→ synopsis ; the intimacy of small things in the world, the ones that tear at the heart, mean much more than grand gestures and proclamations. you notice these things once you become a father. or fall in love with one.
→ genre ; celebrity!au | angst | fluff | smut
→ pairings ; ???
→ rating ;MA
→ warnings ; mentions of toxic relationships, depressive mindsets, drug and alcohol use, blood, gun use, hostage situations, etc.
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Whoever said money can’t solve your problems, must’ve not had enough money to solve them. At least, that’s what Y/n assumes.
The city of Seoul is home to the rich and famous, those who can afford to drive fast cars that go way past the speed limit and others who bring in money with talents they’ve developed over the years. It’s where the luxury is, those imbedded in fame meeting in expensive clubs and restaurants, with everything they need practically in the palm of their hand.
Money is the root of all of Y/n’s success. It’s what hides Y/n’s past, deep where nobody would be able to find it. Quite honestly, she likes it that way. Her life before her fame is muddled, shrouded in shadows that are difficult to maneuver in even the brightest of lights. Or even the wealthiest of people.
Entering her expensive penthouse from the elevator, Y/n’s brown cat slunk to her side, weaving between her legs affectionately. “Oh, was I working for too long, Iseul?” She hummed, scratching behind her ears. She purred softly, sinking into Y/n’s touch.
Y/n placed her keys and purse on the table beside the elevator, before scooping Iseul into her arms, letting the cat nuzzle into her neck. She chuckled softly, smoothing down Iseul’s brown fur. “I’m sorry. I had to stay to finish recording some vocals for a song.” She listened to her kitten purr mindlessly in her arms. “Not that you’d know. You’re probably just wondering why the fuck I’m gone for so long, huh?” Y/n cooed, padding towards the large window that showed Seoul’s city line.
Iseul hopped out of Y/n’s arms, and made a b-line for the couch, curling up on the edge. Exhausted, Y/n padded towards the kitchen, tossing her bucket hat onto the island. She grabbed a wine glass, and hummed softly, a headache likely forming as she poured herself a glass of expensive rosé. Her phone rang, and she looked down blankly at the screen.
“It’s two in the morning. I just saw you twenty minutes ago, do you miss me that fuckin’ much?” Y/n scoffed, sipping on her wine. A laugh came from the other end of the call, and she heard the familiar sound of a car’s engine revving. She couldn’t hear it from upstairs, so he was likely someplace else.
“Yeah? You think I’d miss you that easy?” Namjoon laughed once more, and Y/n rolled her eyes. “I just wanted to check to see if you got inside safely. Plus, I have to reschedule our studio session tomorrow.” He spoke, and Y/n groaned, leaning her head against the island.
“Joon. We have to finish the song by Friday or else your album will be behind schedule.” She spoke, and Namjoon hummed.
“Yeah, but this song is a bonus on the album. If it doesn’t come out with the rest, then it’s okay-“
“What the fuck do you mean it’s a bonus? You’re telling me I’m not important enough to be on the regular album?” Y/n huffed, and Namjoon laughed, likely shaking his head on the other side. She took another sip of her wine, headache getting a little more painful.
Maybe she just needed to sleep.
“Of course you’re important enough to be on the album. Something just came up, listen, we’ll finish by Friday even if I have to work day and night, just so your pretty self can be on the album.” Namjoon hummed, and Y/n cocked her head, eyebrows furrowed.
“Are you mocking me?” Y/n accused, and Namjoon scoffed.
“What, now I can’t be nice to you?” He asked, and Y/n rolled her eyes, picking up her phone and pressing it to her ear.
“You’re like the older brother I never wanted. Of course you cannot fucking be nice to me.” She spat, and Namjoon nearly choked on his laughter. “Whatever, I have a headache. Let me know when you need me back in the studio, yeah?” Y/n asked, and Namjoon hummed in response. “Okay. Goodnight, love you bye.” Y/n spoke quickly, before hanging up the phone.
On the opposite side of town, Namjoon laughed, pocketing his phone as someone knocked on his window. A smile spread across his face, and he exited his car, a squeal escaping the little girl’s lips in front of him. “Uncle Namjoon!” She spoke cheerfully, and Namjoon scooped up the girl in his arms, watching her father shake his head.
“She has pre-school in six hours, Namjoon. Don’t get her riled up please.” Yoongi sighed, crossing his tattooed arms as his daughter wriggled in Namjoon’s arms. “Come inside. I don’t want the paparazzi getting too close to Sarang. She doesn’t need to be exposed to that shit too early.” He took Sarang from Namjoon’s arms, holding the three year old close to him as he walked inside of his home.
Namjoon followed his close friend into his one million dollar home, bowing towards the housekeeper who greeted him with a tired smile. He slipped off his shoes, watching as Sarang took off further into the house. Yoongi sighed, peeling a heart sticker off of his neck. “Hyung, I didn’t expect you to call me so late.” Namjoon hummed, walking into the living room, and Yoongi hummed, placing Sarang’s folded blanket onto the leg rest
“Yeah well, I finished touching up the instrumental for that song. I figured I’d give it to you now instead of forgetting it later.” Yoongi glanced up as Sarang ran into the living room with a new set of pajamas on. “Princess, it’s very late. You have to go to sleep so you can be well rested for school tomorrow.” He cooed, scooping his daughter up into his arms.
Namjoon watched as Sarang rested her head on her father’s shoulder. “Maybe tomorrow would’ve been a better time.” He chuckled, pinching Sarang’s cheek, and Yoongi scoffed.
“She’s just ansty. Had a bad dream last night so she’s a little reluctant to sleep when I’m not home.” Yoongi dragged a hand through his black hair, bouncing his daughter gently as he maneuvered through his lived-in, yet well kept, home. “Here’s the edit. It’d probably sound better with the vocals, but I don’t know who’s featuring so I wouldn’t be able to tell.” Yoongi handed Namjoon his flash drive, and the younger male nodded.
“Thanks, hyung. Let me know when I’m featuring on your next album.” Namjoon called over his shoulder, and Yoongi scoffed, shaking his head.
“Yeah fuckin’ right. When our work ethics match up is when I’ll be able to drop a song with you.” Yoongi laughed, and Namjoon huffed, turning towards his friend.
“The only person I know who works as much as you is the one that’s featured on this song.” He waved the flashdrive. “She almost ripped me a new one when I told her we weren’t gonna be recording tomorrow.” Namjoon winced, pocketing the device.
Yoongi grinned, his daughter finally sound asleep in his arms.
His voice was low. “Might have to send her my way once you two are done recording. Maybe she can be a feature on my next album.” He hummed, and chuckled softly when Namjoon flipped him off.
“Y/n L/n. She’s better known as the rapper Psyche.” Namjoon hummed, and Yoongi’s eyes widened with recognition.
“Is she the one that’s always tweeting about how she’s in love with me and how she says I’m a dilf?” Yoongi rubbed the back of his head, bouncing Sarang slightly. “What the fuck is a dilf anyway? I get called that all the time but I never bothered to look it up.” He asked, and Namjoon laughed quietly.
“It means ‘Dad I’d Like to Fuck. Fuck, you don’t get on Twitter much unless it’s about you, do you?” He chuckled, and Yoongi scoffed. “Also, you flirt with her all the time on Twitter, don’t act like you don’t like the attention.” Namjoon accused.
Yoongi shrugged. “What can I say? I like having a little fun.” He turned on his heel, facing the direction of Sarang’s room. “Get home safe, will you? And lock the door on your way out. Leave it unlocked like last time and I’ll fuckin’ punch your teeth so far down your throat you’ll be shoving a toothbrush up your ass to brush ‘em.” He threatened casually.
Namjoon shook his head, used to his threats. “Should I give Y/n your number then? Since you seem to be a little interested in her.” He asked, and Yoongi waved his hand dismissively.
“I have a daughter to take care of, music to make, and paparazzi to make insecure. You think I’m ready to pull another A-List celebrity into a relationship?” Yoongi chuckled.
“Not even a situationship?” Namjoon asked.
“Do you know how hard it is not to fall in love with me?” Yoongi asked, and Namjoon laughed loud enough to nearly wake Sarang up. “I’m not even fucking with you. I’m just stating statistical facts.” His tattooed arms shifted, moving Sarang to his left side.
“I’m fucking leaving, hyung. Bye. Good luck with your horny fangirls.” Namjoon waved, walking out of Yoongi’s home, locking the door behind him.
Yoongi, left in the silence of his home, carried his sleeping daughter to her room. She curled up in her bed, and he watched her for a moment, a fond smile on his face as she breathed softly. He hummed softly, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.
Of course he didn’t have time for anyone else.
He’s famous, he’s a father, there’s no privacy when it comes to fame, fortune, and family.
☏Summary: “Perceptions are hazardous,” she’d hear her mother say religiously. And that line meant a lot, way more than just a complex utterance of the sickly-sweet “Don’t judge a book by it’s cover” proverb. Perceptions are hazardous. It’s a common trait between humans to ignore or not to give an ounce of thought to the truth behind one’s falsified persona. When lawless dignitary, Jeon Jungkook, meets her, trailing after his own heart will become his only feat. But for her, this irrefutable truth about perception will be a weapon she could put to good use. In a world of deceit, pride and gluttony, one could only hope that the young man’s avid heart is aware of the possible ruinations.
☏Warnings:istg this shit makes me sound like i’m pro capitalism but i’m really not, i might also offend some art fanatics with this one, rich nigga issues (i guess), topics on racism, misogyny, religious imagery, themes of depression, apathetic houseworkers, toxic friendship, gossip girl hoseok, violence, mentions of blood, mild depressive episodes, childhood trauma, mentions of an abusive parent, smoking, sharing a cigar, alcohol, swearing, angst if you squint… like really hard, teeny weeny mentions of sex and very, veryimplicit mentions of suicide
quick a/n: brutal honesty; was your girl greatly discouraged in the course of writing this? well… hehehe. no but fr, i had spent a plentiful amount of time in HELL. was kinda goin through it… and it’s been a painful length of time, I know… and ngl, kinda hated the way it turned out for a hot minute, like, I really thought this was gonna suck. and let’s also add in my tiresome battle with writer’s block, cuz it literally took me 4 fucking months to finish this and get my shit together, and some of you have been waiting but I mean,,, had to pull my socks up and share because y’all gave the prologue SOOOOO MUCH LOVE. so ummm, it was one of my very few modes of encouragement, so thank you, from the deepest, most chasmic part of my heart, for the love… I mean it. So I uh… hope you enjoy, hehe!
You have a brilliant pace and flow while writing, reading your story feels so easy like I am flowing from one sentence to the next like traveling down a calm stream.
Characters are described rather well, I am having no trouble at all picturing the scenes your creating how each person is dressed, their mannerisms, movements and quirky behaviours.
I like the main characters determination and backstory, especially the relationship between her and her father. It’s not overbearingly thrown in your face that he is evil or anything but a simple animosity regarding her singing at a young age but super effective to give her a drive to pursue singing. I don’t know it’s such a small scene but it can have such a big impact on someone’s life to just drive them forward. It’s something I am sure so many people can relate to.
I find some of your phrases are different (I like them) and it really sticks with me, and becomes memorable within the scene. I am definitely understanding your author voice and I like it a lot. I can’t wait to see where the story goes, I am excited to read more.
I also love the representation of a black reader not just representation but good wholesome representation. I know there must be people of colour wanting their happy endings and stories to be able to indulge and lose themselves in. Not only is your writing well done it’s sending such a powerful message. I would love to talk about how I can improve writing for people of colour in my stories. If ever you want to share a conversation about it.
