Summary:Sometimes distance isn’t a space between two people, but cracks and crevices that build up over time. It’s what you learned after being married to Namjoon all these years. But all it takes is a trip back home and the acknowledgement of what your relationship has become, and the realization that it might be the final puncture that would make everything else break.
A/N: No excuse, just Instagram Namjoon and being husband material. But shoutout to my philosophy professor whose lectures on love and relationships have stuck with me (even if I never actually read Max Scheler’s work), and credits to our brilliant, loveable Namjoon whose words are too beautiful not to write about. This was supposed to be part of a ‘Coming Home: Short Story Collection’ inspired by the guys going home for the holidays but… the holidays passed, my hands slipped, and this happened. I still hope you enjoy it, though!
➬ Summary | When your countdown appeared on your wrist right on the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.
↳ Pairings | Jungkook x reader / Namjoon x reader
↳ Genre | Soulmate!au, Second Chances!au, Angst, Eventual Smut
There is nothing that Namjoon despises more than waking up to a warm morning with vicious throbbing happening inside his head.
The ache feels so potent that he can hear the sound of each throb echoing against his temple. He can even feel it all the way to his toes, feel how the world seems to move with it even when he is still lying in bed, unmoving. The kind of feeling that is completely unwelcome that he dreads opening his eyes.
He may not have always been a morning person, but Namjoon isn’t someone who would find himself in this predicament during a regular weekday, jeopardising what should have been a normally productive day for him. For years, Namjoon has maintained an image of himself where he is in complete control of his own self and need, always knows how to keep his composure in any given situation possible.
And yet, for the first time, he finds himself breaking all the rules and habits that he has created for himself. He can feel that contentment and control slipping out of his fingers only because he gave in to his sorrow. Even his body feels as if it is no longer his own, when every move he makes becomes a struggle and whatever he does only escalates it further.
Fucking hangover.
The entire room seems to tilt over whenever he tries to get up, while the spinning still doesn’t stop even when he closes his eyes to put everything to a halt, just like how he feels his world tilting and spinning in all directions. And it has been this way ever since the night he saw you at Bovine.
When his headache becomes too much, Namjoon gives up on trying and falls back on the bed. So far, his memory is a bit fuzzy and unclear. But as the pulsing headache slowly becomes numb, and just when he is not forcing himself to remember, they simply return to him, random bits and pieces of what had happened—starting from the night before to all day yesterday and then ending on the events unfolding just last night—come flooding back to him.
He remembers coming home late from the studio two nights ago, pissed at himself and feeling incredibly frustrated after his encounter with Jungkook that he decided to grab a bottle of liquor to soothe his uneasiness and wash down the aggravation that followed him home. Things didn’t turn better the next day, when he heard nothing from Jungkook and after he found out that his friend didn’t even make it to work.
Feeling lost, and distraught, thinking that Jungkook might have decided to spend the day with you to salvage and find some reassurance in his relationship with you, Namjoon spent the entire day being holed up inside his home, wallowing in his misery with the collection of liquors that he had kept in his home. He must have passed out or fallen asleep at some point because the next thing he realised, he had lost an entire day as it went past him. It was a miracle that he didn’t poison himself with all that alcohol, though he did remember stopping once in a while and the short naps he had in between helped him sober up each time. And yet even as time went by, even after all the effort that he had done to wash everything away with those liquors, the unsettling feeling inside his chest still lingered, as if it had been rooted so deeply inside him ever since the moment he had the talk with Jungkook.
It was sometime around sundown when he was awakened from another nap by the quick call that his assistant made to him from the lobby, notifying him about a guest who had come asking for him. The nap did so little to sober him up, and yet he made it to reach the front door, even with a few struggles as he tried not to stumble or fall over the coffee table on his way there.
The urgency of the phone call and how his assistant had stressed that he needed to hurry made him think that perhaps there was an emergency, something so urgent that he needed to deal with that nobody else could. He clearly was not expecting to find that the surprise guest that his assistant had sent to his door would be you.
It had taken him quite some time to process what he was seeing. At first, he had thought that he was dreaming when he saw you standing right outside of his home not too long after he was mulling over his situation with you. But then you charged at him, shoving him in anger and the pain he felt in his chest was enough to let him know that it was real. And he took every single thing you were throwing at him—every punch you gave to his chest and every word you screamed at him—so willingly. Because even in his haze, he still knew that he was responsible for everything that was happening.
That he was the reason why you were here.
And then you broke down right in front of him, and he nearly fell down with you when seeing you in that state had made him feel weak. Even now, as he is struggling to recover from his hangover, the dread that he felt from that moment still lingers inside him.
Once he feels steady enough to sit up, Namjoon leans back against the headrest, rubbing his palm across his bare chest as he can still feel the ghost of your touch that he had gotten from the moment you pushed him away and the fading warmth that he felt when he took you in his arms. The pain that you had inflicted on him was nothing compared to what he is feeling inside, though he knows now that he was also far too numb to feel anything last night compared to how raw he is feeling everything now.
But does he have a right to complain when he knows that you might be feeling more pain after what had happened? When what you had experienced had been too unbearable for you to deal with that not even his touch or his embrace had been enough to fix you.
That was why he had accepted everything that you gave him. Because he understood. And he took you in his arms because he understood how much you needed someone to hold you up and keep you from falling. Even if he couldn’t erase your pain, he knew that he had to offer you what he could give you then.
Although it doesn’t exactly justify what he did next.
It is the feeling of rage and disappointment that he has in himself that forces him to get up and leave his bed. He wastes no time and quickly freshens up, getting himself ready to face the repercussions as he marches out of his bedroom with the constant throbbing in his head accompanying every step he makes.
As he trots down his empty and silent home to reach the kitchen, Namjoon’s eyes linger on the locked door of the guest bedroom, the only other room in his penthouse that has rarely been used. Knowing what is waiting from the other side of the bedroom door gives him a sense of longing, even if he knows that he doesn’t deserve to even hope that something good may happen. Looking away from the room, his gaze falls on the foyer instead, right at the corner where he held you tight last night in his arms, holding you as an anchor that kept you from falling apart.
When he closes his eyes, he can still sense everything from that moment. Your warmth, the scent of your shampoo, the way you fit perfectly in his arms and how right it felt when you laid your head on his shoulder. That moment had been short, and yet it was still enough to make him feel complete. He felt as if his soul was awakened then, as if there had been a huge hole inside him that he kept carrying with him for years and you had managed to fill it so easily just by falling into his arms.
He had welcomed that feeling, just as he had welcomed his punishment from you. And he still remembers promising himself not to let you go, that he would always hold you up the same way, that he would never take any of it for granted just as long as he could keep you in his arms for as long as he could.
If only he didn’t royally fuck up right after, and let every chance of making it happen to slip away from his hands almost too soon.
Tormented by his guilt, Namjoon becomes determined to make things right. But first, he needs to make sure that he would do it while sober and that he would do everything the right way. While he has the coffee brewing on the kitchen counter, he picks up the phone and contacts the staff to take that first step of redeeming himself.
“Yes, sir?”
Namjoon clears his throat and keeps his voice low when he responds to his assistant. “Can you have the cook send out a complete breakfast set to my loft, please?”
“Anything specific, sir?”
Thinking and talking only worsen the ache lingering in his head. Closing his eyes, he presses his fingers on the bridge of his nose to try and stop his headache from rapidly increasing. “Nothing—just get me today’s special and some fresh fruit,” he says before quickly adding, “Make that two sets of everything.”
A movement catches his attention just as he ends the phone call, and he looks over to the guest bedroom and finds you standing in the doorway, looking like a deer caught in a headlight with your eyes looking around warily and your fingers fidgeting, as if you need to hold onto something to stop yourself from falling down again.
But what has his chest grow tight is the sight of you wearing his t-shirt, how it seems to be hanging loose on your body and its hem falling on your thighs. And he cannot deny how good it makes him feel to see you wearing something of his. The possessiveness that is building up inside him is driving him crazy, even more than how alcohol had driven his sanity to nothing but an intangible mess when he was supposed to be in control, even if it was only to offer support when you had most needed one.
His heartbeat starts pacing rapidly as he looks at your face and catches your eyes looking back at him, and more images from last night come rushing back to him. Not only for the comfortable warmth that he felt when he was holding you, but also for the cold realisation of how hurtful his actions had been to you last night.
“Perhaps it is a good thing that he is gone. Have you forgotten? You were supposed to be mine. Always have been.”
The dick comment that came out of his mouth makes him wince when he remembers ever voicing it out loud. He should have been consoling you instead of being a jackass about it and acted as if he was celebrating while you were in pain.
Namjoon would never be able to forget your reaction that came right after he said those things to you—the crestfallen look that took up your entire face, the pain in your eyes that became clear to him when they widened in shock after hearing his words, and how you pulled back so quickly, leaving Namjoon feeling mesmerised and too stunned to notice what you were about to do until it was too late. He didn’t realise what was happening until your palm landed right on his cheek and the sound of the loud slap you had landed on his face echoed through the foyer. He didn’t realise what had happened until his skin stung and the horrified gasp you made snapped him out of his shock.
Just as he recounts that very moment, his hand comes up to his cheek, touching the numbing pain on his skin. He is not entirely sure which one hurts the most—the slap of your palm that seems to linger or the constricting pain inside his chest that keeps rising and building when he tried to imagine what you were feeling then. But then everything comes to a halt once he looks at you again, the sight of you being engulfed in his oversized shirt and the knowledge that you had slept on his bed seems to calm his restless soul.
You clear your throat, looking flustered as you avoid his gaze while you remain standing there. “I think I should go…,” you murmur softly with a hoarse voice. “I know that I’ve overstayed my welcome. I shouldn’t have stayed anyway.”
“I was the one who offered. I couldn’t let you leave in the state that you were in last night,” Namjoon quickly says, wincing when he remembers how that night had ended. How right after you slapped him and while he was stunned into silence, you had somehow realised that he had been drunk when he opened the door for you, and how it pushed you to go around his kitchen and living room to find the missing bottle of liquor that he had left behind. His chest tightens when he recalls how you had then grabbed the bottle and started drinking your pain away, and how he couldn’t stop himself when—
Clearing his throat, Namjoon shakes the thoughts away and forces a smile. “And I don’t believe you are ready to go either. Why don’t you stay a bit longer and take your time until you settle down? At least stay for coffee and join me for breakfast. Maybe we can start all over and then later on, if you’d let me, I can lend my ear to listen or my shoulder to cry on if you want to.”
You open your mouth—ready to refuse him, no doubt—but stop yourself when you look conflicted. Knowing that you are at least considering it, Namjoon jumps at the chance and asks again,
“Please. It’s the least that I could do,” he says, quickly biting on his tongue to stop himself from saying, ’—after acting like such a schmuck to you last night.’
“We haven’t had a chance to talk either, have we? For us to talk properly, I mean, and without yelling at each other and while we are both sober,” he adds later on, drawing a smile to your face when you seem to realise that he is right. Namjoon’s lips turn to a wry smile when he realises that he had wasted the last few chances he had to talk to you before, how it had always ended with the both of you yelling hurtful things to each other instead of trying to figure out how to deal with the situation.
“Okay,” you whisper after a moment of silence, much to his relief, though he is still surprised that you would agree with him. Your gaze flickers toward the coffee machine as you sigh, before you meet his gaze again. “But I should probably freshen up real quick. Would you mind if I use the shower?” you ask him as you tilt your head towards the en-suite bathroom inside the room you had been sleeping in.
“By all means, help yourself,” Namjoon says with a genuine smile on his face, trying his best to hold back from adding—
Everything in this place will also be yours anyway. All of it.
It took you about 30 minutes to finish washing up.
Though it might have been more. You just know that you have lost track of time as you indulged in the luxury that the marvellous hot shower inside Namjoon’s en-suite bathroom had provided you.
It had not been your intention to stay that long in the shower, but after spending the first five minutes admiring his spacious guest bathroom and its entire fancy setup, it took you another five minutes filled with a lengthy pep talk about how much you deserved to enjoy this moment after what you have gone through before you could finally step into the shower. And you were soon filled with relief that you had talked yourself into taking it when you realised how good it felt as the hot water came running down your body. It almost felt like everything was being washed away—your fear, your pain, whatever was left from last night’s debacle—while the falling water felt more like magical fingers massaging your tense muscles until you could slowly relax. It had been too good and it felt like such a waste to step out early that you stayed longer than you should have, and you had only left when the hot water seemed to cool down and once your stomach began to protest, begging for breakfast.
After coming here completely on impulse and without carrying any personal belongings other than your small purse, you had worried about not having anything to change into. You can only sigh in defeat at the thought of the clothes that you were wearing yesterday turning into a complete mess after spilling some alcohol on yourself at some point following your impulsive act of barging into his home—hence why Namjoon had let you wear his t-shirt when it was somehow decided that you were staying for the night.
You had settled to the thought of wearing your dirty clothes again after your relaxing shower, telling yourself that you would only need to wear them on your way home anyway. But as you step out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fuzzy towel that you had found in the vanity earlier, you are surprised to find a pair of grey sweatpants and a fresh t-shirt left on the bed for you.
Taking no time to dress up, you bite down the smile that keeps trying to sneak its way to your face from thinking about how thoughtful he turns out to be. It feels like a complete turnaround after seeing the side of him that he had shown you last night, knowing that he cares enough to figure out about these things before you could.
The lavish breakfast setup and the scent of freshly brewed coffee welcome you when you walk out of the bedroom. For some reason, they bring some sense of warmth into Namjoon’s home, when all you had felt ever since you walked into this place has been nothing but hollowness. The place had seemed cold and so unfamiliar that it took you a lot of effort to feel comfortable when you laid to sleep last night. Seeing the vacant dining seats, you turn to find him standing all the way in the living room, looking out the massive window to watch over the city as it comes to life.
“This is a lot. Were you trying to feed an army?” you comment loudly before you can stop it, gaining his attention as he turns away from the window to look at you. The moment you meet his gaze, the smile on your face just comes to rise so easily, much to your surprise. And his, judging from the way he blinks rapidly as if he cannot believe what he is seeing. “Thank you for the clothes, by the way. I was already preparing myself to get through the day with the same clothes I was wearing yesterday.”
Namjoon smiles and shakes his head. “I thought you’d want something more comfortable to wear to make you feel better after that shower,” he says while making his way to you. The movement seems so natural that it almost feels like he is used to doing this—that he is used to having you here in his home. But Namjoon is quick to catch himself before getting too close, swiftly stopping and going around the table, taking the seat across from the one you are standing close to and putting the necessary distance between the two of you. “Come sit and eat with me.”
For a moment, you still feel hesitant to take his offer. Sitting here at the dining table with him seems too intimate, too soon, and too confusing. But there is something in his presence and in his words that seem to compel you into moving, eliminating every excuse that you could think of to escape as you easily slip into the empty chair right across from him without so much of a word.
The breakfast starts with silence, and for some reason, it feels oddly comfortable rather than it is being awkward to share this moment with him even when you barely know him. Things continue this way until Namjoon clears his throat and speaks first. “I want to apologise,” he starts, stopping briefly until you pay attention to him so he can continue, “I shouldn’t have said what I said to you, that was wrong of me. I won’t even justify my condition as it happened. I was drunk and caught off guard with the situation, but none of those things should give me the excuse to be an asshole.”
Your lips curl up to a small smile before you can stop yourself. “So you do realise that you were being an asshole?”
Namjoon scoffs in response to your teasing, though his shoulders sag in relief somewhat when you merely joke about it instead of yelling at him like how he seemed to have expected you to. “It’s quite hard not to,” he says with a shrug while giving you a remorseful smile that seems genuine. “I shouldn’t have said such a thing when you were going through so much already. Your life had changed irrevocably in the span of, what—hours?—after years of living in the stability which you had built with Jungkook as a huge part of your life. While it sucks for me to think about it, I understood. And it was way out of line for me to say such a thing when what you needed was someone to hold you up while you were falling.”
Once again, you are stunned speechless. His apology was something that you had expected to hear, but you had initially thought that he would simply say “I’m sorry” and then be done with it. And yet here he is, giving you such a lengthy apology and looking so terribly sincere with every word he says that you feel warmth blooming in your chest. There is also something else tugging within you as he was speaking, something that has your heart pumping and coming alive.
“You’re forgiven. For now,” you whisper to him as you return his gaze. With a sigh, you shake your head and murmur softly, “It must’ve been a shock to you when I came here unannounced, and to top it all, I created a scene—” you stop for a moment and your gaze flicker towards the living room, where the ‘scene’ from last night had happened. You wince when you remember how unruly your behaviour had been and add, “—and made a whole mess at your home when you probably wanted to have some alone time. And for that, I owe you an apology too.”
Instead of taking it, Namjoon only shakes his head. “There is no need for that. You were frustrated and needed someone to yell at. Someone you could put the blame on for everything that had gone down and I had been the most eligible bastard who deserved it, so I’m not going to blame you to take that opportunity when you could,” he says with a smile, drawing a chuckle out of you. But then he lowers his gaze, and the look that he is giving you is filled with concern as he watches you from under his eyelids. “Not to mention—it wouldn’t be fair for you to deal with this on your own when I have just as much part in this as you are.”
With his words reminding you of what had happened, the pain returns inside your chest, and you swallow hard to stop it from becoming stronger before it takes away your calm just when you finally start feeling better. Saying nothing about it, you lower your head and nod. “I didn’t know where I should run to,” you whisper, admitting how lost you had felt when Jungkook left. “And you were right, the moment I found out that Jungkook had learned everything from you, I acted out of instinct and rushed out here to—”
You look up at him just then, finding him lifting his eyebrows when you fail to finish your sentence. “To do what?” he asks, speaking softly and teasingly at the same time. “To punish me? To punch my face and release your anger?”
“All of the above, I suppose,” you answer him, allowing a shy grin to take over your face when he simply does the same. Although the grin quickly fades when your gaze falls onto his cheek, seeing the slightly pinkish shade on his skin which seems to take its time to fade and feeling the tingle on your palm that returns when you remember what you had done.
“I’m sorry, though. For assaulting you last night,” you start to apologise. Your cheeks are beginning to feel warm when you think about how reckless you had been, but you disguise it when you lift your hand and point it at him. “You know, the uhm—” you say to him, stopping to wave a hand at his cheek. “I’m sorry for slapping you.”
Namjoon laughs. “I already told you, I deserved it,” he says with a dimpled smile that has your heartbeat going so fast it nearly takes your breath away with it.
Your gazes lock to one another for a brief moment, and the air around you seems to sizzle. It prickles on your skin and makes your cheeks grow hot that you instantly look away to cease whatever it is that seems to be building between you. It is the connection, your conscience continues to remind you, but you deny it by simply ignoring it, refusing to acknowledge it for the sake of keeping it from becoming real. Thankfully, Namjoon no longer pays attention to you since the moment you severed that connection, already has his eyes on his phone as he continues to finish his simple meal, unaware that you now have your eyes on him again.
Your eyes linger on his face for a moment, silently taking him in while you have the chance to. The memory you have had of him from college and the pictures you have seen over the past few years have done no justice to what you are seeing up close. If you had thought that Jungkook is a perfect specimen of a human being, then Namjoon is—well, a different kind of perfect. While you have no intention of comparing him with your missing fiancé, there is no helping it when you keep seeing Jungkook’s face inside your head while you have your gaze on this man.
The one thing that you love about Jungkook is the soft features he has on his face even when his body is all firm and strong, but with Namjoon, everything about him is all hard, and all male. From the sharp lines on his face to his hard chest—you still remember how he felt under your palms when he pressed you against him—and his strong arms that made you feel small when he held you in his embrace.
As much as you hate to admit it, there is simply no way that you could possibly deny the attraction that is slowly beginning to sink in before you ever had the chance to realise it. When did it happen? Was it an instant pull, right when the soulmate bond snapped into place the night Namjoon’s mark appeared on his wrist? Or did it happen last night, right after you unleashed your anger on him and then you—
Your gaze trails down to find his lips, and almost instinctively the tingles start appearing on your lips just as you are once again taken back to last night, when in the middle of your frenzy, right when your mind was still clouded in the thick haze of your heartbreak and while you were slowly losing all control against the soulmate pull that your body simply—gave in. Right at that moment, you close your eyes, hoping that it would be enough to erase the flashing image of what happened in your blunder, only to feel your stomach dip when you fail and the memory returns.
Why did I have to kiss him?
You reach up and press your fingers on your lips, hoping to wipe the sensation away. But even as you try to do it by brushing your fingers across your lips, you can still feel it coming back to you each time the memory returns, and every single time it happens, your chest tightens with guilt.
It wasn’t that the kiss had been intended. Your emotions had been completely out of control, and the strong alcohol that you had drunk in the desperate need of erasing your pain must have clouded your judgement. You faintly remember Namjoon rushing to stop you from finishing his bottle, yet it only caused your rage to rise further, and you pushed him away while calling him names and accusing him to be petty and selfish for not wanting to share his drink. And when he finally caught your arm and glared at you to reprimand you, when the shove you gave against his chest wasn’t strong enough to draw him away, you ended up grabbing him by his collars and pulled him down until you could press your lips on his.
The kiss was meant to be brief, just something to shut him up because half of your mind had been thinking of smacking his lips with your palm and it was almost as if your body simply decided that using your lips would be a better idea. Clearly, your mind had already short-circuited just then to react so impulsively before you even realised what you were doing.
Despite the numbness and everything about last night that had become nothing but blurry fragments of moments, you still remember everything about the kiss. You still remember how his body stiffened when you reached out and pulled him down and how he was unmoving for a moment when you pressed your lips on his. You still remember how soft and tender his lips had felt when he began to reciprocate and pressed them against yours instead of pulling away, how he took over and seized control until your head spun with delight.
And you cannot deny the fact that your body came alight upon contact and how the tingles kept rising in the heat of the kiss, how it felt just as intoxicating as the drinks that you stole from him that you kept leaning in when he started to deepen the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip in while his hands pulled you closer to him. But the worse part of it all is the fact that instead of pushing him away, you simply relished the way your whole body was burning from the inside and out.
Thinking about it now makes your cheeks burn and your body heats up once more, but you shake it away. You had tried to convince yourself that it would be better for you to forget that it ever happened and move on. But now that he had put everything out in the open, after both of you had been so willing to own up to your mistakes, that decision simply flies out the window and you give in to the guilt that you are feeling inside.
Lowering your head to hide your burning face, you murmur to him, “Then I’m sorry for kissing you. That was—for the lack of a better word, completely inappropriate.” Unsurprisingly, hearing this only makes his smile grow wider, the dimples on his cheeks deepen when he chuckles so pleasingly as if he enjoys seeing you so flustered.
“I’m honestly not too sorry about it,” he softly says, and you almost swear that your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, most specifically when he slowly lifts his intense gaze to yours. You try to act like his words have no effect on you, but you doubt that you can hide it well when a grin comes onto his face. “But all is forgiven. Neither of us had been in our right minds when it happened.”
His words should be giving you some sense of relief, and yet again, your body reacts differently, when a rush of warmth engulfs you. It makes it even harder to deny it when both his words and the way he is looking at you are making you feel—wanted,even if you know that it is only coming from the bond you have between you and nothing else.
Nothing like what you share with Jungkook.
You say nothing to respond to his words, then simply turn away to enjoy your coffee so you would stop getting drawn to his intense gaze. “I don’t remember seeing you cook and there is no traces left in the kitchen showing me that you prepared breakfast while I was in the shower. Except for the coffee. Do you have staff helping you with all of this?” you ask him once another moment of silence settles in, choosing to change the topic just so you can stop thinking about the kiss again, which happens whenever your mind is idle.
Namjoon smiles bashfully. “I do. The staff belongs to the exclusive floors in this building, though. My boss, the benefactor behind the recording company, owns this building, and the staff is always on standby just in case we need anything. They always send me breakfast in the morning. All I had to do was ask for some extra portions so I can have you join me this morning.”
“You must have done it often, haven’t you? Invite someone to stay the night, feed them with lavish breakfast in the morning to woo them—” You have no idea where this thought had come from or what you are trying to accomplish by saying them out loud. And you certainly have not expected to feel a pang of jealousy for picturing all those women he had taken photos with sitting on this very same table with him, possibly in a more intimate way. You clutch onto your cold glass of water to stop yourself from pressing your palm onto your chest, right where the sting is coming from, though the feeling is quick to be replaced with guilt.
Because if knowing that he had shared his life with others before hurts you, even knowing that all he had gone through had been nothing more but short term relationships or flings, then how had he felt when he had to watch you with Jungkook?
“You may not believe me,” Namjoon speaks after clearing his throat, and you lift your eyes to find him looking straight at you so intensely that it makes you shudder in your seat. “But I’ve never invited anyone to stay the night here, or have the staff cook for them. Except for my family, of course.”
“Really? Not even your past girlfriends?”
You immediately regret asking him this when a spark of mirth comes to his eyes. When he seems intrigued at the fact that you are asking him about his past love life.
“How did you know that I’ve been with anyone else before?”
Gritting your teeth, you bite back the response that might end up with you confessing to him that you have been keeping up with his life over the past few years. It didn’t happen often, and not always on purpose either, when his photos just basically appeared even when you were not searching for anything related to him. With a forced smile, you simply answer him with, “Lucky guess. After all, you have always had a date clinging to your arms on the two occasions we met. Surely, it wouldn’t be wrong of me to assume that there are others in between.”
Namjoon blinks. Whether or not he believes you is not really your problem, though you are surprised to see a mix of shock and guilt in his eyes for a brief moment—and maybe a semblance of shame—before everything fades in the next blink. However, he still keeps his eyes on you when he says, “There had been a few casual relationships that I’ve shared in the past, some casual flings, nothing truly serious. Some of the women that people may have seen with me as my date have also been a part of—” he grimaces, “Well, you may call it as special arrangements.”
“What do you mean?”
Namjoon shrugs and gives you a small smile. “It means it was nothing but that, a front to show the public that I had connections. It helped boost the business when I showed up on dates with people who mattered in the business and it mostly helped them at the same time as showing up with me in public put their name out there for people and the media to recognise,” he says, once again surprising you when instead of telling you this while wearing a sense of pride on his face, all that you see on his face is a hint of shame, before he puts on another mask, and he wears a determined look on his face when he says, “So, the answer is no. They’ve never spent the night here and I’ve never opened my home to them. While I can’t say that I’m a saint either, I have had flings, friends with benefits, women that I could call when I needed a company, and oftentimes the public date that people were seeing me in would continue for the rest of the night, if you know what I mean. I can’t tell you all the details, but—” he stops to look at you in the eyes to add, “The time I spent with them had never been spent here, not in my home.”
Clearly, you have no idea how to react to that, or how to respond when he is looking at you with some sort of a hopeful look in his eyes. How could you even say anything when he just opens up that part of his life so easily, to be so easily honest instead of putting up a front just to amuse you? Unable to find anything to say, you look away, nodding at him as you tell him, “I see. Well, what you do at your personal time isn’t truly my business, is it?”
“Did. What I did in my personal time—” he quickly says with a firm voice, drawing you to find his eyes again. “Things have changed. It has to be.”
“You don’t have to change anything just because—” you begin to speak, hating the way your heart is giving some happy little flops in your chest just for hearing him say those things. Because it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. And you shouldn’t be jumping up and down in joy when his life doesn’t concern you. “We don’t even know each other to be saying things like this.”
“Then perhaps we can change that.”
“What?”
With a sigh, Namjoon leans forward to get closer to you, his eyes never waver from your face as he speaks, bringing back everything that had once been said between you the last time you met.
Before Jungkook left to give you space.
“Perhaps we can take this chance to get to know each other better. Past the memory of me being the douchebag who talked shit about the soulmate system and ignored you while you were waiting to see me, past the knowledge of me being Jungkook’s friend or the man who put up a front as if I have had a glorious love life in the past,” he says, and you can swear that there is a fire in his eyes, a look that tells you that he is not backing down. Not from this one.
“There is a reason why the universe had put the both of us together and matched us since birth. There is a reason why fate still insisted that we met, regardless of what had happened to us in the past that had kept us apart. Don’t you want to know what reason that might be?”
The weight of Namjoon’s offer sits with you all through breakfast. While it doesn’t do much to ruin the serene moment that you have been sharing with Namjoon right until the moment he said the words, it still has you growing weary and uneasy for the rest of the morning you spend with him.
It becomes a wonder for you when you manage to walk away from the dining table completely unscathed, even if your mind continues reeling over it without even being able to give him a sold answer. As if he can sense it, Namjoon merely smiles when you fall silent after hearing his offer and suggests that you would take your time to consider it.
“You don’t have to give me an answer or agree with it right away. Try to think about it, don’t let me force or affect any decision you make,” he says, before changing the topic just when you come close to start thinking of ways to escape and flee out of his home.
By noon, you are back at your apartment, sitting on the sofa right in front of the television, its empty screen looking back at you. Namjoon had sent his driver to take you home merely an hour ago, right around the same time he had suddenly acquired some motivation to get back to work and had decided that the driver would be of better use to drive you home while he did his duty from his fancy penthouse.
Feeling drained and sensing no other emotions but the emptiness that had followed you since the day before, you had fallen onto this sofa moments after you walked in and you have yet to move away from it since. You should be mulling over his offer, or perhaps plan out what to do to get Jungkook back and have him talk to you. But you are too numb to do anything, much less to function when you can barely think clearly, as if both your body and mind have shut down ever since you returned to your empty home.
Home.
Looking around, you take in your surroundings, gazing at the space that you had built together with Jungkook as a place where you would be—should have been—building your future together. You look at the beige-coloured walls around you which have been adorned with various framed pictures of the two of you and posters of everything that you both enjoy in life, at the room that is filled with all the mementoes that you have collected together with Jungkook through all the years you spent together.
Your mind takes you back to Namjoon’s home, which had appeared a complete contrast to your own. Despite calling it his personal space, Namjoon’s penthouse seemed scarce of intimate touches. It had felt too impersonal for you, with only essential things filling his home instead of the things that would make his personal space homely, with monochrome colours painting all the walls, spaces, and furnitures which seemed to be the opposite of the vibrant colours that you could find in yourhome.
And yet, as you are sitting here on your own, this apartment suddenly feels colder, hollow, as if the warmth that has been a huge part of it has been sucked dry the moment Jungkook stepped out of the door, the moment every bit of hope that you have built simply shattered when he turned away from you, taking all of that hope and your joy away while taking away your right to choose.
With a sharp inhale of breath, you finally snap out of it, and you soon fall in motion to start picking your life back up as much as possible.
You start by contacting your workplace, while you had informed your co-workers of your absence for the past two days, you decide to make it clear that the ‘family emergency’ you are currently dealing with will take some more time to fix and that you will need to take an early vacation leave before you can return to work. Then you start making more phone calls, sending out texts, doing the best you can to trace Jungkook’s whereabouts and confirm that he is okay, that perhaps you can find him and drag him back home to you.
Your stomach dips when Jungkook’s brother contacts you back only to let you know that your fiancé has yet to appear back at their hometown—not at their parents’ house, not at the brother’s house, and nowhere near their other relatives or old friends. Another call confirms what Namjoon had told you that Jungkook has yet to step foot at the company either, while none of your close friends claims to have been contacted by Jungkook since the day he was gone.
It takes a lot of convincing and pleading to Jungkook’s brother to make him believe that nothing is wrong and to make him promise that he wouldn’t let the news reach their parents. And it takes you a lot of vague explanations to answer all the questions that your friends throw at you with each call or text to keep them from finding out what is actually happening.
Your sister is the last person you call, and her voice immediately feels like a warm hug. Even before you start explaining to her all the details, Gahee seems to have sensed it, as if she had been expecting to receive this call for a long time.
“Gosh, I’m so sorry, _____, I have no idea what to say. Do you want to stay here with us until he comes back? Youngjae has a conference to attend out of town this weekend and I was just about to ask you to stay here to keep me company and help out with Gyeoul anyway,” she softly says.
“I don’t know,” you whisper into the call. “I want to be here if—when he comes back.” Your throat feels constricted that you can barely say those words, and you realise just how unconvincing you sounded even to yourself. Your eyes begin to prickle and burn with tears for the lost hope, but you suck a deep breath and hold everything in. Only for your effort to turn futile when your sister offers,
“I know that you want to wait for him. But would it be a good idea to wait on your own? At least when you’re here, you have Gyeoul and me to distract you. You wouldn’t have everything that reminds you of him suffocating and torturing you in your wait.”
Suffocating? Is that what this place is making me feel?
You begin to wonder about this just when your chest grows even tighter the moment your eyes fall on one of the photos that Jungkook had put on display. An old photo of you taken on your birthday two years ago.
You close your eyes briefly before taking another look around you just as you end the phone call. Not a moment too soon, the silence sinks in, as if it has been waiting in the shadows, lurking around you until the moment you are no longer busy with calls and texts to finally notice it and it would finally engulf you, wrapping itself around you until you find it hard to simply breathe.
Right at that moment, you know that you would never be able to survive sitting here in your silence and in the not knowing only to wait helplessly for Jungkook’s return. Determined to not let yourself drown in sorrow, you finally make your move.
By dusk, you have your personal things packed up. Essential things that you would need to get through the upcoming days and only enough spare clothes to get through the week. By nightfall, you are sitting inside an Uber ride taking you across the city. The hollowness follows you even after you are kilometres away from your apartment, though you can slowly feel it fading, chipped in with every added distance. You try not to think too much about where you are heading to, keeping your eyes looking out the window and watching closely at the city that still thrives while your entire world seems to be falling apart.
By the time you reach your destination, your chest no longer feels tight, though you still feel completely numb. And it doesn’t help eliminate your spiking nerves as you stand right in front of the doorway, your heart stammering in your chest as you are waiting for it to be opened.
The sound of the keys and the door clicking open feels like a gavel coming down to seal your fate. A sense of uncertainty plagues you as you are standing there, though it all fades so quickly when you lift your face and meet Namjoon’s eyes.
“I—I don’t know why I’m here, but—”
Once again, you feel as if your throat is clogged when you are not even completely sure how to explain yourself. The last thing you remember was feeling the dread of loneliness while being alone inside your home. That intense feeling had pulled you right out of it to find solace, only to lead you all the way here, back to his door.
While you are busy questioning yourself, Namjoon simply smiles at you and steps aside, widening the door behind him so you could step right past him. There is no question in his eyes, no doubt in his smile, and there is nothing but pure warmth engulfing you when he says,
“Come in. You’re always welcome here, _____.”
➥ Author’s note | Forgive me for the wait, but this one took a bit of time to finish. As you may have noticed, I have added another chapter on the masterpost. I have decided to split the original chapter into two, with chapter 8 as the filler chapter, while more intriguing stuff will happen later on chapter 9. I hope you enjoyed reading this one. Thank you for joining this emotional ride. Any feedback is welcome!
➬ Summary | When your countdown appeared on your wrist right on the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.
↳ Pairings | Jungkook x reader / Namjoon x reader
↳ Genre | Soulmate!au, Second Chances!au, Angst, Eventual Smut
➥ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; mentions of alcohol consumptions/hangover, implied/depiction of a one-night-stand, possible infidelity, implied smut, sexual tension.
Jungkook can sense it even before he opens his eyes. Even the fog that seems to fill the crevices in his head can do nothing to stop him from noticing how foreign everything around him feels.
The warmth enveloping him.
The soft touch of sheets under his palms.
The thick, plushy pillows where his head seems to be resting on.
The feminine scent of perfume that seems to be wafting through the air around him, gently breezing past him like delicate hands teasing on his skin.
As he slowly finds the strength to open his eyes and force himself to wake up, Jungkook’s eyes flutter open to the warm morning sun greeting him from the open windows. As he stretches out his sore limbs, little by little, the remaining haze of his sleep is lifted, and he stops moving as he is immediately met with an astounding sight of his surroundings. His eyes grow wide the moment he realises that he has indeed fallen asleep in a completely different bedroom, lying on a different bed, with windows on the opposite side of the walls that are nearly twice as big as the ones that he has been looking out of since he had gotten on this island. He looks around, and everything that he is seeing officially confirms that he had not been sleeping in Yugyeom’s room.
His heartbeat begins to race in a state of panic, not knowing where he is. And while he rarely ever had any experience of waking up with a hangover or having any piece of his memory missing after spending the night out drinking, Jungkook quickly finds that he has no clear idea of what had truly happened last night. The last thing he remembers is sitting at the bar with Tasha, the one person he would have never expected to meet in such a place.
They haven’t met each other even once after their first and last encounter at Bovine months ago, yet it certainly felt as if they had been old friends the moment they started to talk to each other. Last night, they spent hours sharing drinks, exchanging stories, and laughing at the things they found astounding from any topic that they brought up while admiring the serenity that they found from spilling their thoughts about the universe and the lives of all human beings who are living in it.
Sitting up on the bed, Jungkook finds himself still wearing last night’s clothes. The faint headache that has come up when he was trying to move easily fades as he leans back against the headrest, though he still feels as if his entire energy has been depleted after all that drinking last night that he refuses to make any other move despite the urge to investigate further to find out where he is.
Letting his head fall back, he closes his eyes, trying to regain his memory and figure out just how he had gotten here. It is then when he hears someone knocking at the door. He barely has the chance to open his eyes or to even respond when the door opens and the slow movement happening at the door catches his attention.
“Knock, knock.”
Jungkook quickly turns to the doorway, blinking rapidly when he finds Tasha standing there while leaning against the door frame. Wearing simple clothing—a plain white T-shirt over a pair of pastel-coloured leggings, which is a complete contrast to the dress that she had worn last night—she looks refreshed, ready to start the day. And she also looks completely unaffected by the drinks that she had last night.
Jungkook’s eyes fall on her exposed wrist. The sight of the purple hydrangea tattoo appearing on her skin reminds him of the conversation that they both had last night. His eyes are still on her wrist when she raises her hand, lifting the mug that she has been carrying with her to cover the bright smile showing on her face. Her eyes seem to glint under the sunlight, clearly looking amused at what she is seeing, and her eyebrows are raised as she watches Jungkook silently trying to piece everything together. The frown he is wearing on his face clearly shows just how much he is struggling to do so.
“Wake up, sleepyhead. Don’t you even think about going back to sleep now,” Tasha greets him, finally snapping him out of it.
“What—” Jungkook straightens up further and glances around. “What happened last night? Is this your place? How did I get here?”
Instead of answering him, Tasha merely smiles at him. “Why don’t you freshen up first and then we’ll talk over breakfast? Or coffee? Do you drink coffee?” Jungkook absently nods while still looking like a lost puppy, so Tasha simply continues to talk. “Go take a shower. The bathroom is over there,” she says, pointing at the door on the other side of the room which seems to be leading to the ensuite bathroom. “I’ll have everything ready and have someone fetch you some fresh clothes to change into once you’re done.”
Jungkook opens his mouth to respond, but misses his chance to say anything when Tasha has already slipped away from the door when he turns to find her again. Deciding that he wouldn’t be getting any answers by staying put on the bed that feels almost too comfortable for him to lie on, he rushes towards the bathroom to freshen up, taking his time with it until he can finally find some clarity.
Even if he still can’t remember a few things from last night which had led him to end up in Tasha’s place. And in her bed, nonetheless.
He finds the clothes just as promised when he finally steps out of the bathroom, all prepared for him on the bed. The dark-coloured shirt and pants seem to fit him suspiciously well, but he chooses not to think much about it as he walks out of the bedroom. On his way to find Tasha, Jungkook looks around and soon finds that he is in a loft that looks like a part of the resort where he had been spending his night, judging from the familiar view of the beach and the ocean that he can see through the windows. He follows the scent of brewing coffee to find Tasha getting busy in the kitchen, surprising him as he sees her cooking on the stove herself instead of having her staff do it for her.
“Go take a seat. I’ll be ready in a minute,” she calls out to him while moving fluently around the kitchen, fetching him the coffee that she had made like a pro. “I have no idea what kind of coffee you’re into so I made a light one. I’ve put some extra cream on the side if you want some more.”
Jungkook takes the mug filled with coffee and turns away, deciding to take a look around rather than sitting idly by as he feels too restless to do so when he has a ton of questions running inside his head. He finds the living room looking homey and comfortable, a sign that she has been using this place quite often as her personal living space. He walks past the large-sized television hanging on one wall before stopping in front of a drawer nearby where he finds a few framed pictures being placed on display.
Looking at them makes his chest grow tight. He sucks a deep breath to ease the pain, though it seems too hard for him to do so when he only remembers how this setup reminds him too much of what he has back home—how you have decorated his living room in a similar way, with a low drawer full of trinkets holding various framed pictures on top that documented his entire life together with you.
Shaking his head, Jungkook focuses back on the pictures in front of him and starts to look closer into them. Most of them seem to have been taken while Tasha was travelling to different places as they are showing Tasha posing in various locations—either somewhere in South Korea or abroad—while some others are showing images of her with her family and friends. Then he stops as he finds a wedding photo placed near the center. The picture is showing a man wearing his wedding suit while smiling broadly with his arm wrapped around a younger woman who appears to be his bride pressed onto his left side. On his right, held under his other arm is Tasha, who is smiling warmly into the frame while she keeps her hand on the man’s chest as she stands politely close to him.
“Is this your family? I don’t recall you ever telling me that you have a brother,” he starts asking before he can stop himself. For a moment, he gets nothing but silence, until Tasha’s voice comes startling him once she has moved to stand next to him.
“That’s because I don’t. I’m an only child,” she says.
“Then, who are these people?”
Reaching out to pick up the photo, Tasha releases a soft sigh. “Oh, he’s my soulmate. But he’s married to someone else,” she easily says to him, catching him by surprise that he snaps his head to look at her with wide eyes, only to see her smiling back. “That’s his wife on his left. The photo was taken on their wedding day.”
Seeing that Jungkook is left too stunned to speak, Tasha softly laughs and places the framed photo back in its previous place before wrapping her hands around his arm to pull him away. “You’re in shock. I get it. Why don’t we sit down, have some breakfast and coffee so we can get rid of that hangover of yours while we talk? I’ll tell you everything about them.”
“You’re being too quiet.”
Jungkook looks up from his second cup of coffee—light, a bit sweeter and with extra cream, just like how she had suggested for him to take since she only makes strong ones—and returns Tasha’s gaze.
“You can probably see that I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything,” he says to her after a beat of silence and once he realises that he had barely touched his meal despite feeling the hunger ever since he woke up earlier. With a sigh, Jungkook decides to be honest and share what he has been thinking. “I have so many questions that I don’t know just where to start.”
Tasha nods and places her own mug of coffee down on the table. “Well, I can begin by telling you that nothing happened between us after we finished our last drink. You were drunk, not to the point that you blacked out because of it, but enough to make it hard for me to drag you home. I had Hyuk, the bartender, helping me to carry you out of the place safely, but then you refused to go home. You kept telling me that your friend wouldn’t be home and you refused to tell me his address, so I figured it would have been easier for me to drag you here instead since we’re only a few floors down.”
Jungkook has suspected this but still grimaces as he imagines the chaos that he had created. “I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble.”
Tasha waves her hand. “Oh, it’s fine. I already got something good out of it, at least. Consider us even,” she says to him with a wink and an elated smile taking over her face, while Jungkook’s face feels warm when he remembers seeing the aforementioned bartender from last night walking out of another bedroom merely moments before Jungkook sat down at the dining table. The man looked freshly showered and was refusing to join breakfast, saying that he needed to get back to work before his boss would scold him for slacking off. Though the man didn’t leave before kissing Tasha right on the lips one last time and promising to return for the night once he is off the clock and if she ever needs his company.
Jungkook has no idea how to feel about knowing that his new female friend was having a fling coming by while he was passed out right next door. But the bartender didn’t seem to mind it, nor did he seem to care about Jungkook’s presence in the room at all, and Tasha did apologise for taking the chance to have fun while he was out of it. At least the revelation had allowed him to breathe a sigh of relief, as it had confirmed everything that Tasha had just told him, that he truly hadn’t done anything stupid while he was crazy drunk.
Jungkook turns his gaze around the room to find the photo that he had found earlier, placed right at the spot where it would be visible even from the distance. “You and your soulmate—” he begins to question her. “What happened between you?”
Tasha raises her pretty eyebrows before her eyes find the very same photo that had caught Jungkook’s attention. A deep sigh slips out of her, though there is nothing more but affection and longing in her eyes when she thinks about the past. “I met Wooyoung in freshman year. He’s much older than I am and was already graduating then. We met during a joint event held between the university that I was studying in and the neighbouring university he was still enrolled in. It was a huge shock for us both when we met, to say the least, one that I had expected, with my timer running out before I stumbled into his path. I don’t really think either of us had been fully prepared for it either, so neither of us knew how to react. And then I found out that he had fallen in love with his childhood best friend who was also present at the time. They had been dating for years already.”
Tasha stops for a moment, taking a deep breath as she recalls the past. There is a faraway look in her eyes. Though, to Jungkook’s surprise, she looks more amused than hurt as she remembers what happened.
“Things were rough right after. Wooyoung and I tried to work things out and figure out how to handle things. You have probably guessed it, but the soulmate bond came to us so strong that it was hard for us to ignore it. But then, soon enough, we both realised that the only reason we were both attracted to each other was onlybecause of the soulmate bond while his first love would always remain to have a special place in his heart,” she slowly adds, smiling softly as the memory returns to her. “We sat down together after we figured it out—the three of us—and had a long talk about our future. They told me about her soulmate, how she had found out on her eighteenth birthday that she had lost him before ever meeting him the moment she saw that her mark appeared immediately after her timer ran out and once the cursive letter showed up on her skin, writing in red ink—”
Jungkook flinches and starts to brush his fingers absentmindedly on his own wrist as he remembers his own experience with his soulmate mark. He still remembers that morning as if it had only happened a short while ago. How he witnessed the numbers appearing on his skin, how his breath stilled when he saw how fast the timer had counted down to zero, and how the purple petals bloomed right after, before his soulmate’s initials began to write themselves in red cursive letters. He clenches his hands when he imagines that traumatic event happening to someone else. Someone like the bride in the photo that Tasha has kept between the other memorabilia gracing her home, who he had seen smiling so prettily and kindly to the camera with her eyes glowing in unshed tears of happiness.
When he looks up again, he finds Tasha staring back at him with a knowing look in her eyes, as if she knows exactly where his mind has been wandering to. “Yes, just like yours,” she whispers, nodding at his wrist. “At first, Wooyoung only wanted to stay beside her to support her, to help her deal with her heartbreak and help her get through until she could learn to love someone else. But love bloomed between them during that time. Before they even knew it, they were slowly building their future together. Until the day I came barrelling into their lives. Literally.”
Tasha softly laughs as she describes how she had crossed Wooyoung’s path at the campus festival, how she had tripped and nearly fall before he caught her, the perfect portrayal of how she came into their lives without any warning. Jungkook smiles as he listens to her story before a frown comes to his face. “It must have been rough on you to witness that.”
Smiling softly at him, Tasha simply lifts her shoulders. “It was, at first. But I got over it when I saw how much they were completely in love with each other,” she says, surprising Jungkook further when he sees the deep love in her eyes as she talks about her soulmate and his wife together. “There was never a place for me in their lives, other than what I’ve earned for helping them.”
“I don’t understand,” Jungkook murmurs, tilting his head.
With a sly grin on her face, Tasha leans closer to whisper as if she is sharing a big secret and someone else would be listening in. “You see, I helped them get married,” she says, and her grin grows wider as Jungkook’s eyes widen in shock. “They wanted to elope when their families were against them getting together. Especially when Wooyoung’s family found out by chance that I was his actual soulmate. So I pretended to steal him away from his lover, when in reality, I was flying them both off to one of the resorts that my Dad’s company was partnered with in Fiji so they could get married there. Of course, I had to come with them as an alibi for my absence and to act as their witness.”
“Why?” Jungkook gasps. “Why would you do that?” he questions her, though deep down, he can already guess what her reasoning might be.
Tasha leans back with a low chuckle. “I already told you once, didn’t I? I’m a sucker for romance. I love the whole idea of love, and to the idea of shoving your middle finger to the universe to show them that they are not always right and they don’t always get to decide who we fall in love with,” she says, laughing softly as if she is picturing herself doing it, to put her hand up and show her middle finger to the sky and to the universe that had tried to play around with her fate. “It also helped that Wooyoung was a complete stranger to me at the time and the bond only made me look at him more like an older brother than a possible lover once we got close to each other.”
Jungkook falls silent for a moment. “What did your family think? Your father?”
As he mentions her father, Tasha releases a deep sigh. “My Dad was a tough one to crack, but he was the first person to understand. I’ve always been a Daddy’s girl, being the only child he had ever gotten from his marriage with my Mom. He had wanted to have a son for a long time, but had initially come to love me just the same. As I was his only baby, he did get worried, at first. But I managed to convince him that it was my choice, and by choosing to help the one I was intended to be with to be together with the love of his life, I had somehow proven to him that I was someone who knew my priorities well and that I would know how to take care of the people I came to care about. Just exactly the kind of person he needed to inherit his entire business empire.”
Tasha smiles to herself as she recalls the events happening then, when she remembers how she had defied her own family. “He gave in after I promised that I would make it up by working my ass off to help him with the family business and to never shut away from any possibilities of finding my own life partner who would be good to me in the future once I’m ready for it.”
Once again, Jungkook is silent as he slowly lets everything that Tasha had just shared with him to sink in. Slowly sipping on his coffee, he begins to compare Tasha’s past to his current life. “Is that why you’ve been helping me? The reason why you took me home? Have you been planning to tell me all of this all along?”
Tasha smiles at him. “I took you home because it was what friends do to make sure the person they’re with is safe for the night. But yes, I did have a purpose for taking you with me and I have a reason for telling you all of this. I just want you to see that there is always another way. Another path to choose. We always have that choice, no matter what the world is making us believe when it comes to the silly soulmate system. It’s only a matter of whether or not we are brave enough to take it,” she slowly explains, before leaning closer once again. “I know what you’re doing. You’re giving them space to figure things out, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here instead of staying back there with her while she’s figuring things out.”
Swallowing hard, Jungkook admits how on point her words are and he can only nod to answer, earning a warm, knowing look from Tasha before she explains further, “That’s exactly what Wooyoung’s wife did for us too. She took a step back after she found out that I was his true soulmate, giving him the chance to embrace the universe’s gift—her own words.” Tasha lifts her hands and makes a gesture to depict quotation marks while laughing.
”But, instead of pushing us to be together, the time we had spent together had only helped open our eyes to see just how deep the love that they had truly was when he couldn’t find himself feeling the same deep love for me as what he had already felt for her.”
Leaning back, Jungkook takes a deep breath while taking it all in. Once again, he compares his own situation with hers, placing himself in the shoes of Wooyoung’s wife and thinking back to the reason why he is hiding all the way in Jeju, realising that he is doing the same thing as she did while you are experiencing what Tasha had gone through in the past. He was sure that taking himself out of the equation would help you figure things out and decide what would be best for you without him getting in the way. Except he is no longer sure if staying away for this long had been the best decision for himself and for everyone involved, when no matter how much he had wanted to make sure that you would be able to find your happiness, there is also a bigger part inside him that still insists to fight for you, to believe the words that you had told him about proving just how strong the bond between the two of you would be compared to what the universe keeps forcing on you.
If he wants to be honest, he has been feeling this way for quite a while. Maybe even since day one, when he was standing in Yugyeom’s studio apartment and feeling out of place and lost without you. But he just kept refusing to admit it, denying what his heart had wanted, all because he had also known that he wouldn’t be able to take his words and actions back after what he had done to you on the day he left.
Shaking his head, he accepts his fault for making such rash decisions and he regrets ever ignoring the voice inside his head that had kept telling him to stay and fight with you. Drawing a deep breath, he looks at Tasha and questions her, “How are you so open to this? How can you be so—”
“Amenable? Flexible? Carefree? Wild?” Tasha begins to fill in when he is unable to find the right word to describe her and her actions.
Jungkook grins. “Bold. Forward-thinking. And yes, easygoing, and also for being so open-minded and daring, even when it comes to believing in something that no other people had the courage to put their faith into.”
Tasha laughs softly before looking at him with a sharp look in her gaze. “Because I believe that there are far more important things out there beyond the silly soulmate system that had been created for us,” Tasha says as she pours more coffee into her empty mug, then does the same to fill Jungkook’s while she keeps talking. “It’s not like I don’t truly respect the soulmate system. But, I mean—sure, it sounds promising and completely hard to resist to have the entire universe making sure that we won’t have any problem finding someone to build our entire lives with. It truly is a gift that fates have it in them to make sure that we wouldn’t be alone in this world. It sounds like the perfect way to live knowing that there is someone out there made for us to love and to have our happiness written down for us since we were born into this world, don’t you think?”
“But—?”
“But—” Tasha grins. “Would it really be better and more real compared to the kind of love that we find for ourselves, the one that we would be willing to sacrifice everything for? If the universe can have a choice to play around with our fate—” she stops to give a pointed look on Jungkook’s wrist before continuing, “—then why can’t we have our choice to decide who to fall in love with?”
Jungkook blinks rapidly. All of a sudden, his chest feels tight and heavy when her words seem to strike him deep in his chest.
Because she is right.
And he feels like a fool for forgetting the fact that he had once believed the same thing as well.
All this time, he had always known that he has everything that anyone could have asked for and that he had found it with you. The kind of love that runs so deep that he feels his chest flutter each time he thinks about you. The love that has grown so deep that it becomes the reason why his heart is still beating at this very moment and why he has been hurting ever since the day he walked away. At first, he had truly believed that it would be best for him to step aside, just so you could embrace the gift that the universe is giving you. The gift that he had lost.
But walking away had only made him feel the pain that he has never felt before. Being away from you had only been complete torture. It makes him feel like he is dying inside, how the distance has slowly been chopping up his soul, taking it piece by broken piece that he no longer knows if he would have anything left of himself once the whole ordeal is over.
Once again, as if knowing where his mind is wandering off to, Tasha reaches out to grab his hand and gently says, “What you have with your girlfriend is real. Never doubt that part. I saw it with my own two eyes and I know exactly what I saw then when you were together. Why did you think I made all the effort of helping you with your surprise proposal if not because I believed in the love you had for each other?”
Shaking his head, Jungkook chuckles softly. “You’re right. You really did help me—a lot. And you didn’t even know what my situation was like back then, did you?”
Letting his hand go, she shrugs lightly and confesses, “I may not have seen it back then to know that you were not each other’s true soulmate, but I could sense something special going on between you. Something that was stronger than the soulmate connection that the entire world has been selling us. Call it a hunch from someone who had been there once.”
Jungkook bites his lips as he takes his time to think things over, before curiosity gets the best of him when he wonders how Tasha could be so strong and brave while he has been feeling so powerless against his own ordeal. “Have you ever felt—afraid, for defying fate? You’ve fought against them when you let your soulmate go so he could be with the one he loves, and now you’re trying to help me be together with the only person I’ve ever loved.”
With a light chuckle, Tasha gently shakes her head. “Have I been afraid of doing something so out of the ordinary and to defy the force that would be strong enough to ruin our entire lives under its will? Absolutely,” she admits to him before giving him a smug grin. “But it’s still not enough to make me stop doing it. I’ve always loved watching people chase the love that they choose, to fight for their happiness and get what they deserve. If I have the will and power to do something to help make it happen, I would do so with everything I have, knowing that it makes me feel happy by helping others feel the same thing. It gives me a sense of freedom that could heal my soul. And if that means that I’d be forever fighting against Fate to allow myself to feel this way, then I’ll do it over and over again.”
Jungkook looks down as he thinks deeply about her words, silently wondering if he would ever be able to be just as strong as she does. For the first time, after the day he came to find out that Namjoon was your soulmate, crushing every hope he had ever kept in his mind about having you in his life, he begins to find that missing sparks of hope blooming in his chest. Suddenly, the good faith that he had about his love for you returns full force after he had kept it dormant for the sake of giving you the chance to have what you had once wanted.
Now that the feeling has come back to him, the determination to fight against the universe and to get you back grows stronger. Though it doesn’t stop him from questioning himself—
Can he actually do it?
He keeps asking himself this as he thinks about fighting for his love and rebuilding the life that he has with you once again, no matter what it would cost him. But then he remembers how he had walked out and stepped away from you when you had insisted to make him stay so that you could fight alongside him to prove your love. He thinks about the past week that he was gone, knowing that the soulmate bond would have pulled you to Namjoon in his absence, leaving him to wonder—
Would it be too late for him to return home now and claim you back?
That same morning, you wake up in the same guest bedroom that you have been staying in, feeling so tired and broken.
You had kept the room dark, choosing to keep the lights off and keeping the curtains closed even when the dawn has long broken and the warm sunlight is forcing itself to come in. You cannot remember when you had fallen asleep, as you had found it hard to do so with your mind wandering all over the place while waves of emotions kept rushing through you all night to make you feel restless. The mixture of guilt, sadness, and hope, all collided into one before they all turned into despair before you were finally dragged into the darkness of your slumber only in your exhaustion.
Whatever glint of hope that you felt last night after receiving the call from Jungkook’s brother has now been replaced by self-condemnation and trepidation which keep intensifying each time the events from last night return to you. With a long exhale of sigh, you close your eyes, letting the memory replay itself in your head despite your wish to erase them and forget that they ever happened at all.
“It’s okay. Just give in. I’ll be here to hold you.”
Those were the words that Namjoon had whispered to you after he laid you down on his bed. It was obvious that he could see your fear when you were second-guessing yourself and while you were still trying to make sense of what was going on, and it was clear that he had noticed it as well when the bond between you took its form, as it gave its final effort of putting you both together.
But it was you who had pulled him down to you, and you had been the one giving him the kiss that should have sealed the deal.
You had come so close, just a step away from cementing your bond for eternity and severing the bond that you had built in your old life. You had already crossed the line merely seconds before, the remaining waves of your pleasure were still surging through you to remind you of it and your body was still calling for him. Yet, the moment you took in his scent, breathing in the warmth that was engulfing you in his embrace, something else inside you was shifting, and it was slowly winning, taking control to pull you out of the blinding haze.
And just then, the moment you closed your eyes, you realised that it was not his face that came into your mind. It wasn’t his voice nor his touch that your soul was searching for, and it snapped something inside you which slowly took away the fog that had clouded your sanity.
“Let it in. Let me in, baby. I know that deep down, you already know that this is so right.”
Those were the words that had compelled you into giving in to the bond and the sparks that had been building up between you all night. But right at that moment, as your soul began to cry out for another and started breaking apart inside you, everything about it felt so wrong.
With a sharp gasp, you gently pushed him away, breaking the kiss before it could have the chance to go further. Your heartbeat was still pacing rapidly in your chest, though each thrum was meant for a different reason, and the ache that came barrelling over you had nothing to do with him nor his presence. You had refused to open your eyes just then, unwilling to see the pain of your rejection reflecting in his eyes, something that you had no doubt would find after giving him such hope with what you had allowed to transpire.
And you simply refused to see reality, to know that the person holding you was not the one who you had truly wanted to be there and to have your heart broken once again knowing that he was not there.
But then a gentle brush of a finger on your cheek urged you to open your eyes, and you were surprised that instead of looking at you with disappointment and rage, Namjoon was staring at you with a warm, knowing smile plastered on his gorgeous face. It had taken you a moment and another wipe of his fingers on your face to realise that you had been crying, and that had been the reason he knew what was going on.
That your heart and soul had finally found their resolve to fight against the invisible force that had been taking control over you, and not even the soulmate bond could drown what your heart had truly desired.
And the one that your heart had been calling for was not him.
“I’m so sorry,” you had pleaded with him once reality hit you until your chest grew so tight you could barely breathe. You felt mortified, lost, and disgusted with yourself for allowing things to continue, and for ever giving him hope. And for coming so close to doing something more to severe what you had been trying to protect.
“Sshh—” Namjoon whispered to you, and you blinked your eyes to find him still smiling warmly, his gaze still filled with an understanding look instead of despair or disgust. “It’s okay, baby. I know.”
His gentle words had only made you cry louder, sending you into a sobbing mess as you fell apart beneath him. “I want him back.”
With a sigh, Namjoon continued to brush away your tears. “I know, baby. And he will come back to you. Even if he won’t, I’ll be the one dragging his ass back for making you cry every single night that he was gone.”
“This is—” you choked between your sobs and in the realisation that he had known how often you had cried yourself to sleep for missing Jungkook. You looked away from him, blinking away your tears so that you would be able to speak to him more clearly. Realising how vulnerable and exposed you were the moment the blissful fog faded from your mind, you pulled back and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying your best to cover your body from his eyes. “This shouldn’t have happened. None of this. I’m so sorry for allowing this to—”
“It had to happen,” Namjoon said, tipping your chin up just when you tried to hide from him. He made you look into his eyes, to be able to see that the same fog that had muddled his conscience had also faded from him and that he was able to think more logically now so he could calm you down. “We have both been focusing on the bond—with me who was feeling it for the first time and with you who kept fighting it—until it became the only thing we both felt above everything else. We had to let it happen so that we could open our eyes and see beyond that pull once it fades.”
Despite knowing that his words had been right, the way he said it to you still drew a bitter chuckle to come out of you. “Are you going to talk me out into believing that this was just one of those ‘getting it out of our system’ moments?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” Namjoon gave you a sad smile before shrugging. “Maybe a little, but more like—” he stopped with a sigh, then reached out to grab a blanket from the other side of the bed which he then used to cover your bareness, wrapping it tightly around your body as if he wanted to keep your warm while protecting you from his roaming gaze. And he did it while he kept on talking, “—allowing yourself to see what your heart is asking for instead of what your body and mind is telling you to do.”
Keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around you, you kept your eyes low as Namjoon shifted away to find his pants and started putting them back on. “I’m so confused,” you whispered weakly to yourself, though it didn’t stop Namjoon from hearing them.
Lying beside you, Namjoon pulled you up until you were resting on his pillows, tucked nicely right next to him where he made you feel safe. “It’s okay to be confused. I know that you are. Honestly, I am too,” he gently said to you with a reassuring smile, one that didn’t truly reach his eyes. “But we’ll figure it out in the morning. I don’t think it would be wise to try and solve everything tonight, after what had just happened.”
You had taken that moment to ponder over his words, to wonder if you could truly believe everything that he was telling you. There was hope for a change simmering within you. Hope for a chance to reclaim the life that you had with the man that you truly loved. And yet the feeling fell short when you remembered how powerless you had been to stop things from carrying on, and how you had put yourself in this position despite your determination to wait for Jungkook’s return.
Namjoon must have felt your worries when he gently pulled you to him. His touch bared no lust when he held you to him, and his smile only offered to give you comfort as he laid down next to you, staying close to offer you his warmth and his company while you were shivering in your uncertainty.
“Stay with me tonight. I promised to hold you, didn’t I? Let me take care of you, _______,”
For the last time.
Those were the words that had been left unspoken, the words that had only made you feel even more guilty, knowing that you had been the one to cause the pain reflecting in his eyes when he pulled you into his arms for one last time, only to keep you safe in his hold until he was supposed to let you go.
Your chest still feels heavy when you take a look around the room. You try to ignore the feeling, however, and focus on making sure that you have everything packed with you and that you wouldn’t be leaving anything behind as you make your leave.
Once you are sure that you are completely ready to step away from this room once and for all, holding your travel bag in one hand and your purse in the other, you realise that you have never felt more resolved than ever, when you finally know what to do next.
Just a week ago, you had walked into this penthouse while feeling lost, dazed and confused from having two strong forces pulling you in two different directions. If only you had known then where to look, perhaps you wouldn’t have found your way here and things might have ended differently.
Much, much different than how things have turned out to be so far.
But you also know that you might have ended up living without knowing the answers to a lot of questions, haunted by the need to wonder about all the what-ifs and what could have been without ever knowing the truth. Without truly knowing what your soul has been searching for.
“You’re ready to leave?”
Namjoon appears in your path just as you walk out the door of your former bedroom. Looking just as weary as you are, he stares at you silently, not looking too shocked to see you packed and ready to go. His eyes fall on the bag you are carrying and his gaze softens for realising what is currently happening.
“I think it’s time. I’ve overstayed my welcome,” is the only thing you can say to him. You look at him a while longer, even if you have no clear idea what you are trying to find. To your reprieve, the pain that you had briefly seen in his eyes last night is no longer present, though you can also feel him putting up a wall when he straightens his shoulders and pushes his hands into his pocket.
Namjoon lowers his head as he smiles, and it is then when you can see a glimpse of remorse and pain flickering on his face, though you see no trace of them when he looks up at you again, all of his emotions are masked underneath the warm smile that he is giving you. Taking a deep inhale of breath, you realise how much it pains you to know that he is hiding his true feelings from you. The fact that he is masking his pain for your sake feels so wrong, but you also know that there is nothing that you can do about it. Not anymore, as you have made your choice and it had been some of the choices that you had made which had put the invisible strain that he is carrying and fighting so hard to hide. Once again, your guilt pinches at your heart, and you want nothing more than to fix things for him.
If only you know how to do it without sacrificing your soul.
Knowing that you no longer have the right to mess with his emotions, you do the only next best thing you know what to do.
“For what it’s worth, I did enjoy my time here with you and I’m grateful that we had a chance to see things clearly before moving on. I guess this way, at least, we’ll be leaving no place for all the questions and the what-ifs,” you calmly say to him, silently hoping that your words will not only be holding some truth in them for yous, but for him as well.
For years, despite thinking and believing that you had somehow moved on from his rejection, you have always known that deep down, you still had questions about what had happened. There had been times when you were up at night wondering about all the possibilities that had come from all the unknowing, while having no answers to help you find some peace in your heart to could actually heal you from your heartbreak.
You only realise now that have never once had the chance to find closure after his past rejection. Until now.
“Thank you for opening your doors for me and for allowing me to stay here. It’s been—” you softly laugh as you try to think of the perfect way to truly illustrate what you feel. “—quite a ride,” you finally say with a low chuckle, and you are pleased that it draws a smile from him too. With a sigh, you carefully add, “But I certainly won’t forget everything that we have shared for the past week, how much you have helped me and the friendship that we have built together. Thank you for your patience and for being so kind to me despite everything.”
Nodding his head, Namjoon seems to come to terms with the situation. Because the moment you find his gaze again, there is a glimpse of relief showing from his eyes. “You know that you’ll always be welcome here. My door will always be open for you whenever you need a place to run to,” he says with a smile, before quickly adding while jokingly, “But I truly hope that you won’t be needing it again so soon.”
Both of you smile and laugh at what he just said, and then his expression changes when he asks you, “I take it you’ve found out where he is?”
“Yes, his brother called me. He’s trying to see if he can help me get to Jungkook,” you reveal to him with a sigh, and you suddenly feel your chest grow tight as you recall the phone call that you had last night with Jungkook’s brother, how he had told you that a friend of his had informed him that she had met Jungkook and was watching over him for the time being.
The call had left you feeling restless, when your relief of finally getting some news of Jungkook’s whereabouts was trampled by your guilt. Though it didn’t stop you from feeling determined to get to him as fast as you can once you had slept on your raw emotions and after you woke up with a clear mind. You still have no idea how Jungkook would react if he ever finds out what you had done with Namjoon, but you would do everything to earn another chance to win him back, and you would do anything to be with the man that you love. You are even ready to spend your entire life making it up to him, as long as he gives you the chance to.
“I can help you with that. Just say the word,” Namjoon offers you, and it almost makes you laugh at the bitter fact that despite the disappointment that he must have been feeling because of you, Namjoon still wants to give a hand to help. Knowing him, there is no doubt that he is genuine with his offer.
With a wry smile, you shake your head. “You’ve done a lot for me already. But thanks for the offer,” you tell him then, looking straight into his eyes right after as you say to him, “I hope everything will go well with you in the future.”
Sighing in defeat, Namjoon gives you a smile and nods. “And for you too.”
Nodding at him, you give him one last smile before walking around him to make your way to the front door. You try your best not to tense up and to keep your chin up as you walk past him, but then he turns and calls your name gently when you are merely a few steps away from the door, his voice stopping you in your tracks.
“Would it have been possible for us to be together back then without feeling like crap?” he suddenly asks you before you even turn around to see what he is up to. Once you look over your shoulder, Namjoon lifts his shoulder in a simple shrug.
“I’m only asking before that’s what I’m feeling right now. It feels like crap because it made me happy that you were here, that I had a chance to spend time with you, to get to know you better, and for me to—” he stops and swallows hard, taking his time to find his words as he looks at you. “I loved being with you, and I know now that we would’ve been good together. But it makes me feel bad that we would have to sacrifice someone else to do so, if we ever choose to go down that route. But I also can’t help to wonder if things would have been the same as what we had this past week if I hadn’t acted like a coward and we had gotten together the way we were supposed to.”
Turning in your heels to get a better look at him, you can only shake your head. “I honestly have no good answer for that since I don’t know what would have happened if things had gone differently between us,” you regretful tell him then, stopping a moment to ponder the thought before speaking again.
“But, you know what? We could have. Maybe we would have fallen madly in love with each other once we gave each other a chance, or maybe we would have grown apart because we haven’t become the people we were meant to be if we had met then,” you say to him with a smile. “And yes, we would have been perfect for each other to the point that we’d make everyone else around us sick at how perfect we are together. But then again, sometimes things just don’t work that way. Not even if the universe had designed it to be.”
You turn to face him completely. If you are going to be absolutely honest with him, then perhaps it would be best to give him the honest truth, giving both of you the final closure that you have both needed to have for years. “That night, when I saw you in that room, I immediately fell for you so hard that it felt like my heart was trampled into pieces for believing that you wouldn’t be mine.”
Your confession seems to surprise him. Namjoon’s eyes grow wide for a brief moment before he smiles and nods at you. “I guess that’s the answer to everything,” he says, confusing you further when he suddenly seems like he has found his own resolve.
“What do you mean?”
When your gaze meets his once again, you find nothing more but clarity glowing in his eyes. “You loved me. You might even still love me now,” he says, giving you the kind of smile that no longer carries his remorse or the pain of having to let go of a huge part of his life that had been written for him. The only thing he shows you when he looks at you is relief, a sense of contentment and acceptance when he says, “But you are not in love with me.”
You flinch a little at this, and he must have caught it, because he immediately adds before you can speak in return, “And that is okay, because what you have is bigger than what we would have ever had since it is something that you have chosen for yourself, not something that had been chosen for you. You and I both know that you have always deserved to have more than that.”
Keeping your eyes on him, you know without any further explanation that he was talking about the soulmate bond, how he can see that you can have something more, just as long as you reach out for it.
For some reason, his words give you comfort. And then your mind wanders briefly to the past, to the younger version of his who had once held so much confidence and belief that he would be more superior than the soulmate bond and whatever fate was planning for him. “You said so then too, remember?” you question him while picturing the image of him standing in the kitchen area in some random fraternity house that you had never once walked into, drunkenly talking about his big dreams in front of his friends and his pretty girlfriend. “Somewhere between your words of rejection and your defiance against the soulmate bond, you had believed in it too. You had said then, in your own words, that there had to be something else beyond this soulmate system that had been designed for us. Something bigger, stronger, and perhaps it would matter more than what the universe wants us to find.”
There is a glint of something new in his eyes—is it pride? Acknowledgement? Or perhaps an understanding that he shares the same idea—when he nods. “And you have found it,” he says with a calm voice.
“I’m sorry,” you start to apologise, only to have him shaking his head.
“You don’t apologise for love,” he says, once again sighing in defeat, before he lifts his chin up. “I do, apologise, however, for not being worthy enough to hold on to you and to fight for us.”
You smile at him. “You are worthy, Namjoon,” you gently tell him.
And you mean it.
But you have given your heart and soul to another, and you are willing to fight to be with that person to the very end of your long journey.
Mr Choi-PA: Mr. Jeon has departed. We got him on the last flight of the day departing for Seoul
Tasha: Good. Thank you, Mr. Choi.
Tasha: You’re free for the night. I have nowhere else to go so I might just return to the loft once I’m done here
Mr Choi-PA: Yes, Ma’am.
Mr Choi-PA: I will be on standby at 7.30 AM to pick you up tomorrow for the meeting with Mr. Lee
With a smile on her face, Tasha types down a few more words of gratitude to send out to her driver and personal assistant before slipping the cellphone back into her purse. The elevator ride ends just then and the door opens to the rooftop bar. The same bar where she had spent hours drinking and sharing life stories with Jungkook just the night before.
After spending most of the day helping Jungkook plan out his return to Seoul, Tasha had joined her father who had come to supervise the resort while she sent Jungkook away with her driver taking care of business for her as he went back to his friend’s place to pack up his things and say goodbye. She is exhausted, drained from being a martyr as she helped a friend defy the century-old system that had been controlling all human beings in their chances of love and from spending the rest of the day going around the resort to deal with its management issues until late.
She feels so drained that there is nothing she wants to do more than to simply return to her loft and lie down in bed. Perhaps she could catch up with some sleep, taking back all the hours that she had lost from having her impulsive runt with Hyuk yesterday night.
But on her way back, she felt the sudden urge to have a nightcap before bed. Only that the idea of having one back in her loft while she is alone at home had sounded so sad. She felt the need to be in the crowd for some reason, even if it is only for the sake of drowning her thoughts with the loud sounds of people chattering and live music playing on the stage, which had been the reason why she made her way back up here before she would retreat for the night.
The bar counter doesn’t seem as crowded as the night before, and she finds no problem in finding an empty seat where she could settle herself into. She looks around, finding Hyuk being too busy tending the VIP guests on the other side of the floor to notice her, so she turns to call out the new bartender servicing the guests tonight to get her fill.
“Martini. Dry,” she immediately orders her usual.
“Do you want to open a tab tonight, Ms. Lee?”
She quickly shakes her head. “No, I’m just having this one before I go.”
One drink to celebrate yet another love story being written in history.
As she takes slow sips of her drink, savouring it instead of downing it so she could find a moment to relax, Tasha pulls out her phone, scrolling down the messages that she had been receiving all afternoon. A smile comes to her face when she comes across the last message that she had exchanged with Wooyoung, when he had let her know that he would be flying in with his wife next weekend for a short vacation while asking if they could meet. She feels excited as she imagines telling Wooyoung and his wife the story of Jungkook and his quest to find love, as the three of them had grown close after their saga that many years ago.
She suddenly feels the urge to laugh when she thinks about how her relationship with her soulmate had evolved over the years. How they have grown to have a sibling-like relationship since then. Even his wife has become a part of it, all because they still care about each other despite everything that had transpired between them.
She continues scrolling, stopping on the message that she had sent to Jungkook’s brother last night after watching Hyuk drop Jungkook in the guest bedroom back at her loft. It had been a relief that she had taken her time to exchange numbers with some of the family members who had attended the dinner party at Bovine that night a few months back, making it possible for her to send the news to Jungkook’s family before she would make sure to convince him to return.
Placing the phone back in her purse, Tasha tries to enjoy the moment, though she cannot help but let her mind wander off to Jungkook one last time. She is not the kind of person who enjoys meddling in someone else’s business. She had almost ignored the voice in her head that kept telling her to make an exception this time when she saw Jungkook last night at the bar.
Just like what she had told Jungkook this morning, Tasha has always been someone who adores romance. She may have never once truly experienced true love, yet she still loves the concept of love itself, and she still yearns for it just like how everyone else would wait for their own happy endings. That was the reason why she had taken it a stride when Wooyoung confessed to her for having someone that he had already loved before they met and how she agreed to stay with them as they tried to figure things out until the day they officially wed.
It was also the reason why she had felt such a strong pull in her soul to help Jungkook. And now that she had done what was needed, she cannot help but feel pleased with herself for listening to that inner voice of hers, to know that despite whatever the outcome might be, it was truly worth it when she saw the determination in Jungkook’s eyes when he told her that he was ready to return to Seoul to get back to you.
Lifting her glass of drink, she looks closely at the glowing liquid as she murmurs softly to no one in particular, “Isn’t love such a funny thing?”
“I’m sorry?”
A deep voice suddenly speaks to her. She snaps up and looks over to the man sitting beside her, who had, no doubt, heard what she had just said and is now looking at her curiously.
Tasha falls silent for a moment, astounded by the sight of the gorgeous man and the fact that he is looking straight into her eyes. Already well trained to regain her composure, she covers her stumble and shock with an easy laugh. “Oh, it’s nothing. I was just thinking out loud.”
The man laughs with her. “I do that all the time too, mostly when the music is loud like this and you can’t hear your own thoughts,” he says, pointing at the live band playing on the stage across the room. Tasha follows his gaze before turning back to him.
“You’re not enjoying the band?”
“Oh, I’m enjoying the music. It’s just…loud,” he says, chuckling at himself. And Tasha is surprised to find just how comforting his voice is when he does that. “But I honestly don’t mind it. I just got out of a different kind of party and this is the scene that I needed.”
“Another party?” she asks, raising her pretty eyebrows curiously. She finally takes a look closer at him then, scanning his looks—from the folded tuxedo jacket that he has hung on the back of his seat, the folded sleeves of his shirt, the bowtie that has been left hanging loose on his collar—
“Let’s see…Nice tux, sleek hair, must have been a fancy one. And something proper. I’m guessing it was a wedding?”
He raises his eyebrows, looking surprised. Judging from the way he laughs while looking astonished, she knows that she has hit the jackpot even before she confirms it himself. “You’re mighty observant. How did you know?”
Acting coy about it, Tasha lightly shrugs. “I work with people. I manage things to make sure that I can keep people entertained, so I’ve learned to read them to know how I could please them and fulfil their needs,” she says, stopping when she sees him making a curious face at her comment. It takes her a moment to realise that he might have taken it the wrong way.
With a chuckle, she waves her hand at him. “Oh no, darling. Not that kind of work. No offence to the ladies who work in that field, though,” she says, still giggling at his reaction, thinking of how adorable he looks whenever he is confused or lost. “I work in management, and I manage places where people would go to when they need to wind down and have fun. This bar, for example, is just one of them.”
The man nods, exhaling a soft chuckle as he says, “Ah, gotcha,” before he finally introduces himself as Matthew. Matthew Kim, a freelance developer who has been staying at a different resort on the island for the past couple of nights for the wedding he attended. She keeps repeating his name in her head for some reason, even as she gives him hers.
“So, what’s with the drinks?” she asks him curiously once she remembers that the resort did host a simple wedding reception at one of its open courts which isn’t supposed to end yet. “Did they not serve you enough alcohol at the party?” Even if she had called it a night and had vowed to not spare her mind in anything related to work, she cannot help but to start compartmentalising, trying to take notes to see if there is something that her staff might be missing out on.
Tossing his drink down his throat, Matthew laughs and shakes his head in return. “No, no, I’m just here to celebrate. I couldn’t do it properly earlier when I had too many eyes on me,” he says while raising his glass to her. “It was my soulmate’s wedding, after all.”
Her world immediately stops. “Your…soulmate?”
Matthew orders another round of drinks for the two of them while any plan that she has made about ending the night short simply vanishes into the back of her mind when he begins sharing his story. How he met his soulmate during high school reunion—she was an old schoolmate of his who had moved out to the States back in high school, before they ever had the chance to realise they were soulmates—and how their reunion had happened too late—for she had fallen in love with someone else while he had claimed himself married to his job and current lifestyle—and how he had found that there was no need for them to change everything when the bond between them could never change their feelings for each other, since they had only considered each other as friends. Unlike Tasha’s or Jungkook’s case, Matthew simply stepped aside to let his soulmate continue on with her life, without him, and he had chosen to accept her invitat
→fireman!namjoon and paramedic!y/n au (warning: drunken sex, oral, etc.) → 11k words; part 01|part 2 |fin. → As a surgeon forced to volunteer as a paramedic in the Seoul Fire Department during an unfortunate probation incident, your one and only goal was to get to work, do your thing, and get the hell home and back to your original high-salary job. But when the SFD’s Chief is the incredibly attractive, cocky, and persistent Kim Namjoon, things start to get heated.
You wake up to the feeling of sweat running down your skin, and then the inability of moving your arms and legs. As soon as you start moving your head, you hear Yugyeom’s voice.
“Y/N! Y/N, can you hear me?”
Your hazy vision focuses finally as you squint into the bright red light in the room. “Yeah,” you croak out, your throat feeling like a desert. “Where am I?”
“Holy shit,” Yugyeom collapses into a chair beside you, and as you look around the room, you notice that you’re in your own hospital, and you are completely wrapped up in a foil blanket, with two heat lamps shining down on you.
You cringe, forehead beaded with sweat. “Can you get me out of this?”
“Oh yeah,” Yugyeom jumps up and begins unwinding you from the foil blanket, reaching up to turn off one of the lamps and then handing you a towel. You frown as you see another gurney wheeled in next to yours, but the curtain is blocking your view. That gurney is also surrounded by heat lamps as well. “What happened?”
“You should apologize to your pussy right now, it’s her funeral.”
Yugyeom was all of us in that first part and I loved it, I loved him! His dynamic with OC was so fun and entertaining. But ok, part 2 surprised me in so many ways (not the smut, though; I just knew it was going to be divine). OC unraveling was a sight to behold bc even then, she’s straightforward and I know that’s attractive to many (her whining was hilarious).
But the angst hit me here - the fear, the worry, the desire for something to last. You ached for them but I totally loved the commitment of namjoon, to his job and to her, and how at the end of the day, he just wants to be happy with her. He’s so commanding but tender and loving. He’s certain but vulnerable, and I liked how they complemented each other. And their intimate moments were to die for this was quite the read and something I really enjoyed!
Pairing:leopard hybrid parfumerie boss!Namjoon x female reader!employee
Genre: Hybrid AU. Romance. Smut. Pining. Slow burn. Angst. strong father themes. NOT DADDY-type themes. EXPLICIT
Warnings: super super eemootiionaaal sex- is that a warning? No breed-you-with-my-pups here. Leopard-style sex, which just means, really, he comes in from the back ( I watched Nat Geo to make sure). Mirror sex (so that they can look at each other @ralypenny this is part of your ask that I finally fulfilled).
Summary: In this hybrid AU, hybrids are rich and powerful. You are fully human in form and in weakness. Too bad you’re falling for your hybrid boss. And mayhaps he’s falling for you.
Word count: 10k
Special thanks: @hobi-gif for being a kick-ass beta reader with 56 edits that I never knew I needed. You read this while you were so tired, and took the time to encourage me. I’m so grateful.
Even now, more than twenty years later, the tune, the cadence, the leering faces that surrounded you are hauntingly familiar.
One glance at your comparably smaller build, your simple clothes, your plain, singular-species face was obvious enough to announce to anyone that you’re fully human.
The hybrids of your time are often part of the super-rich. It’s no surprise considering their survival instincts for attracting the richest, biggest, smartest, and fastest mates are well-honed from centuries of evolution.
Imbued with stronger genes than full-blooded humans, the hybrids live longer, look prettier, work faster, breed better, and probably fuck harder too.
So you were expected to count yourself lucky your mother worked as a live-in housekeeper for a rich hybrid family. And you were expected to count yourself lucky that their residential address allowed you to benefit from the most exclusive school districts in the country full of wealthy hybrids.
But you weren’t lucky.
Everyone knew you as the housekeeper’s daughter, as if that were more dignified than your name. Everyone made fun of you for being smaller, slower, shorter. More human.
And every day, you trudged to school, walking down the halls feeling like prey waiting to be fed to a room full of predators.
So you suffered alone through elementary, middle, and high school, always as the housekeeper’s daughter, always the butt of their jokes, always ready with fingers curled into hard fists to fend for yourself.
With each passing year, three things became clear to you:
This is not a simple love story with smut, coz nothing is simple when it comes to your story. There will always be an issue to address, a conflict to resolve. The female character in your stories are some of the strongest i have met. The way you portray the smut scene is so beautiful - there is only one word that comes to my mind - reverence. I feel like Namjoon is treating the reader with so much reverence in the smut scene (i see the same in Unbroken and in Of Boogers and Tteokbokki).
- Sometimes, walking away is the best thing we can do our selves. Oh, how true! Choosing to walk away (no matter how hard and how hurtful it is) will always to be a good choice to keep your sanity, protect your head and heart, and to be able to start anew. This is what Namjoon did when he left his family. No matter how much you love someone, you have to realize when someone or a relationship is too toxic and choose to walk away. After all love is a choice. You choose them but they have to choose you too, otherwise it will never work.
- You’re not him. 3 words but the most impactful of them all. You have to remind yourself that the situation or that person you walked away from will never define who you are. What will define you is what you do after. Namjoon is making a name for himself, might not be as grand as what his father’s, but its his. Namjoon is lucky he has the Reader who will remind him of this every day.
Yes, we need to be reminded that we are worthy of love and we have what it takes. How we were loved or treated is not a reflection of who we are and what we are capable of. We will heal and we will mend, we just need the right people around us to be remindee of this and to help us is the process.
¼ of the amazing quartet, i will do the other 3 in due time! i love my queen, i live for her werewolf au, plus there’s always the right mix of angst, fluff, and smut that is always chefs kiss… i super like that although her male characters are so obviously strong they are super soft too then it comes to female leads… and and and theres sort of redemption always for characters like Yoongi in Third Wheeling & Jimin in Bird Cage.
below are my fave fics from this author, but please do go ahead and browse all her works as they are all equally beautiful.
I Waited for You - just because its a Kim Seokjin fic and he’s an alpha!!! maybe i have not explored tumblr properly but i have come across very few Alpha Seokjin stories.
Welcome to Seoul Land - again, just because its a Kim Namjoon fic and werewolf au. my queen did not disappoint! Namjoon is so soft, ima cry…
When it Rain it Pours - i was swooning, a soft Namjoon for a roommate turned lovers…
What’s up Doc - ooohhhhh! soft Yoongi and i love the part where they whispers while waiting for test results, its so cute i swear! but, don’t be fooled coz we are talking about the queen here so the smut is top tier as per usual.
Snowed In&Live, Laugh, Love - bestfriends to lovers stories featuring our eternal sunshine Hoseok. imagine Hoseok telling his girlfriend that his best friend means the most to him in the world!!! if that is not in love i dont know what.. but, Hoseok in our queens story is amazing.
Siver & Blue - alpha Taehyung with lots of smuts, what else can you ask for?
hello! i don’t know what to call this other than to appreciate this author.
i love this author and i don’t think i have ever said why? sure there’s romance, fluff, smuts galore, but most importantly real issues are discussed. and i have found myself crying more than anything else when i’m reading stories from this author. Of Boogers and Tteokbokki - God! the assumption drawn in this story that led to misunderstanding and hurt and separation! im a mom so feel the female character’s desire to keep her baby. iknow that even confronted with a possibility of having a child with Down Syndrome, i would have chosen to push through with it. Call of Duty - my goodness, i cannot imagine what every wife, husband, father, mother, daughter, son goes through when they are told that their loved one in uniform is missing or that something has happened to them. how it feels to send them off while thinking at the back of your mind if this will be the last you will see them. shhhh… you know the pic in this story? yes, that’s my lock screen image… BEAR and SPARROW - i have read countless stories of people escaping their own country via illegal means, have watch multiple documentary and its heart breaking… i hav eto be honest that i stopped reading after chapter 3, so scared that the author will take the route of realism and have Sparrow die in the hands of police and get lost in the sea of missing immigrants… i have not found the courage to continue reading this… Road to Redemption - this one hit hard, so damn hard!!! i cried a river. it hit home, so very very very close to home. the plates in the sink, check! socks not in the hamper but in the fucking dining chair, check! the procrastination, hell check!!! and what really hurts, is when he tells you - “chill, will you relax??? i will take care of it” only to wake up the following morning with the same plates in the sink, the same sock in the dining chair, the multiple to do’s that should have been done last week. Stay - your latest story made my chest hurts so bad. i didn’t get my road to redemption (if u know what i mean), but i am so blessed to be surrounded by such a strong support system that never ever have i come close to succumbing to depression. all i know is that, its not easy to cry for help, coz its hard to swim to the surface and its pitch black below. i love you @sahmfanficbts, your stories ground me. it tells me that i am not alone in what i go through. i don’t know how to give back to content creator/writers like you, except to shout out to whoever follows me that you guys are the best out there!
hello! i don’t know what to call this other than to appreciate this author.
i love this author and i don’t think i have ever said why? sure there’s romance, fluff, smuts galore, but most importantly real issues are discussed. and i have found myself crying more than anything else when i’m reading stories from this author.
Of Boogers and Tteokbokki - God! the assumption drawn in this story that led to misunderstanding and hurt and separation! im a mom so feel the female character’s desire to keep her baby. iknow that even confronted with a possibility of having a child with Down Syndrome, i would have chosen to push through with it.
Call of Duty - my goodness, i cannot imagine what every wife, husband, father, mother, daughter, son goes through when they are told that their loved one in uniform is missing or that something has happened to them. how it feels to send them off while thinking at the back of your mind if this will be the last you will see them. shhhh… you know the pic in this story? yes, that’s my lock screen image…
BEAR and SPARROW - i hav read countless stories of people escaping their own country via illegal means, have watch multiple documentary and its heart breaking… i hav eto be honest that i stopped reading after chapter 3, so scared that the author will take the route of realism and have Sparrow die in the hands of police and get lost in the sea of missing immigrants… i have not found the courage to continue reading this…
Road to Redemption - this one hit hard, so damn hard!!! i cried a river. it hit home, so very very very close to home. the plates in the sink, check! socks not in the hamper but in the fucking dining chair, check! the procrastination, hell check!!! and what really hurts, is when he tells you - “chill, will you relax??? i will take care of it” only to wake up the following morning with the same plates in the sink, the same sock in the dining chair, the multiple to do’s that should have been done last week.
Stay - your latest story made my chest hurts so bad. i didn’t get my road to redemption (if u know what i mean), but i am so blessed to be surrounded by such a strong support system that never ever have i come close to succumbing to depression. all i know is that, its not easy to cry for help, coz its hard to swim to the surface and its pitch black below.
i love you @sahmfanficbts, your stories ground me. it tells me that i am not alone in what i go through. i don’t know how to give back to content creator/writers like you, except to shout out to whoever follows me that you guys are the best out there!
Pairing:Sister!Reader + Kim brothers; JHS x Fem!Reader; some POV shifts on chapters/drabbles
Rating: M ()
Genre:Siblings!AU; Marriage!AU; exes to ?; angst; smut; fluff
Warnings (more to be written in individual chapter updates): angst with a capital A; character illness and death; family issues; bickering; discussions of menstrual cycle; heavy pining; FWB; unrequited love; mentions of infidelity; reproductive challenges; toxic relationships; missed opportunities; some fluff; some smut
Teaser word count:1,476K
Summary:Four grown siblings return to their childhood hometown after their father is declared to be terminal. They are forced to live under the same roof for days, along with their overbearing mother, to say their final goodbyes. It starts off nostalgic until some unresolved family issues along with an assortment of spouses, exes, and might-have-beens make things even more interesting.
A/N:I’ve had this idea brewing for months now and it’s probably going to be one of my more ambitious AUs–more challenging than Scale, IMO. Four separate stories, converging into one. There’s going to be a LOT of angst, maybe some comedy…but definitely a lot of angst. If you’ve read my fics, you’ll know that I’m mostly inspired or prompted by movies or shows I’ve seen. This particular one has been inspired by This is Where I Leave You (2014). I’ve been thinking about a Kim Line fic for a while and I thought that this would be a perfect way to finally bring it to life!
Intro chapters will be posted as part of @btswritingcafe’s Specialty Coffee event.
@internetjunkdrawer – I know we’ve always joked about this series side-eyeing me as I kept working on other prompts instead of this. Now, I have no excuse!
Release date: June 2022
Namjoon is awakened by loud thumps and muffled conversations coming from above him. He feels around the nightstand for his watch. It was a makeshift nightstand–one that he assembled using an old dining chair and a desk lamp that he found in the basement–which was where your mom put him since all of the bedrooms in the house were taken.
He groans. It was just a little past 8:15 in the morning. Great. As if he didn’t just fall asleep less than three hours ago. He stretches the crick in his neck–this pull-out couch was not the most comfortable but at least he had the whole basement to himself. Alone. With his thoughts.
After a quick shower, he makes his way up the creaky steps and down the hall to the dining room, where everyone else was already seated and in the middle of a lively conversation.
“Well, good morning to you, sleepyhead!” Your mom beams at him from the head of the table. Her hair was all done up with a full face of makeup as if she were headed to a red carpet premiere.
“C’mon, darling, we saved you a spot,” she said loudly as the whole table continued their banter.
Namjoon walks over to take the open seat next to you. Your oldest brother, Jin hands over the plate of bacon to him, followed by a plate of eggs, offered by your younger brother Taehyung.
You poured him a glass of orange juice before you continued your story.
“Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah! So, I was around 10 and babysitting Tae—and uh, I realized that I had just gotten my period for the first time—which, I had no idea that was what it was then. And what do you know, dad walks into the room and sees blood on my clothes and flies into a panic.”
“Wait, so where was your mom in all this?” Jin’s wife, Yoojung, remarks.
Your mom smiled warmly. “I was in a remote location for ‘Valley of the Beast’ and we were filming some underwater scenes so they couldn’t really reach me,” she explains.
“Oh…gosh, I remember now. I remember when I biked past those news vans when the movie came out. It was pretty exciting,” she remarked.
“Right,” you continued. “So dad grabs me and Tae—throws us in the backseat of the car and he’s zooming past stop signs to get me to the hospital,” you begin to laugh.
“You want some more syrup for your waffles, love?” Jin asks her quietly.
She hesitates. “I really shouldn’t. The doctor says that too much sugar might not be good,” she replies softly.
He nods, putting the syrup dispenser back on the table, then leaning over to kiss her hair. She looks at him and smiles.
You see their sweet exchange out of the corner of your eye, but you continue your story without missing a beat. “So then he gets pulled over by Officer Cheong! And he goes, ‘Mr. Kim, do you know how fast you were going?’ And then dad practically yells at him like, ‘You don’t understand! My daughter is hemorrhaging! I need to get her to the emergency room!’ So Officer Cheong takes a look at me and Taehyungie in the backseat and checks to make sure that we were okay…but dad wouldn’t stop freaking out.”
Taehyung laughs. “That was a very exciting afternoon,” he says between spoonfuls of eggs.
Everyone around the table laughs because your dad can be so calm and collected especially during a busy night at the restaurant. And yet, at the faintest sight of blood or any medical emergency, all logic goes out the door.
Thankfully, Officer Cheong has three daughters and after concluding that you were not in any physical distress, he explains the situation to your dad and offers to provide a police escort to the nearest pharmacy to help him buy sanitary pads. The lady at the checkout counter was nice enough to tell you what to do.
Jin jumps in and connects the topic about a previous experience when he broke his fingers during a baseball game and his dad nearly fainted while he watched the doctor reset his digits in the emergency room.
Namjoon’s phone buzzes. He takes it out of his pocket to see ‘Victoria’ on the caller ID. He promptly rejects it.
“It’s your wife, why don’t you answer it?” You mumble at him.
“Why don’t you share another story about your cycle, YN?” He counters.
“What about you, Namjoon-ah?” Your mom says.
“Hm?”
“What’s your favorite memory of dad?”
“Uh…can we just circle back? Maybe Taehyung-ah can go next,” Namjoon says as he takes a bite of his bacon.
“I already went. Mine was pretty epic,” Taehyung replies.
He chuckles nervously. “How can I possibly follow YN’s story?”
“Oh, c’mon, Namjoon. Don’t you have any good memories of him?” Jin asks.
He tries to wave everyone off. “Sorry, guys. My mind’s just blanking out this morning. Didn’t sleep much last night.”
“You know, Joon, if you have any unresolved issues with your dad, now’s the time to get it all out,” your mom urges.
“Mom, why would you automatically assume that I have issues with dad? Maybe I just really can’t remember anything at the moment,” Namjoon answers with a slight hint of irritation.
Before she could argue, the doorbell rings and she excuses herself to answer it.
“Oooh! Wait, I’ve got another,” Taehyung volunteers excitedly. “So—I’m in the garage, searching for my beyblades in dad’s toolbox,” he trails off.
That took a load off Namjoon’s shoulders.
The conversation continues for a few more minutes until a chirping sound goes off.
Yoojung is slightly startled before looking at her phone to silence it. She clears her throat then gives her husband a look. “Uh, Jin?” She whispers, lightly tapping on his leg.
He sighs and slouches his shoulders slightly. “Now? Really?”
“Can’t do it by myself,” she mutters under her breath before she excuses herself and gets up from the table. After she puts her dish in the sink she heads down to the hallway and up the stairs to their bedroom.
“What’s up?” Namjoon asks.
Jin gets up from his seat begrudgingly and takes his own dish to the sink. “I have to have sex,” he announces blandly.
Taehyung snorts. “Jin-hyung, sex is supposed to be fun!”
“Yeah, well, not when it’s on a schedule.” He says before he trudged down the hallway and upstairs to his waiting wife.
“Well, whatever you do, keep it down so you don’t wake dad up,” Namjoon jokes.
“Very funny, Namjoon-ah,” Jin yells sarcastically from the landing.
The dining room windows have a full view of the driveway across the street.
Namjoon glances at you to find you watching the neighbor walk out of the front door towards his car.
“Enjoying the view?” He whispers in your ear.
“Shut up,” you said, turning your attention back to your plate of pancakes.
“We should ask him if he wants to stop by here and grab a bite before heading to work,” he teases.
“I’m sure Hobi can afford to get his own breakfast anywhere,” you snarked.
“I remember when I used to see him sneak out of your room before breakfast,” Namjoon says under his breath before snickering.
His body jerks, nearly knocking the table over when you pinch him on this thigh. Taehyung gives you both a quizzical look until your mom’s voice bellows down the hallway.
“Taehyung! Look who’s here,” your mom says as she walks into the dining room with company.
“Eunhae?” Taehyung looks like he’s just seen a ghost. She was the last person he expected to show up at your childhood home.
“She introduced herself and said she was your friend. I was just having a lovely conversation with her. She said she’d heard about dad and wanted to pay her respects. Isn’t that sweet?”
You cleared your throat, prompting your younger brother to introduce his ‘friend’ to everyone.
“Uh—Namjoon-hyung, YN-noona, this is Eunhae. She’s a good friend from the city.” He says nervously.
She smiles and bows politely to everyone in the room. “Jin-hyung is uhm, in the middle of something but, I can introduce you later,” he utters before giving you an uncomfortable look.
You already knew about Eunhae though you were equally surprised to see that she actually came out to your hometown, given your past conversations with Taehyung.
He immediately dotes on her, offering her breakfast as she takes her seat next to him.
Namjoon doesn’t suspect a thing and is distracted by rejecting yet another call from Victoria.
This was your family. You loved them with all your heart. However, in the rare cases that you all got together under one roof, it always spelled chaos. But it was chaos you’d choose over any picture-perfect life.
Chapter 1: Seokjin◥
Thank you for reading!
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Summary:He was right. You don’t spend time like this with the others, you don’t sleep with the others. You don’t… And because your thoughts begin to bleed into a dangerous territory, one that resembles feelings, you pre-empt it. “You’re being reckless.”
Warnings/Tags: RATED M (18+) for language, smut (fem-reader; fingering; penetrative sex; multiple orgasms; but this is v v angsty sex); mega mega ANGST; basically, I oscillate between having tortuous romanic feelings for Namjoon in this capacity or writing him as a god among men in smutty one-shots using his dimples as a plot device, unfortunately this time it’s the former and I will therefore make it everyone’s issue; there’s crying during sex except they’re the ones having sex and it’s actually me who’s crying ha; pwp, as in ‘porn with pheelings’ (the bad kind); if there are errors, I apologise in advance (I was crying, remember?) + please do proofread in your mind as you read haha; the reader is an (implied) escort; non-idol!AU - Chaebol!Namjoon.
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Dkfjlghdskfg ummm, this is very angsty and has a lot of pain in it :]
I was listening to Don’t(eAeon ft. RM) and I was like, huh, what if I wrote something based on that and the vibe of the song but make it 1000x more painful???? And because there is no one to stop me, least of all myself lmao, here we are! :D
Lastly, I would say happy reading but that would be a bit counterintuitive, oops
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Teheran-ro or Teheran Valley, as it’s colloquially called, has skyscrapers closer to heaven than the ground. Its windows, uniform and neat, blaze blue, yellow, phosphorescent white. The lights on the ground, headlights of expensive cars, the red tail lights of swaying buses, they follow a straight path up (or down, depending on where you look).
It’s Gangnam, it’s in your face, and it’s reckless.
You knew Namjoon was being idiotic when he picked the grand master suite.
And you knew that he was being totally ludicrous when he offered to walk in together, taking the elevators from the lobby up and up, rocketing to the right floor.
The doors, with in-laid gold, slide open, even the way the air smells here is expensive. You’re still deciding whether to be infuriated or not. He’s being thoughtless on purpose.
Still, you follow him as he shortened his strides, his hand near yours but never touching. Not under the prying eyes of the cameras on the ceiling, nor the unassuming guests meandering the hallways either. You weren’t one to risk an outburst, no, the room would be vast enough for that.
The room would be accommodating for a real conversation; for someclarity to the way Namjoon’s behaving.
It’s quiet, few words are exchanged with the hotelier. You stare at the back of his head, the neatly trimmed line where it fades into tan. There’s a mole at the nape, it’s small but it’s there. That helps focus you a little, helps you ground things into reality. It leads to the intimidating heft of his wool overcoat, the hem is closer to his ankles, its shoulders are a blunt slope.
The door appears rather unceremoniously, the hotelier explains that you simply need to scan a card. Namjoon is gracious and asks a few questions about the room, its theme, the construction. The hotelier manages them swiftly, also pointing out that there were various, personalised items awaiting him.
It’s an honour for someone of the Kim Group to be staying with us and his, uh, guest of course.
As the said guest, you try and hold back a snort as Namjoon laughs. That superficial laugh that he does when he has to represent his family. In this context, you’re nameless, akin to an acquaintance, barring the fact that it’s just you and you’re staying in a hotel suite that models as a decently-sized, luxury apartment.
It takes an age before the hotelier leaves. He’s giving you a brief tour of the space when you notice the folded bathrobe with monogrammed initials, the same gold cursive is found on the corner of the pillows. You see his initials and yours. The gold greets you as soon as you make it past the threshold, floor to ceiling windows giving way to the city. It’s prettier from above, you feel less of an ant.
“We have room service at any time, if you press the designated button here,” the hotelier instructs.
You were sure that he didn’t mean to be condescending in the information he imparts but it’s evident in his tone that he knew he had to pivot. Namjoon smiles politely. It’s polite because he doesn’t show teeth, so his dimples a pressed deeper, his eyes curving up in this faux display of satisfaction.
The bedroom is, by normal standards, huge.The bed rivals it, taking up most of the wall, flanked by floating nightstands, softly lighting its vicinity. Namjoon has shrugged off his coat, his suit is tailored, his tie is a deep burgundy. A final instruction comes in the form of a menu, for what, you didn’t care for. You were burning holes into Namjoon with your stare.
It seems that he can feel it too by the way he’s scratching the nape of his neck, his muscles moulding the sleeve of that expensive suit. He’s wearing the cufflinks you gifted him, it’s a personal gift, his initials were on it in a subtle emboss. The hotelier flits his gaze between you both, his smile is strained. Namjoon picks up the cue and thanks him, noting his name at the same time.
He leaves, disappearing round the corner with haste.
And just like that, you’re left alone.
Seconds transpire as Namjoon sheds his layers, not saying anything at all. You’re still in your coat, waiting for some sort of explanation.
“What?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at your face as he tilts his head.
“Why did you do that?”
He rests his elbows on top of his knees, webbing his fingers loosely, “it’s not like we haven’t done this before.”
Namjoon was many things. He was diplomatic, discrete, intelligent. He was raised with all the right tools to take over a company and lead by example. He knew how to operate within certain boundaries and he was clear on yours. He was someone who would heed caution. It didn’t suit him to be so brash.
“I have other clients - this won’t look good for either of us.”
The distance between you remains, an impossible gulf of three paces. You stand, arms crossed, wary.
“I’m not like your other clients.”
He was right. You don’t spend time like this with the others, you don’t sleepwith the others. You don’t…
And because your thoughts begin to bleed into a dangerous territory, one that resembles feelings,you pre-empt it.
“You’re being reckless.”
He considers your criticism for a minute. You stare at each other, the space between oddly stretching. It’s adversarial.
“My father wants me to marry.”
You waver a little, startled by his candour. Marriage was inevitable, sure. It came with his responsibilities, neatly packaged, awaiting him when the time comes. The extravagance begins to make sense and Teheran Valley reveals its talons in the night. It’ll be witness to the last tryst before you part ways. It won’t be so bad, you think, this Presidential suite view on Seoul.
The truth sits uncomfortably between you, the fickle nature of this arrangement.
“That’s good then. You’re finally going to settle.”
Namjoon glares at you with as much vitriol as he could manage. You knew because he juts his jaw out slightly, the tip of his tongue resting on his molars.
“I want to marry you.”
Stubbornness was also his trait. It’s how he’s managed to live under the oppressive shadow of his father. But that led to a lack of foresight and a lack of understanding of reality as it unravels. He’s always been like that, a bit naive and a lot more hopeful than most. Yet, he can still make you smile, despite it all.
“We can’t have that, can we?” You asked, closing the distance in slow strides, taking your time to shed your coat. The air conditioner bites your skin, his eyes survey your body, tracing it under the silken satin. Blue was his colour and he loved it on you.
His hands steady you as you straddle him, arms looping over his neck, leaning back to see him up close. Besides the tan, his skin is dotted with tiny moles, an irregular constellation that wouldn’t make him Namjoon without. There’s some stubble that you scratch, the pad of your thumb on the sharp bristles, they poke out of his smooth skin in jagged spears. They felt better between your thighs. And his eyes, the ones he hated for a while because of the shape, they’re hooded, I hate them.
But you could never muster the same sentiment. It’s different when you’re the admirer, you don’t have the capacity to hate as you would do if it was yourself. Your finger traces his jaw, a smooth slope, tapering at his chin, his features are harmonious, his hair, cropped short. It’s carefully styled now since he came straight from a meeting. It feels better when caught between your fingers, short strands tugged at his scalp, eliciting that deep, grunt that you tell yourself only you can bring out.
Your examination doesn’t halt just because he begins to close his eyes, tilting his head so, a silent hint for a kiss. He gets like this when you’re alone, he gets docile when he doesn’t have to be a thousand personas at once.
(Someone who’s good at his job, someone who’s a good son, someone who’s a good friend, someone who’s a good person.)
Namjoon’s scent is cool. It sits on his clothes nicely. Your nose skims his neck to make the most of the subtle fragrance. Clean and impeccably memorable. His fingers, a steady pressure, slender then curved on your hips, hold you against him, his lips lightly pressing on yours.
It doesn’t take much for you to close your eyes, giving in to him.
(It doesn’t take much when it’s Namjoon, in any case.)
As his lips initiated that shy kiss, he delivers a reverent murmur against them. He says your name, a breathy whisper, his fingers clutching at your back, wrinkling your dress, corrugating the spine of buttons, the fabric tightening around your middle. You sigh softly, pushing closer, grinding your hips to rid yourself of the obvious flutter in your chest. No one is capable of that.
Only him.
But that admissions stays within the walls. In this lonely suite in the middle of Gangnam, high up in a hotel in the middle of street that makes its visitors envious.
When you were young, you were drawn to places with bright lights. You wanted the big city, you wanted it all. But the series of choices you made shaped your path to curve away from the utopia you envisioned, and here you are, far too close to the sun and it burns.
This unbearable heat that, you swear, renders you instinctual. You grab at him, letting your body lead you away from your burgeoning feelings because it’s unfair.
It’s unfair that someone else will walk up that aisle.
It’s unfair that he’ll spend the rest of his life with someone who isn’t you.
It’s unfair that you look at him with love but can’t say it out loud.
It’s unfair that his kiss sticks in the back of your mind, its ghost whispering on your lips in moments of quiet insanity.
“Tell me not to do it and I won’t,” he murmurs, he says it on your mouth, the slip of his tongue is all too distracting, the strength of his arms holding you so that you feel like you’re not entirely boneless. And you think that he’s always been like this. Too pliant, too willing to let you have a say in his life. But the responsibility of making his choices falls heavy on your shoulders, you can’t decide for him as he can’t decide for you. It’s the way the shape of your life has panned out. Namjoon’s path is pristine and predictable, yours is jagged and tumultuous. You envisage that it’s fate’s funny way of bringing you to your knees when all you wanted was to rise up and live.
“I can’t let you do that,” you replied, shoving his jacket off him, the heat of his muscles is immense, it blazes through the cotton of his shirt. You’re surprised that you still sound put together as he tries to fumble at the buttons behind you. They’re clasped tightly on the dress, he almost growls out his frustration, half attempting to tear the whole thing. He deepens the kiss, curls an arm around your waist, lifting you briefly so that you’re on your back. He doesn’t stray for long, reuniting with you in mere seconds, the weight of him is forever pleasant, welcomed.
You miss it already.
(You miss it all the time.)
“Tell me, just tell me,” he begs, tugging at your heart as you yank up your dress. He kisses you languidly, trying to persuade, trying to make sense of it as you were. You shake your head, gasping slightly as he mouths on your neck, you see the pillows as you give him access, your skin burning from him.
“No, I can’t. I can’t,” you repeated, hearing the undoing of his belt, the audible rush of his shirt leaving his body. You wait for him because it never takes long, and he kisses you attentively, makes you feel important, wanted.And because he’s still Namjoon, he still remembers, he takes your words in spite of how they end up spearing you both.
“I know,” he mumbles, placing his hand under the space between your back and the bed. You’re still in the dress, clad in this satin midnight that contrasts with the white sheets. At least you know that the farewell isn’t desire, you feel it in the way you grasp at him, moaning softly as his tongue licks at your mouth. You feel it in the way he slides your dress up, his broad palms and long fingers on your thighs, still treating you with as much care as he did the first time.
Namjoon was still nervous then. He never told you but it was probably because it wasn’t like him to form affection for someone like you. It was meant to be a one time thing anyway, so usual for people like him that his colleagues wanting to get in his father’s good books arranged it for him. You met him under the blue lights of a VIP room. You met him in an underground member’s club. He was still wet behind the ears, his eyes darting to the exit.
I’m sorry, was what he said.
It’s okay, was what you replied.
He didn’t touch you until the fifth meeting. Even then he was fumbling and apologising with each touch. It started with a hand over yours, an accidental brush that had him withdrawing as if your skin was a burning plate. That was easily overlooked. You didn’t know why you kept seeing him. You didn’t know why you didn’t tell him that you never slept with your clients. He figured that out along the way, a small smile playing on his lips as you came out of the shower, your skin raw from the water.
What?You asked, towelling your hair with care.
Nothing,he replied, taking the towel from you and proceeding to do what you have done for yourself for as long as you can remember.
(He still does this on occasion. His fingers, usually brutish and responsible for his clumsy nature of breaking things, lose that edge, combing the wet strands near your scalp to the end.)
His fingers find you wet, you gasp in his mouth as he slides a digit in, his thumb rubbing and rubbing.
“J-joon.”
He kisses you to soothe. The heat ripples through you, transforming into this fortified sensation of pleasure, the satin of your dress turns meddlesome and restrictive. He notices, bracing you against him to curl his fingers over the fabric, pulling out of you once to rip it to shreds. The gasp that comes out of you is sharp as numerous buttons snapped from their place; he swipes them hurriedly. Your skin pebbles from your cold, your nipples turning stiff as you’re exposed. He takes a moment to look down at you, his fingers glisten from your arousal that you rub your thighs together, anything to allay the emptiness. He shoves his trousers down, his underwear too, and it’s bliss, the way your skin feels on his. He supports himself, just enough to look at you, his fingers entering you once more without much ceremony. You throw your head back, lost in it, fisting the sheets below. He drags his mouth along your neck, sending wet kisses that trail your jaw, the filthy swipe of his tongue in your mouth. Your hands yank at his hair, enough to make him groan.
So what if you tug a little harder?
So what if there’s some malice in that act?
His fingers pump inside you, taking advantage of the wetness that drip from your velvet walls. He crooks them in the right way, reaching that spot that has your toes curling, your arms pulling him down because you needed to kiss him, you needed his taste, you needed to know that he’s real.
No sooner than you began, he begins to talk, although his voice is strained, “I have a place in Jeju. It’s next to a small store,” he starts. You’re desperate for the friction to take you higher, your thighs quiver as he holds you down, the heel of his palm connecting harshly where it counts that your body shudders fully.
“W-we can’t,” you whispered, your hips moving on their own in tight swivels, so wet between your thighs that it’s audible.
And because he never listens to you when you want him to, he carries on, “I can man the place, you don’t have to do anything.”
It’s followed by a deeper plunge of his fingers, your moans dying on the crook of neck as you try and fight the inescapable sadness that plagues you as he talks of a future that is shapeless, a future that bears the texture of wishful thinking.
“We shouldn’t,” you faltered, feeling too warm, too good to think straight, “youshouldn’t talk about that.”
He kisses you again, harder this time, you feel him going faster, it sounds lewd, how his fingers piston inside you, so much so that you’re moaning in his mouth, close, so close. Neither of you talk for a while as he brings to you the edge, knowing how you liked it, knowing everything about you.
It’s even possible to think that he knows how much you wanted that.
He keeps going after you came, until you’re pushing him away, wanting something more substantial, wanting the feel of him inside. And when he’s kneeling on the bed, sheathing himself before pushing in, you think that this is one of the last times you’ll be together, like this. The thought gives you an ache in your chest that renders your breathing to be choppy, holding onto him with a kind of desperation in the form of your nails on the muscles of his back.
“You don’t want to?” He asked, starting a slow rhythm, but there’s force behind his thrusts, filling you to the hilt. It’s not disconcerting, it’s right. Neither of you cared if you come away a little battered or bruised, if this is the last time, you wanted it to feel real.
As real as how much it hurt.
You don’t answer simply because you can’t. Namjoon is exceptionally well-versed in your body, he knows the cues you inadvertently give, down to the cadence of your breath when he’s doing something right.
“With me?” He asks, his voice shaking as you clenched around him. You shake your head, holding your breath as he bottoms out again, you feel so full that your legs start to shake. The pleasure makes you wade through it, finding a semblance of enjoyment despite the severity of his questions. Sweat makes you both slippery, the heat radiating off him is addictive, his lips, plush and flanked by dimples every time he genuinely smiles, his laugh, how it starts off small then grows into something unlike his speaking voice, you kiss him to push those feelings away.
It’s not that I don’t want to, you think.
But instead you hear yourself saying, “It’s not that simple.”
He grips your hip with one hand as he curls his arm above your head. Like that, your effectively caged, snug between him and the bed. His thrusts quicken to at point that you’re nearly unable to keep up, your moans mixing with how he groans as your inner muscles pulse over him. Resilient as ever, he slides his tongue against yours, biting your bottom lip, sucking and licking it that your toes curl in pleasure.
“Itis,” he insists, his kisses turning tender all of the sudden, you reel from it, tugging at the shorter hair on the back of his head, nipping at his bottom lip this time, your legs hitching higher. He moans in your mouth, his hand at the back of your knee, stretching you open that you shiver as the side of your knee meets the bed, your hips angle in a way that sends sparks along your body.
“You’re asking for things that I can’t give - you’re father’s not going to be happy.”
His hips stop for a second, he lets out a frustrated grunt, pushing you up further till you’re pushed to the pillows, he dips his head, his kiss is soft, too soft for these circumstances. Something takes a hold in your chest, the warmth is almost too much to contain, your arms around his neck, your chest pressed agains his, the hard planes of his muscles over your soft skin. He gives you another kiss, one on the corner of your mouth, starting to thrust again, groaning as you tightened in response.
“I’m not happy.”
You sighed in his mouth, eyes shutting for fear that when you open them, the tears will come and never stop. The pleasure becomes confusing because apart from the physical response of your bodies coming together like this, everything else hurts.
“Can we pretend?” He asks, letting out a shuddering breath. You’re close and you feel that he is too.
“We are,” you replied, holding onto him.
We always have been.
He groans as you tilt your hips, allowing him to go deeper. You gasped as he braced you against the bed, the air is heady, thick with anticipation.
“Up to this point, I haven’t been. Tell me you’re the same,” he says.
You almost indulge him but its superseded by the feeling that you didn’t want to unearth things you wanted to keep from him. It angers you acutely that you dig your heels on the back of his thighs, pressing him down, pressing forcefully, having him so deep that your words fail you. Everything is so wet, your sweat on your skin, your arousal mixing with his, dripping onto the sheets.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” you reprimand, sighing as he grinds his hips, prolonging friction. You encourage him by rubbing his neck, squeezing the muscles on the nape, he closes his eyes, leaning again, capturing your lips.
“Stop holding back,” he responds, pinning your wrists above your head. You inhaled sharply, totally restricted as he pulls his hips back only to plunge them again. You whimpered, tucking your head, seeing where you’re connected, the sight making you moan.
But it’s never that simple for you. It never has been and you decide then to say it, to make him face reality.
“Use me.”
Because that’s what I can do for you.
“W-what?” He falters, sounding bewildered.
But it doesn’t take much for him to figure it out. He always does when he looks at you in the eye.
“That’s what -”
The realisation makes you push through, gritting your teeth as he delivers a brutal thrust in anticipation of what you were going to say, he bares his teeth, hissing as you shiver, it travels down your core, your inner muscles clamping around him like a vice. His eyes blaze a warning.
“Don’t fucking say it - don’t.”
If he was going to be insistent, if he was going to dream up these fanciful scenarios, if he was doing this knowing how hard it was for you too, you could look him in the eye as he pleads with his.
“That’s what you’ve paid me for.”
He buries his face against the crook of your neck and you cling onto him, letting the pleasure wash over you in ripples.
“It’s not like that anymore.”
You dig your nails on his back, the cord snapping suddenly as you came. It’s painful at the end as you take him over the edge too. You bury your feelings as you muffle your moans agains this mouth in this messy kiss, full of yearning. What he said may be the truth but it doesn’t matter. Neither of you talk as your bodies sought to expel all that was left unsaid, your hair sticks your neck, your temples, he groans as you shake, sensitised from the slew of emotions that you never expected this evening. It’s final, you both knew that.
A while later, when he pulls away from you, carrying you to the shower, and handles you as if it was all other times, you still don’t talk. You stare at each other in the dimness as Gangnam, with all its luxurious possibilities, limits your freedom to the suite. He tangles his fingers in your hair, you grasp at his arm, and you kiss because you simply couldn’t fathom it.
And when morning comes, you’re tired, your dress is in a heap with his suit.
Arrangements are made for new clothes. There’s room service and you eat in silence, eyes avoiding each other in the light. There’s a staleness in the air as you check out, body and mind weary. His lingering touch, as he leads you all the way up to the door of your apartment, leaves you with a kind of tired that sleep can’t fix. But it’s the image of his back, his frame clad in a grey suit, his powerful strides reduced to a timid lope. His hand at the side of the elevator as he gives you one last look, those eyes that you’ve come to love so much were red, like yours.
That’s what you remember.
Months later, you’re in your apartment. The news reports of his wedding. It’s extravagant and his wife is beautiful. You don’t lower the volume, facing it head on while you think back to the first time, when he slept on the chair of the hotel while you were in the bed. Then you think back to when you grew comfortable with each other, learnt each other’s wants and needs. You think back to that one night, he said something and blamed it on the slip of the tongue. To be fair, you were both tired, drunk on the atmosphere of Jeju, coddled in the sheets, the villa yours for two weeks to pretend to be whoever you wanted to be. It was three words delivered quickly, breathlessly. You felt bad for not saying it back, mindful of what it all meant, this temporariness of what you had together. Yet after, you were softer with him and his acceptance of your guarded affection signalled that he knew.
Perhaps it’s because it had been there all along. From the moment you laid eyes on Namjoon, your face feeling all too warm under the blue lights as he rattled on about introductions. He was apologetic that he had to leave a some sort of monetary consideration after the end of the evening. Despite nothing happening, you talked and you forgot who you were. The difference was that it wasn’t a sense of escapism, all the armour you wore was hung on the hook at the door of that hotel for the duration of the night. You learned that those things didn’t matter to you so much when you saw his sleeping face, cramped in the way he slept on the chair. All that really mattered that night was that when he fell asleep first, you fell in love first. That was the last thought you had before eventually falling asleep too.
You wanted to be different to him. And it did end up being like that because he made it feel okay to revisit yourself beneath all the layers you scaffold over yourself. One time, as you laid side by side, holding hands, you told him about your dreams of wanting more than what you have.
It’s silly, never mind. I’m sorry.
It’s not silly. Tell me all of it, I want to hear it.
Persuaded, you told him all of it and he listened. He made it feel real.
As the news nears the end, an image of him appears on the screen. Namjoon smiles that polite smile you’re so familiar with, no teeth and it doesn’t reach his eyes. You watch until the next program rolls over, afraid of the stillness of your apartment. The night arrives and you lay in bed, eyes wide awake. You laugh suddenly, more of a puff of breath than anything, realising that fate was never more cruel than it was now.
You fall asleep like that, hollow and yearning. Those three words stuck at the back at your throat, waiting to be said to someone who’s no longer there.
pairing: scientist!Namjoon x f!reader genre(s): smut, angst, drama, mystery, slight horror au(s): based on Frankenstein word count: 460 words for the teaser warnings (teaser only): mentions minor character death rating:18+
summary:Kim Namjoon had always been a curious child, with a strong desire to understand the world. After a tragedy strikes his family Namjoon is left heartbroken. Grieving, he seeks to create a companion in the most unorthodox way. But what happens when the very life he created turns against the master whom she was supposed to love?
a/n: i’m still working on the hyung line classic lit stories! this one is quickly spiraling out of control, so I’m just sharing this to keep myself accountable bc I need to finish this damn fic. I’ve already written and deleted so much from it T_T this also very unedited
The rain pummeled against the window, striking the glass panes with such brazen force that Namjoon thought his whole studio would shudder and splinter underneath the weight of tonight’s storm. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he lets out a deep breath, one he did not even know he’d been holding for the past few years. It was done.
A crack followed his sigh, like a bone being set into place, and then a great groan, and his creation sprung to life. Namjoon stood there, paralyzed, the awe beginning to melt away, and shock and horror setting in as he took in the sight of this new being. It was a woman, and yet it was not. For every feature he’d selected, eyes, lips, nose, and everything that was beautiful in its own right, fit together in the most grotesque of ways, and instantly his heart plummets. This was no human. This was nothing worthy of his love, or the labor he’d undertaken for the past two years. The empty void that had settled in his chest after his mother’s passing grew wider and wider, and Namjoon watches all his hopes and dreams become swallowed by the gaping vortex.
A bead of sweat trickles down his neck, escaping underneath his shirt, and Namjoon turns on his heel, running out of the room.
Panicked, he closes the door behind him, rushing across the hall to his own bed, drawing the scratchy covers over his head. His eyes flutter, willing for sleep to claim his restless frame, but it never comes. Instead, he lies awake, the pounding of his heart melding with the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, creating a haunting rhythm to represent the doom that has begun to loom over the house.
A loud crack jolts Namjoon awake from his miserable sleep - the lightning illuminating the room in a silvery glow, and there, at the foot of his bed -– the figure of the being he’d created! Round eyes, if they could even be called so, staring at him curiously, like a lost child. Mouth moving as though it was trying to speak, but no sounds escaped.
Namjoon softens at the sight of the poor creature, looking lost and confused. He reaches out towards it, hands shaking, and nearly jumps when he feels two leathery palms take his hand in between them. His heart thrums at the gentle display, amazed at how soft-natured the creature was, despite its extraordinary appearance.
Tightening his hand in the creature’s, he realizes that he cannot give up now. This dream, this vision, it must be worth something. For the beauty of creation lied not in the dazzling appearance of things themselves, but their ability to provide hope.
title: holding on letting go wc:4k pairing: knj x reader (gn) summary: this is not a lovestory, don’t be fooled. but then again, maybe it is. because love is like a kaleidoskope. not everything is the way you see it. and not everything that is broken needs to be put together again. genre:angst, lovers2exes, no happy ending (but this is up for discussion),hopefully a litte bit of hurt/comfort as well rating: 18+ nsfw warnings:profanity, themes of grief and coming to terms, feelings of grief and anxiety, broken heartedness, sad smut [i cried while writing this fic, does this need a warning?]
a/n:this wouldn’t be here without the lovely @madseok , @miscelunaaa and @hobi-gif. thank you so much for being the most wonderful betareaders there are.
a/n2:Dear reader, I hope you enjoy this kind of unconventional story. It’s not friends2lovers it’s not exes2lovers. it’s breaking up, it’s hurting, it’s grief. but i hope it’s also comfort and healing.
“How are you and Namjoon?” your friend asks with an open smile and honest eyes, as she fills your glass with a crisp and cold white wine that is supposed to carry sweet notes of summer and apricots, and it’s then your heart gives a small uncomfortable squeeze.
“We’re good, yeah, we’re good.” You laugh a little laugh, and take a sip of your drink. Your friend nods in acknowledgement and moves on asking someone else about work.
Should the wine taste this bitter?
Good. You’re good.You and Namjoon aregood.Another sip and you grimace. Good. The only answer you can give, and the only one that is acceptable.
What other reply could you give? You’ve loved each other for a decade, you have lived together for half and things have always been good.
So when you’re asked how you are, how he is, you say good, and the answer is the truth. There never has been another answer to this question.
While Lana talks trash about terrible dates, while you help Sungjin get over a cheating asshole, while you listen to Noe complaining about being single, you say we’re great. And you’re happy saying this. You’ve always been happy and deeply content giving this answer.
You’ve patted Noe’s head while they leaned on your shoulder, whispering in your ear that your relationship gave them hope. You held Namjoon’s hand while Sungjin fell asleep on your couch, all cried out over his breakup. Pressing a small kiss to Namjoon’s cheek, you thanked him for being a wonderful partner.
Now the wine tastes bitter, and you feel like you’re lying straight into the faces of your closest friends. It makes you want to vomit right onto the beautiful board of charcuterie that mocks you with perfectly arranged grapes, thin slices of Spanish ham and carefully chosen cheeses.
But what would you even tell them? You pop a grape into your mouth and listen halfheartedly as Lana complains about her ex who has started texting again. You don’t have any tea to spill. No drama, no cheating, no jealousy, no story. Maybe there is nothing to tell.
You’regood. Namjoon is good. He’s wonderful even. He’s always wonderful. You swallow down the lump in your throat with another sip of your wine.
Still there’s something. Something you can’t pinpoint yet, that escapes the finger you’re trying to put on it. Something that has changed in you. And you’re pretty sure you’re not alone in this. Something has changed in him as well. You’re on the same page of the same book. It just turns out you’ve been reading different editions.
A feeling in the pit of your stomach. And it’s killing you. You wish there was nothing to tell.
When you open your eyes, it’s just beginning to dawn. Without looking out of the window, you know that the dark sky is getting lighter and lighter, changing from navy to cerulean. You know that in a little while the few clouds that are scattered on the clear sky will be tinted pink and yellow by the rising sun.
And you know what the tightness around your heart and the tears prickling in your eyes mean.
You turn your head and see him lying there wide awake. Head turned, eyes searching yours. And not for the first time, you realise you can’t read them like you used to.
Pressing your lips together, you will them not to tremble. Tensing all the muscles in your body you try not to follow the instinct to turn around and fold yourself around his body like a koala. You can almost hear him complain in jest about you stealing his warmth, and yourself answering that you’re just doing your part saving the environment because you’re saving energy.
You turn your gaze back to the ceiling. You can’t bear looking at his unfamiliar familiar face. Without a word, you reach for his hand under the blanket and grab it. Softly, gently, but urgently.
“I think we need to talk,” you hear yourself whisper. You squeeze his hand a little too hard, as the first tear makes its way down your cheek and into your ear canal. It’s uncomfortable and a little gross.
“Yeah, I think so too.” His breath feels cool on your cheek where tears have now formed a steady but silent river. And then silently he squeezes back in lieu for all the words that are probably also stuck in his throat. A little too hard as well. And it hurts. Both your hand and your heart.
Your naked chest touches the back of the green velvet sofa that your parents gifted you when you had moved in together all these years ago. Bent over, you rest your hot forehead onto your hands and breathe out a shuddering moan at the movement of Namjoon’s hand that nudges your thighs a little further apart. You feel yourself reacting with heat pooling in your lower body and a familiar wetness as you’re awaiting him to touch you where you need him, now.
A few moments prior you had been cleaning out the bookshelves dividing first and second editions and well-loved paperbacks between yourselves when something had clicked and you collided into each other desperately.
His hands had hastily opened the buttons of your shirt–one of them ripped and rolled over the floor until it disappeared under the wooden couch table he had brought home from the flea market proudly. Your hands had been under his T-Shirt in an instant, having to feel his skin against yours.
His kisses tasted salty and when you reached for his chin to get him closer to you, your hand came back wet. You chose to ignore it, as he did the same. Who even knows whose tears these are. It seems irrelevant as your tongues meet and you wonder if you can keep this feeling somewhere safe.
You stifle a moan when you hear the tell-tale sound of his hand against his cock, readying himself to meet you and sink home. You need him to hurry. You need this now. Youneed this, in case you’ll never get this again…
“Stop.” Now it’s a sob you stifle, as you whisper the word and he stills.
Before you can say “Sorry, I changed my mind”, he has already moved away from you and has grabbed the soft blue blanket with the ink stain and covered you up.
His hand has never left your body though. Anchored on your hip, it stays and gives you a little squeeze and you hate that you know what it means: It’s okay. I understand. Don’t you dare to be sorry.
When you find yourself in a similar situation the next day after deconstructing the bed that had been your safe haven, you should be surprised, but you’re not. No really at least.
The mattress has witnessed so many firstsandsecondsandthirdsandinfinites. Somehow you think, it’s only fair that it also gets to witness a last.
You’re impatient. If it wasn’t Namjoon, you’d be shy. But it is Namjoon and so you don’t feel embarrassed as you open the button of his jeans and slide the zipper down to slip your hand into his pants, eager to feel the pulsing heat of his length. He’s hard, probably painfully so.
Probably since you took off your sweater and swayed your hips, dancing to that one song.
“Namjoon. Please.” You know he can’t resist you when you use this voice on him. You move closer and whisper–proud to see goosebumps rise on his arms–“Please, I want this.”
His voice is low and a little pressed. “Yesterday it was no.” He needs you to be sure.
Moving away, you slowly take off your pants and your shirt and sink down on the mattress on the floor. The last piece left in the barren bedroom.
And he gives in. Namjoon is weak. Because it’s you, and he wants. He needs.
Because this could be the last time he gets to see you like this. Hear you like this. Touch you like this. Feel you sigh sweetly against his cheek. Feel you flutter and clench around him.
He’s not proud, but he knows when he has lost against himself. And so he moves closer to you, leaving his clothes and doubts on the floor.
And then it’s him and you, naked on the bed, as you have been a million times. He’s sitting on his knees between your legs, with all of you out for him to see. Your soft skin, the gentle curve of your neck, the little crease where your hip meets your thigh. All parts of you he has kissed and touched a million times.
But it’s not familiar anymore; now you’re not the lover into whose ears he whispers little naughty things while he pushes into you. Not the lover who giggles at his creative dirty talk until moans replace the laughter.
You’re strangers. Strangers lying in bed together naked. There’s no lightness, only a brick settled on his chest that makes it harder and harder to breathe as he looks at your face, eyes pressed shut, waiting for him to fuck you.
“I can’t,” he whispers. You can’t even look at him, and he doesn’t know if he could bear it to be this vulnerable with you anymore.
You feel him drop down next to you, and you turn around to face him. Without saying a word or opening your eyes, you search for his hand and let yourself be pulled into an embrace.
“It’s okay,” you whisper, a tear running down your cheek, as a broken sob leaves his lungs.
“It’s okay,” you repeat and pat his back, like you would a child’s and while you can’t say it, you hope he knows you’re feeling the same.
You can’t give each other this anymore. No matter how much you want it. You can’t give each other your bodies and your souls anymore.
But you can give each other this little bit of comfort still. At least for now.
After a while his and your sobs subside and your breathing stabilises, maybe for the last time in tandem.
“Can we keep Crete? That little cottage on the cliff…”
“…on that one rainy day?” You finish his sentence and without opening your eyes, you know he’s smiling.
“Yes.”
Your lips curve into a smile as well, while silent tears stream over your face and you hold onto him like a drowning man to a raft on the stormy seas. Just for another minute, you tell yourself.
Finally the school bell announces that you have made it through the day. After you’ve sent off your class into the weekend, you shoulder your bag filled with your students’ tests that need to be graded by Monday.
As you’re about to leave the building, you hear your name called through the hallway, now void of the students that have left the building just minutes ago.
“Great work today.” Your principal leans against the door of her office, and you feel pride swell in your chest. “Not everyone would have handled that talk this well. That was hard. But you pushed through.” She sends a smile your way. “You never lost sight of what you needed them to understand. You were compassionate but didn’t stray. You talked with them, not over them. You did so well for that kid.” She laughs out loud, as she sees you glancing to the floor, shuffling around. “I don’t give out compliments lightly. So take it.” Even though you haven’t been this long at her school, she has noticed you don’t do well with praise, which is ironic since you’re never slow to give it out, so she waves you off and wishes you a nice weekend.
With a big smile on your face you walk to your car. You didwell today, you grin, as you allow yourself to take in the praise from your principal, and also from yourself. Fumbling for your keys, you feel the leather straps of your bag cut a little into the soft flesh of your shoulder.
It’s heavier than expected, even though the strap is relatively thick and pretty well padded. The bag is made to carry a lot. Suddenly the pain that started in your shoulder is no longer located there. It has moved lower, right into your chest. The happiness you just felt starts seeping out of you as if someone had cut a hole in a plastic bag full of water.
Youhate the bag slung over your shoulder. The stupid shade of warm brown that compliments your complexion. It’s too pretty. The leather is smooth and sturdy and elegant at the same time. It has many pockets that can hold all of your pens. It’s too practical.
And it reminds you of everything that was and that wouldn’t be anymore. It reminds you of the person you used to call and tell about your day on the drive home. The one that would holler for you and shout Go get ‘em tiger into his phone regardless of who’d hear him on his side of the phone call.
And you wonder if you should even use it anymore. Are you allowed to keep things your ex gave you?
Namjoon’s smiling face pops up, not really unprompted. You can almost feel him nosing your neck as he holds you in a tight embrace, whispering how proud he is of you. A kiss to the little spot under your ear. How proud he is that you made it through your training, finally a ‘real’ teacher! Another kiss to the tip of your nose, before he hands you the bag and tells you that you need a real teacher’s bag if you’re gonna be a real teacher now. And you with stars in your eyes as you caress the bag and tell him that he shouldn’t have splurged on this, that he should have used his hard earned money on something for himself. And then him, who clucked his tongue and told you that he did spend it on himself, because you never looked prettier.
The memory makes you smile and for a moment you allow yourself to be calmed by it. You drive down familiar streets and cross familiar corners on your way. At the intersection you signal to turn right, as you patiently watch the red light. Yellow. Then green. You put the gear in and step on the gas. And realise you should have gone left. Right is the way to your old apartment. Left is to your new one. Your breathing quickens. Still it feels like not enough oxygen is making it to your lungs. The next breath hitches, and the hand on the steering wheel trembles. The next breath is a sob and your vision gets foggy.
With the last bit of sense that you have, you pull to the side of the road and let your head drop to the steering wheel.
“Table for one?”Again?
“Yes. Table for one,” you reply.Again. Raising one eyebrow you dare the waiter to say something. How this is a busy night, and if it was okay for you to take a seat at the bar and not occupy a table where he could sit a couple on a date that would surely order three courses and maybe a bottle of wine.
“One second, let me check if we have something available for you.” The second he turns around to look through the seating area, your shoulders sink down a little bit. It’s still new, asking for a table for one, and you feel a little too overwhelmed, a little too raw. Is he pitying you for coming here alone?
You challenged yourself today again, maybe a little too much. This is the place you first went out to eat with Namjoon all those years ago. Where he had tipped over your glass of red wine because he was a little nervous on top of his trademarked clumsiness and left an unwavering stain on your favourite cardigan and an unwavering memory in your heart. When he had kissed you goodnight he still tasted a little bit like the mousse au chocolat and espresso he had for dessert.
It’s not only today and this place. Every day feels like a challenge now, every new old thing feels like a challenge. Everything you used to do not alone, you do alone now.
And it’s hard. Grocery shopping for one is hard. Cooking for one is hard. Mourning a future you thought was set in stone is hard. Mourning togetherness alone is hard.
“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.” Your head snaps up at him addressing you directly. Your lips are pressed together, a frown tightly in place. His friendly smile is suddenly replaced by what you’re sure is his customer service smile. Ready for you to lash out at him.
And a minute ago you might have been ready to. These days all you think you see are pitying stares. Even people passing you by on the street seem to gossip about you going for walks all alone.
But today you decide to listen to the other voice inside your head, the one telling you that maybe not everyone is set out to pour salt into the still throbbing wound you try to hold close. Maybe not everyone is whispering behind your back. Maybe he was just doing his job, managing the seating area, making sure to find the best seating arrangement for every customer.
As if he had noticed you deflating, he asks: “Everything okay? I can bring you to your table now, it’s ready. Sorry for your wait.”
You shake your head, and try out a smile, and you’re thankful your body observes the impulse you send from your brain and your lips curve. “No thank you, everything is fine. Thank you.”
You’re awakened by the sounds of water running. It’s still dark out, and the streetlight’s glow basks the white sheets in a gentle orange. With a frown you reach over. It’s still warm. He can’t have gotten up to shower long ago, and you wonder what the protocol is now. Is there a protocol?
Should you be awake when he comes back? Look at him seductively and suggest going for another round? Should you close your eyes and fake being asleep and leave it up to him whether he decides to stay for the night or gather his clothes quietly and leave? Should you wait until he gets out of the shower to hop in as well and let him know that you want him gone by the time you’re done?
Should you high-five him and thank him for the orgasms?
When the bathroom door opens and you hear him shuffle through the room, letting out a whispered curse as stumbles in the dark trying to pull on his jeans, you keep your eyes closed and even out your breath.
A few minutes later, the door to your apartment falls shut, and you stretch your limbs and breathe out in relief at the decision that’s been taken out of your hands. You’re sated and sore in familiar places, though in an unfamiliar way.
You don’t regret taking him home with you. Pressing your body against his, feeling his soft skin under your fingers, trailing your hands over his muscles, feeling them retract, as you traced the tattoo on his ribs. Feeling his cock twitch in your hand and then inside of you. Feeling him gasp out a guttural moan as you told him to come.
It was good. Hell, it was fucking great. Unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. Still, you’re glad you get to wake up alone.
There’s things you’re ready for, and there’s things you’re not. You had averted your eyes when he asked you to look at him as you came. You might be ready to have someone else inside you, you’re not ready to give them your soul. You’re not ready to see someone else’s eyes above you. You’re still afraid they’ll turn into the dark pools of Namjoon’s eyes that you were used to getting lost in. The ones encouraging you to let go, to let yourself fall. He’d catch you.
But it’s okay. You knew this would take time.
When you wake up the next morning to a text from the boy from last night, you find yourself smiling and saving his number.
“One glass of Sauvignon Blanc.” Your voice probably doesn’t carry well over the sound of the crowded bar. But you’ve been here a million times, and you would almost say you’re on a first name basis with the barkeeper. He probably started pouring the wine even before you had opened your mouth.
This bar and its keeper have seen you at your best and at your worst. This is the place where you celebrated getting your first dream job by dancing on tables. This is also the place where you got blackout drunk, ending up under the table, on the night after your talk with Namjoon about the state or not-state of your fading relationship.
Accepting the generously filled glass, you lift it to your lips and take a sip. It’s nice and cold, and just sweet enough. You sigh and search the room to see if your friends are already there, when you suddenly spot a familiar head of hair at the table in the corner.
Is that…? Is he here? You twist your body a little bit, and–yes, indeed–it’s him. He’s not alone. Even if the other person is hidden behind a column, you know what they are to him. You can tell by the look in his eyes, by the curve of his smile and the way he has folded his hands in front of him, giving them his whole undivided attention. You know, because this used to be you.
You brace yourself for the pain to start, for the knife to gently twist in your stomach. You wait for the nausea to climb up your throat.
But this time it doesn’t come. Instead a subtle heat spreads through you. Not the kind of heat that burns you up, not like the all consuming rage you had felt months ago at the mere thought of him with someone else. Now it’s a gentle, unfamiliar warmth that makes your lips widen into a smile, as you watch him nod in response to something the person sitting across from him said. He throws his head back and you think you can hear the sound of his laughter over the voices of all the other people. It’s impossible. The beat of the music vibrates through you and it’s impossible to hear him from that distance, but still–for you–it’s there.
As the night goes on, your cheeks grow warm from the drinks and the laughter and the cheeky smirk the new bartender throws your way, and you almost forget Namjoon is even here until your eyes meet through the crowded room.
For a second he looks surprised, the scared sort of surprised. At that moment you know exactly how he feels, because you already went through this a couple of hours ago. He looks like his heart has dropped to his knees, and the contents of his stomach need to decide where they want to go.
So you decide to put him out of his misery and raise your glass in greeting. You give him a nod, your eyes open and honest, your smile wide. And as he raises his glass as well, and lets a careful smile settle on his face you realise that you’re not only smiling for his sake.
You’re smiling, because you mean it. You’re glad he’s here, you’re glad he has that light in his eyes when he smiles at someone, because it is a beautiful smile and he has a lot of love to give, and it should be given to someone, even if it’s not you anymore.
Summary- Results of a pregnancy test lead to heavy conversations.
word count- 3.6k
pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader
rating- PG 15
genre- series, idolau, fluff, smut, angst
warnings- unwanted pregnancy, talks of abortion, allusions to depression and anxiety, panic attack (brief), SO MUCH ANGST.
a.n- well after 2952905209582 years im back with an update and all I can say is im sorry but the angst is upon us! hopefully the next update won’t take me too long to finish! hope you enjoy this chapter and stay with this couple. I really do love them and im looking forward to you following the rest of their journey (as slow as it may be)
A special thank you to @casuallyimagining for hearing me screaming about this wip for ages and @m-yg93 for beta reading this for me! Love you both!
As always feedback appreciated. Send me an ask!
You stared at the tiles of the cold bathroom floor as you sat next to Namjoon, timer on your phone counting down the seconds to your fate. Your thoughts were dramatic, loudly knocking around your brain, but all you could focus on was the little grime between the white tiles that was missed by the cleaners. You had half a mind to get up to scrub it out just to give you something to do, but Namjoon’s hand was holding yours tight, his eyes glued to the pregnancy test placed in front of you. You had left it upside down to save yourself from the suspense – not that it helped.
“Are we… are we excit-” Namjoon began only to be cut off by the shrill alarm from your phone. The two of you stared at one another for a while, too scared to look at the results. With one hand still in his, you reached for the test, flipping it over to see the results
Two lines.
Positive.
You exhaled loudly, your heart pounding as you looked at Namjoon who was still staring at the little white stick on the floor, his mouth falling open. When he looked at you, his mouth turned into a huge smile, one that deepened his dimples and scrunched his eyes till they were invisible. While waiting for the results he didn’t know what he wanted it to say, but as soon as he saw it, he couldn’t help the way joy bubbled through him. You were pregnant. He was going to be a dad and before he knew it his hands were cupping your face and pulling you into a kiss, gentle and reverent, as if he was pouring all the love he had into it.
“We’re pregnant,” he sighed, his forehead on yours, his fingers gently stroking the nape of your neck.
“We are,” you replied, but instead of the exhilarated tone that Namjoon sported, yours was almost empty, devoid of any emotions. It made him startle, pulling away from you to gauge your neutral expression.
“Are we not happy about this?” he asked, only for you to stand up and walk towards the living room where you sat on the couch, staring into space. He followed you, sitting beside you, hesitant, a hand holding yours. You fingers remained limp as he entwined them, caging his heart in his chest as it banged against the walls, faster and faster.
He didn’t know how long you stared blankly at the wall in front you, unblinking, frightening him beyond belief. It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been hours, your eyes pointed to the latest painting he had acquired decorating the blank wall. He looked away from you after a while, taking in the abstract as well, letting the rusty hues embrace him, comfort him like they did the day he ran across them at a gallery. But the smoky haze around the rust pounced on him, coloring his thoughts with fear he hadn’t seen in the artwork before, the fear of the inevitable, the fear of the inescapable. It clouded his lungs, making them heavier with each breath, stepping on his trachea, until suddenly you were moving, leaving his hand and reaching for the laptop on the coffee table in front of you, typing away.
“What are you doing?” he whispered, scared that if he spoke any louder you would shatter, or shatter him. He wasn’t sure which one he preferred.
“Setting up an appointment. Need to confirm with the gynaecologist,” you replied curtly, face vacant of any emotion, eyes scrolling the screen, searching.
“Oh… yeah of course. Yeah,” he murmured, trying to gather all his patience till it ran away from him and he was turning towards you fully, a leg coming up to rest against the cushions and hands moving to your shoulders. He traced your cheek with a finger, wanting you to let him into your head, searching your eyes that looked at him listlessly. Mustering a smile, he tried to reassure you, “But hey listen. We’ll be okay. It’s us. We can do this.”
“Namjoon. We’re not having a baby,” you said, firm and final. You didn’t want to fantasise about maybes, you needed solutions, a way to fix what might destroy your life, and for a moment, you didn’t care what Namjoon thought. He would be okay. You would make him understand eventually.
“What?” His voice was sharp, cracking through the silence, hands falling away from you, face tightening into the hard lines you rarely saw. And somehow you felt angry. You knew he wanted kids, he had always wanted kids, cuddling you in bed and waxing poetic about someone you’d both create, but he had to realise it was too soon.
“We’re not ready! Think about it. We’ve barely been together for two years! Having a baby right now is insane,” you ranted, tossing your laptop back on the coffee table just so you could look at him, make him understand how drastically your life could change. You expected Namjoon to fight, but instead he moved closer, cupping your face between his palms, gazing at you softly.
“What does time have anything to do with it? I love you, you love me. That’s all we need,” he assured. He knew that this was not the plan, he was supposed to give you the ring first, he was supposed to learn how to cook your favourite dish and surprise you on your honeymoon first, he was supposed to buy the house with the large yard that reminded you of your childhood first. But who was he to reject fate when it came knocking on his door?
“The timing isn’t right Joonie. You know it’s not,” you pleaded, tone softened to match his, but you could see the frustration growing within him, the tell tale tightening of his jaw sparking your earlier anger. Anger that ignited at his next words, spitting out of his mouth as he dropped his hands from your cheeks to your shoulders as if trying to shake some sense into you.
“Oh come on Y/N! Why are you acting like we’re sixteen and got pregnant? We’re almost thirty. We’re both financially stable. The timing’s not the issue here.”
“Of course it is! Or do you not remember crying on this fucking couch about your year long tour?” You brushed him off, standing up to give yourself some distance, but he followed suit, coming closer, confusing you with the whiplash of him yelling and then pleading all in one go.
“I’ll get them to move it around!” he insisted, running his hands over his face before he hugged you close, murmuring in your ear, “We’ll figure it out. It’s our baby.”
“It’s not a baby! It’s a collection of cells,” you pushed him off once again, trying your hardest to make him understand the gravity of the situation. Having a baby wasn’t a one time thing, it was something that could change all of your plans, that could change the course of your lives. “You can’t move around the tour! It’s impossible. We can have a baby in the future. It’s just not right.”
“Then I’ll fucking quit! It doesn’t matter. I’d do that for you,” he promised, determined, jaw clenching, fists balled at his sides.
“I don’t want that,” you implored, voice strained, goosebumps running up your spine. “I can’t get pregnant. Harry quit, I need to be in the comp-”
“Fuck the company! It’s our baby,” Namjoon yelled, startling you as he came closer. “If I can quit, so can you. We can still be happy!”
“I can’t quit! Are you insane?” you matched his volume, wanting so badly to knock some sense into him, your fists gripping his shirt at his chest.
“You have majority shares, you’ll be fine,” he promised, holding you, trying to comfort you but he just didn’t understand. How could you prove every misogynist that sat on that board that you were indeed who they predicted, just a woman abandoning her hard work to build a family?
“No,” you said, pushing him away once again, unaware of your strength as he stumbled back, a look of betrayal marring his features. “You can quit, but I can’t.”
“Why?” he protested.
“Because you’re already successful!” you yelled, feeling all the energy sapping out of you with your retort, leaving your knees shaking, your entire body quivering. “You’ve already reached your dreams. I can’t abandon mine. Joonie, please.”
The way you pleaded made his heart shatter, made him fall into a million pieces as he felt his eyes burn, his sinuses clogging with the dissonance of empathy and selfishness, because to Namjoon his dream wasn’t being an idol, it was you and now your unborn child.
“That’s not my dream… not anymore,” he declared softly, head bowed as if you had slapped him and you couldn’t take it anymore, sitting back on the couch to book the appointment.
“Let’s talk about it after the appointment,” you whispered, heart beating against your chest, clawing at it as you ran through contingencies, figuring out where you could get an abortion in a nation that had them criminalized. You knew you were breaking Namjoon, and you hated it, but he didn’t understand what was at stake for you. How many endless nights you had spent working to make a name for yourself, to make something out of nothing but your ideas and relentless grit. How you had faced rejection after rejection before uprooting your life, leaving your family behind, and now you were on the cusp of where you had envisioned yourself in your tiny dorm room so many years ago. How could he expect you to throw it all away? All for some fault in your birth control?
You ignored Namjoon as he sat on the couch next to you, his body as drained as yours, defeat pouring out of every pore. He couldn’t help silently weeping, hoping that you’d change your mind, that you’d suddenly tell him you were joking, wrap him in your arms and tell him congratulations. Then he could laugh, joke with you about scaring the life out of him, kiss you and run to his closet and pull out the ring. But the real joke was that you just sat there long after you had shut the laptop, the distance between you growing.
He hated it. He hated that somehow you felt like a stranger in that moment. He understood you, knew the pressures that threatened to bury you at every moment, but he still couldn’t help wishing that you would listen to him. He wasn’t alone when he fantasised about kids, you were there with him in the nights after he had exhausted your body, holding you warm between the sheets as he talked about the family two of you would create. You would tell him the names you wanted, about how you hoped your child wouldn’t lose the little shoes he had gotten so long ago now.
He wanted to reach out and comfort you, even though you had just broken his heart. It was stupid how you were also the only one who could heal him, reassure him that his dream wasn’t futile, that wanting you, wanting a family wasn’t as far off as it seemed in the moment. But as he gathered the courage, slowly inching his hand closer to yours, you stood up walking to the kitchen, leaving him frozen on the couch.
Cutting the vegetables for a meal always calmed you, but each time the knife hit the cutting board, you felt your heartbeat in your ears, your breaths getting shorter till you were squatting on the floor, head between your knees. You knew you would lose Namjoon, in all this time, there was a niggling thought at the back of your mind that he would wake up and realise that what he thought was love was an infatuation, much like others before him. However, you hadn’t thought of how you would push him away, how you would cut his heart out and present it to him. Your words ran through your head, harsh and selfish as you pictured the man you love getting more and more dejected, tears falling down your cheeks. You tried to compose yourself, control your breathing, remembering to count the rise of your chest. You breathed in for five seconds, letting the air inflate your lungs, holding it for another five, before expelling it out with your doubts.
It didn’t take long for the panic to subside, for your tears to dry – years of practice had that effect, and soon you were standing up once again, trying to dispel the disappointment that washed over you when Namjoon was still sitting in the living room, still staring at the wall like you had left him. You were disappointed in yourself, but you were still firm in your decision. You couldn’t give him what he wanted, not now.
Cooking dinner helped you collect your thoughts, get brave as you called him to the kitchen, yet not brave enough to hold him like you wanted to. Dinner was spent in silence, the tension of the fight lingering in the air like acid, peeling off your skin and leaving it raw. Every moment felt hesitant, laced with anxiety, heavy like gravity had increased tenfold. In bed, the two of you faced away from each other, an ocean between you of worries furrowing your brows and sinking your hearts.
But Namjoon was brave. Or maybe he was too scared to let the argument take roots in the foundation you two had worked hard to build. He could feel it seeping in, trying to lodge its claws in, and so in the silence hanging like tendrils of a willow, he said your name, letting it act as an anchor as he tentatively turned around, his hand reaching out for you, fingers gently grazing your back. When you ignored him, not knowing how to face him after the way you had acted, he tried again, mature and persistent.
“Can I hold you?” he whispered, his index finger poking your back ever so softly. It ached your heart, his timid tone making your lip wobble as you shrugged. He took that as an agreement because you had barely moved your shoulders before his body was around you, long limbs wrapping you in a safe embrace. The breath you released was hallowed, a shaky exhale burning your lungs and stinging your eyes. You grasped his hands tightly in yours, criss crossing your arms around your body and he moved closer, head almost on top of yours, needing to be closer.
“I love you.” His proclamation was comforting, even when his voice was waterlogged and his tears tracked from his cheeks to yours.
“Even if I don’t want this baby?” You needed to know. You didn’t know if you would change your mind. You were in no position to bring a child into the world, not yet. You needed the reassurance that he trusted you, and would wait for you. He was quiet for a moment, more hesitant than he had ever been with you and it made your heart pound beneath your chest, begging for an escape.
“Even if you don’t want this baby,” he confirmed, his nose tracing your cheek and you couldn’t help a tear escape along with a flurry of apologies that he kissed away. Sleep was elusive and his snores never came to comfort you with their lullabies. Lost in your own thoughts you stayed wrapped in each other till the sun was fighting to peep in through your drapes, alerting you that in a few hours you both would have to make the biggest decision in your relationship.
It was quiet in the little hospital room, bright lights and the plants secluded in the corner of the pastel room not bringing any comfort to the two of you as you sat stiffly in the plush chairs behind the large oak desk. The receptionist had quietly escorted you to the room to wait till the doctor was ready, and you were glad that Namjoon had less of a chance of being spotted in a gynaecologist’s office.
He held your hand as you sat together, grip unfaltering even when the nurse came in to draw some blood. He watched over his glasses as you drew in a sharp inhale when the needle pricked through your skin, your fingers around his tightening just a little. He wished he wasn’t in this situation, that time had been kinder and given you the successes you wanted at the same time as him so you felt ready to start a family to truly be with him. But nothing ever went according to plan for him, and even when it did, it didn’t work like he had thought.
He had experienced it in his career. The poetry he used to write in his childhood bedroom on his scattered desk had now transformed into lyrics echoed in strangers’ bedrooms. He had worked harder than anything to ensure that, put his youth as collateral, put his relationships as collateral for his success and he had achieved it. Yet, each moment felt frayed. He never had the opportunity to sit still long enough to actually relish the fruits of his labours to enjoy it before he was working on the next thing, trying to block out the voices that told him he wasn’t good enough. He worked to prove them wrong and when he did, they always relegated his efforts to luck. It was frustrating. This was not how he thought reaching his goals would feel like, bittersweet and fleeting.
It was the same with you sometimes. He never imagined a partner was in the cards for him, never imagined that someone would ever care enough about him to love him despite his flaws, but you had. You showed him that it was okay to break down, to let down his walls, and so he worked hard to ensure he never lost you, read books on how to be the perfect partner, a “female-written male character”. But even with your voice telling him he was enough, he was eager to move onto the next step to prove even further how perfect he could be for you. You didn’t pressure him into, you didn’t need to, he was conditioned to want more, to always want more. He just didn’t think you wouldn’t want more with him.
However, when the doctor walked in, he wished that he could convince you otherwise. Maybe if you could see the bundle of cells the two of you had created together, you could envision the future with him. He held your hand as the doctor talked, barely registering what she was saying because he was too anxious, too impatient for her to do an ultrasound. You wouldn’t want an abortion if you saw it, right? But nothing ever went according to plan for him. There was no ultrasound. The movies he had watched had lied to him. All the doctor did was look at a report on her tablet, smiling sadly.
“So Y/N, I’ve got some bad news,” she began and Namjoon’s heart pounded in panic, a sheen of sweat already appearing on his forehead. Her tone made a chill travel up his spine and he tightened his grip on your fingers, bracing himself. “Unfortunately, you are not pregnant.”
He knew he should’ve been relieved, just like you seemed to be, your shoulders relaxing and a breath escaping your lips, but his throat ran dry, all the moisture seeming to deposit into his eyes. You smiled at him and he reciprocated, happy to see you happy. He had to be happy, right? There was no reason to mourn something that was never there, but with every question you asked the doctor, he felt more helpless. Folding his hands in his lap, he stared at them solemnly. Apparently pregnancy tests could be wrong if they’re expired. He didn’t even know they had an expiration date, but then again did he know anything at all?
Turns out he didn’t even know you, feeling irrationally annoyed at the sudden pep in your step as the two of you made your way to the car. You were already on the phone scheduling something or the other with Siwon, oblivious to the tears in his eyes as he stared at the passing blur of the streets.
“Joon?” your voice broke him from his thoughts and he cleared his throat, humming in response. “You okay?”
He should’ve told you the truth, enlightened you to the flurry in his head, but when he turned to you, you seemed so relaxed, so happy that he didn’t have the courage to dampen the bright smile on your face. So he lied, “Yeah. I’m okay. You?”
You didn’t believe him. Somehow in your relief you had failed to notice how closed off your boyfriend had become. Sequestered in the corner, he seemed impossibly small in the seat, his shoulders hunched, his hands resting in between his joined knees. He seemed to be almost closing in on himself. You thought he would be relieved too, relieved that you didn’t have to make a monumental decision, that you didn’t have to change the trajectory of your relationship over a mistake, but his dejected aura made you forget about your earlier joy, your arms wrapping around him.
You were almost afraid he wouldn’t reciprocate your gesture but soon his arms were wrapping around you too, his face buried in your hair as he inhaled deeply. It was as if the edge of last night’s fight was still there, threatening to pop the bubble the two of you had created in the backseat of the car, but you were stubborn, holding him tighter and refusing to let the agony manifest again.
“We’ll be okay,” assured him as he straightened, his tired eyes staring at you.
“We’ll be okay,” he promised, a hand cupping your face before his lips met yours, gentle and loving.
Alice in the Madness of Wonderland: The Stygian Fairytale | Walkthrough
↳ Banner and dividers made by @kim-seok-jin. Thank you^^.
✉Titles:
➝Alice in the Madness of Wonderland: The Stygian Fairytale
➝Stygian (the madness corrupts me, and you, my saviour)
Though Alice ‘Y/N’ Liddell is overshadowed, and she doesn’t seem to think much of it, she yearns for a world which notices her- gives her a chance- a part of her wanting for a turn to be on the pedestal. But of course, nothing can change that-
Or can it?
One chance encounter with a boy with bunny ears and a strange hole, and she arrives at the world of Wonderland- a world of magic, mystery and madness. Protecting her life is one thing, but-
What more when everyone seems determined to capture her heart?
➠ Genres: Angst, fantasy, alice in wonderland!au, reverse harem, isekai (teleported to a fantasy world), mystery
➠ Overall Rating: PG-18
➠ Warnings: Violence, suicide, comatose, disturbing scenes, weapons, fights, yandere, insanity, mental illnesses, torture, massacre, serial killers, violent riots, executions, murders, large amount of people die, stalking, people lead other people on, threats, madness (but it’s wonderland so), tea parties and the white rabbit
✉ Beta-player [a.k.a. me, blog writer and walkthrough maker!] comments:
Several crashes may occur while playing the game, as the developers told me. This is still a beta version of the game, after all! The game also contains a lot of violence… hrmm, well, you’ll see for yourself. I’ve been told not to give too many spoilers, but the developers hinted to me that as the player, we have a special power!
If you complete a route, you don’t have to continue to the next one. You can pick whichever route you’re on and make it your true end. When that option pops out in the game, and you pick yes, Wonderland will close, and Alice and her suitor will be able to leave! It’s our choices while reading that matter!
Or… at least that’s what they said. Still, I’d warn you guys to be careful in choosing! This game is tricky, and it has several bad ends too… ah, I shouldn’t spoil anymore. This is an online game, so I put the links below if you want to play the beta version too! Careful though~ It links straight to the prologue, so for any players replaying, just choose the route after!
Oh, and one last thing- though all of the main cast are dateable characters; it’s of course, only one character per route though… or is it? Hehehe!
If you go through all routes, you might get a secret ending! Bonus scenes! So complete the full game when it comes out, okay?
No, the developers totally didn’t ask me to say all that to promote the game~
Have fun playing, and I hope this walkthrough helps you!
Hi, everyone! As you all know, I’m building this fic as we go, based on your input, so I wanted to share some quick AMOMK updates that I’m really excited about! I’ve numbered them, so if there ones in the future, you can follow along!
THE STARTER PACKS
Have you seen random posts and thought, “What isthis???”
Well,A Map of Mrs. Kims is a project that I started last year based on this beautiful anon ask! That ask began a short story that I wrote about Jin, Namjoon, and Taehyung, who are brothers visiting their father, Jihu/Mr. Kim, and mother, Bongseon/Mrs. Kim for their usual weekly, Sunday dinner. And every week, during their usual Sunday dinner, Mrs. Kim brings out her map, a list and infographic of the top bachelorettes in the city that have gone through her rigorous application process to date one of the Kim brothers! Mrs. Kim’s main goal is to find three Mrs. Kims of their very own — but Jin, Namjoon, and Tae have other plans!
Over the last year, that short story has grown into an entire universe, filled with over 300 drabbles and asks (wild, wild), a planned longfic that will be updated monthly throughout 2022 (apologies for already being behind lol), the birth of two apparently extremelystrong ships (Bongseon x Jihu, and Sad Girl x Namjoon!), the election of Mayor Paint & Simp Anon (who is also in the running), a website that is currently being beta tested , and even a potential spin-off (Yoongi / Work Wife Yoongles is somewhere out there, sweating)???
The Official Sad Girl Starter Pack: more info on what a Sad Girl is (i.e., the trope/characterization, its origins in media, and its relevance to AMOMK), plus the main drabbles to give you backstory!
THE MAP
Check out Bongseon’s map masterpost as we go to get more details about each bachelorette, as well as Bongseon’s notes about them! (It’ll always be kept under the READ MORE / KEEP READING cut if you want to avoid spoilers!) Thanks @shyfoxarbiter16 for the suggestion, way back when we first started this journey!
THE STORY
I experimented with Bachelorette drabbles for the first section, NORTH, but to simplify, the dates are now being folded into the chapters! I talk about why I’m doing this here!
Chapter 02 has been slightly rewritten to incorporate this changes, but nothing has really structurally changed other than POV. And the Bachelorette drabble is now in the Extras section of the fic masterpost. If there’s inspiration or a strong demand for Y/N POV drabbles in each section, I’ll be happy to throw some treats as we go!
I am writing this story because it’s a really fun premise, and I’m seemingly infinitely inspired by this world, but most of all, it’s my gift to ARMY — this fanfiction bubble has been incredibly gracious and wonderful to me, and you all are so, so creative with your headcanons that you contribute so frequently, and with such care, love, and depth!
You’ve shared everything, from fodder, to questions, to critiques, to deeply personal stories that have such a humbling and celebrated thread of humanity through them. I know I say this every time, but any time you reach out to tell me that something the boys did reminds you of their AMOMK characterizations, or when something in your own lives makes you think about the Kims, my heart absolutely soars.
Thanks for sharing, and for being so down to come along with me on this experiment! All of these links will also be updated on the fic masterpost shortly! Eager to hear what you think — always so happy whenever you stop by the AMOMK universe!
@ultimatenoona Ahhh I’m so glad to hear from you! Thank you for reading along with me! I can’t tag you for some reason so I really hope this finds you!!
OK so after Bongseon x Jihu, Sad Girl is the character that gets the most love haha! So, in addition to the AMOMK Starter Pack for anyone who wants to jump in and learn more about the project backstory, I’ll be sharing some other supplemental materials in the next few mins!
Hope you find these fun little treats to be interesting and sweet, but also, I hope they show just how collaborative this project is! It’s been nearly a YEAR in the making, and you all have contributed so much. At this point, I’m really just trying to capture, connect, and share the awesomeness! I haven’t really done this with a fic before, and I hope you enjoy!
Alrighty, back to our dear Sad Girl! There is so much, but here are some selected drabbles to give context!
namjoon, a person who seemingly has answers to everything, never got the answer as to why you both drifted off.
did you both grow out of love? no, it was evident in the quivering lips and glassy eyes when you saw each other for the last time that love indeed still persisted between you two.
did you grow out of each other? no, namjoon still strongly believes that you’re the most fascinating person he’s met and he remembers how you found his mind to be the brightest of them all.
maybe the love became too much at some point. maybe love just wasn’t enough.
he’ll never know.
but something went wrong.
and it went wrong very quickly, so quickly that namjoon couldn’t even give you the one thing he promised you he would.
a love letter.
“you know, for a world-renowned lyricist, and as that lyricist’s girlfriend, i’ve never gotten a letter from you” you teased him one rainy day and he remembers the breathless chuckle that left his lips.
“do you want one?” he fiddled with your fingers that were held in his hand.
“a letter from the kim namjoon? there’s nothing else i want more” and even as the sky crackled behind the windows, and rain continuously beat them, you both could only look at each other. you looked at each other like ‘damn the rest of the world, i only have eyes for you’.
and that’s when namjoon decided that he was going to write you a letter alright, he was going to write you the best letter ever.
namjoon stared blankly at the words scribbled on the page, frowning every so often, his words were, to put it in one way, powerful. he didn’t know he was capable of feeling such strong emotions but he did know that you brought out the best in him. and the best of him was spilled on this one page that was still half empty.
namjoon felt just as empty.
he wasn’t near breaking down or crying himself to sleep, but namjoon wasn’t happy, he couldn’t deny this hollowness in his chest that’s been lingering for days now and he doesn’t need anyone else to tell him that it was because of you, he knows it. namjoon knows it all except, like mentioned before, why you both ended it but it was an unwritten realization, that it was for the best.
another thing namjoon doesn’t know is why he grabs his favorite pen, the pen he uses to write his famous lyrics, he got a new one for the album they’re working on now and starts filling in the empty space, almost feeling like he was filling himself with the emotions that he misses so dearly.
namjoon was going to give you that letter.
even if you might not want it anymore.
-
it’s been almost a year since you’ve seen namjoon and it felt like time was cruel enough to make that year feel like an eternity. it both felt like just yesterday that you and namjoon were visiting museums together and also like forever since you’ve both cuddled in whenever the weather got worse.
and you don’t know if it was good or bad that you still remember everything.
you remember how he carefully used to handle things that belonged to you because he knew you cherished them, he still broke a few but it’s the effort that counts, how you used to nap in his studio whenever it got too long and always woke up with a blanket wrapped around you, how you both used to skip around parks and also the time namjoon taught you how to finally ride a bike.
you stupidly remember it all.
you were quite sure namjoon had forgotten about you and moved on because you were just a chapter in his story that still had a long way to go. you didn’t blame him, you were trying to forget him as well, it’s just he was probably successful in forgetting you and you weren’t as successful as you’d like to be.
but to your surprise, you came home to a letter in your mailbox. you never get letters, so this left you more than a little curious as you turned the dainty lilac-colored envelope in your hand to reveal an all too familiar handwriting scribbled on top.
‘from: kim namjoon’
you expected a lot of things from namjoon but none of them came close to the letter that you held in your hand. and you couldn’t help the way your heart seemed to skip a beat only to shatter on the ground a minute later. it dawned on you that it could be a goodbye letter, and you hated goodbyes. but namjoon had never liked loose ends, he liked his endings to make just as sense as the beginnings, so you probably shouldn’t have been too surprised that he sent it.
you slowly set down your belongings and walked into your house, placing the letter on table, staring at it for a little, wondering if opening it will only hurt you more or not.
but did you even care if it will hurt?
all you’ve been this year, is hurt.
all you’ve felt this year, is hurt.
so, what’s one more letter? and he bothered enough to send it all the way to where you’ve moved. so yeah, you will read it. you could feel goosebumps rising on your skin as your fingers lightly grazed the paper, admiring his handwriting, namjoon has always had such beautiful writing.
you hastily tore open the envelope and turned it upside down, a single piece of paper, which was neatly folded fell out on the ground, you sat down next to it and with shaky fingers, you started reading the words of the man you used to love, you still love, so much.
to the love of my life, (you still are)
9/10/19
today, with beaming eyes and a happy smile on your face, you jokingly asked me for a letter and who am i to deny you? even with the breaking sky above us, you managed to make me feel like the lightest cloud floating in it and with that, i start this letter, a bare heart and with a hope that my pen doesn’t run out and also that you won’t find it, this is my little surprise to you. i will write it, day-by-day, on days i especially thank the world for giving me you so i hope as the girlfriend of world-renowned lyricist kim namjoon, that you find this satisfactory.
i love you.
19/10/19
i came back to this paper after promising that i will wait for a bit to finish it but you have me breaking all of the promises i’ve made for myself, one of them being don’t fall in love until you’re ready and i was never ready for you and the stars you’ve aligned for us.
but i’m still in love, and i don’t mind it at all.
you woke me up just in time for me to make it to work and because i was in such a hurry, you took over the one duty that i have, breakfast.
at first, i felt guilty that even if you were rushing to get to work, you still didn’t get mad at me for not waking up earlier, you just gave me a sleepy grin when i thanked you. and then i tried looking at it in a more positive light, you work hard for yourself and me and i’m grateful.
i’m grateful to you, even if it is something as simple as breakfast, i’m grateful. and i will start waking up earlier, i want to do more for you.
i love you.
11/11/19
today, we went to pottery together!
and we didn’t manage to make anything and it wasn’t a surprise to either of us because our pots broke even before they could get toasted in the oven. it was just us, a private class in the middle of a forest and there was a mild drizzle of rain from the sky. and now as i write this, i realize whenever it rains, i fall more in love with you, the idea of you and everything about you.
i decided to write again today because it was a wonderful day, we laughed a lot and we smeared a lot of clay on our face and you had the nerve to call my pot a masterpiece.
y/n, as much as i appreciate your kind soul, my pot literally looked like shit.
and you laughing right after you said that it was a masterpiece, kind of gave away the fact that you didn’t mean it.
but i’ll let it go because you looked cute. you always look cute.
and oh look, you’re calling me for dinner, i will come back to this again.
i love you.
22/1/20
you weren’t yourself today but that’s okay, we all have our days, it did hurt when you didn’t let me hug you but again, i understand. you had a difficult day and i wish i could take all your pain away, all your troubles, i wish i could burn them to the ground and not even let the ashes remain.
but i can’t do that.
i can only watch you lie to me that you aren’t crying, that you are okay.
i hope you know that you don’t have to lie, never to me.
i can see the tears on your face, i’m sorry i’m not strong enough to come and wipe them away, i’m scared that you’ll only go further away from me. and to me, you’re lost today. i hope you find your way back to me. i will wait with open arms.
i love you.
22/2/20
love is as deep as a sea, i remember reading that in a book. and i didn’t fully realize the meaning till i met you.
everything has made sense since i’ve met you. and it’s true, love is like a sea, i keep discovering new things about it every day, i keep discovering all these habits of yours, i’ve started speaking in the way you do and even the members have noticed, they haven’t stopped teasing me since this afternoon, even right now, they’re hovering around me and trying to read this letter but don’t worry, i have it out of their view, this is only our little secret.
you came to the studio, you brought all of us food and drinks with that grin on your face that i love so much, the members immediately bounced to you and that is when i saw how perfectly fit in my life, from my view, you, and the members, are my family. and my family is so lovely.
what did i ever do in my life to have all of you in it?
okay jungkook’s getting nosy, let me stop here.
i love you.
16/4/21
so, it really is over.
i don’t have it in me to say it’s okay or it’s all right.
because it’s not.
i’ve never been a good liar, i couldn’t hide about how i felt about you then and i can’t do it now.
y/n, i’m exhausted, your face used to be the first thing i saw every day when i woke up and somehow, even on the worst days, that was enough for me to pull through because i could fall asleep next to it.
i can’t do that anymore, and even if it’s been a year, it’s just sinking in for me now.
but i’m dealing. i feel empty but i am not totally miserable. the members don’t say it but they miss you too, they keep looking at me sadly but they’re also cheering me up, don’t worry about them or me too much.
i’m sending you this because i couldn’t keep a promise even if i tried when we were together so i want to make up for it, i’m keeping this one promise, i hope it’s worth it.
sad to say this, but my pen did run out, this is a new pen, it’s a little gritty but it works, and i don’t know why i’m telling you this but the pen i started the letter with lasted just as long as we did, so now, i see that as our hourglass, i just wish it hadn’t run out so quickly. i hope i got to say i love you to you one last time before it ran out. it’s all useless now anyway.
but even if it hurts, even if i haven’t moved on, i’m happy.
i’m happy i got to know someone with a mind as beautiful as yours.
i’m happy i spent my days loving you. because loving you is bigger than any award i’ll hold.
i hope you look back at us with fondness and not regret.
and i hope you move on and someone else loves you, maybe love you better than i did because you deserve it, you deserve all the good in the world. i’m sorry i couldn’t give it to you.
but remember me, yeah?
i love you.
the end,
from your kim namjoon.
the letter has smudged ink near the end, from both his and your tears and you desperately re-read the letter again, like you were grasping to any pieces that were left of you two. it slightly crumbles from how tight your grip was on it.
and this isn’t the story in which you run after him to get back with him after you read this, you don’t go knocking on his door waiting for him to answer and then finally fall into his arms to end your pain and his.
no, this is the story in which you clutch the cream-colored paper to your heart and silently cry your eyes out because the worst realization of reaching the end of it was, both that it was the last words that you’ll ever hear from namjoon and also that no one would love you like he did.
he will remain as that one beautiful chapter in your story that you’ll go back to visit every now and then, only to cry at the ending.
and you feel a bitter gratefulness that you got to experience a part of your life with him so you don’t mind that it hurts, you’ll kiss this chapter a sweet goodbye.
but you have your own loose ends; you have your own feelings that need to be spilled. you feel like you will explode if you don’t close this chapter in your story. you might just never finish moving on to the next one if you don’t. you too, have a lot to say even if you two are over.
so, you grab a pen, hover over your desk with a faint dangling light above you, a small smile dances on your lips and you start writing to him,
• Here are some of my favorite Namjoon fics. Go through these recs and find something to nourish yourself with. Show your support for these talented authors by leaving a comment and sharing feedback on their works. For posting their fics on the internet, each and every author listed here deserves a big warm hug. Thank you to each and every one of these authors for their efforts, we really appreciate your content •
Pairing: Kim Namjoon x f!reader (with a side of Hoseok x reader and Taehyung x reader)
Summary: Namjoon never wanted a Sugar Baby, no matter what Yoongi and Hoseok said. You never wanted a Sugar Daddy, despite the insistence from Jimin. Until your life takes a turn and you really need the money, fast. What was supposed to be a one night thing, a birthday present for a big time rapper and producer, turns into so much more when you find in each other what you never thought you had been looking for.
Genre: Fluff, angst, so much smut, strangers to lovers, sugar daddy au.
Chapter warnings: TIME AND DATES MAKE SENSE DURING THE STORY! Keep an eye out for them. Drinking, mentions of being drunk, angst, jealousy, SMUT!
“Are you alive in there?” Jimin was calling for you. “I’m coming in.”
You pulled the covers over your head as the door to your bedroom opened. You heard shuffling, then felt the pull of the covers off of you. Protests didn’t matter with Jimin, so you were left huffing and trying to grab for a pillow.
“I could be naked, you know.” you warned him.
“Yeah, well, nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Jimin was using his no bulshit tone, Busan satoori thick on his pouty complaints.
You didn’t blame your best friend, you had been in bed for the past three days; skipping classes and barely leaving your room for meals. The trip to NYC had absolutely drained you, the jet lag only actually hitting you with full force once you made it back to Seoul. Plus, you couldn’t remember a night on the short weekend trip that you got more than five hours of sleep.
Not that you were complaining, you still thought it had been one of the best weekends of your life. Even with all of the ups and downs and the way your last night ended.
“I got you food.”
“What kind of food?”
“The kind you eat, now sit up and talk.”
You groaned loudly, eyes fighting to get used to the new clarity in the room from the blinds having been pulled open. Jimin wasn’t actually mad at you, he was merely a believer of tough love. And after being in bed for so long, you had to start reacting to life and getting back to your normal routine.
Sitting against your pillows and headboard, you received the paper bag and coffee cup that Jimin had gotten for you from the cafe near SNU.
“How was class today?” you asked while pulling out the cinnamon roll from the paper bag.
“Everyone is going a little crazy with the expo coming up, most teachers are just letting us work on it.” Jimin sat across from you, folding his legs on his lap.
“See? I’m not even missing much.”
“Mr. Min asked about you.”
“Who’s Mr. Min?”
You didn’t remember having any teachers with that last name. Unless the jet lag had messed you up so bad you were forgetting things.
“Min Yoongi.” he said with a giggle. “He picked me up from class today, just to give me a ride home before going back to work.”
“What a dedicated sugar daddy.”
“He is. But I think he was on a secret mission.”
You ate a few more bites of your dessert and took gulps of the iced coffee. Jimin eyed you suspiciously before saying:
“I was under the impression Namjoon hyung sent him to get news from you.”
“He could have texted me himself.” your shoulders moved up and down.
Jimin reached for your phone on the nightstand beside your bed, trying to wake up the sleeping device. He waved the ‘NO BATTERY’ sign lighting up on the screen before going black again.
“Oh shit, I thought I had plugged it in!” you cried out, pulling the charging cord and finding it dangling, not stuck to the wall like you thought. “Alright, my bad. I’ll text him later.”
“Later? Alright, what happened? Last thing I know you’re texting me plans for a confession, and now you don’t even care about seeing or talking to him?”
“Of course I care about all that, Minie. I miss that goofy giant so much!”
“Then what’s the problem, babe?”
You took a deep breath, scrunching up the paper bag after finishing your food.
“I don’t know how to act around him right now.” you admitted.
“Did he not reciprocate your feelings?”
“I never told him about my feelings.”
Jimin’s small eyes grew round as he raised his eyebrows and pushed his plush lips into a glossy pout.
The three days you spent in bed –and away from Namjoon– were enough to help you put things into perspective. You weren’t mad, nor upset with Namjoon. You understood that his ex showing up wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t interested in pursuing things with her. But you were put under the impression that things were still fresh between them, that maybe he wasn’t ready to start a new relationship, maybe he wasn’t even interested in one.
So you told your friend about Aecha and everything you knew about her, as well as the few encounters you had with her, which culminated on her surprise visit to your hotel room and asking Namjoon to get back together. You left out all of what Namjoon had told you in bed that night, things much too personal for passing along, but Jimin still got the jist of things.
“So you’re just not saying anything anymore?”
“How can I say anything? I’m not sure I want to get in the middle of whatever it is that’s going on between them.” you sighed. “Besides, if Namjoon feels something for me, he can tell me himself.”
“I’ll support whatever you want to do.” he smiled softly. “But you won’t stop seeing him, will you?”
“I don’t think I could do that even if I wanted to. I guess things will just stay the same.”
“That’s better than nothing, I guess.” Jimin started getting up from your bed. “Now text him, or I’m going to start feeling jealous of all of Yoongi’s questions.”
“Oh, please, that man is a simp for you.”
NOVEMBER 25TH | 12:35
“Bzzzzzzzzzz.”
Namjoon jumped in his chair, reaching for the phone on the table in front of him. Only to see no new notifications on the screen and Hoseok laughing his ass off next to him.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” Namjoon mumbled, eyes almost coming to a complete close.
“She still hasn’t texted?”
“She has, we’ve been talking nonstop.” he deadpanned. “That’s why I jumped when I thought my phone was buzzing.”
Hoseok fell into a fit of laughter again, having a great time at his best friend’s misery.
They were both sitting in a private room of a restaurant they liked to go to every now and then. It was one they would walk past during the years when Cypher was only a dream and they barely had the funds to eat three meals a day. Ever since they grew big and successful, the two of them –and Yoongi, who should be arriving soon– made a point of coming back and having a hearty meal at least once a month.
“Do you want me to text her? Maybe she’ll answer me.” Hoseok meant well, but his sly smile wasn’t helping.
“Not the time for you to hit on her, hyung.”
“I didn’t even mean it like that–” the shorter man tried bulshitting his way through, but Namjoon’s pointed look showed he didn’t even get to try. “Alright, I did. But I actually need to talk to her about sending me hers and that Jungkook guy’s portfolio.”
“Do you think you can fit them in for Seokjin’s mv?”
“If they’re good.”
Namjoon didn’t know anything about Jungkook’s work, just that he had a good heart and was mostly excited about music and filming. But he knew you, and he knew you were good at what you did. This could be an opportunity for you to start off the career path you wanted, the first step towards the success he knew you’d have.
“So if I text her, I can ask her to come to the building and you can talk to her then.” Hoseok tried, and this time he didn’t have any ulterior motives.
“I don’t want to have to lure her in to talk to her.” Namjoon scoffed behind his water glass. He really wished it was alcohol instead.
“You know what I don’t get?” Hobi was saying as he fixed his slouched posture and leaned over the table. “Why are you so pressed about her answering you if you just told me this morning you weren’t confessing anymore?”
The last conversation he had with Aecha that night in New York had put a damper in his plans to tell you how he felt, to ask you out for real. It made him realize that he had issues within himself that he needed to work on before starting a new relationship. It wouldn’t be fair to you, and it wouldn’t be fair to him, to just jump into something now when he wasn’t ready.
“Because just because I don’t think I can be a good boyfriend to her right now, doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep seeing her.”
“You mean you want to keep fucking her?” Hoseok felt into his chair again, eyes staring at nothing as his head leaned to the side. “Can’t say I blame you. I miss that mou–”
“Watch it.”
“Yah, you two bickering like an old married couple already?” Yoongi was throwing himself into the last empty chair across from them.
The elder looked tired, as he always did, but his lips were slightly red and his pale skin had a fresh purple bruise on his neck. Yoongi wasn’t even trying to hide the fact his morning had been a lot more exciting than theirs.
“So?” Namjoon perked up at the arrival of his other best friend.
“Jimin said your girl is fine. Messed up from the jet lag, not avoiding you.” Yoongi explained and Namjoon felt a little relieved. “Also, she forgot to plug her phone in, so she didn’t get any of your texts.”
“Ah. Silly baby.” usually he was really good at masking his stupidly fond reactions to you, but he hadn’t seen you in three days.
“Yikes. Is that how I get about Jiminie?” Yoongi grimaced.
“You’re worse.” both boys said in unison.
The waitress came over with a new glass of cold water for the newcomer and took their orders. They had been over so many times that no one even had to look at the menu. After she was gone and they were left alone again, Yoongi sighed.
“You might have bigger problems than a discharged phone.”
“What is it?”
“You remember how Mr. Lee has a spot at Cypher, since he’s one of our main investors?” he started, and both Hoseok and Namjoon frowned.
“Don’t tell me he wants to start working for us.” Hoseok scoffed.
“No, not him. He wants the spot for Aecha.”
“Absolutely not.” Namjoon was shaking his head. “What happened to her job?!”
“He said she’s trying to branch out.” even Yoongi didn’t believe that.
“Well, tell her to branch out somewhere else.” Namjoon was starting to get agitated.
It was obvious to the three of them just why Aecha wanted to be a part of Cypher. Now of all times.
“We can’t not accept her, Joonah.” Yoongi said, even if he felt for his dongsaeng.
“Yes we can.”
“Yeah, if you want to start taking in any artist, and not only the ones we like and believe in.” Hoseok pondered. “Are you ready to become –how do you put it– a producer whore?”
NOVEMBER 25TH | 17:46
As it turns out, talking to Joon –even if through texts– did help lift your spirits quite a bit. You hadn’t talked about anything too serious, but you had made plans to meet tomorrow. He would give you a ride to classes in the morning and then pick you up again for lunch. And maybe, just maybe, you’d ask to come over to his penthouse later that night with the excuse of seeing Monie.
You missed Joon today. But not seeing him until the morning would give you time to psychologically prepare yourself to see Namjoon. You’d have all night to make it clear to your head –and more troublesomely, your heart– that all that you felt for the man needed to stay locked inside a drawer until told otherwise.
But the universe had other plans for you.
Just after your shower, when you were still towel drying your hair and leaving the bathroom you shared with Jimin, the doorbell to your small apartment rang twice.
“Minie?” you called, twisting the key to unlock the door. “Forgot the key– Oh, Joon!”
“Hey.” he smiled, albeit a little awkwardly. He eyed your wet hair and the towel in your hands. “Did I get here too late?”
A giggle was breaking out of you, and suddenly things were okay between you two. You opened the door wider for the big man to fit through, only now realizing you were wearing a pair of old Pokémon pajamas and you hoped he wouldn’t mind it.
“What are you doing here?”
“Couldn’t wait until tomorrow.” he sighed, letting you notice his heady shoulders and tired stance. “Wanted to see you so bad.”
Step one: Controlling the butterflies in your stomach. Mission status: Failed.
“And a little duckie told me you haven’t been eating right.” Joon said, showing you a takeout bag from one of your favorite restaurants you had gone together once before.
“Little duckie? Is that what you call Jimin?”
He shook his head, following you into the kitchen. “Yoongi hyung calls him that. It’s kinda cute.”
“That’s funny, Minie calls him kitty.”
“Okay, that’s starting to be a little too sweet.” he laughed, resting the takeout on your small counter. “Why won’t those two just admit their feelings and get this suffering over with?”
Step two: Ignoring the pang in your chest. Mission status: Failed.
You nodded at his words, wondering if there was more to the statement or if it was just wishful thinking on your part.
“Maybe they are scared that taking that step might change things too much. Maybe they aren’t ready.” you said without looking at him, tearing through the plastic bags.
“And it’s okay to keep things how they are, as long as they still have each other.” Joon said, absentmindedly.
Again, you agreed with a move of your head, focusing on opening the lids of the takeout containers without getting burned with the steam. Namjoon had picked your favorite from the little italian restaurant in Hongdae; tomato sauce pasta and crispy chicken.
“Fuck, that looks delicious.” you almost drooled on the spot.
Namjoon’s low chuckle was right behind you, freezing you in place. His hands went to each side of you on the counter, chin resting on the top of your head.
“Thought you needed something good to heal the jet lag.”
“It’s great. Should I put it on a pan and make some sauce splashes, or is it okay if I just put it on plates?”
“Aish, you’ll never let me leave it down, will you?”
You looked up right in time to see his dimples poking at his cheeks.
Step three: Not melting from his face. Mission status: miserably failed.
“I’ll forget about it when you actually cook for me.”
“I already told you I’ll make you that cereal ice cream you loved so much.”
Your nose twisted as you walked away from Namjoon to pick up the plates and serve your dinner. You already missed his warmth and at that point you gave up on your missions for tonight. It was a lost battle from the moment he stepped into the apartment.
The two of you ate the delicious food on the small kitchen table, talking about nothing and everything. As it turns out, Namjoon was a big fan of Pokémon and even told you about his card collection. He said he kept it hidden, for reasons you could guess, but he could show them to you whenever you wanted. In return, you told him you had a couple decks yourself, but they stayed behind at your mother’s house.
He was very disappointed about that, telling you he had some you could trade.
After the food had been consumed, you got up to gather the empty takeout containers in a trash bag and Namjoon looked around with a confused wrinkle on his forehead and the dirty plates on his hand.
“Looking for something?” you laughed while tying the knot on the trash bag.
“Your dishwasher?”
“You really don’t remember what it’s like to be a broke university student, do you?” you snickered. “Fame changes people.”
“It’s alright, I can just wash it by hand. Like we’re back in prehistoric times.”
You laughed louder, fondly watching the man walk around your kitchen picking up everything that was dirty and bringing it to your too-low-of-a-sink and start washing them. And you were a weak woman. You see a tall man in sweatpants and white shirt, doing home chores, and you get a little silly.
“Just leave it there, I can wash them later.” you were saying as you hugged his middle, face smushing against his back.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” you kissed his spine, feeling how his muscles contracted as he moved. “Wanna show you something in my room.”
That was an easy fight to win, as you heard the faucet closing and felt Namjoon wiping his hands on his pants, even with the perfectly good tea towel hanging just beside his head. When he turned around, so did you. Namjoon stuck to your back, much like you had done to him, and followed you closely into your bedroom.
He sat on the edge of your bed without you even needing to tell him, the poor thing must have been so tired. You walked to your small study desk, unzipping your backpack that was all ready for tomorrow, producing a black folder. You gave it to Namjoom, who opened it curiously and flipped carefully through the pages.
“Is this your work?” he sounded impressed, but not surprised at all. “Wow, this is really great.”
You had prepared that folder with a few of your styling jobs you did in the past. They had been few and far between, but you weren’t as inexperienced as he might think.
“At the end I added a few collages of pieces I think would look good on Jin.” you told him, helping him reach those pages.
Namjoon studied the choices, nodding and pointing to his favorite sets and picks.
“You got the concept perfectly. How did you guess?”
“I can’t take all the credit, Hobi did tell me a little of the concept you guys are planning for the music video.” you received the folder back and zipped it up, leaving it on top of your too cluttered desk. “Will you bring it to him tomorrow, please? I’ll get Jk’s flash drive in the morning and give it to you at lunch?”
“Yeah, sure.” Namjoon nodded, but all he could think about was: “When have you talked to hyung?”
“You mean, today?”
“No, I mean when did he get your number?” he tried sounding casual, even matching his words with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Oh. He asked me for it on Jimin’s birthday.” you said as you organized a little of the mess on your table. “You know, after the three of us…”
Had sex. Together. All three of you.
At the time it had been fun, and Namjoon didn’t regret it. If the situation was right, he wouldn’t mind doing it again, even. But right now his brain was conjuring up the memories of Hoseok laughing at his phone, being secretive about who he was talking to, and even the times he excused himself from the room to pick up a call in the hallway.
“Joonie.” he looked up at your call, only now noticing you were standing in front of him. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of him too.”
“Me? Jealous?” he scoffed.
It sounded fake even to his ears.
You bit down your lips to stop a laugh, pushing him back by the shoulders to have him sit up straight and you could swing your legs to each side of his hips. You fit so nicely on his lap, it felt like home to you.
Namjoon didn’t think twice about circling your waist with his arms, looking slightly up to your face.
“You don’t have to be jealous of Hobi.” you said with a small hand caressing his cheek. “He’s just a friend.”
“Okay.” his lips puckered in a way of asking for a kiss.
“A very hot friend.” you continued, kissing his pout that turned into a thin line. “A friend that has seen me naked.” another kiss. “A friend I wouldn’t mind fucking again–”
“Shut up.”
He said without any real bite, but some fake annoyance. Namjoon pulled you by the back of your neck to shut you up himself. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it was kind of hot to have you saying those things, teasing him with the ideas of a new threesome, even if it did make him a smidge jealous. He just loved how fun you were, how there were possibilities with you.
He never had that before.
And as you melted into his kiss, giving back everything he was giving you, he knew that at the end of the day you were his. Not Hoseok’s.
DECEMBER 3RD | 14:09
Rkive, just like Namjoon’s penthouse, was becoming a second and third home to you, with how much time you had been spending in both places. Initially you had been a little hesitant in coming over to the Cypher building, not wanting to intrude or to be on the way of his work. But Namjoon always insisted that your presence calmed him, so you came over every time.
That Friday afternoon wasn’t any different. The moment he was texting you to come over after class, you were agreeing.
Which is how you found yourself sitting on the small space between his couch and wood coffee table, with papers and coloring pencils scattered in front of you. It wasn’t the Nakashima he had bought yet, which is why he wasn’t complaining about the risk of scratching it.
You were doing your university work, and Namjoon was across from you. He had heavy headphones over one of his ears –so he could still hear you, should you need him– and would sing the lyrics out loud every now and then.
He might not be the best singer, but his words were deep and heartfelt, and grabbed your attention each time. You were about to compliment them on it when your phone buzzed on your lap.
Taetae [14:10]:It’s throwback night at Burn. Who’s down?
JK [14:10]: I have boxing class in the morning
Minie [14:12]:I’m going out with Yoonie tonight
Taetae [14:12]:Yn? cmon don’t leave me hanging
You [14:13]: Who else is coming? Can I bring Joon?
Taetae [14:13]:Some friends from class, sure you can bring the bodyguard.
You [14:14]: Be nice!
You closed your phone after texting your friends’ group chat and turned to Namjoon. He was scribbling quickly onto a piece of paper with a pen in the shape of a cactus, so you waited for him to be done.
“Joonie.”
At the sound of your voice he was turning around on his chair. “Yeah, baby?”
“Wanna go out tonight? We are going to a club.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t.” he pushed the headphones off his head to rest on his shoulders. “I have this boring business dinner later.”
“Okay then.”
“Why don’t you come over and stay with Monie?” he countered, pushing back against his flexible chair to stretch his long limbs. “So I’ll have a reason to rush home after dinner.”
The old lady in you wanted to agree to that, but you hadn’t gone out to a club in so long; plus Tae’s crowd was usually really fun.
“I already told Tae I’d go with him.” you pouted.
The chair creaked with the harsh movement as Namjoon asked: “Taehyung? Is it only you two? Will his boyfriend be there? Or Jimin?”
You giggled at all of his questions, picking up a green coloring pencil to fix a spot on your sketch. “Jimin is going out with Yoongi. Funny that he doesn’t need to be at that boring work dinner.”
“That’s my part of the job.”
“And Jk has boxing practice tomorrow.”
“So it’s just you and Taehyung?” he pushed. And, frankly, you didn’t like his tone.
“Problem?”
Yeah. “No, of course not. You have every right to do whatever you want.”
Namjoon was absolutely right, you did have every right to do what you pleased. But you didn’t like his borderline challenging tone. It would have been so much easier if he told you it would bother him if you were going to a club with Taehyung. Then you could assure him that more of his friends would be going, and that he had no reason to worry.
But the way he said it made you want to act out on purpose. If he was so bothered about the possibilities of something happening between you and Taehyung, then he should do something about it. But so far he hasn’t.
You turned your focus to your work, changing colors and drawing away, all while you could feel Namjoon’s gaze boring into you. If he was about to say something else, he was cut off by the knocking on his door.
“Can you get that?” he asked you, since you were closer.
“Yes, sir.”
You crawled the couple meters to the door, not bothering to get up as you pulled down the doorknob to open the studio to whoever it was that was visiting Rkive.
“Already on your knees for me?” Hoseok was laughing as he saw you there in that position.
“Hi, Hobito.” you smiled brightly, accepting his hand to help you up and pull you into a tight hug. “Come in.”
“I’m not interrupting anything, right?”
He wanted to make sure, since Namjoon’s jaw was clenched and he looked a little annoyed. But you were shaking your head as you walked back to your spot by the center table.
“And how’s my favorite little stylist?” Hoseok sat down on the couch behind you, watching you draw away over your shoulder.
You giggled in response, and if you were just a little sweeter, no one said anything. “I’m good.”
“That’s not for Seokjin hyung, right? Not that I don’t think he can pull off a dress.”
“No, that’s for the exposition at her university at the end of the month.” Namjoon told him in a matter of factly tone, as if him having that knowledge gave him Yn points.
And Hoseok noticed it too, so he ignored his friend.
“Are you excited for next week?” he asked while pressing the back of your neck in a massage that made you close your eyes.
“I’m buzzing! Very nervous too, but good nervous, I think.”
For the past week you had been working on finding, choosing and buying –with Cypher’s company card– the pieces you thought would look cool and match Seokjin and the music video for his new single.
The actual filming was happening next week, and you were super excited to be a part of it. Even more since Jungkook would be there working too.
“Are you going to the business dinner too, Hobi?” you asked while turning around to face him, chin resting on his knee. “I’m going to a club tonight, if you wanna join."
Namjoon was watching the bittersweet exchange. On one hand it warmed his heart to see you so close to his best friend. On the other, he wondered just how or when you had gotten so close to him in the first place.
He wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with you and his hyung, but right now he was feeling a little left out.
"Sorry, pretty girl. Next time though, yeah?” Hoseok pinched the tip of your nose, making you scrunch it cutely. “Got a date tonight.”
“With that girl you were telling me about? The one with the nice tits?” you did your best not to cringe at your words, wondering if it was obvious you were trying to appease your audience. Hoseok laughed, but nodded. “Well, if you get bored or want to bring her, we’ll be at Burn in Itaewon."
"Noted."
Namjoon’s chair creaked again, on purpose this time; his way of getting attention.
"Do you actually need anything, hyung?"
"Nah, Yoongi said you had the pretty girl in the studio and I came to say hi."
"Hi.” you giggled, batting your pretty eyes at the hyung.
“Well, you said hi, now I need to work, please."
Hoseok and you exchanged amused glances and the man left a kiss to the top of your head before getting up.
"Good luck with your date tonight!"
"Thanks, you too.” he teased on his way out the door. “Bye, Joonah.”
Namjoon seemed to visibly relax when it was just the two of you in the room again. But instead of going back to work like he said, Namjoon got up and walked the few steps to reach the couch.
You turned around to get back to your work, pretending to think really hard about which colors you’d use next.
“How’s the inspiration going, little one?”
It was more than unfair the way he managed to melt you with simple words and a soft tone. It didn’t help that you understood his past traumas and his reasons for jealousy, but at least you could see he was trying to break out of them.
“Really good.”
“Yeah?” his hands were on your shoulders as he tried to see better.
“I guess your studio is really inspiring.” you leaned back against the edge of the couch, between his legs.
“I’m glad to hear that. You’re welcome here at any time.”
Namjoon pressed on your shoulders, wanting to relieve some of the tension he could feel under his fingertips. He nosed at your hair, smelling your strawberry and lily shampoo. He was ready to ask you if you’d like him to come meet you at the club after the dinner, since it wasn’t supposed to last that long anyway, when the beeping at his door made him pause.
Not many people knew his code, one he had been meaning to change for a couple months now, but it always slipped his mind. He just hoped to God it wasn’t–
“God, I thought Hoseok would never leave.”
Aecha was opening Namjoon’s studio door without knocking, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. All of the calm he had managed to install within you flew out that same door. The woman was clearly very surprised to see you there too.
“What are you doing here?” you asked before you could check yourself.
“I work here.” she said, delighted with your surprise. And to put the nail on the coffin, she repeated your own words from before: “You’re the one who keeps showing up.”
“What to you want, Ms. Lee?”
Namjoon asked her, and you had never heard him sounding so cold. It wasn’t enough to calm your racing heart or your trembling hands as you picked up your spread coloring pencils and papers.
“I have this contract for you to look over, Mr. Kim.” the jaunty way in which she said the words was annoyingly suggestive. “And I have to say, this studio used to be better frequented.”
“Who I have inside my studio is my problem, don’t forget that I’m still your boss.”
Namjoon was standing up now, trying to block you from her view.
“Okay, Mr. Boss Man.” Aecha pressed the folder she was holding into his chest. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner.”
The woman left, and with her went the air from your lungs. Namjoon was breathing heavily, as if to calm himself, and you finished shoving your things inside your backpack in a rushed and careless manner.
“I’m sorry about– Where are you going?”
“You hired your ex?” was all you said.
You wanted to follow it up with: After all she’s done to you? After all she continues to do to you? After telling me there was nothing there? How was he expecting to heal from her abuse and mind games if he was seeing her everyday?
“It’s more complicated than that.” Namjoon sighed.
“And you’re going to dinner with her tonight?”
“It’s not dinner with her, there will be more people there.”
He tried to make it make sense to you, and you might understand it if you let him get two sentences in.
“She’s your ex isn’t that against some kind of corporate rule?”
“At least I’m not going to a club with her.”
It slipped out before Namjoon could hold back the words. But when he felt cornered, he ended up saying things he didn’t mean. And he desperately wanted to take the spotlight off of him.
“Is that how you want to be?” you asked, defensive.
“You started it.” he said it like a child who ran out of comebacks.
“Yeah, and I’m also ending it.” you picked up your backpack and slung it over your shoulder. “Goodbye, Namjoon.”
You passed by him, bumping your shoulder into his as you reached for the door. Namjoon wanted to go after you, make you listen, talk it through. But you were both hot headed right now, both had enough on your plates. It wouldn’t do either of you any good to continue this right now.
DECEMBER 3RD | 22:12
Taehyung was usually surrounded by a big group of people. And if he didn’t go somewhere with an ensemble, he met them while waiting in line, on the dance floor, by the bar; once you even saw him leaving a club bathroom with a new best friend! In your years of friendship you had met so many new people through and because of him.
And they were always a little weird, but so much fun.
You usually liked to hop from group to group with him, laughing at his clownery and weird antics that just made him who he was.
But not tonight.
You were feeling a little left out. The whole thing with Joon and Aecha had hours to sink in with you and it could have gone one of two ways:
You could be understanding, as you always were, and call him to make sure things were okay between you. Let him explain, or at least make up excuses. Could let it slide that he was always acting a little jealous when it came to you and other boys, but the second you turned it on him, he acted out.
You could get over the fact that you weren’t together, not by a long shot; partially through a fault of your own, since you had decided not to confess. You were still in a Sugar Baby/Sugar Daddy arrangement that made you both free to do whatever you wanted. You could go to a club with your ex, and he could go to dinner with his, hire her to work alongside him, give her the password to his studio, and not tell you anything about it.
It was safe to say you had gone with the second option, accepting the feminine urge to act a little petty. As you stumbled into the club after waiting too long out in the cold, already regretting having drank half a bottle of Soju during the pregame at Sohee’s place, you grabbed Taehyung by his arm, pulling him closer to you.
“Tae, will you stay with me tonight?” you were saying to his ear, lips ghosting his tanned skin to be heard over the blaring music.
“Of course.” he agreed with a smile, arm instantly finding your waist. He threw a look over his shoulder as he regarded two girls he had met in the line to get in. “You heard her, ladies.”
Both girls pouted and groaned, and you giggled. You could have told them you weren’t asking for a hookup, could have said you just needed your friend to look after you and then send you home safely whenever you grew tired. Then he would be free to go home with whoever he liked.
But you needed to feel like a priority, at least for a few hours, so you liked the way Taehyung didn’t even think twice about accepting your request and focusing his attention on you.
“We’re going to get a drink, you coming?” Wooshik, one of Tae’s classmates and close friend, called for you.
“You’re offering?” you asked as you were led to the bar by the man stuck to your back.
“If he isn’t, I will.” Taehyung was saying with his lips to your ear, much like you had done.
“Aww, you don’t have to pay for me, Tae.”
“Why do you say that to him, but always make me pay?” Wooshik was looking a little offended.
“Don’t pretend you aren’t loaded, hyung.” Tae laughed, the rumbling of his chest warming up your heart.
Minsu and Sohee were already slipping to the dance floor; you knew the girls from passing, both art students like Tae and Wooshik, and you vaguely recollected a comment about them working at a tattoo shop in Myeongdong. Seojoon and Hyungsik were seniors in the performing arts course.
You leaned over the counter of the bar, as the only girl remaining in the small group, it was usually easier for you to catch the attention of the barman. On a good day it would annoy you and you’d refuse to be part of the disgusting men agenda, but you could already feel the effects of the Soju running out.
“Two shots of tequila, please!”
You ordered first, having all three boys shouting their orders before the guy could walk too far.
“You okay, babe?” Taehyung asked you, arm still on your waist.
If this was happening a month ago you would have melted, but right now you just missed the extra weight around you.
“Yeah, I’m great.” you forced a smile on your red colored lips. “Why?”
“Don’t lie to me.” Tae said as you turned around in his embrace, back resting against the bar counter as his body leaned closer to your as more patrons crowded the bar. “You only drink tequila when you want to forget or fuck it up.”
“You think you know me so well, don’t you?” your fingertip traced the ugly colorful patterns on his shirt. It was an eyesore, but somehow he made it work.
“I know you more than you think.” he left a kiss on your forehead. This was your friend Tae, not your ex, not your occasional hook up. “Where’s the bodyguard? Didn’t want to come?”
You shook your head, not really in the mood to talk about Namjoon. Tae pinched your cheek and gave you a tight hug, only letting go of you when the busy bartender came back with your drinks.
The two shots of tequila turned into four, that turned into sips and chugs of whatever the other boys were drinking and offered to you. When you were positively buzzing, brain a little foggy and your legs threatened to give out, you pulled Tae by the collar and said:
“I’m gonna go dance with the girls, yeah?”
“Don’t you wanna have some water first?” he countered, but you shook your head. “Stay in my line of sight.”
“Okay, dad!”
It should have been a joke. You should have laughed at it, just as he had. But it only brought a bitter taste to your mouth and a pang to your stomach. You walked away from a smiley Tae, balancing yourself on your heels and bumping into people more intoxicated than you were.
Minsu and Sohee opened up space for you to dance closer to them and away from any dingy strangers. The dance floor was packed with sweaty bodies, the DJ was playing throwback songs all night, the kind that everybody knew the moves to; like PSY’s Gangnam Style and Super Junior’s Sorry Sorry.
As Gee played loudly from the many speakers spread around, you moved your body to the upbeat song. You felt light and airy, thanks to the alcohol you had consumed. You thought that drinking tonight would help you forget, but all it was doing was making you miss the one person you didn’t want to think about tonight.
The thump of the bass brought back memories from when you met Namjoon, months ago, in a setting similar to this. It was just supposed to be a one time thing; you’d be a Sugar Baby for the night, use the earned money to pay for the first month of your university’s fee and move on.
Yet here you were, tangled up, body and soul belonging to a man you hadn’t decided if deserved it or not. As you closed your eyes and threw your head back to the song, it was Namjoon’s beautiful face and adorable dimpled smile that you saw. When you opened them back up, you searched for him in every tall man in the room. You looked at the door, drunk brain wishing to see him walking in.
But of course he never did.
“Hey, what’s up with you and Tae?” Minsu was asking you. You always thought she had a crush on the man.
“We’re friends.” you told her, slightly slurred speech. “Why?”
“You’re friends like he and Jungkook are?” Sohee laughed.
“He doesn’t have eyes for anything else when you’re around.” Minsu explained.
You looked around, finding Taehyung still by the bar. He had a glass in his hand, but his eyes were on you. You did ask him to take care of you tonight, so he was only looking out for you. At least that’s what you thought until his eyebrow raised and he licked his lips.
Well. Since forgetting on your own obviously wasn’t working, maybe you should try it with a little help.
A giggle slipped past your lips as your pointer finger beaconed him over. Taehyung flipped the rest of his drink into his mouth, pulling an exaggerated face, and marched over to you in the rhythm of Rain’s Rainism.
Tae bumped into you on purpose, making you lose your balance and hold yourself by clinging to his shoulders as he held you strongly by arms around your waist. You were laughing, but stopped short when his face went to your neck and he licked a stripe of your sweaty skin.
Your hand tangled in his long curly locks, pulling him back so you could clash your lips against his. It was rare that you started a kiss, but tonight you needed it. Taehyung reciprocated it with fervor and a little desperation, always greedy for whatever you were willing to give him.
DECEMBER 4RTH | 02:01
Namjoon couldn’t sleep. Guilt had been eating him up all night, so he had given up on trying to fall into a slumber when the clock hit midnight and he was accomplishing nothing but tossing and turning in his cold and empty mattress.
The business dinner had been annoying, with the way Aecha forced herself into the seat next to him and kept attempting to hold his hand, to touch his thigh under the table, and being overall obnoxiously sweet in an attempt to butter him up. In the past that would have been enough to have them rolling in the sheets by the end of the night, and after they were done, she wouldn’t even wait for the morning to break his heart all over again.
But tonight all it made him feel was disgust and anger. It was supposed to be a professional setting, one where he should be talking business with investors, telling them about the growth Cypher had the last six months and talking about future plans.
Not to mention that, if it wasn’t for the woman, he would still know where you and him stood. You wouldn’t be upset and he wouldn’t be worried about you being out there in a club. It’s not even that he was bothered by you being out with Taehyung either, Namjoon was mature enough to understand you didn’t technically owe him anything. He had given up the exclusivity when he put his plans of confessing to you on the back burner.
A decision he was starting to regret.
The thing that was staining his thoughts with guilt is that he knew this could have been avoided. Namjoon could have told you about Aecha having to work for Cypher Prod., explained it wasn’t something he actually had a say in, he could have remembered to change the password to avoid her just barging in, he could have defended you better, he could have told you she would be part of the dinner tonight because taking notes was part of her job.
Namjoon knew how this all looked, so he didn’t blame you for walking out of his studio, nor for anything you might choose to do tonight.
He was sitting in bed, with his latest book on his lap, reading the same page over and over again because he couldn’t concentrate, when his phone dinged with your notification sound.
You [02:03]: I hate you ;((((((
You [02:03]: You knwo I was dncing wth tae and we were kissing bc I CAN and you were hving dinner wit your gorgus ex
You [02:04]: But I cant stop fckijg thinkng about you 1!!11!!! Why!!!!!! I jus want you
You [02:04]: Ugh wish u were here to fck me in the bathroom
You were clearly drunk in your texts, never one to leave any typos in. Not to mention the context of the messages. It was rollercoaster of informations, since the knowledge that you had kissed Taehyung again brought an uncomfortable clench to his heart. Yet the way you ended the shower of texts saying he was the one you actually wanted helped alleviate his jealousy.
But the texts continued:
You [02:06]: Why cant things be easy joonie why
You [02:06]: Ugh i wont even rember this in the mrng lol
You [02:06]: Opsie I cnt find my friends
You [02:07]: Theres a guy loking over maybe he saw my frinds
With a worried sigh, Namjoon left his bed. He was already texting his driver, uncaring for the late hour, as he looked for sweatpants and a hoodie to wear. Picking up his wallet on the way out, he was satisfied that Mr. Choi answered almost immediately saying he’d be coming over and would arrive in five minutes.
The man would definitely be getting a hefty Christmas bonus.
Namjoon wouldn’t be going after you if he didn’t think you could potentially be in some kind of danger, and texting or calling you to make sure didn’t sound like the best idea either.
Exactly five minutes later, Namjoon was slipping in the backseat of his car, telling Mr. Choi to drive to Burn Nightclub in Itaewon.
“Forgive me for the intrusion, sir, but you don’t look dressed for a night out.”
Namjoon chuckled, because he agreed. Gray sweatpants and a mismatched hoodie didn’t scream party-goer.
“We’re just picking someone up.”
“Is it your lady friend?” the nice old man looked at Namjoon through the rearview mirror, with a friendly, albeit sleepy, smile. “Miss Yn?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” the driver was saying as he followed the car GPS towards their destination. “I like that girl. She’s very nice.”
“That she is, Mr. Choi.” Namjoon kept checking his phone, but you didn’t send anything else.
He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not being at that club anymore. Or even at all, in case your plans had changed earlier in the night and you ended up going somewhere else entirely.
“Can I offer you a piece of free advice?” the driver asked and Namjoon hummed in response. “You should keep her. She’s a nice girl. I know this isn’t my place but I’ve been driving for you for many years and I’ve never seen you so happy.”
“Even if you have to get out of bed at two am to go pick her up?” he laughed with slight amusement.
“Miss Yn always treated me with kindness. Did you know she always has coffee and pastries for me when I’m sent to pick her up for you?” Mr. Choi told him, and Namjoon had no idea. “That other lady you almost married didn’t even look me in the eye. So I don’t mind the late drive.”
Namjoon hummed, mind filled with thoughts of you.
The streets were almost empty, even in the Itaewon district. Mr. Choi found a free spot to park and turned the hazard lights on to inform other drivers that he wouldn’t stay there long. Namjoon was rushing off the car and into the night club.
He received weird looks for his attire, but pulling on the sleeve of his hoodie to look at the time while simultaneously flashing his Rolex seemed to do the trick. He was let into Burn after paying an absurdly high fee.
The inside of the club didn’t match the outside. While the streets were cold and barren, the inside was warm and busy. Drunk people everywhere, having the time of their lives, dancing as if there was no tomorrow. His height allowed him to see above most people as he scanned the dance floor in hopes to find you there.
Namjoon wasn’t having much luck, until a tap to his shoulder made him turn around.
“So you did show up, huh?” Taehyung had a blonde girl under his arm, both with red bitten lips that made it obvious what they had been doing. “She’s been asking for you. Come.”
Namjoon didn’t say anything as he followed Taehyung past the dance floor and the bar, eyes scanning the sitting area for you. He found you easily once he knew where to look, sitting between two girls, and with a jacket too big to be yours draped over your shoulders. Your eyes were sparkling and you looked so sad.
“How’s the sweet girl doing?” Taehyung asked the girls.
“She’s been asking for her dad?” the one with colorful hair looked confused as can be.
Namjoon held back a laugh, knowing exactly who you had been asking for. He watched as Taehyung let go of the blonde girl to crouch down in front of you, a hand caressing your face with more gentleness than he expected. The boy was saying something to you and your face lifted, gaze lost until it found him.
You were getting up from the couch, letting the jacket fall off your shoulders, as you walked to Namjoon. He opened his arms for you, not letting you see the twist of his nose with the heavy scent of alcohol and smoke that was stuck to your skin and clothes.
“Are you really here?” you murmured against his chest, his ears straining to hear you.
“Yeah. Let’s get you home.”
“Nooooo, I don’t want to go.” you pouted, but squeezed him harder.
“I’m not asking you, baby.”
Namjoon hadn’t seen you drunk that many times, but the little instances that he did, he picked up a thing or two about how to deal with you. Your pouty and bratty side came out to play, one he knew how to handle.
“Say goodbye to your friends and let’s go.” Namjoon instructed. “Mr. Choi is waiting outside.”
“In the cold?” your pretty eyes blinked with concern, a deep crease forming on your forehead.
“He’s warm in the car.” he told you, watching you nod and wave to the people you had come with. “Where’s your coat?”
“Didn’t bring one.” you shrugged exaggeratedly.
It was minus three degrees outside and you were dressed in a short, sleeveless dress. Namjoon wanted to nag you for being so careless, but now was not the time. Instead, he removed his hoodie and dressed you with it, ignoring the ‘whoops’ and ‘wows’ he heard while revealing his tight cotton t-shirt. He wouldn’t mind the cold as long as you were warm.
“Tell her to text when she’s home.” Taehyung asked.
But Namjoon didn’t answer. You’d have more pending matters once you arrived home; like sobering up, for starters. He held you closely against his body, pulling your tumbling body out of the club and onto the streets.
Mr. Choi had moved the car closer to the entrance of the club, so the two of you were able to slip to the back seat before either of you froze in the cold weather.
“Good morning, Miss Yn.” Mr. Choi was saying with a smile.
“Hi.” you waved with heavily blinking eyes.
“Where to, sir?”
“Bring us to the penthouse. After you drop us off you can keep the car over the weekend, and we’ll see you again on monday.” Namjoon instructed. “Take the family for a ride.”
“There’s no need for that, sir–”
“I insist.”
The driver thanked him with a nod and got back onto the street to drive the two of you home. As Namjoon looked you over, he noticed your tightly crossed arms and pushed out bottom lip.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m still mad at you.” you were saying with half slitted eyes.
“Good, because I’m mad at you too.”
You gasped and stared at him in absolute shock. High pitched voice as you said: “What are you mad at me for?!”
“Going out without proper winter clothes? Getting lost from your friends and worrying me? Hooking up with your ex?”
Quietly, as the car stopped at a red light, Mr. Choi turned around to pull the flimsy curtain that separated the front seats from the back of the car to give you the false impression of privacy.
“Well, I wouldn’t need to hook up with my ex if you had been there!”
“You know I couldn’t be there.”
“Yeah, because you were with your ex!”
Namjoon took a deep breath, he knew this was pointless. Your words were slurring together and you wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning. He had apologies ready to offer you, but he wouldn’t waste them on deaf ears.
The car fell into a deep silence that felt like ages, but it couldn’t have been five minutes until you spoke again. Softer this time.
“For the record, I don’t want Tae.”
“I don’t want Aecha either.”
Another beat of silence passed until you turned sideways on the seat, pout heavy on your lips.
“Then prove it.” you challenged.
You were trying to seem so serious, so menacing. But Namjoon just thought you looked adorable. Red cheeks, sleepy eyes, wobbly bottom lip. You might just be the cutest thing he had ever seen. A little sparkle around your neck brought his eyes down, noticing the necklace he had given you in New York was still resting on your collarbone.
Even while mad at him, you never took it off.
“How do I prove it, baby?”
You tapped your chin, thinking hard about your options. “Fuck me right here, right now.”
Mr. Choi started coughing from the front seat and Namjoon went absolutely red in the face. You didn’t waver, a challenging lift to your eyebrow.
“I can’t do that right now.” Namjoon tried reasoning with you. “Let’s get home and we’ll talk about it, yeah?”
“I knew it.”
You turned away from him again, your side profile being illuminated by the warm yellow lights from the lamp posts outside. You were so beautiful to him, so precious. Even without knowing it, you gave him the push he needed to want to fix himself, to be a better man. Firstly, you made him want to be better for him. You were showing him how he deserved to be treated, the kind of happiness he should strive to have.
But you also made him want to be better for you.
Namjoon didn’t want you to be mad at him, rightfully so or not. He also couldn’t give you what you wanted right now, not with Mr. Choi in the car. But he could try something.
He slid closer to you, pushing your hair away from your neck. You didn’t move, still ignoring him. Namjoon bent down to reach the side of your face, kissing your jaw, under your ear, moving down to your neck. His hand rested on your naked leg, fingertips dancing on the inside of your thigh.
Your breathing grew heavy, lips parting with a pant as you melted into the seat.
“Don’t be like this, babygirl.” he said against your warm skin, lips sucking on the spot under your ear.
“Please–”
“Shhhh. Be quiet for daddy.”
He was whispering, hand slipping between your legs and under your dress. You covered your red stained lips with small hands, parting your knees for him. Namjoon gently ran his fingertips over your clothed core, applying light pressure.
"When we get home, I’ll take care of you."
"Promise?” you whispered.
“Did daddy ever lie to you?"
You were shaking your head. Namjoon had never lied to you. He might have omitted a few things, but never lie.
The view outside showed the car was already driving up his street, the speed decreasing to a stop. Namjoon pressed harder over your clit just to tease you a little more before removing his hand completely.
"Ern… Sir, Miss.” Mr. Choi called, a little chocked up. “You’re home.”
“Thanks. Have a good weekend, okay? Get home safe."
Namjoon opened your door from the inside, tapping on your legs for you to get out of the car and followed after you. You were still a little wobbly walking up the steps to the lobby, but Namjoon held you steady.
The moment the doors to the elevators were closing, you were all over him. Uncaring for the cameras you started kissing his neck and grabbing for his shirt before he could even press the button to the penthouse.
He laughed while holding your hands to your back, halting your attack.
"You promised!” the little horny drunk that you were protested.
“Yes I did, but we’re not home yet, are we?"
You seemed to think hard about that, looking around yourself and finally calming down.
When Namjoon unlocked the door with his thumbprint, you were already trying to climb him like a tree again. He had to laugh at your desperation and clumsiness, almost tripping over an excited Monie and eyes filling with tears when you thought you might have hurt him.
Namjoon started leading you to his bedroom, returning your kisses as best as he could while trying to walk you into the bathroom. He was on his knees as soon as the door closed behind you, kissing the tops of your thighs as he undid the clasps of your shoes from your ankles.
You groaned in relief as your aching feet rested flat on the cold floor, busying yourself with removing his hoodie and letting your purse fall to the floor with a careless thump.
Namjoon was kissing your neck as his able hands looked for the zipper on your back to remove your dress.
Your panties and strapless bra went right after.
He had you so focused on his hands and kisses that you didn’t notice he was walking you backwards into the shower. Nor did you realize Namjoon flipped on the knob to turn the water on, pulling away at the last second to avoid getting hit while he still had his clothes on.
You squealed with the cold temperature of the water hitting your body. As you tried to escape and flee the shower stall, Namjoon held the glass door in place.
"Joon!” you whined your displeasure. “You promised!”
“I promised I would take care of you, and I am!” he held back a laugh. “I’m not fucking you until you’re sober, baby.”
“You’re no fun, drunk sex is great.” you crossed your arms and Namjoon had to look away from the way your tits were pressed together.
And he had to agree, drunk sex was a lot of fun. But not when you still had issues to talk through.
“Just have a cold shower and come meet me in the kitchen when you feel a little more sober.”
“Have I told you I hate you?” you asked with yet another pretty pout.
“At least twice now.”
Namjoon gave you a pointed look when he let go of the shower door, holding back a fond smile from how annoyed you looked. You showed him your tongue like a child and he laughed.
DECEMBER 4RTH | 03:59
Raiding Namjoon’s closet for a shirt sounded like a better idea than going into your room in the penthouse to find something to wear. You didn’t feel completely like yourself yet, but your head was in the right place. Enough for you to be extremely embarrassed about your earlier behavior.
As you walked into the kitchen, per Namjoon’s request, you weren’t sure what you were going to find. He had every right to be mad at you, he had left the comfort of his home in the middle of the night to pick up a brat from a club across town because you missed him but was too hard headed to admit it. Not to mention everything else.
But what greeted you was a dimpled smile and a glass of water.
“Feeling better?”
“I’ll tell you in the morning.” you laughed without any real humor, taking long sips of the first drink you had tonight that didn’t burn on the way down. “What’s that?”
“Toast and cheese.”
Namjoon pushed the plate towards you as you sat down on a stall by the kitchen island.
“You cooked for me.” your smile was sincere and bright, as his cheeks turned pink. “Like, you actually cooked.”
“That is hardly a Michelin.”
“It’s better, because you made it.”
You looked down as you said it, picking up the toast and taking a small bite to the corner. You did feel a little hungry, and this would definitely help with your inescapable hangover tomorrow. But chucking it in at once would only make you sick. And you were really good at holding your liquor, but today wasn’t the night you wanted to test that.
Namjoon crossed the island to come closer to you. He pulled your wet hair back so it wouldn’t fall on your plate and kissed the crown of your head before sitting down next to you. You were eating slowly as he watched you intently. His finger slipped under the chain around your neck to lift it from the inside of your shirt –his shirt–, so now the diamond heart would be on show.
“We should talk.” at least he had the decency to wait for you to swallow your last bite.
After washing down the food with the rest of the water you said, in a small voice: “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for? I’m the one who needs to apologize.” Namjoon’s forehead creased.
“You can, just let me say something first?” you turned around on the bench so you could look at him as you spoke. “It’s not fair that I get upset with you about something, and then go ahead and do the exact thing.” you sighed, playing with your fingers on your lap. “I know we’re not together, this is just an arrangement. You have every right to
