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magicshopaholic · 10 months ago

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I have missed these <33333333333333

Okay so we know that the reason Dilara and Taehyung tensed up a bit was because of something or someone else

BUT I think you have a really good insight about what can potentially go down as well

I’m not going to give away anything on who suspects what, but it’s interesting that you like how calm Tae is instead of being his usual jealous self because in this situation, it’s completely out of everyone’s control, including JK.

The bikini top reveal - hahaha. Tae absolutely gives off vibes of someone who prefers to live life on his own terms, especially when it comes to his personal life and loved ones and I think he’s just as capable of being protective as Namjoon or Yoongi. Dilara is a public figure so she does have a taste of it, but I imagine F1 is a bubble that way and the fans are largely sports fans ie they actually care about the sport than personal lives of drivers. Tae’s fans on the other hand are monumentally larger in number and, well… can include a percentage of trolls and bullies as well.

I’m loving writing Tae x Dilara domestic era too! They’ve been so angsty for a while but they’re in an actual relationship now, which includes conversations about work, travel, random pillow talk and everything and that rapport was natural from the day they met (and the reason they got so close so quickly)

Most miserable man to walk the earth agahdjdj where is the lie 😭 I think when it comes to things he fears, like this, his imagination is a dangerous place to be in. He is starting to question his decision though and being in such close proximity to his friend’s relationship would also make him think, both about what he’s missing and what she could possibly be thinking.

Kaya is definitely not used to it, I would say, because it’s not like it’s that regular? But she’s an independent woman and takes pride in it, and wouldn’t like to feel as though she’s dumping her problems on someone else (especially her ex), so she’d downplay it. Her rebound scenario (or lack thereof) remains to be seen 🤷🏻‍♀️ but it’s probably haunting namjoon rn.

Loved loved lovedddd hearing your thoughts sm, I’m so happy you liked it ♥️

A Day in the Life

Summary: Namjoon and Kaya deal with the aftermath of their break-up. Dilara makes an uneasy realisation about her own relationship.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC, Namjoon x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Word count: 9.8 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol, making out, sex, oral sex, jealousy

A/N: Here is the next installment of unedited fic series. Takes place a couple of months after Moving On.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "meet me in amsterdam" by RINI

taehyung masterlist | namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

It is sunny and hot; Yoongi can almost hear his skin sizzle.

“Put this on before you get sunburnt,” he says to Jimin, tossing him a bottle of sunscreen as he arrives at the spot where the rest of the group is. Jimin catches it and examines the label while providing an opinion of the brand that Yoongi elects to ignore. Jungkook responds instead and they proceed to bicker half-heartedly, while Taehyung lies on a deck chair next to them, jumping in only to contribute singular comments that add fuel to the fire.

Yoongi takes a seat next to them and takes off his t-shirt, glad for the shade under the umbrella. Ibiza is as warm as they say - but it’s also as busy as they say. He turns to check on Namjoon, who had been a few steps behind him, now crouched by the end of the steps that lead from their hotel to the private beach and peering interestedly at something in the sand.

He squints but before he can get a clearer picture of what it is, he feels a tap on his shoulder to see Jungkook returning the sunscreen to him. Yoongi squeezes a bit more onto his palm and turns to Seokjin on his other side.

“Hyung? Sunscreen?”

Seokjin, lying on his own chair with a pair of Raybans on his face and a streak of white sunscreen along the bridge of his nose, sighs without turning. “What’s the point, Yoongi?” he asks wryly. “We’re all just going to die one day anyway.”

Yoongi stares at him. “What?”

“Sunscreen isn’t the answer. It’s opportunity. Serendipity. It’s…” He takes a deep breath and exhales, still not turning, “... destiny.”

For a moment, Yoongi wonders if he’s being pranked, but then Jimin and Jungkook snort at Seokjin’s response and he decides he doesn’t want to know.

“Oi, Namjoon,” he says to the leader, who joins them then. “Sunscreen,” he states, tossing the bottle to Namjoon, who fumbles it and drops it.

“Thanks,” he mutters, sheepishly picking it up and shaking it before squeezing a dollop onto his palm. “Where’s… four, five, six - where’s Dilara?”

“Went to buy some drinks,” supplies Taehyung, golden-brown in a pair of red swimming trunks, sitting up gracefully and shaking out his shaggy black hair. “She should be back by now, though.”

Yoongi turns to Namjoon. “Spoken to Hobi yet?”

Namjoon nods, taking a seat under the second umbrella and rubbing the lotion along his arms. “He landed a little while ago. I asked him to meet Bang PD if he could, since he’s in Seoul anyway. Some investors at the building this week,” he adds, answering Yoongi’s raise of the eyebrows.

“He’s missing out on a beach weekend, though,” says Jimin earnestly. He turns to face the expanse of the brilliant blue ocean and the vast white sand of their private beach. “He would love this,” he adds forlornly.

“He’ll be here later this week. We can make the trip back up here if we have the time,” offers Namjoon, before taking off his tank top.

“Ooooh!”

The three other boys jeer at his naked torso and Yoongi joins in as well, glad to see Namjoon’s abashed smile, the dimple popping faintly on his left cheek. Next to him, even Seokjin cracks a smile.

“Shut up,” he replies dismissively, looking a bit ruffled but the dimple stays on his cheek. “Why aren’t you guys in the water?”

“Waiting for Dilara,” mutters Taehyung, reaching for his phone.

“There she is!” Jungkook exclaims, and they turn to see where he’s pointing at. Across the private beach, near the edge of where the general public is lounging on the sand, Yoongi spots Dilara, in a red bikini top and light blue denim shorts, carrying a plastic bag and wading through the sand.

Jungkook waves to her but she doesn’t notice; as they watch, she gets stopped by a tall, tan man in swimming trunks. A brief exchange of words occurs, full of smiles and animated gestures from him and a few seconds later, three more men join him and they stand together, keeping her in the middle.

“A very different looking fanbase than ours, I have to say,” observes Namjoon, as the first one hands his phone to a stranger and they all pose for a picture.

“You don’t think they’ll follow her here and see us, do you?” Jungkook asks, sounding slightly anxious.

Yoongi chuckles, agreeing with Namjoon. “I think we’re okay. They don’t look like anyone who’s going to recognise us,” he adds, glancing at Taehyung. He can only see a sliver of the younger member’s face as he watches his girlfriend, his body very still.

Dilara’s hands are occupied with the bag and a peace sign she makes while the guys stand around her, arms around each other and grinning into the camera. Yoongi can’t be sure because she’s wearing sunglasses, but it seems as though she’s looking over in their direction. A couple of snaps later, Dilara waves to the fans and continues in her initial direction.

“Okay, I have cokes and lemonades,” she begins when she reaches them, tossing a yellow can so it lands neatly next to Seokjin on the towel, “beers,” she adds, handing one to Namjoon and Yoongi each, “and diet coke,” she finishes, handing one each to Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung, the latter of whom pauses for a fraction of a second before he takes it.

“Coke?” Jimin wrinkles his nose exaggeratedly behind his Dior sunglasses. “Toss me a beer, woman,” he says, switching to English.

Without missing a beat, Dilara chucks a cold can at his lap which he catches right as it lands on his crotch; she gives him a wide smile when he winces and mutters a tight “Thanks”. She pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and clicks open her own can of beer.

“Cheers, everyone,” she says, and all of them respond with garbled Cheers, clinking cans here and there. She takes a sip of her beer and nudges Taehyung’s knee. “Hey,” she says lightly.

A moment passes before he replies. “Hey,” he murmurs, scooting slightly so she can sit next to him and accepting a peck on the cheek.

“Your fans follow you here?” Jimin asks teasingly.

“Doubt it,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s just mid-season excitement. We’re in the western Europe - it’s the heartland of F1. Oh, and by the way - huge number of crabs all along the border,” she warns them, shuddering. “Popping out of the sand with zero warning.”

Yoongi turns to Namjoon. “Is that what you were doing back there?” he asks, pointing towards the steps to the hotel.

“Maybe,” he answers sheepishly. “They were really cute,” he adds, sounding slightly defensive.

“You’re possibly the only person on earth who thinks that, Namjoon,” says Seokjin from behind them.

Namjoon considers this, then shrugs. “They’re an acquired taste. Kaya hated them, too. Always found them creepy.”

There’s a pause where a few of them exchange looks, all of them surely thinking the same thing. Yoongi can’t remember the last time Namjoon brought up Kaya in casual conversation, but he can only presume it’s progress.

Fortunately, Dilara speaks before it gets fishy. “I agree. I think it’s the way they scuttle?”

The conversation continues under the shade of the umbrellas, the drinks feeling nice and cold. Yoongi is glad for the weekend break; it’s rare during tour and despite the fact that the coming week is going to be packed with events and appearances until the weekend concert (and race), it’s nice to have a couple of days of rest.

“Namjoon hyung, do you think the company will let me fly Sooah out to Japan for the encore concert?” Jimin asks after a while.

“I think so. We can ask the travel team,” he assures him. “You may have to fill out a form and everything, but it should be okay. Do you need tickets, too, or will she join us backstage?”

“She prefers watching it from the audience,” replies Jimin, pouting slightly. “Says it’s a better experience.”

“Oh, I agree,” pipes up Dilara, with Taehyung’s arm loose around her shoulders. “Can I get a ticket, too, for the next one?”

“Wait, you don’t like being backstage?” Jungkook asks, sounding flabbergasted.

“Of course I like it, but it’s not the same,” she argues, while a hint of a smile flickers on Taehyung’s face. “The energy outside is something else. Especially during your love you so bad moments,” she adds, winking and Jungkook. “Hearing the screams backstage isn’t quite the same, JK.”

Jungkook’s ears go a brilliant shade of red while Jimin guffaws. Taehyung nudges her. “Come into the water with me?”

“Yeah, sure.” She nods and they both stand up, Taehyung taking off his sunglasses and setting his drink on the plastic table between the chairs. Dilara nonchalantly drops her shorts, revealing plain red bikini bottoms; Yoongi looks away out of respect and notices Namjoon do the same, while Jungkook begins fidgeting with something on the edge of his chair. Taehyung and Dilara step out into the sun and begin walking towards the ocean, holding hands, while her long hair curls down her back.

“They look happy.”

Yoongi turns to see Seokjin sitting up finally and reaching for his drink. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

He shrugs noncommittally but doesn’t answer. Yoongi glances at the happy couple again, now jogging towards the water, Taehyung’s hands on her waist and faint laughter carrying over to them as they splash into the shallow waves.

“The water looks amazing,” remarks Jungkook, his eyes on the waves. “Jimin, come on.”

“My beer isn’t -”

But Jungkook steers him to stand up and Jimin tries to down as much of his beer as he can. “Jesus, slow down,” says Namjoon, frowning.

“You should join, too, hyung,” says Jimin, sputtering slightly. “Show off that body,” he teases, poking his shoulder before he and Jungkook race towards the water where Taehyung and Dilara are already drenched, splashing water at each other and laughing.

“I need to work after this.” Namjoon muses, almost to himself. “Can’t spend too long here.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, now back on his back. “Give yourself a break, Namjoon. The company isn’t going to come crashing down if you take an hour off.”

“But -”

“Everything isn’t your responsibility,” he interrupts. Namjoon sighs but says nothing, turning to Yoongi instead.

“Coming?”

“In a bit.” Yoongi gives him a wave as he stands up and begins walking towards the water. His shoulders look wider in the sun, despite the weight he’s clearly lost lately. The others are midway through a game of chicken, with Dilara and Jimin on Taehyung and Jungkook’s shoulders respectively. Yoongi smiles involuntarily as he watches them; it’s nice to see them letting loose, especially Namjoon.

He leans back and reaches for his phone, snapping a picture of all five of them in the water, candid and happy. He turns to Seokjin.

“You’re not going, hyung?”

Seokjin doesn’t answer for a moment. “I’ll go if you go.”

Yoongi considers this, then grins. “I’ll wait you out, old man. You know you can’t resist the water,” he quips, laughing when Seokjin chuckles.

“Someone’s got to watch our stuff,” he reasons, gesturing to their phones and discarded clothes.

“Good thing we’ve got security.” Yoongi cocks his head towards the two casually dressed bodyguards lounging a little ways away, sipping on a pearly white drink each. “Come on, take a break, hyung. You deserve it.”

Seokjin is silent for a bit, his sunglasses hiding his eyes. “Looks like a lot of splashing,” he mutters, before sighing.

Yoongi gives him a sympathetic look. He’s not sure, but there’s only one thing lately that’s capable of ruining his mood this much. “For the kids,” he urges gently, glancing at the ocean again.

“Fine.” Seokjin exhales in annoyance and places his can on the table before standing up.

“That’s it,” says Yoongi encouragingly, standing up as well. The sun is hot and the water looks magnificent. “For the kids,” he repeats.

Seokjin huffs as they step out from under the umbrellas and pad their way down the sand. “Sometimes I hate the kids,” he mutters, squinting in the sun.

“I know. Me, too.”

—

Dilara makes her way up the steps to the poolside, the ends of her hair dripping water down her side. The villa booked for them is away from the main hotel, as private as possible, for which she’s more than glad. There’s the private beach and the private pool and she and Taehyung were always guaranteed a private room.

She glances at her phone, still not seeing the email she’s been waiting for since yesterday. Clicking her tongue softly, she walks around the side of the house to see Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook sitting on two deck chairs, huddled around something. Drenched hair and drops of water still on their shoulders; they’ve just finished a swim. Resisting the urge to bite down on Taehyung’s shoulder to surprise him, she veers instead for the member closest to her with his back to her.

“What’s up, guys?” she says loudly, suddenly placing her hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and leaning over him to see them peering into someone’s phone.

Taehyung and Jimin start, but Jungkook jumps. “Mweoya!” he gasps, clutching his chest. “Don’t - don’t do that,” he stutters, his face flushing.

Dilara immediately raises her hands. “Whoa. Sorry.” She frowns as he nods jerkily. “So… what are you guys doing?” she asks again, this time in a normal volume, sitting next to Jimin.

All three of them exchange looks before Taehyung shrugs. “Come on, we can tell her.”

She raises her eyebrows as Jungkook, who’s holding the phone, brings it closer to her. “I found this on Twitter,” he confesses in a low voice and plays a video. It’s barely ten seconds long; it takes Dilara about half the video to realise who the subject is.

“Is - is that Kaya?” she exclaims, wincing when they all shush her in unison. “Sorry - but… what is that? Is that her at uni? Getting mobbed?”

“It’s not that many people,” points out Jimin, but even he sounds doubtful. “And they’re not, like… crowding her. They’re just…”

“Following her,” finishes Dilara. “So her identity is kind of confirmed, then,” she murmurs, already feeling bad for Kaya. She can see Jimin’s point: it’s not that bad. It’s about five or six people turning as she passes by them, dressed casually with a coffee in her hand, and calling out her name in different tones of surprise and excitement. Kaya turns and faces the camera only for a moment, but it’s unmistakably her.

“Good thing Namjoon hyung doesn’t go on Twitter,” says Taehyung, nibbling on a fingernail.

Dilara’s head snaps up. “Wait… you’re not going to keep this from him.” When none of them answer, she tilts her head, shoulders falling. “Guys. You can’t be serious.”

“But he’s been in such a good mood these days,” reasons Jungkook, eyes wide. “Okay, not good, but better. I don’t want to…”

“Yeah, I get that, but this is important. And he’ll find out anyway,” she points out. “Come on, you can’t not tell Namjoon.”

“Tell me what?”

In the most fortuitous of moments, all four of them turn to see Namjoon approaching them, in fresh clothes and wet silvery hair. He looks only mildly suspicious at seeing them huddled together, almost as if expecting to catch them in some act of mischief.

“Um…”

The three boys look at each other, and then at Dilara. She gives them a look, knowing that regardless of Namjoon’s mood, he has a right to know. He should know.

Jungkook sighs and hands the phone to Namjoon. “We found this today.”

Dilara almost regrets her decision when she sees Namjoon’s face fall a bit more with each passing second. Next to her, Jimin scowls. “Knew we shouldn’t have told her,” he mutters softly, wincing when she slaps his shoulder lightly.

“This…” Namjoon clears his throat. “This was today?”

“Probably,” answers Jungkook slowly.

“So not too long ago,” finishes Taehyung, biting his lip. “Sorry, hyung.”

Namjoon seems to snap out of it and hands the phone back to Jungkook. “Thanks. For letting me know.” Without waiting for a response, he heads back into the house.

“Think he’ll talk to her?” Taehyung asks after a while, once they’ve finished another swim and are going into the kitchen.

“I think he already is,” replies Dilara, cocking her head towards the garden where Namjoon is sitting at a small wicker table, phone on the table and ear pods in his ear as he runs his hands over his face.

Namjoon exhales as the phone rings, his heart beating rapidly in a mixture of fear and anticipation. The video was short - too short. It told him nothing - nothing about who the people were, why it was suddenly a frenzy, whether she was officially recognised now, and how she is taking it. Does she hate him? Is she even angrier with him than she had been two months ago? Or is she finally coming around to understand why he did what he did?

Except… why isn’t it working? It’s the part that’s nagging at him uncomfortably, small but sharp in his brain: why is it still happening? Why hasn’t the world left her alone, even after he has?

“Hello?”

His heart jolts; she sounds wary. “Hey,” he says softly. God, he’s missed her voice. Recorded videos on his phone don’t do it justice.

There’s a pause. “Hey.”

He needs to speak, but it’s too hard. Defeat, anger and longing - it’s an unholy mess.

“I’m, uh… I saw the video.”

“What video?”

Namoon frowns. “The… video on Twitter. Outside your college? You, a bunch of strangers calling out your name? Mobbing you on your way to class?” he adds, running a hand through his hair and remembering the feeling of beng crowded at airports.

“Oh. That. Wait, there’s a video?” She sounds more exasperated than anything.

“Yeah. Didn’t show a whole lot, though.”

Kaya sighs; she’s probably in her cabin in the college, or she’s hopefully returned to her apartment. A moment later, the thought of that comforts him less.

“Well. Nothing really happened. I wasn’t mobbed,” she clarifies, but doesn’t elaborate.

“Are you okay?” The words tumble out of his mouth without warning because this, more than anything, is what he needs to know.

“Yeah,” she answers softly. “Nothing happened,” she repeats. “I told them I had to get to class and they left me alone. I don’t know what you’re imagining, but it’s nothing like that.”

The picture in his mind of her frightened face, of her getting pulled, harassed and crowded in her personal space comes to an immediate pause.

“I’m glad.” He bites his lip, feeling his throat hurt as a lump forms slowly. He doesn’t want the conversation to end and since she hasn’t hung up yet, he can only presume she doesn’t either. “How are you?”

“Namjoon,” she whispers, “what are you doing?”

“I’m just asking you how you are,” he says quickly. “Is that so bad?”

She takes a deep breath and it sounds like she’s about to argue, but then she simply sighs again. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m…” He can’t lie. He’s been doing it constantly, putting on a smile, performing his heart out, joking on television. But he can’t lie to her. I’m a fucking mess, and I love you.

Kaya waits, and it’s clear she’s picked up on the pause. “You looked thin the last time I saw you.”

He remembers the last time. “It’s tour,” he murmurs.

“Yeah. Okay.” There’s a shuffling sound at her end, like she’s standing up. “I have to go. I have a meeting and I have to drop off a draft to Adam’s office before that.”

She says it absently, and it seems to take her a few moments to register the dead silence on the line. Namjoon says nothing; there’s the white hot anger in his stomach he’s tried to ignore that’s returning, and the last thing he wants is to say something he might regret.

“Namjoon -”

“Okay,” he says tightly. “Bye, Kaya.” He hangs up before either of them can say anything else.

—

“So… he hung up?”

“Why is that so shocking?”

Dilara rolls onto her stomach and frowns, flipping her hair to the side so her phone is against her ear. “I don’t know. He’s the one who called you. Because he was worried?”

“Isn’t he always?” Kaya says wryly. “But this time, he actually had nothing to be worried about.”

. “Are you sure? I’m not going to overreact; you can tell me the truth.”

“I am, though. I saw the video - it looks worse than it was,” she explains. “I don’t think he believes me, though. I don’t think he wants to, because then all of this will have been for nothing.”

Dilara hums sympathetically, somewhat glad that despite her break-up with Namjoon, Kaya hasn’t stopped speaking with her out of association. She turns to glance at the bathroom, the sliding door of which is wide open, with only a blurry glass door blocking her view of her boyfriend showering inside. She bites her lip, shamelessly admiring his slender naked figure as he runs his hands through his wet hair.

“... in any case. I thought he’d be moving on by now.”

She winces, realising she’s missed part of Kaya’s sentence. “Um… well, he’s definitely not moving on. Honestly, he just seems really sad.”

“I know he is,” says Kaya, to Dilara’s surprise. “He was trying to act so calm and collected when he came to my apartment with his stupid goodbye, but…” She sighs, a mixture of frustration and sadness. “I saw that concert clip you sent me.”

“The Rome one?”

Kaya confirms it. The clip in question had been Dilara’s attempt at making Kaya feel better, except now she has no idea if it’s had the opposite impact. It was a short one, of Namjoon on stage during a concert, breaking down unexpectedly. He’d done it in the most Namjoon way possible, with silent tears slipping out of his eyes, a stoic posture and forced smile, until one by one, all the boys had hugged him, starting with Jungkook.

The comments, of course, attributed it to anything and everything, from missing his parents to appreciating his Italian fans to his impending military service. But Dilara, who had actually been backstage at that concert, knew which pictures he’d been scrolling through earlier that day, of which Roman holiday and with whom.

She hasn’t mentioned any of this to Kaya, but something tells her she may have guessed anyway.

“Yeah, well. I think part of him is mad at me, too.”

“What does he have to be mad about?”

“I don’t do well with break–ups,” she mutters. “I say things and I get defensive. Sometimes I have a rebound problem.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I just don’t know what to say anymore, when he calls me like this. I mean, I know he’s sad,” she says emphatically. “I can hear it in his voice, but -” She scoffs and she sounds sad, too, and helpless. “What do I do about it? He’s doing it to himself, you know?”

“Yeah…” Dilara hears the water stop in the bathroom. “If it helps, I think he’s channelling a lot of it into music and stuff. Like a true artist,” she adds wryly. “He performed an unreleased song at last night’s concert and the audience went nuts. I mean, it was a really good song,” she admits.

“Yeah? What’s it called?” she asks, sounding only mildly interested.

“He didn’t say. I don’t think it has a title, but the internet is calling it Aphrodite based on the lyrics. You know someone is in deep when they’ve gone down the Greek mythology route,” she remarks.

Kaya sighs but doesn’t respond, changing the subject instead. “Can we talk about something else? How was Montreal?”

“Shit race,” answers Dilara, rolling her eyes. “I know wet races are a hoot to watch or whatever, but the track in Montreal becomes like fucking ice. I have to make up for my P7 in Barcelona and Silverstone next month, that’s all,” she mutters, turning back on her back and adjusting her red bikini top, feeling her mood sour.

Kaya seems to realise this, for she quickly responds. “It looked like you had fun at Ricciardo’s birthday party this week, though. The pictures are all over Instagram.”

Dilara chuckles. “Yeah, it was fun. Honestly, it’s a good thing he always celebrates it in Ibiza so I was already in Spain this weekend. And Lexie and Chris and Fred were invited, too, so all in all it was quite fun.”

“Oh, are those the people in this picture? The one you posted yesterday?” Kaya asks, and it’s clear she’s pulled up the picture on her phone.

“Yeah. You should meet them when you’re in London in July.”

“Sure. Which one is Chris?”

“Chris Park? The one that’s not the blond German,” she quips.

“Ha ha,” replies Kaya sarcastically, before pausing. “He’s cute.” She scoffs when Dilara makes an exaggerated gagging sound. “Oh, come on, you have to be blind to not admit he’s hot.”

“Objectively speaking, I accept that he’s good looking in an obvious way,” she admits.

“Yeah, obvious hotness is the worst.”

Dilara laughs. “Fair enough. He’s not really my type, though. My type is more… classic,” she says, smirking as Taehyung exits the bathroom in nothing but a towel around his waist. “High cheekbones, artsy,” she lists, maintaining eye contact with him and nodding when he silently points at himself questioningly.

“Types can be fluid,” argues Kaya, but Dilara barely hears her. Stopping at her feet, Taehyung places a knee on the bed and crawls up towards her.

Biting her lip in excitement, she starts to interrupt Kaya but Taehyung, face smooth and more handsome than ever, gives her a small shake of the head, indicating to her to continue her call.

“Oh - uh… what do you mean?” Dilara asks into the phone, peering at him as he presses a soft kiss to her bare sternum and moves lower before tugging at the strings of her red bikini bottom so the knots open with ease. Nudging her legs apart, he pushes her knees up and kisses the skin just above her slit.

“Fuck,” she mutters, realising a moment later that she’s still on the phone. “I mean… fuck, yeah. You’re right. Of course.”

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That weird interruption. Is there a low signal where you are?”

“No. Or probably.” Dilara swallows, only half-aware of what she’s saying, the rest of her mind preoccupied with Taehyung��s head between her legs, his tongue finding its way along her wetness, down to her clit. “I’m just - oh - just… agreeing with you.” Her toes curl on the sheets as shivers start forming from her feet up her legs.

“Yeah? About what?”

“About the - about… what we were talking about. About Chris, and the - oh, God!” She squeezes her eyes shut as Taehyung sucks suddenly at her clit, without warning.

Kaya gasps. “Oh, my God. Is - is Taehyung with you?”

Dilara is starting to unravel. “I - in a sense,” she admits, snaking her other hand down to run it through his thick hair and lifting her hips up slightly.

“Oh, God!” she exclaims, sounding horrified. “You know what? Call me when you’re… done,” she says quickly, before hanging up.

Dilara nods absently, eyes fluttering shut and letting the phone fall from her hand as Taehyung devours her, one hand firm around her thigh and the other coming up to slide into her folds, brushing over her clit while his tongue stays inside her. She’s in danger of being overstimulated but it’s so sweet, so electric that the sharp sensation only flows through the rest of her body.

“Yes, yes, right there…”

The orgasm is right there, within reach. A few more seconds of relentless tongue action while she cries out for him not to stop and it crashes over her like a wave of the ocean, her back arched and head thrown back on the pillow as he licks her through it, not letting her go even for a moment until she stutters his name.

“Come - come here,” she murmurs, head spinning and stars in her eyes as he emerges, hair dry but the bottom of his face slick with her juices. Wiping his mouth conspicuously on the back of his hand, he towers over her, eyes dark as he watches her catch her breath.

She raises her arms and he lowers himself to kiss her. The aftershocks of her orgasm are still fading away; she lets him pull her close, loving the feel of his naked body against hers, knowing for certain now that he’d seen her earlier today when she’d clicked a picture with that group of fans. Those many men, that much exposed skin and the close proximity in which they’d all surrounded her - it was just enough for a reaction.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs, pulling away but staying close. He props his head up on his palm and smiles down at her, a little satisfied.

“Hey,” she says, her breathing slowly returning back to normal. “I think you just rocked my world.”

Taehyung’s smile gets wider but he visibly tries to suppress it, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “My pleasure. Must be because I’m your type, no?”

It takes Dilara a moment to realise what he’s referring to. “Oh. That.” She chuckles. “Totally my type,” she agrees.

“And what’s that?”

“My type? I dunno. Sexy. Romantic. Smart but not arrogant. Just a little pretentious,” she adds, grinning when he rolls his eyes. “Able to take control when he’s a little jealous,” she adds in a murmur, running a finger down his chest and reaching up to brush her lips against his. “Knowing every inch of my body better than anyone,” she finishes, kissing him again.

He kisses her back, slow and affectionate, and rolls on top of her. “So Chris isn’t your type?”

“God, no.” Dilara wrinkles her nose and Taehyung rolls off her, resuming his position on his side. “Kaya saw his picture on my Instagram and said she thought he was hot. I told her she could see for herself when she comes to London next month.”

“Chris? Wait, you told Kaya about him?” Taehyung frowns.

“Yeah… why?”

“Because he may not be your type, but he seems pretty close to Kaya’s type,” he points out.

“What?” Dilara squints. “No way.”

“Really? Tall, buff, straight hair? Korean?” He raises his eyebrows. “That doesn’t remind you of anyone we know?”

Dilara rolls her eyes. “That’s a little reductive. She can’t just go out and find another Kim Namjoon on the street, you know?”

“He doesn’t have to be Namjoon, he just has to look like him.” Shaking his head, Taehyung pulls up the picture on his phone. “You really don’t see the resemblance?”

“No. Just - okay, maybe the body structure. And the hair,” she admits uneasily. “And the voice, kind of. Okay, but that’s crazy. She’s not going to just suddenly be attracted to someone that looks like her ex to get over her break-up.” But her voice trails off slightly at the end and she looks up at Taehyung hopefully. “Right?”

Taehyung purses his lips. “Namjoon is going to kill you,” he states.

“If you let him, then we’ve got bigger problems than Kaya’s dating life,” she snaps. “Besides, you might be overthinking this, okay? They’ve never even met. All she did was see a picture and compliment him. As someone who’s on fifty thousand lockscreens at this moment, you should know that.”

Taehyung gives her an unimpressed look as her phone pings. She reaches over to see a message from Kaya.

Kaya [14:12]

Hey, whenever you’re free, can you send me your friend Chris’s number if he’s okay with it? Thanks.

Dilara stares at the screen as Taehyung reads the message out loud from over her head. “Fuck,” she mutters, dropping her head into her hands. “Namjoon is going to kill me.”

Taehyung, his lips pressed against her shoulder from where he’s peering into her phone, nods and pats her arm. “I won’t let him. I promise.”

She turns around to face him. “Really? Because I may just have driven his ex-girlfriend into the arms of - oh, my God, Lexie is going to kill me, too.” She groans and covers her face, ignoring Taehyung’s low chuckle as he pulls her to him.

“Don’t overthink,” he instructs her kindly. “Come on, go take a shower. Yoongi hyung wants us to go pick up stuff for dinner - he texted me a whole list but I got the car keys, too. I’ll take you out on a nice drive.” He slaps her backside affectionately.

Dilara sighs and sits up, swinging her legs over the bed and heading for the bathroom, untying and dropping her red bikini top on the way. Once she’s out, sand washed away and hair smelling nice, she walks back into the bedroom to see Taehyung in the exact same position she left him in, comfortably naked on his back and scrolling through his phone.

“Babe, can you charge my phone?” she asks him as she rummages through her suitcase for clothes. “I’m waiting on an email.”

“The same one?” Taehyung purses his lips sympathetically when she nods, reaching over to plug her phone into the bedside charger. “Didn’t they say they’d get back by now?”

“They said yesterday,” she complains, “although I’m hoping it’s a timezone thing and it’ll come today.” Pulling on a tank top over cotton shorts, she turns towards the mirror, finger-combing her wet curls. “Ugh, forget it,” she mutters. “They’re just going to curl by themselves anyway.”

“You look beautiful,” he says from behind her. “Always do.” He returns her smile in the mirror. “Do you want to go out now? It might help get your mind off this.”

“Yeah, it might. It’s not a big deal either way,” she adds, shrugging. “I mean, would it be good if I got it? Sure. But it’s not like it’s - wait, I think that’s it,” she breaks off quickly, spotting the notification on her phone as it lights up. She hurries across the room to the bedside table and unplugs her phone, swiping up on the screen.

“Okay…” Dilara opens it and scans through the initial text, while Taehyung sits up and pulls on his boxers, keeping his eyes on her the entire time. “Yes!” she yells in excitement. “I got it!”

“You did?”

“Yes! Calvin Klein fall campaign, in the fucking flesh,” she exclaims, her heart hammering in excitement. “Congratulations on becoming a part of the Calvin Klein family, blah blah blah… oh, here it is - the fall/winter campaign which will be launched in the month of September, celebrating a milestone of the brand… joining global ambassadors including Justin Bieber, Hailey Bieber - holy shit - Kendall Jenner, Jungkook of BTS -“ They exchange a knowing look, “Bella Hadid…” She trails off as she scans the rest of the list, something in her heart coming to a standstill.

“Lara?”

Dilara locks her phone and tucks it into her back pocket. “Nothing. It’s great.” She turns away before she can start to dissect Taehyung’s expression, the understanding settling in of the one detail neither of them had mentioned out loud since her conversation with Calvin Klein had begun.

“I’m really happy for you,” he says from behind her, voice soft and - she doesn’t want to dwell on it - slightly guilty. At that moment, there’s a knock on the door and Dilara immediately opens it to see Jungkook of BTS.

“Hey,” he says, looking a bit surprised. “Sorry to, er… interrupt. Yoongi hyung wants to marinate the meat before dinner and Namjoon hyung asked if we could also pick up some wine…” He raises his eyebrows, eyes wide. “I don’t want to go alone so do one of you want to come along?” he asks hopefully.

“Yeah,” answers Dilara, bustling around to find a pair of slippers and grabbing her bag.

“What about Jimin?” Taehyung asks, pulling on a tank top.

“Yoongi gave him a giant watermelon to cut,” snickers Jungkook. “I thought about helping him but it’s more fun this way.”

“Sounds like he needs your help more than I do,” says Dilara, glancing at Taehyung. “I can go pick up the dinner stuff. Where are the keys?”

“Um, in my shorts. But -“

Dilara picks up his tan shorts from the pile of clothes next to the bed and shakes them out to catch the set of car keys that fall out. “Text me Yoongi’s list?” she asks. “Let me know if any of you want anything else. We’ll be back in a bit.”

Without waiting for him to nod, she exits the bedroom, shutting the door and leaving with Jungkook.

—

An hour or so later, Dilara slips into the tiny study, a glass of white wine in her hand. Namjoon glances away from his laptop and gives her a small smile, waving her inside.

“I heard you’re in the mood for wine?” she says, placing the glass next to his laptop.

“Wow, thanks.” He takes a whiff of it and nods. “I don’t know if I should be drinking while I’m working, though,” he adds, looking uneasy.

“You’re on vacation. You can have a drink. Come on, just one,” she persuades him, sliding the glass slowly towards him.

Namjoon gives her a look. “You’re a terrible influence,” he informs her, picking up the glass. “Cheers,” he says, and clinks his glass with the can of beer she’s holding. He takes a sip of the wine and sighs. “Fuck, that’s good. Are the mojito mixes in the fridge?”

Dilara pauses. “We didn’t buy mojito mixers. Shit, I knew we were forgetting something. But I can go out and get some, no problem,” she says quickly, nodding.

“Oh, hey, no. Don’t be silly,” says Namjoon, shaking his head. “It’s not a big deal. I can go out myself. Don’t worry about it.”

She nods slowly, hesitating. “Um… you okay?”

Her tone seems to indicate exactly what she’s talking about. Namjoon lowers his gaze before nodding. “Fine. I think. Just worried,” he murmurs after a moment.

Dilara stares inside her can, seeing nothing but dark. “If it makes you feel any better, I really think it wasn’t a big deal. The video made it seem a lot worse than it was.”

He bites his lip. “Yeah. That’s what she said, too.”

She nods, not really knowing what else to say. She considers leaving but then Namjoon speaks again.

“Do you talk to her?”

“M-hm.”

Namjoon’s shoulders relax a bit. “How is she?”

Dilara shrugs. “About the same as you, I think.” When all he does is scoff softly and look away, she abandons her plan to leave him alone. “Can I just ask…” She waits until he looks back up at her, giving her permission, “... is it worth it? Leaving, for her sake?”

To her surprise, Namjoon doesn’t answer immediately. “I don’t know yet,” he admits. “She’s been hurt before. And there’s a reason idols don’t talk about dating. Ever. It used to be out of obligation but now… it just makes more sense to keep that part of your life private. We don’t do it for fun; we do it because it’s just better that way. I can’t let her get hurt again,” he says quietly, lowering his head.

“But she didn’t get hurt,” points out Dilara. “They didn’t do anything to her.”

He looks like he’s about to argue but then thinks the better of it. “It’s not a chance I want to take.”

As much as she thinks he’s trying to convince himself more than her regarding his break-up, a different part of his spiel occurs to Dilara. Absently, she reaches for the white-gold ring around her neck, the metal warm from the sun outside.

“I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” she ventures carefully, “but I just hope you don’t regret it. Either of you.”

“You think I might?”

I think you are. But Dilara knows she would never say that out loud to Namjoon. “I think… that when Taehyung and I broke up, the most difficult part of it was going back to normal.”

He tilts his head. “How long did it take?”

“Not long at all. That was what was difficult about it. We lived in different countries, had completely different circles, so going back to normal… it took a surprisingly short amount of time,” she says, observing the point dawning on him. “Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t happy, but… honestly, if it weren’t for the Red Bull and BTS partnership and living with him and having him in my space every single day for two months, begging me to take him back… I don’t know if we’d be together right now.”

“No offence, but I think you and Taehyung are a little more dramatic than most,” he points out.

She shrugs sheepishly. “Fair enough. If you recall, I did date an arsehole mechanic just to get back at Tae.”

The silence that follows is still. Dilara suddenly remembers Kaya asking for Chris’s number and her heart jolts in anxiety, but then she puts that out of her mind; there is no way Namjoon can possibly know about that.

“You know what,” she says after a moment, more to break the silence than anything, “I’m going to go get those mojito mixes right now, so we can put them in the fridge.”

“Wait, you don’t have to do that,” he starts to say, but she shakes her head and walks backwards out of the room.

“It’s no problem. Really. I like driving,” she adds, holding up the keys and smiling. “It’s my fault we forgot them, anyway. I was distracting Jungkook with a really bad impression of Batman. But it’s okay, I got it.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “It’s really hot outside.”

“Good thing the car and the store are air conditioned.” She steps out the door and peeks in one last time. “No mistake is so bad that it can’t be fixed.”

—

Taehyung enters the open kitchen, hands in his pockets, to see Dilara, Jungkook and Yoongi putting away groceries. Yoongi is holding up a packet of meat and muttering something to Jungkook in Korean, while Dilara is pouring out glasses of something light pink.

She notices him first. “Hey,” she says, holding his gaze for a moment before looking away.

“Hey,” he murmurs, not paying attention to the other two. He’s about to stand beside her but thinks better of it, opting to stand opposite her instead with the counter between them. “You were gone for a while.”

“I had to run back and get mojito mixers. Forgot them the first time.” She finishes pouring a glass and slides it in front of him. “We got pink lemonade,” she says, sucking a bit off her thumb and turning around to place the carton back in the fridge.

Taehyung leans forward on the counter and observes her in silence, knowing he can’t say anything to her while Yoongi and Jungkook are here.

As if on cue, Jungkook seems to notice him just then. “Hyung! Did Dilara tell you the good news? About Calvin Klein?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer immediately; he notices Dilara stiffen momentarily but continuing to move things around in the fridge. “Yep, I was there when she got the email,” he says. “It’s fantastic.”

He doesn’t think Jungkook would’ve put two and two together, and neither does he think Dilara would’ve even mentioned the elephant in the room that had existed since she’d first told Taehyung about Calvin Klein considering her.

“Jungkook,” says Yoongi after a moment. “Come help me with something.”

“What?”

“Just come.” Tugging him by the t-shirt, he leads Jungkook out of the kitchen.

Left alone, Taehyung keeps watching his girlfriend. As though feeling his eyes on her, she closes the fridge and turns around.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you I was going out again.”

“It’s okay,” he says softly. He takes a sip of the lemonade and almost gags; it’s almost sickly sweet. Looking up to see her raising her eyebrows, he clears his throat. “It’s nice. Syrupy.”

She frowns, seeming partly amused. “I, uh… I talked to Namjoon,” she says.

“Really?” Taehyung is surprised; he didn’t think Dilara was the type to confront Namjoon about his personal life. Much as she admired him, he was sure the leader also intimidated her a little.

“Yeah. I wasn’t going to but he seemed really down and, I don’t know…” She shrugs, going back to unpack the two remaining brown bags of groceries. “You know, I was going through a break-up last year, too,” she says innocently, “and he gave me a lot of advice about how to deal with my ex-boyfriend at the time.”

“Interesting,” says Taehyung seriously, moving around the counter to help her with the groceries. “Tell me more.” He glances at her out of the corner of his eye to see half a smile creep up on her face.

“No way,” she says instead. “That was a private conversation, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“What?” he exclaims in mock-outrage. “No, you know what? Whatever he said, it seems like it worked for me. Or… this mysterious… sexy, romantic ex of yours that’s your type apparently,” he quips, his stomach flipping when she rolls her eyes but smiles anyway.

“I don’t know if I agree with him,” she says after a moment. “She told me he broke up with her because he thought she wasn’t safe with him. And he said that that’s why celebrities - specifically, idols -,” she points out, “- don’t talk about their relationships and flat-out lie to the press when asked. But how is that even a relationship then? If you’re just hiding your partner and not willing to actually deal with all that crap?”

“I wouldn’t lie.” Taehyung says it in a matter-of-fact way, watching as she stops a few feet away from him.

“What do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t hide you,” he clarifies. She’s giving him a look he’s seen before, one he knows always appears when he says something she calls “declarations”. Her eyes go soft and a hint of a smile flickers across her cheeks, as if to say that even though she knows it can’t be true, she wishes it would. He simultaneously loves it and becomes a bit self-conscious over it.

“Aren’t we hiding right now?”

“We’re keeping our personal life private,” he corrects her. “That’s not the same thing. I wouldn’t hide you.”

“Huh. You really wouldn’t?” she asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

He shakes his head, coming up behind her and placing his hands on her hips. “Never,” he murmurs, kissing her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist. He rests her forehead on her shoulder; the fact that she hasn’t shrugged him off or moved away is a good sign, but she isn’t quite leaning back into him either.

Did Dilara tell you the good news? Taehyung wonders if Jungkook thinks that he and Dilara would be actually working together, if any of the ambassadors or celebrities in the shoot would be. He doesn’t care about any of them, but he can’t imagine taking away from Dilara’s excitement about getting the campaign. Squeezing her waist tighter, he pulls her close.

“Prove it.”

He raises his head slightly. “Come again?”

“Prove it,” she repeats, turning around in his arms and stepping away slightly so she’s leaning back against the counter.

“You want to go public?” he asks sceptically. “Are you sure?”

“Well… not public,” she amends, “but maybe your fans should know, right?”

“Your fans don’t know about me,” he points out.

“No, but they know I’m not single.” Dilara tilts her head, a glint of a challenge in her eyes. “No pressure… but you did bring it up.” She reaches up and kisses him on the cheek before patting his shoulder and leaving, giving him a wave before disappearing around the corner.

—

It’s almost dinner time when Namjoon wakes up from in front of the laptop where he’d dozed off while working.

“Damn it,” he mutters, checking the time. He trudges straight into the bathroom and into the shower, the cool water helping him wake up at this unusual hour. He’s looking forward to dinner; he feels weak and low on energy and despite being on tour, he intends to eat well tonight.

He doesn’t check his phone again, not until he’s dressed and downstairs where everyone else is gathering and helping themselves to drinks. He gratefully accepts a mojito from a smiling Dilara and clinks his glass with hers.

“Where’s Taehyung?”

“He’s doing a live upstairs,” she answers. “Something about switching with Hoseok while he’s in Seoul.”

Namjoon nods, noting the change in schedule no one thought to tell him about. If Taehyung is online today, then Hoseok would have to do a live at least once before the next concert, meaning he and Yoongi could take a break for at least another week or two…

“Holy shit!”

Everyone turns to where Jimin is staring into his phone, mouth open and half-laughing. “What is it?” Yoongi asks.

“Taehyung just -” Apparently unable to finish his sentence, he shakes his head and passes the phone to Seokjin next to him, laughing in disbelief. He points to something and Seokjin raises his eyebrows.

“Idiot,” he mutters, passing the phone over to Yoongi and Jungkook. Namjoon walks over with a frown and peers into the phone over their shoulders, apparently immediately seeing whatever it is - and looking straight up at Dilara, the frown deepening.

“What is it?” she asks doubtfully, for she’d presumed it was something to do with their work. “Is everything okay?”

Namjoon bites his lip and opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then shakes his head. “You tell me,” he mutters, reaching over to hand her the phone.

A bit hesitant, Dilara takes it and immediately scans the screen. It’s a tweet with a video embedded; it’s Taehyung on a live - this live, wearing the same open-collared white linen shirt he’d been wearing half an hour ago - staring into the camera and speaking softly in Korean, looking more handsome than ever. There’s a SZA song playing in the background and a moment later, he turns up the volume and slides his chair back, bopping his head slightly to the music and running his hands through his thick hair.

He looks magnificent; it takes Dilara a moment to remember that his good looks can’t be the reason the rest of the guys displayed such a reaction. She frowns as he gives a faint smile to the camera, gaze boring into the lens, and leans to the side to pick up something from the ground, giving a clear view of one half of their room including - Dilara squints - a pain red bikini top on the bed.

“What did you do?”

Namjoon’s deep voice of exasperation jerks her out of her train of thought, which is just beginning to make sense of this. She looks up to see Taehyung jogging down the steps in the same white linen shirt and matching shorts, his hands casually in his pockets.

“What?” He looks around, frowning slightly at everyone’s gaze on him. “What’s happening?”

“No way you didn’t know.” Jimin shakes his head, looking terribly amused, and gestures for Dilara to give him the phone. She does silently, her eyes not leaving Taehyung’s face.

He watches the video expressionlessly, only raising his eyebrows at the very end. He hands the phone back to Dilara, catching her eye for a moment.

“You are going to be in so much trouble,” says Jimin, looking borderline thrilled at the prospect of it.

“It’s about time,” remarks Yoongi dryly, refilling his glass with wine. “Taehyung hasn’t caused a scandal in a while.”

“When have I ever caused a scandal?”

“No one’s going to get in trouble,” says Namjoon loudly, cutting through the chatter. “But… yeah, the company’s not going to approve of it.”

“Huh.” Taehyung bites his lip and nods. “Well, nothing we can do about it now, I guess.”

“We can get the video taken down,” suggests Jungkook. “It’s on Weverse, right?”

“Won’t everyone have taken screenshots and recordings by now, though?” Dilara asks, continuing to look at Taehyung.

“Yeah, probably,” sighs Namjoon, scrolling through his own phone.

“Top ten most irresponsible moments,” pipes up Seokjin, shaking his head exaggeratedly.

“Yeah, Taehyung, this was a careless move,” adds Jimin instantly, jumping on the train.

“You should be thankful Dilara didn’t show up anywhere in the video,” Namjoon tells him. At that, everyone turns to look at her, as though waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, uh - yeah, it’s - it’s so irresponsible,” she states, biting her lip to keep from smiling when Taehyung turns to her, eyebrows raised, hands on his hips. “But… I don’t really mind.”

Taehyung nods with narrowed eyes, still giving no indication as to the turn of events that led to this. Everyone else seems to be vaguely disappointed with her reaction; she supposes they were expecting some sort of dramatic fight.

Everyone drifts off after that, once it’s clear that the matter is more or less closed. There’s some chatter in different languages, largely debating between pre-gaming and going out, or staying in and watching a movie. Dilara finds she doesn’t really care; she stays out of the conversation, silently accepting a casual kiss on the head from Taehyung as he saunters away to the living room with the others.

“Mojito?” Namjoon offers her. “I tried my best,” he adds apologetically when she takes a sip and winces.

“No, it’s just really strong,” she sputters, eyes watering a bit. “Is this how strong you take it?”

“Sometimes,” he answers simply, but offers no more on the subject. “Are you okay? With this?”

From his partly curious tone, she takes it “this” is referring to Taehyung’s possibly accidental-on-purpose mishap with the live and the red bikini top.

“Yeah, I guess,” she answers, pouring some more mixer into her glass and stirring it. “Not like we got caught snogging or something. It’s pretty circumstantial. Do you really think he’ll get in trouble with the company?”

“Not trouble, really. Like you said, it’s circumstantial. Doesn’t prove anything.”

Dilara chooses to ignore that. “That’s good.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But you never know. Things can escalate.”

Dilara glances at him as he picks out the mint leaf from his drink. It suddenly occurs to her that this may be hitting a little close to home.

“It’s… precarious,” she admits after a moment. “But it doesn’t really change anything. Not with us, I mean.”

Namjoon nods, eyes still on his drink. “Well,” he says at last, “that’s good for you, I guess.” He meets her eyes briefly before giving her a small nod and starting to move away.

“Kaya,” blurts out Dilara, watching as he slowly turns around, “is getting published. An excerpt from her thesis - I forgot what it was called -”

“Behavioural Economics in Decision-making,” says Namjoon, nodding and smiling. His dimple appears out of nowhere and catches Dilara by surprise. “That’s amazing. Tell her… tell her congratulations from me, the next time you talk to her?”

He’s actually asking, Dilara realises. She’s about to agree, but at the last second, she looks up at him knowingly. “I’m not telling her anything,” she says, somewhat regretting it when Namjoon nods in acceptance. “You can. You should. She’s happy about it. She and her friends went out to celebrate and everything.”

“Yeah? She tell you that?”

“Not everything,” she admits. “I saw it on Instagram. Which means it’s probably a big deal.”

“Point taken.” Namjoon raises his free hand as Dilara waves at him before walking back into the living room to join the others. He swallows, not sure why the lump is appearing in his throat again. She’s happy about it, apparently. That’s what he wanted. That’s what he wants.

He should congratulate her. Slipping out of the kitchen, he heads to the room he’s sharing with Yoongi and shuts the door behind him, scrolling through his contacts. A notification appears on the top of his screen and he clicks it out of habit. Ignoring the actual subject of the message, he navigates to Kaya’s Instagram, second in his Search results.

Namjoon finds the pictures immediately; it’s the latest album she’s uploaded, consisting of three pictures of a group of people at a nicely-lit restaurant. He absently leans against the desk, missing her so immensely that he feels like his heart could crumble.

Kaya looks beautiful - and tired. But a happy tired, as though she’s worked for months burning the midnight oil and finally given herself a night off. He scans the rest of the people in the first picture; mostly peers from her program, some of whom he’s met before. He swipes right to see a solo picture of her with her glasses on and shifting her hair, followed by a third picture with the entire group around the table, all holding their drinks up towards the camera.

It’s obviously taken by someone else, perhaps a waiter or a passerby. Kaya is a couple of chairs away from the centre, in between her friend Alex - and Adam.

For a moment, his brain doesn’t know how to react. She’s sitting next to him, and smiling - but there are six other people at the table, too. Her thesis advisor went to her celebration dinner. Her thesis advisor that hit on her, slept with her and sees her every day, went to her celebration dinner.

Namjoon bites his lip, feeling his mind about to turn a corner it shouldn’t, for it wouldn’t help anyone. But it’s too close by, just within reach. With the minor buzz of the two mojitos he’s had, his intrusive thoughts take over. He swallows and grits his teeth, regretting it instantly - but it’s too late, for he can see it now: Kaya, Kaya with him, naked and glorious, eyes closed, kissing him, being pleasured by him -

His bedroom door opens loudly, making a couple of people in the living room jerk in surprise.

“Jungkook,” he says gruffly, “you’re carrying your old phone with you?”

“Uh, yeah,” answers Jungkook, standing up slowly. “You need it?”

When Namjoon nods wordlessly, Jungkook gets to his feet and jogs to his room to retrieve his old Samsung, the one he’d brought on tour before buying a new one in London, Namjoon following him.

As Jungkook leads him to his room, he peers surreptitiously into his leader’s room, frowning slightly when he sees his phone on the ground by the wall in three pieces, the screen shattered.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#notes🍷#taehyung x dilara #Namjoon x kaya #quarter-life-crisis2 #the best reviews

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phandomsecretvalentines · 7 years ago

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(darling don't be afraid) i will love you

Happy late-vday-early-bday @ryn-exe (can’t tag?)!!! Hope u enjoy, soz if it’s not good but i’m not so amazing(phil)

This is 2.1k words. There’s a bit of dream-violence (not in detail) and a lot of anxiety and fear so if u don’t like that stuff!! Tell me!!!! And i’ll write something else for you, i don’t mind. (You didn’t say anything i wasn’t supposed to write but idk). I’d describe this as hurt/comfort i think lmaooo

Basic summery i wrote fo myself: Dan and Phil, and how they deal with each other’s 3am fears (2009 vs 2018, now)

From a pitch-hitter 💓💓

——

[Saturday; 10.26.09; 03:37]

——

Dan<33 (03:37): phil? :[

Phil (03:45): Yrha

Phil (03:47): Sorry!! Yeah**

Phil (03:47): Why are you up so early/late?? I barely woke up

Dan<33 (03:49): sorry i woke you :/

Dan<33 (03:50): my parents went away for a bit and i’m home alone and i cant turn off the lights cuz im too scared

Dan<33 (03:51): and i can’t sleep so bad even hugging pillow cant help mee :[[

Dan<33 (03:52): so im sitting in the hallway with every light im the house on alone in just my pants

Dan<33 (03:52): and i was a idiot and missed you so i woke you up at so late and now ur gonna hate me crap

Dan<33 (03:52): sorry

Phil (03:53): I’ll never ever hate you dan!!! <<33333333333333

Phil (03:53): I’m sorry ur so scared :[[ I wish I was there to be strong and protect u again

Dan<33 (03:54): i wish you were here too

Phil (03:54): :[ <3

Dan<33 (03:58): CDAP PHIL I THINK I HESRF A GHOST

Dan<33 (03:58): IR MONSTER

Dan<33 (03:58): FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Phil (03:59): Dan oh my gosh are you okay??

Dan<33 (04:00): yeah i think but

Dan<33 (04:00): i heard something phil

Dan<33 (04:01): im scared

Dan<33 (04:02): i can’t believe im 18 and i’m actually sobbing out of fear alone and naked in a hallway over a fucking noise

Dan<33 (04:02): to my boyfriend

Dan<33 (04:02): on skype

Dan<33 (04:03): fuck

Phil (04:03): Dan :[[ i’m so sorry

Dan<33 (04:04): it’s not your fault

Phil (04:04): Want me to call you??? (If u want)

Dan<33 (04:05): can we skype instead?

Dan<33 (04:05): i want to see your face plz <3

Dan<33 (04:05): if thats okay

Phil (04:06): That’s fine! One sec plz :]

——

[Phil would like to add Dan<33 to a call (02:33)]

[Accept] [Decline]

[Accepted]

——

When Dan answered the call, his face was red and puffed and wet. Even through the crap-pixel screen quality, Phil could see that.

“Hey,” Dan’s voice broke.

“Hi,”

Dan was shaking slightly.

His face suddenly flushed, “Oh shit, I forgot – I’m, uh, in only pants. In front of you. Crap.”

“It’s fine, I’ve seen you shirtless before.” Phil smiled what he hoped was reassuringly, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah — I mean, I am now. I guess.”

“Are you cold?”

“Kinda.” Dan admitted.

“Want to go to bed?”

“My room is too dark –”

“Well, I’ll be there, wont I? And I’ll protect you from everything bad in the dark.”

“You’re not really here.”

“Only ever a few hours away. And if worst comes to worst, I have the police line and the monster-killer line. So you’ll be super safe.”

Dan muffled a giggle, “Yeah, okay.”

He shuffled up off the floor, and made his way into his bedroom, clutching the laptop tightly.

“I dunno if I’m getting any sleep tonight, honestly.”

“You will! You can cuddle your pillow and I’ll tell you stories until the demons go away and you can sleep.”

“I’m not five, Phil.” There was no malice in his reply.

“You don’t need to be five for any of that to be true.” Phil said, serious tone.

“Okay,”

Minutes later, Dan was snuggled under his covers; hugging a pillow tightly as he listened to Phil go on about some guy at the market.

“Then, he pulled a hot dog out of his left pocket. Who keeps a single —”

“Phil?” Dan interrupted, his voice was dripping with sleep.

“Mm?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No.” Phil answered simply.

“I mean – for being so scared of such dumb stuff. Seven-year-olds are braver than me.”

“It’s okay to have fears, Dan. I bet you’re not the only adult with those fears either,”

“I’m scared of the dark. And ghosts and monsters and moths and demons and –”

“– and that’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“And it’s not annoying to deal with? I’m not?”

“You will never be annoying to ‘deal with’; I promise.”

Phil meant it.

——

[Monday; 12.07.09; 02:59]

——

Phil :]]]<333333 (02:59): Dan?

Dan (03:00): yeah??? <3

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:03): I’m scared

Dan (03:04): of what :[[

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:04): I dunno it’s just creaky downstairs and I’m alone for the night I guess

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:04): Nvm

Dan (03:05): no tell me i want to help u

Dan (03:05): plz

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:07): Well it’s just that

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:08): It’s really dark and windy

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:08): And there was a tree snapping against my window I thought our house might’ve blown down

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:09): And I thought i heard thunder which usually isn'tn too bad but right now its scaring me a bit

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:10): I don’t wanna be alone rn is all

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:10): But i am brave! So it’ll be okay i think

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:10): Don’t worry about me <33

Dan (03:11): i want to worry :[

Dan (03:11): you don’t always have to be brave <333 ily and i would give you the biggest hug if i were there

Dan (03:12): and tell the trees and thnder to fuck off and let you sleep

Dan (03:12): and then we would sleep all cuddled up togerher like we do sometimes and it would be warm and nice

Dan (03:14): i wish i were there with you

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:15): You will be someday so it’s okay now too :]

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:15): But plz tell the trees and thunder to fuck off it’s very loud :’[[[

Dan (03:16): if u call me i will????

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:17): Lol okay :p

——

[Incoming call from Dan]

[Accepted]

——

“Hi!” Dan really should be quieter; last time he called Phil at three in the morning his dad had yelled at him.

“Hi,” Phil’s sleep-laced voice answered.

A booming crack of thunder, and a whimper.

“Don’t worry – it… won’t hurt you.” Despite everything, Dan was sometimes still quite new to the role of 'comfort’ in their relationship.

“I know, just loud.”

Dan wished he was like Phil. He wished he could just pull out an intresting story, a funny idea.

“Sorry.”

He wasn’t like Phil, though.

“Want to play a game?”

“What game could we possibly play through a phone call?” Dan could practically hear Phil rolling his eyes.

Dan wracked his brain for quick ideas.

“Eye-Spy?”

“We’re… not in the same room Dan.”

“Yeah, true.”

Dan’s room suddenly felt rather empty and uninteresting.

Dan felt empty and uninteresting.

“What do you want me to do?” He finally muttered.

He held his breath.

“I just like hearing your voice, it calms me down. I like when you rant about things you love.”

Let it out.

“Oh. Well – want to hear my never-ending thoughts on WALL-E then?”

“Definitely.”

——

[Sunday; 02.04.18; 04:12]

——

“Phil?”

“Mhm?” He rolled over and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “What’re you doing up?”

“There was a moth.”

“A moth?”

“Yes!” Dan looked around the room nervously, rolling on his heels, “It’s in the lounge somewhere and I can’t sleep knowing it’s out there — lurking.”

Phil groaned.

“Fucking kill it! Or set it free, I dunno. I just need it gone.”

“You are truly the perfect mix of 'needy child’ and 'angry businessman’, Danny.”

“Fuck off.”

“Mm, lemme get a cup then.”

Phil shoved on his glasses and stumbled out of bed into the kitchen, Dan following closely behind.

“Where was it again?” He asked, grabbing a wine glass from the cupboard.

They hadn’t really drank much alcohol these past few years– since Dan had gone on antidepressents— but they still always kept the glasses, to drink Ribena and seem fancy.

“No! You’ll need a bigger cup, it’s huge.” He whined.

“Okay,” he grabbed another glass, “where is it?”

“In the lounge last I saw.”

“I’ll go look, you get a piece of paper.”

Genuine terror painted over Dan’s face, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Christ’s sake Dan, it’s a moth, not an armed burglar. I think you’ll live.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. Now, just go a minute.”

He then ventured into the lounge, still half-drowned by sleep, when he heard a shriek.

“Dan?”

“Phil! Fucking help!”

Anyone else might’ve thought Dan was being held at gunpoint from the panicked way he was yelling.

“Coming!”

He went into the hall; Dan was standing there, paralysed with fear, as a giant moth flew circles around him. He had tears threatening to fall.

“Oh dear,”

Phil went over to the closet and grabbed a broom, spent a few go’s waving it around– and almost hitting Dan in the process— before smacking it head on.

“Aw, now I feel bad for killing it,” He whispered.

Dan was on the floor now, shaking, tears stained down his cheeks. He was in only pants.

And Phil was there.

“Well, the moth’s gone now isn’t it?” He crouched down next to Dan, putting his hands gently on his shoulders.

“Mmm,” Dan had his head tucked in his knees.

“Are you okay?”

Silence.

“That’s fine. Want me to make you some tea?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

A few minutes later, in the kitchen, with dried cheeks; “I can’t believe how much of a wimp I am.”

The kettle rang, and Phil took it off the stove carefully.

“No —”

“I know, I know, my therapist told me. 'It’s never weak to have fears’. But I cried over a fucking moth. In our hallway. It’s late and –”

“– and that’s okay.”

“It’s not okay Phil!”

“It’s fine in the moment, that’s what I mean.”

He grabbed a NASA mug, and poured the boiling water in a teapot.

“I must be exhausting.”

Phil dropped in a teabag.

He still remembered. It was a promise made at 4am; a promise over Skype to a more-than-slightly-terrified eighteen year old.

A promise made to a bunch of pixel’s with a name and a face and fear.

A promise his Dan probably didn’t even remember, honestly.

“No, I promised that much.”

“Mhm,”

He poured the tea.

“So, two sugars or three?”

“Two.”

——

[Friday; 02.16.18; 05:12]

——

Dan was on the sofa; snuggled up in blankets and watching the winter Olympics through his small Iphone screen. His eyes were heavy, he yawned.

Their bedroom door squeaked opened.

“Hey,” Phil spoke quietly.

“Up so late?”

“You’re up too.”

“Well — I’m watching the Olympics. You know it’s on late in the UK.”

“Alright.” Phil shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and leaving the cupboard door wide open.

“Why are you awake?”

“Just another nightmare, s'fine.”

“Then why did you come out here?”

His voice might’ve been read as upset – he was just tired. Half the time Dan honestly didn’t mean to come off so rude.

“Dunno,”

“What was it about?”

“Uh — I think my family was trapped, you included, and I was the only person who could save them. But I had to do something… I think, I had to open a lock to somewhere? But I was too nervous. I saw everyone die; I knew it was my fault. I saw – you know, blood. Not too much. But it’s fine.”

As he spoke, he went over to the sink and got a glass of water, adding iced-cubes; his tone was unnaturally cool and casual.

“But I heard your skull shatter –”

“What the fuck —”

“Sorry! You asked though.”

“No – I mean, that’s horrible. Jesus christ, are you okay?”

Phil shrugged, “It happens, it’s okay though. Just a dream.”

It was only at that moment Dan noticed Phil’s eyes were a little too redded, his words a little bit shaky.

Phil started back to their room.

“Are you going back to sleep?”

“Probably.” His reply was tired.

“Oh – uh, well, why don’t you stay with me and watch the Olympics? I know you’ve never really cared, not your thing, but still I think that —”

“Sure! I’ll stay, yeah.” Phil quickly answered.

“Okay.”

Phil put his glass of water back down on the counter, and walked over to the sofa. Dan opened up his blanket fort and invited Phil in.

“These are the men’s single runs.”

“Mhm,” Phil nuzzled his head into Dan’s neck, which usually would’ve bothered him, but he didn’t mind so much.

A few minutes pass, “So what’s that guy supposed to be doing? I need your commentary; you know.”

I just like hearing your voice, it calms me down.

“Well, that’s the Japanese lead skater, which means —”

#submission

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