your skirt. Sure, he’s busy. So are you. You could just chalk it all up to the very fact that weddings are just stressful. Exciting – but stressful. But is it really just the stress of planning the wedding that’s getting to you? Or is it something else? We’re happy…aren’t we? Is this how it starts? Does every relationship have the potential to end in anger? Resentment? No matter how happy and well-intentioned things are at the beginning? Am I just doomed to be unlucky in love because of the way I watched my parents’ marriage unravel? You close your eyes tightly and try to calm your breathing the way you did before – deep breaths, in and out – but it doesn’t work this time. 

The sliding glass door opens behind you, and you turn around quickly, startled. It’s Namjoon’s mother, looking puzzled. “Y/n? What are you doing sitting out here by yourself? I would have thought you and Namjoon would be attached at the hip this close to the wedding.” 

“Eomeonim,” you say, standing up. “Hello. I just…needed some air, that’s all.” And some space, from my fiancé, who loves me. Sure.

She sits down on the bench and motions for you to join her. “What’s wrong?” she says. “Are you not enjoying yourself? Do you not feel well? Should I go find Namjoon?” 

“Oh, no.” You wave your hands. “I’m all right. And the party’s lovely. Nothing to bother Namjoon with.” 

“Just between us girls, then. What’s the matter?” She narrows her eyes. “Did Namjoon do something?”

"No!" You shake your head. "Nothing like that. It's just…" You draw in a breath. "I see him every day. I talk to him every day. But I feel like we haven’t really spoken in weeks. He might as well be a million miles away, even though he’s right there in front of me." Your fingers twist together in your lap. "He didn’t even remember we were supposed to be here today until I reminded him an hour before we were supposed to leave. After that I snapped at him over such a small thing that I don't even remember why I was so annoyed with him.” 

“But that’s not all, is it?” she asks.

You shake your head. “I know he’s got a lot on his plate with his paper, and I thought I could handle some of the wedding stuff on my own so he wouldn’t have to worry about it. I didn’t mind that too much. But there were some things I just wanted his input on, small things that wouldn’t take all that much thought, but no matter what I ask him he just says whatever I pick is fine and that he trusts my judgment. So I started to wonder, does he even care? Would he even notice if I didn’t show up? The wedding is two months away and I'm scared that we aren't on the same page anymore, that things have changed – and that maybe we're not meant to be together." Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm being silly. Look at me, making everything about myself.” 

"Oh, y/n. Sweetheart." She pats your hand. "It's not silly. Lots of couples feel this way sometimes, especially right before the wedding. Marriage is a big commitment. It's natural to question whether it's the right thing to do. You love him, right?"

You nod. "More than I've ever loved anyone." 

"And I know for a fact that Namjoon loves you too, even if he's not very good at showing it sometimes. So just talk to him. Clear the air, and tell him how you're feeling. He'll understand. The two of you will work it out, whatever it is." She tucks you into a soft hug. “I should be getting back to the party. Come and join us whenever you’re feeling better, all right?”

You nod and manage a watery smile. “Thank you for listening, eomeonim. And congratulations again. Thirty years – that’s special.”

“Thank you, dear.” She smiles kindly. “It takes two. You’ll get there someday.” 

“Yeah.” You fiddle with your hands, smiling to yourself. “I hope so.” 

You wait a few minutes after she’s gone to compose yourself before you go back inside, weaving through the crowds of people to find your fiancé. He’s easy to spot, lingering by himself near the front corner of the main room, hands tucked deep in the pockets of his jacket. He cuts a handsome figure standing there by himself, staring off into space, with the light of golden hour glowing behind him, and you have to stop for a moment, struck suddenly by how good-looking the man you’re going to marry is, on top of being one of the kindest people you’ve ever known. His face brightens noticeably when he sees you approaching. “There you are.” Namjoon smiles softly. “I was starting to wonder if I should come looking for you.” 

“Oh, Joonie.” You wrap your arms around him in a quick hug, resting your head against his chest. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

“What’s all this?” He sounds surprised but wraps his arms around you anyway. “Is everything okay?” His brown eyes search the insides of yours, crinkling with concern. 

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I was just wondering…would you take a walk with me? The sun is about to set, and I thought we could find a place to watch it. And talk, while we’re at it.” 

“That sounds nice.” Namjoon takes your hand, twining his long fingers through yours. “Let’s go, then.” He guides you outside to a small walking trail behind his parents’ house that runs along the side of a creek. “I used to come down here all the time when I was a kid,” he says. “Mom would practically have to drag me inside for dinner when the weather was nice.” 

“Aw. I bet you were cute when you were little.” 

“Eh.” He shrugs. “I was. But I’m much cuter now.”

“That’s different.” 

“I’ll just have to show you the pictures, then. Maybe we can get Mom to dig them out later.” Namjoon’s sleeve brushes against your bare arm. He glances down. “Those shoes aren’t hurting your feet, are they?”

“My feet are fine, but thanks for asking. These shoes are actually pretty comfortable.”

“Really? They don’t look comfortable. I’m happy to carry you. Or the shoes. Either one. I don’t mind.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll live. What about you? You're not too hot, are you?”

“Well, I might boil to death, but it’ll be worth the sacrifice, I think, if my fiancée thinks I look nice.”

You manage a smile, but it doesn’t last for long. You take a deep breath and drop your head. “I’m sorry, Joonie. I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier.”

“Baby, is that still bothering you?” Namjoon turns to you and lifts your head to look at him. “I told you it was okay.”

“Is it really?” You watch his face. “You looked so hurt when I yanked my hand away that I thought—”

“Yes, y/n. I meant what I said. Of course I was hurt, but it's not worth staying mad over. Not to me, anyway.” 

"But…" Your mind goes back to earlier. "You didn't touch me the whole time we were talking to everyone." Your voice almost sounds petulant.

Namjoon laughs suddenly. “I was trying to behave myself, like you asked me to. And do you know how difficult it was for me to keep my hands to myself for that long when the most beautiful woman in the room was standing right next to me the whole time? So difficult. I might actually deserve some kind of compensation for it.” 

“How was I supposed to know that?" you demand. "Since when have you ever listened to me when I tell you not to do something?”

He folds you securely into a hug and rests his chin on your shoulder. “Aw. You missed me, didn't you?”

“Maybe a little,” you say, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“Thank you for apologizing.” He kisses you on the forehead. “But it's not necessary. Consider the whole thing forgotten, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say. “Sorry for being annoying. I was just overthinking, I guess. Being a child of divorce will do that to you.”

“Annoying? No, of course not. No one could possibly find my fiancée annoying.” Namjoon wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you further into his warmth. “Y/n, are you cold? Do you want my jacket?” He sighs. “I should have expected it would still be cool now. I would've reminded you to bring your sweater.” 

“No, Joon, it’s fine,” you start, but he’s sliding out of his blazer and draping it over your shoulders before you can finish talking. It still radiates warmth from his body heat and smells overwhelmingly like him. “You’ll look for any excuse to take your clothes off, won’t you? Or is it just that you like seeing me wearing them?” 

“Can’t it be both?” He grins playfully. “I really was about to boil to death, you know. Seeing you look all small and cute in my jacket is just a plus.”

“I’m so sure, you goofball.” You reach up to cup his chin. 

Namjoon’s face softens and his eyes drop. “I’m sorry, too, by the way.” You look at him quizzically. “If it feels like I haven’t made a lot of time for you lately, then you’re probably right. I haven’t been very present at all, to be honest. We were supposed to be planning this wedding together, but it dawned on me that with the edits on my paper and everything else that’s going on, I let most of the planning fall on you without even asking if you were okay with it. You even asked me if I was going to be okay planning a wedding when I was this far into my thesis, and I swore up and down that it wouldn’t be an issue, but here we are, two months out, and look at that – it’s an issue. You have your own responsibilities outside of the wedding, and it was selfish of me to just expect that you'd take care of it.”

You feel relieved. “How did you know that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about?” 

“I’m just that smart. But also incredibly dumb at times, because I have this very bad habit of taking the people I love for granted. Oh," he adds, "and Kyung-min overheard you talking to Mom and came to yell at me, so I put two and two together and figured it out from there.” 

"That sounds like your sister."

"She even pinched me. Hard. I’d forgotten how painful her pinches are." Namjoon rubs a hand against the top of his head. "I never meant to upset you, y/n. I just get so lost in my own little world sometimes that I forget that it’s not just mine anymore, because you’re a part of it too. It's our world. You and me. So when it happens again – and I know it will – I’m counting on you to pull me back out and keep me grounded in reality. Okay?"

“I will.” You press a soft kiss to his mouth. He leans in to deepen it further, fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of your neck. His lips become more pressing, more insistent, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. Your lips part gently, allowing him in deeper. 

“I’ve missed this," Namjoon sighs between kisses. “I'm going to be happy when life settles down again, you know? Then I can go back to having you all to myself." He looks down at you, his eyes glinting mischievously. “And I can give you all the attention you deserve.”

“Is that so?” you say, as he’s leaving a trail of kisses down the side of your neck. “All the attention?”

“Mhm,” he says, face nearly buried in your shoulder. He pulls away suddenly. “You know, maybe we should just get married already. Are you sure you don't want to just call it all off and elope? Didn’t you say you didn't care how it happened as long as we ended up married at the end?" 

"If I’m remembering correctly, I believe that was you." You smile. "We met at a wedding, remember? It's only right that we give someone else the same opportunity.”

“A wedding reception,” he corrects you. “We barely knew those people, and we didn’t even go to the ceremony. We can always just elope and still have a big party.” 

“It’s only two more months,” you say, pouting slightly. “I’ve already bought the dress and everything. We're too close to call it off now. Can you imagine how disappointed your mother would be if her only son ran off and got married without telling her? She'd never forgive you."

"You can still wear the dress if we elope. And we'll make it up to her by giving her a couple of grandkids to spoil." Namjoon shrugs. "What do you think? The sooner the better, right? We could get started right away if we go ahead and make it official." His hand sneaks toward your ass. 

"I think," you say, catching his rogue hand in yours, "there’ll be plenty of time for that in a year or two, once you finish your dissertation. If I got pregnant, oh, say a month from now—”

“A month?” he protests. “I don’t think it would take me that long to get you pregnant.”

“Hypothetically, Joon.” You poke him in the arm. “Think about it. You’d be signing yourself up for a hormonal pregnant wife during the first half of the school year, and then a screaming baby keeping you awake during the second half. You barely managed planning a wedding. Do you really think you could handle that?”

"Hm, when you put it that way, I guess I can wait a little longer," he muses. "Oh, well. I suppose I just really like the idea of someone that’s a little bit you and a little bit me running around.” 

"Someone that has your eyes and nose? And a sweet little smile with a dimple to match?" you tease.

"Or maybe a little carbon copy of my beautiful wife?" Namjoon bumps his forehead against yours, grinning. "I could get used to that." He stands in silence for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "Whenever we decide the timing’s right…I think you’ll make an amazing mother.” 

“You think so?” You chuckle. “As long as their childhood isn’t anything like mine I’ll be satisfied. I don’t think I ever heard my parents have a conversation that didn’t end in a screaming match.” Your parents did nothing but fight for fifteen years before they got divorced. Your mother, for one, is much happier now that your father is out of the picture, but his seemingly never ending reserve of anger and resentment toward your mother has left you with some pretty deep scars and a fear of commitment that plagued you throughout most of your dating years. Your relationship with your fiancé is the only one that’s ever come close enough to having marriage on the table as a possibility, and it took months of him being patient, slowly working his way past all of the walls you put up for yourself over the years, to even get there. 

“It won’t be,” says Namjoon firmly. “It’ll be different. We’re different. You told me your father changed once they got married, right? I’d never do that to you.”

“Everyone changes, especially once they get married. You don’t think you will?” 

“Well, of course I’ll change.” He tilts his head to one side pensively. “I think everyone does, at least a little. I just hope it’ll be positive change. For example, the way I love you is never going to change, but how much I love you is just going to continue to grow every day.” 

“That’s a nice way of looking at it.” You smile. “I like that. I hope it’s the same for me, too.” 

Namjoon smiles down at you and takes your hand. “What we have is special,” he says. “We’re so lucky to have stumbled across each other when we did. I couldn’t have found a more perfect match in anyone else. We’re made for each other. It’s like…the stars and the planets and the whole universe lined up just for us.”

“You believe we were meant to be?” 

“Exactly. It was destiny. Fate. It was meant to happen exactly the way it happened. If Jin hadn’t dragged me out of my apartment that weekend, and Ji-eun hadn’t tried to set you up with that guy, who knows where we’d be right now?” 

"Probably on another terrible blind date that Ji-eun set up because she swore up and down that this guy is the one and totally perfect for me, and so much better than the last few that she also thought were totally perfect for me."

“And I would probably still be sitting in my apartment buried in papers, with Jin trying to convince me to come out drinking with him again.” Namjoon smiles ruefully and looks down. “Can I say something dumb really quick?” 

“Your ‘something dumb’ will probably still end up being something thoughtful and well-said, so by all means, go ahead.”

He hesitates. “I wish I’d known it was going to happen. That I was going to meet you when I did. I spent so much time thinking about my ex, everything I did wrong with her, what I could have done to keep her from breaking up with me, that I didn't even give a second thought to the fact that there might be someone better out there. Someone…like you." Namjoon tilts his head forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “If I’d known it was going to be you,” he continues, “I guess, I don’t know, I would have tried harder. Worked on myself more. Tried to be better. Something like that." He’s still smiling, but there’s regret in his eyes. 

“Oh, Joon.” You put your hands on both sides of his cheeks. “You know that’s one of the things I love the most about you? But you’ve always been enough for me. Ever since we met. You were enough for me then, you’re enough for me now, and you always will be. I love you, Kim Namjoon, just the way you are. You’re my perfect fit. Always and forever.”

"Thank you." He takes your hands in his and squeezes. "For trusting me. I know you’ve had a lot happen that would scare anyone away from commitment. I know you worry all the time about ending up just like your parents. But you overcame that. You looked past all of my flaws and agreed to spend forever with me. And every day you’re by my side you get even stronger. That’s a huge deal. I’m grateful for that. And I’m so proud of you.” 

“How could I not, when you make it so easy? When you’re so willing and patient with me?” You reach up and press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m excited. To be your wife, to start a family with you, anniversaries, old and gray, the whole deal. I don’t want to be like my parents. I want us to be like yours. I want to build a life together. Something that will last forever.”

“Me too.” Namjoon smiles and hugs you closer. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He kisses the side of your head. “We’re going to make it, y/n. We’re going to go so far together, and I can’t wait. It won’t always be easy, but I’m ready to try.”

“And I’ll be right there next to you.”

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear. “Thank you for saying yes.”

“Thank you for asking,” you whisper back. “It sure took you long enough, didn’t it?”

Namjoon tosses his head back and laughs. “No one’s ever going to let me live that down, are they?”

©2023 by mrworldwideshoulders | full series masterlist | main masterlist

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts angst #bts fluff #reader x namjoon #reader x rm #reader x kim namjoon #reader x knj #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #bts au #bts x you #bts slice of life #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts pov #bts imagine #bts series #mrworldwideshoulders #unorthodox jukebox #bts smut #namjoon smut

[we-be-writing-bts-stuff]

How to Mend a Broken Spirit Pt. 5

Series Description: Sometimes it takes more than time to heal wounds.

Part Description: Thunderstorms make you scared.

Pairing: Eventually OT7 BTS x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst. Poly and hybrid au. This part is pure fluff and some angst if you squint. No mention of abuse in this part. Mentions of adoption/fostering and how mc acted in the first few installments.

Word Count: 1582

A/N: I finally wrote once again. I hope you like this part. It sets up some things for future installments. As always feel free to send in asks. ~ Bagel

You yelp once again as you cower further into your closet. The thunder claps outside scaring you and causing you to curl up into yourself. Hands moving up to cover up the ears on the side of your head as the fuzzy ones on top pressed close to your skull. A small whimper leaves you as your tears start to roll down your face. Eyes screwed tightly shut as you try to block out the loud noises and rumbling. 

You jump when you feel a hand touch your shoulder. Your head snapping over to the now opened closet door. You see a silhouette of one of the males in the doorway. A flash of lightning reveals the gray canine ears of the eldest and his features in front of you. The thunder a few seconds later makes you launch yourself into him. Your arms wrap around him and your face hides in his neck.

He stumbles back at the sudden weight from you now in his arms but holds you to him. Gently rubbing your back and trying to soothe you with soft whispers and words. Each new thunderclap causes you to get more and more worked up. The wolf easily feels the way your body tenses up and how you shake in his grasp.

Due to the fear and anxiety running through you, you don’t notice when Jin begins to carry you away from the room. Taking you down to the rest of the more nocturnal hybrids. The eldest had pulled the others into the living room to help distract them from the storm outside. 

Jungkook and Taehyung were both cuddled up together with a movie going to try and muffle the booms outside. A makeshift nest made from every blanket and pillow they could get their hands on filled the space around them. The older of the two jumping at each new rumble and hiding further into the ferret  and the blanket that’s making a hood over their heads. Jin sits down next to them with you in his lap. Jungkook looks up when he sees the wolf rejoining them and hands the two of you one of the fluffy blankets that were surrounding the group. 

You feel the warmth and softness of the blanket brush against your arms as Jin focuses on covering you up further. The familiar fabric cutting through the adrenaline to make you relax ever so slightly. The booms of thunder slowly fading as the storm moves farther away and dissolves into just rain. Your body finally relaxes as the credits of the next movie rolls. 

You become nearly boneless and lean fully into Jin as your body finally exits fight or flight mode. Your mind is fighting off the sleep that your body is so desperately trying to cling to after the storm. 

Taehyung is the first to see that you finally fell asleep when Jin’s head rolls to rest on his shoulder. Nudging the youngest to grab his attention and gesturing towards you with his head. A fond smile finding its way onto his lips.

Jin was holding you close to his chest like he was protecting you from the world and anything that could hurt you. You in turn were curled into a small ball in the wolf’s lap. Seemingly trying to hide from the world. In an effort to make everyone more comfortable, Jungkook and Taehyung work to carefully lay you and Jin down with them curling around. 

------

That’s how Hobi finds you in the morning. The human waking early like he normally did on days that he was teaching classes. A coffee in his hand as he looks on at the scene. The rain hitting against the glass wall that leads out to the backyard. 

Somehow in the course of the night, you had turned around in Jin's arms. His arms locked around your waist and face hidden in your hair. Taehyung clinging tightly to your back as Jungkook splayed out next to you three with a pillow held to his chest. Soft snores leaving the ferret.

Hoseok places his mug down on the nearby coffee table and moves forward towards the mass of blankets and bodies. Stepping around the blankets and pillows strewn about to get to someone to wake up first. The human goes between each hybrid to gently wake them up. 

Jin is the easiest to wake from the group. The wolf only gives a mild grunt of discontent before he’s trying to pull away from you. You on the other hand whine loudly at the warmth of the eldest leaving you. A large pout on your face and your eyes barely opening. You’re distracted by the red panda on your back groaning softly and pulling you closer. Your still half asleep mind turning towards him and tucking yourself under his chin. His leg being thrown across your middle to keep you even closer. 

It's only when the rest of the house finally wakes up that you and Taehyung do. Even with the soft complaints coming from the red panda, you finally decide to get up. Your body aching from sleeping on the floor but you’re happy to see the others. Your tail flicks behind you as you move towards Jimin as he sits at the kitchen island. You rest your head on his shoulder as your arms snake around his middle. Your fellow fennec fox chattering happily at the affection as he rests his arms on top of yours. 

You try to follow the conversations that were between everyone but ultimately give up. Choosing to watch Yoongi and Jin as they cook for the group. Hoseok helps with different tasks that the others ask him to do while Namjoon sits next to Jimin and now you. Taehyung soon follows you in joining the crew in the kitchen with Jungkook only joining when Yoongi leaves to go and wake him up.

You hum happily as breakfast begins and everyone sits at the table. Soft giggles leave you as you carefully watch the controlled chaos of the younger hybrids messing around with the older members of the family during the meal. 

------

The two humans sit back while the hybrids take over cleaning up. You and Jungkook wash the dishes. The ferret splashing you with water and playing around. Your face lit up with a smile and soft laughs as you play with him. 

Yoongi and Hoseok sharing a look at the scene in front of them. This was just a dream when you had first arrived. The silent hybrid that couldn’t read and did everything to take up as little space as possible was a distant memory now. Your personality finally showing through in everyday things and you were finally asking them for things. Just yesterday, you had asked Yoongi for some art supplies. Apparently, you were watching the others painting and drawing and wanted some basic supplies of your own to try out different mediums. The older one promising to take you out the next day to grab a sketch pad and a few other things for you.

“I’m afraid this might be another fail. The longer that y/n stays here, the more I want them to stay.” Hoseok whispers softly. Trying not to let the other household members hear him yet. Wanting to discuss this with his partner first before bringing it up with the pack. This was a decision up to everyone and not just them.

“Is that such a bad thing? We have the space and the money to support them if they want to stay too. I doubt they want to leave Jimin and it’s hard to adopt out two bonded hybrids.” Yoongi says. “It’s clear that both Jimin and y/n are getting close to the pack too. I’m surprised the younger ones haven’t brought up adopting them yet.”

Hoseok nods as he sips on the coffee in his hand. “Yeah. I found Jin, y/n, and Taehyung cuddling in the living room this morning. Jungkook was there too, but he was in dead sleep off to the side. Not really close to the other three.” He tells the other. Watching as Jimin steps in to ‘save’ you from Jungkook’s onslaught of splashing. A fond smile tugging on the dance instructor’s lips.

“We need to sit back and wait. It’s still early in the foster and who knows what will happen from now until they’re rehabilitated, but it’s been a while since a foster clicked so well with the group.” Yoongi says.

“Jungkook did but it’s been nearly a year since he was adopted. The fosters since then were nice and worked well, but never felt like they would be a good addition.” Hobi muses. 

Yoongi nods and pats his partner’s shoulder. “I know love.” He says. Leaving the other human to walk over to you. Your ears swivel back towards him as you hear his footsteps approach.

“Come on kid. Let’s get you changed and go shopping for those things you asked for.” Yoongi says once your head turns towards him. 

“Okay.” You say. Smiling up at the human before giving the two hybrids a hug before you scamper away. A soft blush covering Jungkook’s cheeks at the affection. Still not used to you showing it so freely.

“You should change too. Before you catch a cold.” The graphic designer tells the youngest before he’s moving to the sink to wash out his mug and get ready for the shopping trip.

#bts namjoon #jungkook bts #bts taehyung #bts jhope #bts jin #bts yoongi #bts jimin #bts x reader #reader x namjoon #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #reader x yoongi #jin x reader #taehyung x reader #reader x hoseok #bts hoseok #bts rm #bts suga #bts v #bts seokjin #bts hybrid au #bts poly au #bts fluff #bts angst #hybrid reader

[hellbornsworld]

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATION (10) ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧

💚 Banter | Superhero!Jungkook X Supervillain!Reader | OneShot | @littlemisskookie

💚 Send Me a Pic | Jungkook x female reader | OneShot | @74jeon

💚 new beginnings | Ceo!jungkook x figureskater!oc | OneShot | @nochukoo97

💚 LOVE ON ICE | Jungkook × reader | OneShot | @btsbrat

💚 heajix | jungkook/reader | alien!au | OneShot | @httpjeon

💚 Our Time | Detective!Jk x Graphic Designer!OC | OneShot | @taestefully-in-luv

💚 please please PLEASE! | JK X Reader | Drabble | @aajjks

💚 domestic daydreams | influencer jungkook x f. reader | OneShot | @euphoricfilter

💚 the right choice | college student! jk x college student! oc | OneShot | @honeytae

💚 Eye-Opener | Jungkook x Reader | Series | @taeshobipop

💚 paid in full | StepBrother!JK X Reader | Series | @trivia-yandere

💚 white lies | athlete!jungkook x reader | OneShot | @noteguk

💚 Secret Slut | Personal Assistant!Jungkook x CEO!Reader | TwoShot | @jeonsweetpea

💚 Marked Kisses | Yandere!JK X Reader | Series | @74jeon

💚 tis the damn season’ | jungkook x reader | @jqngkooz

💚 WELCOME TO THE HEARTBREAK SHOW | kind-of-tsundere!jungkook x female!reader | OneShot | @numinousher 

💚 Home for the Holidays | idol!Jungkook x female reader | OneShot | @writemywaytoyourheart

💚 closer | dongsaeng jungkook × noona reader | OneShot | @blublublujk

💚 Everything In You | Jungkook x f. Reader  | OneShot | @jjungkookislife

💚 pent up stress | husband!jungkook x wife!reader | OneShot | @rrjkive

💚 How to Get a Guy. | Jungkook x Reader | TwoShot | @taeshobipop

💚 Chasing Shadows | Jungkook x f.Reader | OneShot | @colormepurplex2

💚 PROPOSALS | Jeongguk x reader | OneShot | @pjxmin

💚 Something Wicked This Way Comes | Jungkook X Reader | OneShot | @softyoongiionly

💚 La Belle et la Bête | Jungkook X Reader | OneShot | @chaoticpuff17

💚 I Don't Share | Idol!Jeon Jungkook x Back up Dancer!fem reader | OneShot | @atinystraynstay

💚 holi-blaze | dealer!jeon jungkook x (f)reader | Series | @darklingjeon

💚 desperation | jungkook x reader | OneShot | @jungkwok

💚 Workaholic | ceo!jungkook x wife!reader | TwoShot | @kookxmira

#bangtan #jungkook x reader #bts masterlist #jungkook fic #bts imagine #namjoon #bts ff #jimin #bts jimin #bts #jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #yoongi #park jimin #jungkook imagine #jk recommendations #jk icons #jk jk #jk bts #standing next to you #jk rec #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkoooook #jk fanfic #jk x reader #jk x you #jk x calvin klein #jk 3d #bts imagines

[gimmethatagustd]

gang shit | knj

Your daughter's classmate has a really hot dad. Apparently, you're his arch-nemesis.

○ Pairing: Dilf!Namjoon x Single Parent!Reader

○ Rating: Sfw

○ Genre: Kidfic, strangers/romantic interest, an attempt at humor

○ 1 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Single Parent)

○ Word Count: 1204

○ Warnings: Shockingly none!! aside from my terrible sense of humor, jokes about Crime!!, and also Namjoon's dimples

○ Notes: Inspired by this tweet. I hope you enjoy the first drabble of my 100 Drabble Challenge I'm doing with @sailoryooons - Please check out Hali's drabbles throughout 2024, too! Happy New Year, besties! ✨

○ Post Date: January 1, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? GOAT - Number_i

“I don’t make the rules to this gang shit. I just play my role.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you cock your head to the side in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Namjoon adjusts his black baseball cap. His bicep bulges out of his short sleeve when he lifts his arm. 

You’re too old to be thirsting for a man like this. In all honesty, you’ve been acting childish all day – literally. It’s the last day of school before summer break, and your daughter’s preschool teacher invited parents to an end-of-the-year celebration. Having the privilege of working a hybrid schedule means it’s relatively easy for you to swing by the school with primary-colored cupcakes in hand. They’re the disgusting ones kids love that’ll stain their fingers and mouths bright blue. Oh, to be a four-year-old. So easy to please. 

Unlike little Yuna’s father, who has a stick shoved up his ass, and for what?

“What are you even talking about?” you ask with your arms crossed against your chest. 

You’d said literally five words to the guy, intending to start a pleasant conversation while the kids ran around the playground and the other parents mingled at the picnic tables outside. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Brooklyn’s parent.”

Apparently, that was offensive.

Namjoon’s sharp eyes drag up and down your body, and you try not to let his heavy gaze affect you – and fail when you feel your stomach dip. 

“Brooklyn said Yuna dresses weird,” Namjoon finally says with a pout that shouldn’t look so cute on a grown-ass man. 

“Did she?” 

“Are you calling Yuna a liar?”

“No!” This man is so volatile. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. We’ve been practicing using kind words, but, well, you know how kids are…” 

Namjoon doesn’t look convinced. 

You feel antsy under his gaze, unsure what to say or do. Are you supposed to apologize? Maybe that’s the mature thing to do. You’re still new to this whole “I’m suddenly responsible for an entire human being even though I barely even know how to take care of myself” thing. It’s a little bit unbelievable, actually! 

“I’m sorry for Brooklyn’s judgmental behavior. What kind of weird-, what kind of clothes-” you stumble through what you already know is a shit apology, “Which one is Yuna?” 

“That’s her.” Namjoon nods in Yuna’s direction.

You look across the playground to the swing set, where a little girl is lying on the swing on her stomach and spinning around with her arms and legs hanging limp. She’s wearing her hair in asymmetrical pigtails, one higher on her head than the other. Her sneakers are mismatched, as are her colorful knee-high socks. Her pants are polka-dotted, her shirt striped, and she’s got a bright purple cape tied around her neck. 

“She’s adorable,” you say softly. 

“She’s weird as shit.” 

Your mouth hangs open when Namjoon shrugs. 

“What? She’s my kid; I’m allowed to say that.” 

“Fair enough,” you concede with a smile, “So, we got beef now?”

“Yup.” 

Namjoon crosses his arms against his chest to match your stance. You tell yourself it’s very inappropriate to be eyeing your new enemy’s boobs when you’re in the middle of a showdown. 

“I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think I’m down for going to war for Brooklyn. Usually, I just like to blame her bad behavior on her dad,” you say with a barking laugh. You cover your mouth with your hand when you snort. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.” 

“You’re good,” Namjoon finally cracks a smile, and, wow, it’s breathtaking. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his teeth are big and bright, and he has dimples… “Yuna’s mother doesn’t let her dress how she likes, so when I have her, I let her do what she wants. Self-expression is important, y’know?” 

You nod because he’s right. Kids should be kids. 

“Plus, I like being the fun parent.” 

“Right! Who wants the parent with all the stupid rules?” You perk up, taking a step closer because now you’re partners in crime rather than enemies. Maybe. You’ll work on it. He’s too cute not to get up to some parental crime with—gang members, not rivals. 

“Not cool parents like us,” Namjoon lightly elbows you. 

“Yeah, they can’t ride with our gang.” 

Namjoon makes a face the moment the words come out of your mouth. He bites both lips, rolling them in and hollowing his cheeks, eyebrows raised. 

“What? What!” you gasp, knowing when you’re being made fun of, even if it’s in silence. 

“Don’t ever say anything like that ever again.” 

With a huff, you give him a tiny punch to the arm and tell yourself that it isn’t because you want to feel how tight his muscles are. 

“You’re the one who–” 

“HEY! NO HITTING!” 

Groaning, you throw your head back as a tiny blur of pink collides with your body. Brooklyn tugs on the hem of your shirt, repeatedly chanting, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” until you crouch to meet her at her level. Taking her little hands in yours, you hold them to your lips to give her knuckles a quick peck. 

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that to Mr. Kim,” you admit, “I should apologize, shouldn’t I?”

Brooklyn nods, and the bulbous beaded hair ties at the end of her pigtail braids swing like a deadly game of tetherball. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim,” you say as you look up at Namjoon. He taps his finger against his chin in mock thought, and you can’t help but think that you’ll actually punch him if he fucks up this teaching moment by pretending not to accept your apology. 

“I forgive you,” he says with another grin that makes you feel like a silly teenager. 

“Y’know, Brooklyn, Mr. Kim told me something about you and Yuna…” Brooklyn immediately ducks her chin to her chest. No one has ever looked guiltier. “It’s not very nice to talk about how people look, love. I think you should apologize to Yuna, don’t you agree?”

It takes very little convincing for Brooklyn to run off toward the swings. She flops on her stomach in the swing beside Yuna, and then, after a bit of talking, both girls spin around. 

“If Brooklyn throws up from doing that, it’s your fault,” you mutter to Namjoon. 

“Real aggressive coming from someone who just physically attacked me.” 

“Okay, Mr. Gang Shit,” you quip back, catching Namjoon’s widening grin out of the corner of your eye. 

“Listen,” Namjoon touches your elbow, his fingers lingering just long enough for you to give him your attention. Heat spreads along your forearm and makes your fingers tingle. “I don’t really accept either of your apologies. You might need to try a little harder to get me to forgive you.”

“Oh.” You feel your stomach twist. 

“Might want to start with getting dinner with me, and then we can see where it goes?” 

Oh.

“I mean, if you think it wouldn’t hurt my street cred being seen with the likes of you, then, yeah.” 

Namjoon grabs his baseball cap bill and pulls it down until his hat covers his face. “Don’t make me rescind this offer because I’ll do it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see how it goes.”

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

#bts x reader #namjoon x reader #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #gang shit #100 drabble challenge