#none of the relationships are healthy in this au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ugh-yoongi · 1 year ago

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a word from our sponsors | knj

you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it. 🎙️

pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: podcast, friends to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact. warnings: parasocial relationships galore, a m*n with a p*dcast, author abuses italics, swearing, alcohol, reader uses a pseudonym/nickname (piper) because writing the meta fanfiction scene would've been too weird without one and i refuse to use y/n, dialogue-heavy but it is a fic about a podcast, everyone is down horrendous, mentions of social media & fake r*ddit posts, ex-boyfriend yoongi but in a good, healthy way. let me know if i missed anything but mostly this is just two goofballs not realizing they're in love with one another. smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex (fiction), protected vaginal sex (nonfiction), a lil squirting, mild degradation, mentions of a p*ss kink but there is no actual pee i promise (...lest?), i didn't intend to write size kink but it's namjoon so it just showed up anyway, slight dom!joon, everyone orgasms. wordcount: 17.5k credits: this was entirely inspired by that one episode of the basement yard where frankie reads the smut fic of him and joe, so credits to both that author and that podcast. spotify, for their podcast name generator. astro-seek for helping me drag namjoon astrologically. an extra special, gigantic thanks to @effortandmore for writing the meta fanfic (3k of it, no less!) and not batting an eye when i said it could have pee in it as a joke. this is as much yours as it is mine. finally, @hot-soop and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me and telling me i'm funny. author's note: happy birthday, indigo! here i am to validate every fear you've ever had that the people you write porn about may one day read it. live and on air. :)

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years.

You can learn a lot about a guy in that amount of time.

None of it is especially salacious. You know all about his family and his dog and the brand of recycled paper towels he insists on buying in bulk. You know what he’d written his grad school thesis on and what he’d looked like in the thick of it, when he was staving off his fifth mental break of the week. You know how fidgety he gets when it’s closing in on Friday night and he’s got a date—how much he stresses over which restaurant to pick, which cologne, which expensive cashmere sweater to wear.

You also know what the internet thinks about him. Intimately.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is peak husband material. He has cheeks ripe for pinching and thighs small countries would go to war to defend. He has a lap that doubles as a seat and dimples people want to get baptized in. He has Instagram selfies with hundreds of thousands of likes and comment sections full of intelligible keysmashes, especially the ones he posts from the gym.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is a man written by a woman.

Looking at him now, you aren’t sure that’s true, you think people just need to raise their standards. Namjoon is just… Namjoon. He’s intelligent and kind and up to date on modern feminist theory, is all. And, sure, maybe in the current political landscape that puts him far above the rest of men, but the way the internet has latched onto him is a little concerning.

“There’s another post about whether or not we’re dating,” you say, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

sooo let’s be real here, we ALL think they’re dating, right?? Posted by u/pod-shipper 2 hours ago

Just like he always does, Namjoon huffs out a soft laugh, makes his way around to your side of the table. Puts his large hands on your shoulders as he leans in close to read from your screen, snorting every time he reads a sentence he finds particularly amusing. Whichever cologne he’d chosen this morning is, admittedly, very nice.

It’s sooo obvious, especially in the episodes they film and post on YouTube. The way they look at each other?? I don’t even look at my HUSBAND like that! (+1264) ↳ omg ur sooooo right! i could MAYBE buy that they aren’t full on dating, but they’ve def at least slept together. Namjoon is so 🔥🔥🔥 (+791) ↳ um how can namjoon be dating her when he’s already married to me 😌💅 (+3) ↳ For the millionth time, can we not speculate on their personal lives? This is weird and reinforces really harmful ideas that men and women can’t just be friends. (-51)

“How come they never talk about how hot you are?”

You can tell by the look on Namjoon’s face that he hadn’t meant to say that—or, if he did, he didn’t mean to say it like that, with an entire pout, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Cursed to be ugly and dumb,” you joke to ease the sudden tension, reading the comment that simply says you’d have to be the dumbest person alive to not sleep with Namjoon.

He scrunches his nose at that. Returns to his side of the table. “Yeah, I don’t think so, lots of people haven’t slept with me.” Starts to unpack all the gear from his bag before he says, “Hey, all that stuff—does it bother you?”

“What do you mean?” you answer, the corner of a protein bar stuck in your mouth. Namjoon always insists on recording at the most inconvenient times.

“People thinking we’re together,” he clarifies.

You shrug. “I dunno. Not really. Comes with the territory, I think, not to mention how much you love to overshare—”

“Hello?”

“I’m just saying,” you retort, hands raised in self-defense. “There really was no need for you to mention you blew your grad school stipend on a porn scam.” Namjoon looks affronted, like he can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to bring that up. “Or that you lost your virginity at fifteen.”

“We have a relationship podcast,” he states simply. “That’s kind of what we do, right? Talk about relationships? And the spectrum of human sexuality is part of that.”

You slump back in your chair as you quirk an eyebrow. “No one said it wasn’t, I just said you overshare. Which you do.”

“And that’s why there’s a dozen Reddit posts a week discussing whether or not we’re dating? Because I overshare?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the kind of behavior that leads to parasocial relationships. People latch onto that shit. Makes them think they’re your friend.” He glares. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right. It’s bad enough you’ve word-vomited all this highly personal information about yourself, but to not even do it under a pseudonym? It’s like you’re begging for trouble.”

Another comment he doesn’t even realize he’s making: “I don’t beg. For anything.”

To this day, you’re not sure why Namjoon asked you to co-host a podcast with him.

His reasoning had been simple: “You’re my best friend and we don’t agree on anything.” Hard to argue with that. Namjoon has seemingly endless patience, even in the face of things he shouldn’t entertain, and you… do not, to put it simply.

You’re not a cold person. Your fuse isn’t short. You’re just a little jaded, is all. Have far less propensity for bullshit than Namjoon does, so the two of you play well off each other. You end a sentence with a well-punctuated full stop and Namjoon’s right behind you to sigh and say maybe you shouldn’t be so hasty, not everything in the world can be so black or white.

Except some things are. Somewhere along the way, the podcast—which Namjoon had affectionately named Place Him Gently in the Garbage, even though some people should be shoved in there with force—had picked up a following. A big one. And now, every week, you’re inundated with emails ranging in severity. Sometimes people just want to vent after their tenth bad date in a row or share funny stories, and Namjoon lets you take the lead on those, but sometimes it’s a little more serious. That’s where Namjoon shines, all that endless patience, and people love him for it.

“What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, accepting a thick stack of papers from Jungkook.

Ah, Jungkook.

You aren’t sure what he actually does. Some kind of social media manager, which is obvious from the wildly out-of-context clips he posts of you to TikTok, and it’s his responsibility to go through the thousands of emails you get from listeners, but aside from that all you’ve got are your suspicions that he just sticks around to swindle Namjoon out of more and more money.

“I’m in a silly goofy mood,” comes Jungkook’s reply, and you let out a witch cackle as Namjoon winces. Nothing good ever comes of Jungkook being in a silly goofy mood, and that’s quite alright by you.

Fifteen minutes later finds you with a camera in your face that you greet with an unamused, flat stare. Jungkook is used to it by now. Just films for a few seconds before turning his attention to an unaware Namjoon. Head down, pen and highlighter going a mile a minute as he pores over the stack of papers with all the doggedness and eagle-eyed stare of a literature professor.

That’s the thing about Namjoon—he takes this really seriously. So do you, but not in the ways Namjoon does. He’s all skill and determination and you’re color commentary. It works. It clearly works, so you aren’t too bent out of shape about it, but sometimes you worry. Namjoon takes this really seriously and sometimes you worry that he takes it too seriously, that he carries the burdens and worries of all these strangers, that he’s trying to solve and fix things that aren’t his responsibility to solve and fix.

So he takes it really seriously and you don’t take it as seriously as you maybe should, and everything is by design. Balanced.

Twenty minutes later finds you staring across the table at Namjoon, who asks, “Are you ready?” and does one last equipment check before he launches into, “Welcome back to another episode of Place Him Gently in the Garbage with Namjoon and Piper. What’s new with you, Pipe? Any fun news?”

Pipe. It drives you nuts. Feels like nails on a chalkboard. “I see you almost every single day,” you respond dryly. “But for the sake of entertainment, I’m thinking about getting a cat.”

“A cat?” Namjoon parrots, and his eyebrows disappear beneath his fringe because he knows what that means.

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, but you’ve known him even longer.

Since your first year of college, which is also when you met Yoongi. Yoongi, your ex. Yoongi, the person you’d been with for six years and had planned a life around. Yoongi, now one of your closest friends, because the two of you still love one another but no longer in that way, which is fine. But also—Yoongi, allergic to cats.

So, yeah. Namjoon knows what that means, and he has the good sense not to mention it. Unlike him, you’re intensely private and keep your cards close to your chest. Your listeners don’t even know your real name, let alone that you’d gone through a breakup a year ago.

“What kind of cat?” he continues, like his entire world hasn’t just been turned upside-down.

You shrug. “Eh, I don’t know. Probably one that’s been in the shelter a long time, I guess. I’m not too fussy, you know?”

“Right, a cat is a cat,” Namjoon says, thinking he’s done something. You and Jungkook gasp at the same time. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Because that’s a fucked up thing to say! A cat is not just a cat. They have little personalities, just like people. You’ve got—”

“But you just said you’re not fussy,” he interjects. “And I know they have personalities and that you have to find one that suits your lifestyle! Like, you can’t have one of those really cool cats that likes to go kayaking and shit, it’d never work—”

“What does that mean? Why couldn’t I have a cool cat?”

“Hey, all you cool cats and kittens,” Namjoon mocks, and you can tell he thinks he’s done something again, but his impression falls flatter than flat. An awkward silence fills the studio. He coughs. “Anyway. Do you have pictures?”

“Yeah. I also have a list of candidates ranked by how cool their names are. Number five, Casserole.”

“That’s cute.”

“Mhm,” you agree, “but Casserole is a kitten, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“They do say you should adopt kittens in pairs.”

“And that’s how they get you. You want one kitten and they talk you into two, and before you know it you’ve got, like, twelve cats. Number four, Party Girl.”

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

“And, finally, number one: Human Torch.”

“Yoooo.” Namjoon laughs. “You have to adopt Human Torch. Let me see.” You pull up a picture on your phone and hand it over. “Okay, for our listeners—Human Torch is a young, male Domestic Short Hair. He has stripes. I don’t know what that’s called.”

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

“Jungkook says he’s a tabby. He’s cute. Adopt him.”

You return your phone to your pocket. “Maybe. I still think I want an older cat, but I’ll consider it. What about you, though? Any new dating horror stories to share?”

Ah, the dating horror stories. Your most dedicated shippers are convinced they’re fake, that Namjoon just makes them up on the spot to keep them off your trail. If only. Not in the if only they were fake and Namjoon and I were actually dating kind of way, but the holy shit one of my closest friends is a fucking disaster and it’s a little embarrassing kind of way.

“Not really,” he answers. “I’ve got a date this Friday, though. Trying to decide if dinner and a movie is too boring.”

“It’s a classic for a reason. What are you gonna see, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3?”

“Three?” Namjoon emphasizes, truly sounding scandalized. “Since when are there three? I haven’t even seen one or two.”

“Okay, first of all, the original is a classic and it’s a crime you haven’t seen it.”

“And second of all?”

“There is no second of all. Repeat point one.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna see that, anyway. Maybe the re-release of Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

“I like both,” he chickens out. “Now, let’s stop wasting time and get to the point of the show.”

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

“I—no, we’ve just got a lot on the agenda today.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s lots to talk about on the celebrity front—”

Namjoon loves this part. As esteemed and educated as he is, not even he is immune to good old celebrity gossip. (Inside him there are two wolves.) Lives for it. Texts you about it at all hours of the night. Sends you links to Reddit threads with hundreds of comments. Has more opinions on Celebrity Big Brother than he does on Ludwig Wittgenstein, sometimes, and when that’s the case you know you’re in for a long evening. You’ve never even seen an episode of Celebrity Big Brother.

But Namjoon loves it, so you’ve become fond of it by association. Reminds you a bit of Yoongi and his love for sports and sports anime.

“—one should we start with?”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, because you haven’t been paying a lick of attention and you aren’t sure it matters anyway. Namjoon can talk to a wall on a good day, but he’s an entirely different beast once mundane, innocuous celeb gossip gets involved.

And even though you hadn’t been paying attention, it seems like this was the right thing to say, because Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples crater his face. “Cool. Let’s start with Taryn Manning. Did you see that bizarre—”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

Namjoon looks a little dumbstruck. Even Jungkook’s arching an eyebrow at you. “Are you serious? She was in Orange is the New Black and Crossroads.”

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

Your co-host shoots you a very pointed look. “I will, thanks. Anyway, she posted a video on social media talking about this affair she had with a married man. Like, she pulled over on the side of the road to record this. Said she can’t stand the man’s wife because she called her a quote-unquote lunatic.”

“I—huh, thought we weren’t supposed to say that anymore. Alright.”

“But wait, it gets even more bizarre. Listen to this quote—and this is direct. This is a direct quote from the video, I can’t stop thinking about it: ‘Don’t you ever threaten me when your husband came to me to get his butthole licked.’ Can you—”

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

“It’s crazy, right? She was gonna buy this guy a boat.”

“Namjoon, this is a family show, you can’t just talk about ass-eating unprompted.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well, you still shouldn’t talk about ass-eating unprompted. It’s unbecoming.”

“You’re unbecoming,” Namjoon fires back, because he can’t help it. The words are out of his mouth before he can think. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

You sigh. Know whatever look Jungkook is catching on his camera right now is exasperated and pointed, the corners of your mouth probably tugged up just a hint. “Unbecoming, like I said.” Namjoon scoffs. “Anyway, so this actress was gonna buy this married guy a boat and was eating his ass?”

“Yeah. Apparently it was her friend’s husband? They all went to a Taylor Swift concert together.”

“Jesus, this keeps getting worse. Big year for Hollywood cheaters.”

“It is, right? Cheaters and divorces. Something in the water, I guess.”

“I saw the astrology girlies saying a bunch of planets are in retrograde, so—”

“Can you explain that to me? Like, what does it mean for a planet to be in retrograde? Why is it causing divorces?”

“I don’t know, I’m not an astrology girlie. That’s why I said the astrology girlies. What are your big three, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

“Ugh,” you intone, “don’t worry about it, I’ll do it myself. What time were you born?”

Namjoon rattles off a time.

You grab your laptop. Pull up the page, type in Namjoon’s date of birth and birthplace, and wait. Then you’re staring at a circle with a bunch of lines in it that also don’t make a lick of sense to you. You roll your lips to keep from laughing and school your voice into something deadly serious. “Bad news: it says you’re a virgin.”

“Virgo,” Namjoon corrects, not taking the bait. “I already knew that.”

You scroll a little further down the page. “Your moon is in Sagittarius. Oh god, listen to this, they’ve got you pegged: ‘The greatest need is to always search for something. In order to feel safe you need a philosophy or belief’—”

“Haaa, that’s not—”

“—’You need to have a goal or mission that gives your life meaning. Your faith must be voluntary and it is a paradox that fighting against dogmas may lead you to other dogmas.’ Yeah, that’s you.”

“That could apply to anyone,” he argues. “There are seven-billion people on this planet; I’d imagine a sizable amount of them would say that also describes them.”

“Hm, sounds like your faith in astrology is not yet voluntary. Did you know you’re a Scorpio rising?”

“No. I’m sure you’re gonna tell me all about it, though.”

You smile. “Correct. ‘People with Scorpio on the Ascendant need to fight against dark and destructive power in their life.’ Is that true?”

“Yeah, you’re the dark and destructive power. You keep sidetracking me and we need to get to the point of the podcast.” He grabs the stack of papers Jungkook had given him. Looks more highlighter than paper, if you’re being honest. “I guess Jungkook thought we needed a lighthearted kind of day.”

“That was nice of him, considering what he gave us last week. I guess we’re allowed to have faith in humanity today.”

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

“Alright,” Namjoon starts, putting on his Very Serious Podcast Guy voice, “first up we’ve got a question from one of our listeners in Canada. It says, ‘Hi, Piper and Namjoon. I recently agreed to go on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She said he was a bit old-fashioned but really talked him up so I thought I was in good hands—and then he showed up to get me in a ‘67 GTO and exclusively referred to me as doll. He didn’t use my name once. I’m torn, because he was really nice and I had a good time otherwise, but this is weird, right? Should I see him agai—’”

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

“You don’t have to. This guy sounds greasy.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “And why is that?”

“Ignoring the fact that this guy has arguably one of the lamest classic cars around, he didn’t use their name once? Not once, in all the time they spent together? That’s really disrespectful.”

“Some people are just pet name people,” Namjoon argues.

“With absolute strangers, though? It’s really giving the impression that he didn’t even know it, not to mention some people are uncomfortable with pet names. The whole shtick is super lame.”

“I agree it sounds a bit misguided, but—”

Ignoring Namjoon, you say, “Sorry you had to go on a date with the ghost of less-cool James Dean. Into the garbage he goes.”

And, just like he’s done a million times before, Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, “If you really like this guy and want to see him again, a bit of communication will go a long way. Tell him the pet name made you uncomfortable—if it did—and offer to pick him up for the next date. I don’t think he’s completely destined for the garbage, yet.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have a license. You probably think a 1967 Pontiac GTO is the pinnacle of romance. That’s probably like picking someone up on a Specialized Aethos to you, eh?”

“That’s a fifteen-thousand dollar bike, I’ll have you know.”

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

I think Namjoon had the right idea on this one. Sure, the car can be considered lame, but I think a lot of men are deeply insecure and therefore overcompensate when it comes to dating. Women are hard to impress when they have unlimited options. You have to stand out, so I’m glad he advocated for him. Piper can come off like such a misandrist sometimes. (-649) ↳ just shut up bro namjoon would fuckin hate u (+204) ↳ Imagine caring about something like this when they’re getting a cat together 🙄 (+19)

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

Adopting a cat is certainly not the worst idea you’ve ever had, and truth be told it’s been a little lonely, living by yourself. No more Yoongi in your space; no more Holly. So, having a new little friend around might do you some good.

It’s just—

It’s a big commitment, and there’s also the dog sitting-shaped elephant in the room. Ending things on good terms means you’re still Yoongi’s second-choice sitter whenever he has to go out of town, and while you love Holly dearly (the two of you had adopted him together, after all), he’s a lot like his father in a lot of ways.

Should I get a cat, you type out, and it’s only been in Yoongi’s inbox a few seconds before the most unflattering picture you’ve ever taken of him is flashing across your screen.

“Are you dying?” you ask, because Yoongi doesn’t call you for much else.

And you already know what his response is going to be. “We’re all dying.”

“Lighten up, Yoongi. One might say being so existentially nihilistic before noon causes wrinkles.”

There’s a split-second pause. “It’s nine p.m.”

“Sure, but it’s before tomorrow’s noon, so it still counts.”

“Whatever. Listen, before you adopt that cat, I need a favor.”

“You going out of town again?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be long, though. A week at the most, five days if I’m lucky.”

“That’s fine, bring him over whenever. Yijeong’s busy?”

This pause is far, far longer. “No,” comes Yoongi’s eventual response, but it’s slow. Unsure. A two-letter word has never taken so long to say in the history of ever. “He’s, uh. Coming with me?”

Oh, you think. This is where your ex awkwardly and hesitantly breaks the news of his new relationship. You’ve known this day was coming, and this is what you get for staying friends with him. “This is a fanfiction plot,” you accuse. “Hot, mysterious man moves into a gaudy apartment complex after ending a long-term relationship and meets his equally-hot and mysterious neighbor and they fall in love.”

“I—that’s not—my apartment is not gaudy.”

“Yes it is. There’s a giant gold bust of a weird bird in the lobby.”

“Weird bird?” he parrots. “It’s a swan.”

“I see you’re not denying the in-love-with-your-neighbor accusations.”

“Am I on trial?” Yoongi retorts, and it’s such a Yoongi thing to say when what he means is, is this okay? He means, are we able to talk about this without it being weird? He means, I won’t ever say as much out loud, but your acceptance means a lot to me, and I’d like for you to give me this.

So you lower your voice and soften the edges because it’s not really something to joke about, and you say, “No, of course you’re not on trial,” and Yoongi knows what you mean. “And if you were, you'd get locked up for fifty years. You can’t lie for shit.”

There’s a beat of silence before he clears his throat, mutters a thanks that is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Send me pictures of the cats.”

Later on, once you’re freshly-showered and tucked into bed with a candle and a book (Eloge de l’amour by Alain Badiou at Namjoon’s insistence and request), your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi—

Yoongi: toddler is a fucking hilarious name for a cat but so is flat Yoongi: it’s a tie for me You: Okay well pick one 🙄 Yoongi: yijeong says get both You: Both???? Is he paying my vet bills? Yoongi: kinda out of line to proposition him for money. flat is also good with dogs, js You: If he’s now being raised by you two, my perfect, well-behaved son is probably long gone. Does he even count as a dog anymore? Yoongi: me and yijeong both say fuck off Yoongi: holly too. he says he doesn’t miss you anymore and he’s not coming over now Yoongi has added Yijeong to the group Yoongi has changed the group name to #ThirdWheelChat Yijeong: Please don’t drag me into this. Also I did not say “fuck off” You have changed the group name to People Who Have Seen Yoongi Naked Yoongi: fuck you

You should’ve known something was going on with Jungkook, because it’d started like this:

(When you and Namjoon started the podcast three years ago, it was in the living room of his apartment.

Surrounded by books and plants. He loved to record in the afternoons back then—Namjoon loved to say it was because of his grad school schedule, but you’ve always suspected he just wanted to preen in the golden hour light, much like he’s doing now.

“Is this really necessary?” Jungkook whines from his spot on the couch. He’s already swindled Namjoon out of two bags of microwavable popcorn and three cans of sparkling water. “It’s a Saturday afternoon; I could be doing something so much more fun than this.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Are you saying this isn’t fun?”

“Yeah. It sucks, actually. This could’ve been an email.”

And because Namjoon is accomplished, mature, and absolutely incapable of not taking Jungkook’s bait, the space between his brows creases as he sends a murderous glare Jungkook’s way. “Stop eating my food, then. And drinking my drinks. And lounging on my couch like that—”

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

“Well, knock it off! My couch is only for fun and people who think I’m fun!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “So you fuck on it?”

“What?”

“What other fun things could you possibly do on a couch?”

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

Jungkook groans, throws himself backwards against the pillows as if he’s suffering a Victorian ailment. “Jesus. No wonder you can’t score a second date.”

“Okay, that was a little uncalled for. There are a ton of reasons a person might not want a second date, and no one is obligated to go out with me—”

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

You clear your throat. Try to hide your own can of seltzer you’d taken from Namjoon’s fridge in the midst of his and Jungkook’s bickering. “Not trying to be rude, but I have an appointment at the shelter at three. If, y’know. You wouldn’t mind speeding this up a little.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

“Oh, so you’ll speed this up for her but not—”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “She,” he begins, jerking his thumb in your direction, “isn’t needlessly complaining and actually has someplace to be.”)

It was just a quick little rendezvous in Namjoon’s living room to come up with a rough draft for the following month’s episodes. He couldn’t do it over text because he’d fallen down the steps at his office and landed on his ass on the corner of a step and his phone had been in his back pocket. Cracked clean in half. And he couldn’t do it over email because he—rightfully—knew Jungkook would ignore them because he has his inbox set up to send all of Namjoon’s personal emails to the trash.

But Jungkook holds onto things like that. Grudges. Loves to let Namjoon think bygones are bygones and pop up a few days later with some evil scheme. Hence:

“What is this?”

Jungkook smirks. Rocks back on his heels. “It’s fanfiction.”

“I can see that, but… why?”

This is where Jungkook shines: the ominous, cheshire cat grin; the aw, shucks demeanor that gaslights Namjoon into thinking Jungkook couldn’t possibly be fucking with him. “Well, you were having trouble coming up with ideas for episodes, and there’s an email in there from someone whose partner reads really expli—”

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Of all the weird shit you’ve seen on the internet (and there’s been a lot), fanfiction of people you know—your friends—was something you’d managed to escape. Probably by virtue of not knowing anyone famous enough to warrant fanfiction being written about them.

But you should’ve known. You really, really should’ve known.

“Oh my god?”

You’re not sure who says it. Could be you or Namjoon, but the sentiment is the same. He mouths a what the fuck at you that’s met with a shrug. You’re in uncharted territory now, too. “Where did you even find this?” you ask, taking the stack of papers from Namjoon. “And why did you print it out?”

“Because I’m going to track down whoever wrote it and get them to autograph it. Then I’m going to buy a nice frame and hang it on the wall behind him, so we never forget this historical moment in Place Him Gently in the Garbage lore.”

“It’s a podcast,” Namjoon deadpans, “how can it have lore? And how much lore can there possibly be?”

“It’s the internet,” you concede. “The lore possibilities are endless. Don’t tempt them.”

Jungkook nods sagely, well-versed in the degeneracy of the internet. “Yeah, that’s how you end up with shit like 4chan.”

“4chan? There’s Space Jam porn on there.”

As the youngest, all Jungkook can do is roll his eyes. “Sometimes explaining this shit to you feels like trying to teach old people how to rotate PDFs—”

Namjoon scoffs. “I’m not that bad. I know how to rotate a PDF.”

Wow, Jungkook mouths. “Anyway, back to the fanfiction—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Namjoon interjects. He looks at you. “It’s weird, right? Like, it’s weird that people have written this about us?”

About us.

Your scope of the world narrows to the size of a pinhead. It’d just been about Namjoon before. This is fanfiction about me, he’d said, and you hadn’t been included in that. Now it’s written about us and you’re included.

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

Jungkook rolls his lips. “It’s about the two of you fucking, to be specific.”

“Can you not—”

“Fucking a lot,” Jungkook continues. “So much fucking.”

Namjoon looks at you, and it’s all you can do to keep from laughing. The look on his face is pure bewilderment, both that Jungkook has cooked up this idea and is hell-bent on executing it and that he remains employed. And maybe it’s a little bit of nerves, too, because neither of you are ignorant of the risks. Reading fanfiction about yourselves—about the two of you as a couple, specifically, or at least two people who have sex—is weird. Not something you can unread.

And maybe it’s because you’re so determined to not make it weird that you send Namjoon a cheeky, exaggerated wink, shrug your shoulders, and say, “I’ll need a couple drinks, but I’m down.”

Jungkook throws his head back and cackles wildly, and that look of bewilderment on Namjoon’s face morphs into something else. Trepidation, maybe; definitely disbelief, because sometimes he lets himself get swept away in Jungkook’s schemes, but it’s rare that you follow suit.

As Jungkook continues to laugh, you wonder if you should’ve said no.

Namjoon has two stipulations: the two of you have to film the episode completely alone, and he, too, needs to be a little drunk.

The latter? Piece of cake, considering Namjoon has become some sort of whiskey aficionado in recent years. His drinking is streamlined and to the point—he knows exactly how much and what to drink to get him where he wants to be. You can’t say he isn’t efficient.

The former, though? Borderline impossible. From the second Namjoon states his terms, Jungkook is having none of it. Argues that he’s the one who found the story and the one who cleared it with the author, so he deserves to witness the fruits of his labor.

“No,” Namjoon repeats for the nth time, “no way. I’ll barely be able to do this with just her, let alone both of you.”

And that—that doesn’t bother you, right? You force a laugh, because why would it bother you?

There are few secrets between you and Namjoon, except your respective sex lives have been staunchly off-limits. Namjoon could be a virgin for all you know, and as you study him—the way he keeps bobbing his leg, the slight shake in his hands—you wonder if that’s the reason he’s being so weird about this.

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

Most people don’t have to worry about someone writing stories about them fucking their friends. If they do, you reckon even less actually read them. So, sure, it’s a little strange, but people from all over the world send in stranger stuff all the time, don’t they? It’s literally the reason you’re in this predicament.

Eventually Jungkook agrees. His whining has gotten him nowhere, so he just throws up his hands. Posts a cryptic little “u guys won’t believe what the next patreon ep is lmao” that sends the internet into a frenzy. Doubles your Patreon numbers almost immediately, and both you and Namjoon do a good job of pretending the pressure isn’t overwhelming.

Jesus. You have to read explicit fanfiction about yourselves. On camera.

Namjoon gets caught up with work and isn’t available until the weekend, so you’re forced to sit with the nerves for a few days. Not too bad at first, but you’re nearly coming out of your skin by Thursday with the need to know. You’re well-versed in the world of fanfiction, but this is fanfiction about you: your name, your likeness, maybe even your personality.

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

Will they get it right, the way he looks with his jaw clenched? How impossibly deep his voice can go, both when it’s raspy with sleep and when he’s fully at ease? Will the Namjoon in the story be closer to the Namjoon you know, or the version of himself he presents to the public?

And you’ve known him a long time—long enough that there are few secrets between you, but you don’t know the most intimate parts. All the parts the internet loves to speculate on. All the little gaps that, apparently, need to be filled in by fanfiction.

Will they know what Namjoon looks like when he gets off?

No, you scold yourself, jerking awkwardly like you’ve been burned, and neither will you.

Because you are not going to think about this. Your thoughts are not going to go there. Namjoon is your friend, and you’ve listened to him scold an endless amount of men on the podcast for exactly this behavior. Sexualizing their friends. You’re not going to do it, too.

Maybe that’s why you’re kind of seeing double when it comes time to record. Namjoon needed an extra shot and offered you one as well. You’d necked it without a second thought and now you’re here, trying to ignore the slight tilt of the room as Namjoon adjusts the camera.

“How’s the shot look?” he asks, gesturing vaguely behind him at his laptop screen because Jungkook had refused to lend you his fancy cameras if he wasn’t allowed to be involved.

It’s a completely normal question.

It’s a question you’ve asked and answered a million times.

Except—there’s something horribly distracting about Namjoon in this moment. The outline of his back muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The way the sleeves are tight around his biceps. He’s always been a gym rat, always carries around a protein shake that smells and looks completely foul, but you can’t remember it ever being this obvious.

And you take too long to answer, because Namjoon straightens up just enough to send you a concerned look. Which does not help. You are not imagining what else might cause his brows to pinch like that, what might have his lips parting, have sweat dotting his hairline.

You swallow. Hard.

“Looks fine,” you manage to say. He’s still staring. Are you on fire? You feel like you’re on fire, which would make sense. Would explain Namjoon’s sweating and concerned stare and the fact that he cannot stop staring at you. “Maybe a tiny bit to the right if we’re being picky,” you tack on, hoping it’ll break whatever spell the two of you are ensnared in.

It works. “To the—the right, yeah, makes sense,” he rambles.

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

Recording hasn’t been this awkward since your first episode, or maybe ever. You’re sat across from one another like you always are, and usually Namjoon would be making quip after quip by now, talking endlessly until Jungkook shushed him long enough to get the intro filmed. Now, there’s just silence.

“Should we…?” Namjoon startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table and drops a string of curses. “Sorry, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he says, cutting you off. He gestures vaguely toward the camera. “I’ll just… yeah.”

Showtime.

You wipe your hands on your jeans, unsure of when they got so damp. Unsure of when you’d grown so nervous, too, because you’d been fine an hour ago. Had strolled in with two cups of tea and a little too much confidence, giddy at what you were about to do.

Maybe the nerves had shown up alongside the alcohol. This sounds reasonable, and you do not, under any circumstance or for any reason, think about Namjoon’s back. Or his biceps.

Namjoon makes it through the intro, dimples deep and wide as he smiles, and you also don’t think about the way his voice cracks and gets a little breathy when he introduces you. It’s only because he’d been drinking, and the flush on his cheeks attests to that. The same flush that creeps down his neck, still a little sweaty; disappears beneath the hemline of his shirt.

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

Now it’s your turn to startle, and there’s not much you can do to hide the obvious except ask Namjoon to redo the shot. Because it’s bad enough the internet already overanalyzes every move you make, every word choice, every instance you’ve stared at Namjoon a second longer than they thought you would—this is a blatant display of… affectedness.

“Sorry,” you say, “I wasn't paying attention. Can we redo it?”

You’re expecting a playful scolding. A ha ha, get it together, because that’s what you usually get. But there’s nothing aside from Namjoon studying you and nodding. Asking if you’re okay. Saying, “Is this—this is weird, right? Is it too weird? Maybe we shouldn’t—”

An out. Namjoon is giving you an out, and you should take it, you know you should take it, so there’s absolutely no reason at all you shake your head and say, “No, no, it’s fine! I think I’m just a little, uh. Drunk?”

“Are you sure? We can—”

“It’s fine, Joon,” you insist. “Besides, it’ll be good content, right?”

“Good content,” he parrots. “Yeah, for sure.” He fidgets in his seat, runs his hands down the span of his thighs. Very, very thick thighs. “I’ll grab us some water.”

You faceplant onto the table as soon as he’s out of the room. When did his thighs get so thick?

But the water helps. Cures whatever strange, insatiable thirst has come over you, because you feel much more human after a few glasses. Less drunk, too, which makes sense. Yoongi could barely escape your drunken, horny wrath when the two of you were together, so you chalk it up to a Pavlovian response.

Namjoon does the intro again. Introduces you strong and steady, not a hint of nerves, and explains, with a fresh blush taking over his upper body, what the episode’s going to be about. “Someone wrote fanfiction about us,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, pretty explicit. Jungkook thought it’d be funny if we read it.”

You snort. “He might get fired, depending on how this goes.”

“He should get fired regardless,” Namjoon deadpans. “Anyway, we have permission from the author to read this so don’t come after us, and, as always, we’ll put all the credits in the video description.”

“Special shoutout to Jungkook, though, who was not allowed to be here with us for this momentous occasion.”

Namjoon laughs. “I’m sure he’s having plenty of fun at home.” You both pause. “That’s not—I’m not implying anything with that! I just meant—you know, like. He’s hanging out and enjoying his day off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Moving on. I have two copies of this. Do you want your own?”

You grin, wicked and wide. “Nah, just read it to me.”

“Making me do all the work,” he huffs. “Typical.”

“There’s a stack of papers in front of you that might say otherwise.”

It’s clear you catch him off-guard. He cocks an eyebrow, opens and shuts his mouth a few times like a goldfish. An obvious question sits on the tip of his tongue: You think you’d be in charge? Instead he coughs, jerks his head to the side, and says, “I guess we’ll see.”

It sounds like a challenge.

Thirty seconds is all you get before Namjoon’s shuffling his stack of papers and clearing his throat. Asking if you’re ready and jumping right into it once you say you are. Reads the first few lines like they’re some old lecture notes, and they’re conservative and safe-for-work enough that you start to relax.

And then Namjoon reads, “A louder one wonders if Namjoon is a pet name person—if he’d call her ‘honey,’ or ‘gummy bear,’ ‘babe,’ or ‘baby,’” and you choke.

“Gummy bear?”

Namjoon laughs along with you—the weird one that almost sounds like a dog panting. “You want me to call you gummy bear?”

“I want you to call me a Lyft,” you snark. “I’m leaving.”

He continues:

And that’s how it starts, wandering thoughts, wandering fingers—the first time Piper comes to the thought of Namjoon calling her baby, pushing inside her, showing her that he definitely doesn’t beg, but she does… Well, she’s a little ashamed. She’s apparently got a reputation to maintain, anyway, not to mention a friendship.

His eyes leave the paper and lock onto you. “Or maybe you’d prefer baby?”

“Fuck off.”

Weeks after that first time, it’s become a habit, thinking about Namjoon as something more than a friend. It’s confusing and a little mortifying and it’s starting to affect her in ways she hadn’t expected. When they record, she feels fidgety—she’s jumpy when he gets close, has all the stupid obvious tells of an unwanted crush: her breath hitches when he whispers (why the fuck is he whispering in her ear, anyway? Doesn’t he know what that does to a person?) inside jokes to her so Jungkook can’t hear, her heart rate spikes when their fingers accidentally brush, she feels itchy and hot and a little embarrassed whenever he holds eye contact with her. It’s terrible, and it’s only made worse by the way he’s doing all of those things more than usual. Or, at least she thinks he is, thinks she’s not imagining the way his eyes linger on her more than she can remember happening before or the way she’s caught him staring at her lips when she chews on the end of her pencil mindlessly.

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

Namjoon’s staring again. You need to salvage this. He’s only on paragraph three and you’re already squirming in your chair and imagining things that are not appropriate. So you roll your lips, return his teasing. “Well? Do you stare at my lips?”

It works. “No,” he scowls.

“You sure?” you joke, morphing your face into something half-pout, half-duck face.

“We’re never gonna finish this if you keep making comments.”

“You started it,” you point out. “Go on, then.”

There’s some dialogue. Some prose that hits way too close to home, has you wondering who on earth wrote this and how they plucked every single thought from deep within your psyche. A pang of fear that maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you’d thought all these years. A moment to confirm to yourself that, no, you haven’t been harboring a secret, deeply-buried crush on Namjoon.

Then he reads—

And then he kisses her. It’s greedy and hot, his lips like a branding iron. She moans a little against her better judgment when he licks at the seam of her mouth, and in return, she can feel Namjoon’s lips curve into a smile against her own. It’s better than she’d been imagining it, really. He’s a good kisser—firm at the right times, soft when she needs it, careful but not cautious. He holds her jaw with one hand and keeps her right where he wants her beneath him (as if she’d want to move, anyway). When their lips finally part, he rests his forehead on hers. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t expected, and he looks at her as if she’s the answer to every question. Finally, he whispers, “What’re we doing, Piper?” His lips are still wet and pink and a little swollen from kissing, and she barely hears the question—she’s too busy thinking about kissing him again, about pulling his plump bottom lip between her teeth, teasing and… “Kissing,” she says finally. “What do you want?” he asks, sinking to his knees in front of her. And if that alone isn’t an answer to his question… “Whatever you’re willing to give,” she replies. It feels like she’s wanted this forever, this and so much more. Once she got the idea in her head, it’s hard to know if she ever felt differently, ever truly thought they could just be friends. Or, if in the back of her mind, in the dark corners that she never lets see daylight, she always knew she wanted Namjoon. Always knew she loved him.

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

Namjoon sits with those words for a moment. Scans the paper in his hands and frowns a little when he confirms what you already know. “The rest is, uh. Porn.”

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie. “Are you? You’re the one who keeps stalling.”

He huffs. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he retorts, and then nothing is all that funny anymore.

Because Namjoon was right: the rest is straight-up porn. He’s barely able to read the part where he goes down on you with a straight face, turning a deep shade of crimson. Stutters through the part where you pull his hair, and that is not something you needed to know about your friend. You think he loses his grasp of language entirely when he reads, “When he slides a long finger into her and brushes past her most sensitive spot, she arches into him and lets his name fall from her lips in a soft cry. Piper, notorious skeptic, is a babbling, trembling mess as she gets closer to her orgasm,” because all the words are garbled together, producing nothing but gibberish. You think he’s ready to keel over and die when he reads, “Namjoon pulls away briefly, lips slick with her juices, and licks over his top one, pausing to tell her how good she tastes before he dives back in.”

“That was nice of them to include. I appreciate their attention to detail in regards to my personal hygiene.”

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Gimme. I’ll finish it.” He hands over the papers immediately.

Except you regret it immediately. The words you’re staring at are not words you ever thought you’d read or recite in your entire life. Not even for a million dollars. “Oh,” you say instead.

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

“This is really embarrassing,” you confirm. “I might need another shot.”

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

Namjoon staggers forward obligingly, looks completely fucked out and pliant, willing to do whatever she asks. She remembers the sounds he made when she pulled his hair, wonders if he likes being bossed around, if he wants her to tell him what to do, to be a little mean to him. Maybe it’s different from her dreams, maybe he will beg her. She wants him so badly, she’d do anything for him. So, she pulls his briefs down to expose his absurdly large member, already mostly hard, and slaps it. Gently at first to see how he’ll react, and when he shudders and jerks his hips, she does it again, a little harder. “Look at you,” she whispers, “such a needy boy.” He whimpers at that, eyes pleading. “Please, Piper…” he whines. “Please what?” “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. She wants to, wants him so much, wants to feel him stretch her open, and from the looks of his cock, thick and long and drooling with precum, he could. “Should I?” she asks. She musters all her confidence to keep the condescending tone up. It feels wrong given how desperate she is to get him inside her, but it also seems to be getting him worked up and equally as desperate. “Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?” Namjoon’s cock twitches, and he begs, “I—I’ll fuck you so good, Piper…. I know how, I promise. Just… please?”

“Oh my god,” the two of you say in unison.

You so badly want to ask if this is biographical. How Namjoon feels about a little degradation; what he’d do if someone actually called his cock stupid. Ifsomeone has called his cock stupid. You dare a glance at him and conclude that someone’s had to. Namjoon just has that kind of energy.

But you can’t ask because it’d be weird, so you keep reading.

“How do you want me?” she asks softly when their lips part. There’s a wild look in his eyes, like he’s processing all the possible options out of everything he’s considered. And then it occurs to her. “Have you imagined this before? Thought about how you’d fuck me?” she teases him as she stands, stepping into him. Piper pushes one hand through his hair, brushing it back off of his forehead and wraps her other around his dick, squeezing a little for emphasis on her words. “Yes,” he groans as she strokes him, thumbing at the head of his cock. “Tell me what you want, then. Want me on all fours for you? Want me to show you how it’s done, to let you lay back and ride you so you don’t have to put in any work?” Namjoon’s breathing is getting heavy, pupils blown wider with each suggestion.

“I told you!” you shriek, laughing in between the words. “I told you I’d…” And then your gloating tapers off, because what happens next has your brain malfunctioning.

“All of that,” he whines as she lets go of his hair and brings her hand down to run a fingertip over his perineum. “Want all of that. Want to bend you over the table and fuck you right here. Hear your sounds in the microphone.” Even in her dirtiest thoughts about him, she hadn’t considered the microphone, hadn’t considered recording it. When she thinks about it though, it makes sense. Namjoon is exactly the kind of person that would get off to someone’s voice. So, she does. She makes a show of turning around and slowly bending over the table, sliding her upper body across it carefully until she can reach her microphone and turn it on. When she says into it, “What’re you waiting for?” she sees over her shoulder the way that Namjoon shivers.

This is… not good. You’re never going to be able to look at a microphone the same way, which is extremely not good for a person who supplements their income with a very popular podcast that requires them to speak into a microphone for extended periods of time.

This is very, very bad.

Namjoon must be thinking the same, because he lets out a strangled a-haaa that’s less of a laugh and more a plea to God, the gods, the entire gamut of higher powers that might be able to save him. No one’s going to, you think, staring down at the paper again. This godless piece of fanfiction will be preserved on the internet forever, will be seared into your mind forever, and no amount of praying is going to erase it.

“I should, uh. Just read the rest, yeah? Get it over with?”

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

Don’t say please, you almost say. You can’t take it; not after what you’ve just read.

So you put on a show. Steel your expression and your nerves and take it seriously. Use voices and sound effects and desperately try to stave off the awkwardness you know is inevitable because a smut fic is probably only going to end one way, and that’s with you acting out Namjoon having an orgasm.

Maybe you’ll have another one, too, if the author is nice.

It’s sweet, she thinks, the way he’s easy for her, takes his time with her. Strokes his fingertips along her sides and kisses the back of her neck reverently. As much as she loves it, part of her hopes he’s not always like this—hopes he’ll give as good as he takes, hopes he’ll put her in her place. She can feel his cock hard against the cleft of her ass, not even inside her yet, and still, she thinks about next time and the time after that. “Still okay?” He breathes into her ear as his tip rubs against her cunt. “Yeah—want you, Joon.” “Never thought I’d hear you say those words.” “I never thought you’d record them,” she teases, eyes glancing up to the flashing light showing the mic picking up all of this as he starts his slow slide into her. Piper falls even further forward when he bottoms out, letting her forehead rest on the table. He’s whispering filth in her ear, about how he has something to prove, how she’ll never want anyone after this, how no one can fuck her the way he does. She hates that he’s right. Each stroke brings a new sensation: sparklers, butterflies, nerve endings on fire as he fucks into her and licks and sucks at her neck, her shoulders, her ear. Piper can’t even think, and this is what people mean when they talk about being fucked stupid, she decides. It’s perfect. Every time she thinks she’s getting close again, he changes something: fucks her a little shallower, moves his hips just a little, slows down, speeds up… It’s driving her crazy. “Come on,” she whines. “I’m so close…” At least she can tell he is, too. No longer able to sustain the dirty talk, he’s breathing heavily, letting out broken moans and sighs of her name. He’s moving rhythmically now, thrusts consistently faster. “Oh, fuck, Piper,” he groans, “Gonna cum.” One of his hands finds her clit and he rubs careful circles over her, bringing her to her peak along with him, no more teasing. When she comes, it’s with a loud moan into the studio mic, and that seems to be what tips Namjoon over the edge, too. His hips stutter into hers as he comes, her cunt clenching around him for what feels like forever.

You deserve an award, you think. An Oscar. You didn’t even groan when you had to read the word “cunt,” and that’s a feat in and of itself.

“Is it over?” Namjoon asks, words muffled by the hands covering his face.

“Not quite,” you answer. “There’s some aftercare, and at the end you ask if I’ll piss on you.”

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

“Today’s episode has been brought to you by Stamps-dot-com—”

HOLY SHIT THE NEW PATREON EPISODE???????? Posted by u/pod-shipper 4 minutes ago NO WAY. NOOOOOOO FUCKING WAY DUDE THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY THEY DID THIS AS AN ACTUAL EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT HTE FUCK WHAT EHTU FKF DFGLKDG;L (+705) I wasn’t sure if they were messing around before, and I was quite critical of the “shippers,” but now I’m pretty convinced. (+423) ↳ we’ve been telling y’all for YEARS 😤 (+197) ↳ Glad you’ve seen the light, u/RandomAcorn2058! (+5) ↳ ugh. they weren’t messing around before and they aren’t messing around now. do you guys not listen to what they say? namjoon’s been dating, and piper got out of a six-year relationship just over a year ago. if they’ve had something going on for “years” that means they’re both cheaters, and that’s a really shitty thing to assume about them. not to mention it makes the entire point of the podcast moot. (-63) Why do you guys think Jungkook “wasn’t allowed” to be there? (+314) ↳ So they could fuck lmao it’s so obvious (+329) ↳ because it’s awkward af? would you wanna read porn about yourself w all your coworkers in the room? (+2) ↳ the “it’s awkward” excuse is sooooo lame he’s the one who found it and is the one who edited the episode, he’s gonna see it regardless. (+15) ↳ Tbh I’m more curious about how he even found it to begin with? Do they have a throuple thing going on? Like, why was he looking for smut fic about his bosses? (+38)

You do not get through recording unscathed.

You are very scathed. Perhaps the most scathed a person has ever been.

Jungkook texts the group chat sporadically throughout the week, cracking jokes and making memes at your and Namjoon’s expense which is par for the course and shouldn’t have you off-kilter, but something inside you feels deeply wrong. Feels like someone’s given you devastating news; feels like it used to back in uni when you knew you’d failed an exam and were just waiting to see how badly.

It both helps and doesn’t that the internet is so invested. All the clips Jungkook keeps posting have re-doubled your Patreon numbers, and jumping up a tax bracket never hurt anyone, you included. But all of those jokes and memes largely went unanswered by both you and Namjoon, still too close to the incident to find the humor in it from the other side.

The two of you had sex.

Not literally, of course, but you figure you might as well have with the way you’re feeling. The way you’re avoiding one another. Someone wrote a story about the two of you having sex and you both read it and something about that, days later, feels really fucking unsettling.

In a bad way? You aren’t sure. It’s not like you’re mad or upset or any other synonym. You just feel… off. Itchy from the inside out, and that’s far from the norm in your and Namjoon’s friendship. In all the years you’ve known one another, you’ve never once avoided each other, including the time you’d set him up with a close friend and he showed up 45 minutes late to their date and ghosted after.

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

Maybe it’s because Yoongi had always been there as a buffer. You aren’t of the belief that men and women cannot be platonic friends, but being in a years-long committed relationship nixed a lot of awkward interactions and assumptions off the bat. Even Namjoon had known Yoongi first. Had introduced himself to you in your shared 100-level psych course with a, “Hey, you’re Min Yoongi’s girlfriend, right?” because they ran in the same underground circles and Namjoon had idolized him from afar for years.

Pretty fucked up, then, that Yoongi’s off in Los Angeles with his hot new boyfriend and you’re on your couch, Holly at your feet, pointedly ignoring your texts.

“I’m gonna get a cat,” you say to the dog, trying to redirect his attention when he starts chewing on your sock again. Holly doesn’t offer any input, of course, and he’s a lot like his father in that way. “I can’t believe you have a stepfather. You’re a proper child of divorce now, Min Holly.”

There are a pile of unread texts you continue to ignore in lieu of showing Holly pictures of adoptable cats. A few more memes from Jungkook, one from Namjoon’s new phone asking to move the recording date a few days because “something came up at work,” one from the food delivery service you admittedly use too much offering 10% off your next order, and two from Yoongi. This reminded me of you, the first one says beneath a picture of an ice cream cone on the ground, and another one of him holding a water gun that says send me a picture of my son or else.

You eventually reply back with a picture of your middle finger, Holly nothing but a blurred brown blob in the corner of the frame.

That’s how it goes for the better part of a week. Namjoon’s work issue lasts four days. He doesn’t offer an explanation and you don’t ask for one, you just wait for the all-clear text and try to quiet the nerves once you get it.

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

The more popular the podcast became, the more money rolled in. The more money that rolled in, the more you could afford nicer things. That meant going from recording in Namjoon’s living room to a bona fide office space. Third floor, an expanse of windows and natural light, thirty-five minute commute by train.

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

You can hear Jungkook’s witch cackle from the stairwell, and your mind fills in the blanks of Namjoon’s exasperated sigh. It helps, your brain reminding you that you know these people. You know this is Jungkook’s late gym day, so he’ll be in a pair of sweats and a hoodie that drowns his frame. You know that when Namjoon has work issues and feels like an inconvenience, he always shows up with two boxes of baked goods from the bakery near his place, and you know both of them will save the best donut for you.

So you walk in and Jungkook’s in a hoodie and sweats just like you expect him to be, and there are two boxes of baked goods next to the coffee machine. Both of them say hello and wave and, for all intents and purposes, everything is normal.

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

Not in a bad way. Not in a bad way. He almost always dresses nicely, always looks polished and put-together, usually because he’s either going to or coming from campus—fitted shirts, either of the tee or dress variety, and earth-toned cardigans; tailored trousers that are sometimes corduroy; polished loafers. Sometimes, if he’s feeling extra casual, a stark white pair of tennis shoes.

Today, he wears none of those things.

No, today torture comes in the form of form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt a little oversized so he can roll the sleeves. His hair is brushed back off his face instead of parted down the middle. He’s wearing gold jewelry that glints in the sun. A pair of off-white Converse high-tops. And, much to your horror, he’s also wearing his glasses.

According to the internet, Kim Namjoon is peak husband material, which you can usually ignore, but not when he’s wearing glasses.

You avert your gaze, convinced you’ll burst into flames if you stare too long, not to mention Jungkook will notice and that’s a ribbing you’d rather die than take. So you avert your gaze and pointedly ignore Namjoon, who’s talking about his work crisis to no one in particular. Something about a co-worker going on an unexpectedly early paternity leave, and Namjoon being asked to cover some of his courses until they could find a more permanent fix.

Jungkook asks a question you don’t catch. Because paternity leave means his co-worker and his partner had a baby, presumably via old-fashioned methods, and it’s not a direct mention of sex but it’s close enough to send you into a coughing fit you have to blame on your donut. Neither of them buy it, but Namjoon is a good enough person to look genuinely concerned. Reaches out, probably to slap your back, but the thought of him touching you is just… too much.

So he barely gets out an, “Are you o—” before you choke down whatever’s left in your mouth and cut him off with a, “Yep, all good!” before you’re scurrying off to the opposite side of the room like a little rat.

It doesn’t get any better.

Both of you are so stilted and awkward during recording that Jungkook has to be the voice of reason and call it, suggest trying again tomorrow. Luckily he has enough b-side stuff he can release if need be, Namjoon’s work emergency providing a decent cover, and he sends the two of you home for the afternoon with all the exasperation and incredulity of a disappointed parent.

Thirty-five minutes back home.

Thirty-five minutes to sit in the embarrassment of not being able to do your job. Thirty-five minutes to catastrophize and wonder what you’re going to do if you can’t get it together. Namjoon will keep the podcast, of course; you’ll be replaced with someone else. Maybe someone less cynical, maybe someone more, but undoubtedly a man. After this mess, you can’t imagine Namjoon would want another female co-host.

But as embarrassed as you are, your traitorous brain keeps thinking about Namjoon.

Thirty-five minutes to think about his glasses and his rolled-up sleeves and the way the denim of his jeans contoured perfectly to his thighs. Thirty-five minutes to think about, “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. Thirty-five minutes to squeeze your thighs together and overanalyze the way he stumbled over his words today; how he could barely make eye contact. Thirty-five minutes to draft a dozen resignation texts and delete them all.

You groan, head thunking against the train window. You’ll take a cold shower as soon as you get home.

That’ll cure you.

You get home and walk Holly so long he gives up halfway through and you have to carry him back to your apartment. You take a cold shower and actually find it pleasant once the initial shock wears off, so it doesn’t work to keep all your rogue Namjoon thoughts at bay. You make a simple dinner and don’t think about Namjoon sitting you on the counter and having his way with you. You tuck yourself into bed far too early and consider going back to therapy, because clearly something very, very bad has happened to your psyche.

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

But it’s a new day, and you’re determined to get your shit together. Yesterday was a fluke, because you’re so normal and so capable of being in the same room as Kim Namjoon.

Except—you’re not.

Jungkook’s there when you arrive, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Barely looks up at you to say hello, and barely returns it when you do. You double-check the time, because you can count on two fingers the amount of times you’ve shown up and Namjoon wasn’t already there, jotting down extensively-detailed notes, circling and highlighting and chasing down Jungkook to ask questions.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

You roll your eyes. “Super helpful, thanks.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes right back. “You don’t pay me enough to also be his handler.”

You bite your tongue. Arguing with Jungkook means you’ve already lost the war. Not worth it. But it still eases your worries a bit that he doesn’t know any more than you do. That Namjoon hadn’t only texted him to say why he was running late because he didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk to you.

So you wait. And you wait and you wait and you wait. Jungkook lets you talk to people on his dating apps and tells you about his new gym routine until your eyes are glazing over. Orders food delivery for the two of you because he gets hungry after an hour and had already eaten what was left of the snacks before you arrived. Cracks a joke that isn’t really a joke about calling the police, because Namjoon still hasn’t shown up and he hasn’t said anything and none of your texts are showing as delivered.

You’re halfway to hour two when the office door bursts open and Namjoon stumbles through, soaked with sweat and stammering over apologies.

“I am so sor—I broke my phone again so my alarm never went off and then I missed my bus? And apparently they’re not running the regular bus schedule today so the next one was a half-hour wait, but then I…”

You don’t catch the rest, because Namjoon is covered in sweat and breathing heavily and a week ago you could’ve survived this. A week ago you would’ve cracked a joke and handed him a towel and told him to get to work. A week ago you would not have been paralyzed in your seat, transfixed on the sweat rolling down the side of his neck.

You are fucked beyond belief.

Jungkook elbows you in the ribs, bringing you back to reality. “...even paying attention?” You startle, face warming in embarrassment. Namjoon still isn’t looking at you. “This is so sad to watch,” Jungkook mumbles, and thankfully it’s only loud enough for you to hear. “Like some stupid shit you only see in nature documentaries.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that, now can you?

But you’re a professional above all, so you hum an acknowledgment and take your regular seat. Pointedly ignore Jungkook. Wait for Namjoon to assume his position as well, and you’re surprised to see the space in front of him empty. No notes. No script. There’s just… nothing.

“Are you okay?” you ask, gesturing to the space in front of him when he seems confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a stack of notes in front of you.”

“I forgot them.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that, either.”

Your tone is light and airy, not at all accusing or confrontational, but Namjoon’s jaw clenches nonetheless. He scoffs, fires a shitty little, “Were you not paying attention when I was talking about what a horrible fucking morning I’ve had?” at you that makes even Jungkook flinch. A few moments of stunned silence, and then, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, that was rude—”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, and all of a sudden you feel too big for your body. Feel like there are ants beneath your skin, feel like everything is wrong, and you don’t want to be here anymore. “It’s fine. Let’s just—”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and says, “I—yeah, okay.”

This is where Namjoon would usually launch into the intro, a dimpled smile already plastered on his face that’d drop as he discussed another failed first date with that brand of self-deprecation that makes him so endearing. This is where he’d say what have you been up to, Pipe, and you’d try not to groan because how hard could it possibly be to add one more letter, another syllable, but Namjoon seems incapable of it. This is the part that, for three years, has been seamless and easy and instinctual, just two friends having a conversation.

There’s a red light on your microphones that indicates you’re recording. It’s on and it mocks you, because Namjoon is not doing the intro or telling you about a failed date. He doesn’t use that cringey nickname. He doesn’t say anything at all. His mouth opens and shuts and no words come out. What’s worse is that you know exactly why he can’t speak, because you’re thinking about it, too.

“So, uh,” you begin, and Jungkook makes a gagging sound from behind you. “Come here often?”

Namjoon ignores you. “Right, right, the intro…” He sucks in a breath. “Welcome back to another episode of Put Him in the Trash, I’m—”

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

“Piper. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

“You said Put Him in the Trash.” Namjoon just blinks. “It’s Place Him Gently in the Garbage.”

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

He looks at Jungkook, who is hiding behind his hands. “Is she right?”

A beat of silence. “I can’t do this,” he half-shouts, half-whines. “Are you two going to be like this forever? Because if you are, I’m quitting. I’m so serious. I’m gonna quit. I can’t take it anymore. The two of you are insufferable.” Another beat of silence, before Jungkook stands at full height and lords over you and Namjoon. “Forget today. Just go home and try again on Monday. This is so—I’m seriously gonna quit.”

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

Yijeong isn’t with him, which is almost disappointing. Now that he’s dating again, you were looking forward to seeing just how awkward it could get with the three of you in the same room, but he looks good. Refreshed. The trip clearly did a world of good for him, and you can’t even bring yourself to crack a joke at his expense.

He, however, has no such hang-ups. “You look like shit.”

“Weird way to say thank you.” You click your tongue and look down at Holly. “Do you see how your father treats me? You should bite him.”

“My son would never. But also, thank you.” He flops onto the sofa. “You do look like shit, though. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not with you, preferably.”

“Oh, gross, is it a dating thing, then?”

“I—no.” You pause. It’s not a dating thing, but you still feel like you’ve got motion sickness whenever you think about it. How would you even begin to explain this to Yoongi, anyway? Someone wrote a porn fic about me and Namjoon. You remember Namjoon, right? Namjoon, that I’ve known and have been friends with since college. Yeah, that Namjoon. Anyway, someone wrote fanfiction about us having sex, and it fucked me up so bad I can no longer be in the same room as him.

No fucking way.

“You look like you’re holding in a fart.”

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you. Did you just come here to insult me?”

He snorts, but his smirk dissipates a few seconds later, a familiar seriousness filling the void. “We’re okay, right? Was the Yijeong thing too soon?”

“No,” you answer immediately, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. “We’re fine, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.” He still looks doubtful. “You want me to start singing ‘I Will Always Love You’ or something? It’s just… weird work stuff.”

“Depends. Are you singing the Dolly Parton or Whitney version? And real work or podcast work?”

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

Yoongi seems surprised by this, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. “Like, the podcast with Namjoon?” He presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek when you nod your head. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Like I said, it’s weird. It wasn’t, like, an argument or anything.”

“How weird?”

“You’re so fake, Min Yoongi. You act like you’re so distinguished and above drama, but really you’re just as hungry for gossip as the rest of us.”

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

God help you, you’re going to rip off the band-aid. “Someone… Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Someone… wrote? Fanfiction? About us.”

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

“About us… uh. Having sex? Specifically.”

“Oh my god—”

“Jungkook found it and thought it’d be funny if we read it for an episode.”

“Oh my god?”

“So we did? And it was really weird, which I expected, because I’ve known Namjoon for a long time, and I never, ever thought about having sex with him because we were together and me and Namjoon are friends, so yeah, it was fucking weird. But now… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about it? And now we can’t even be in the same room as one another.” Yoongi is a concerning shade of red. “So our show is gonna get canceled, because we can only release b-side stuff for so long until people realize something’s up, and it was Namjoon’s podcast to begin with so obviously I’ll get fired—”

“Oh my god, you want to fuck Namjoon.”

Yoongi sounds like a strangled cat when he says this, which does not help the way you feel like you’ve been hit square in the face with a frying pan. “No,” you argue, though it sounds more like a question. You do not want to fuck Namjoon. “No, no. No. It’s just because it was weird.”

“Did you forget I dated you for six years? I know what you look like when you want to fuck someone.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be weird if someone wrote fanfiction about you fucking your friend?”

“Not if I didn’t actually want to fuck them, no.”

“You’re a liar. Get your dog and get out of my apartment.”

Yoongi laughs as he stands. Pats you on the back in the most condescending way you’ve ever had someone pat you on the back. “Let me know how it goes. No need to give me credit for your moment of horny clarity.”

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

Unfortunately, as you come to find out, he’s also a correct bastard.

You want to fuck Namjoon.

Which is… not great, you have to admit, considering he can barely stand to be around you, so you take another cold shower and decide you’re going to take this to your grave. You’re going to spend the rest of the weekend getting your shit together, and you’re going to show up on Monday and be a consummate professional. You’re going to look at Namjoon and say, ha ha, isn’t it so funny someone thought we would have sex? I don’t think about it at all because I am so cool and normal about it.

You’ve got it all planned out. You’re going to show up fifteen minutes early with your own box of pastries. You’re going to look nice, if not a little pretentious—maybe a nice sweater. You’re going to be prepared with notes of your own. You might even be nice to the villain of the week so Namjoon doesn’t have to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh at you.

And then someone knocks on your door.

You find Namjoon on the other side, and all your plans immediately go to shit.

Has he always been this tall? You can’t remember. You can’t remember a lot of things, including how to speak, because Yoongi had launched you into a crisis of epic proportions and now here’s the source of it, standing right in front of you. With all of his… height. And thighs. And that heady, musky cologne he always wears, that you can still smell now even though there’s an unfortunate amount of distance between you.

“Uh, hi.”

You blink. “Hi,” you parrot, and it’s a little insulting how one single word seems to have sucked up all of your brainpower. “Namjoon,” you tack on, not awkward at all.

“Sorry to just show up,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Very bad idea; makes his biceps bulge. You barely swallow your whimper. “It’s just—my phone’s still broken, and it felt bad leaving things how we did? So I was hoping we could talk.”

Talk. Namjoon wants to talk to you. Normally: not a problem. Currently: big problem. You manage a nod, open the door wider to let him in, and you don’t think about how jarring it is to have Namjoon in your space. You don’t think about how your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden, or what it’d be like if Namjoon bent you over the couch, or the kitchen counter, or the—

You cough. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, sure. Maybe just some water if you have it.”

If you have it. What kind of person doesn’t have water? But you tell him to make himself comfortable and get him some anyway, and you mull too long over the size of the glass. Ultimately decide on a smaller one, because if things get unbearably awkward you can excuse yourself to the kitchen to get more.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Namjoon says from the living room, and when you look up he’s sorting through a stack of books near the window. Some he’d lent you months ago, notes jotted in the corners, sticky notes in the shape of sea animals on important pages. “You ever wind up reading this?”

The Idiot. Namjoon had raved about it when he was in the midst of his 19th century Russian phase, right after he’d read a bunch of Tolstoy and Pushkin. You shake your head—though, judging from the title, you wonder if someone hadn’t written your biography.

“It’s good. If you have the time, you should definitely give it a shot.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, handing over his water. You take a seat in an armchair, pull your knees to your chest. Namjoon’s still looking through your books, isn’t looking at you, so it feels safe to say, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He moves to sit on the floor, massive thighs spreading until he’s comfortable. Thank god he can’t see the look on your face. “I just wanted to make sure we’re alright. Things have felt pretty weird since we filmed the, uh.” He coughs. “Thing.”

“Right, yeah.” You realize he’s waiting for an answer, and you offer up a very rushed, “We’re fine, Joon.”

“Are you sure?”

Yeah, you’re sure: sure you absolutely cannot be having this conversation in the safety and sanctity of your own home. It’s tainted now, contaminated by all your uncontrolled horny thoughts about the man in front of you. You’ll have to fumigate. Might have to pick up and move, actually, or call an exorcist.

“I’m sure,” you assure him. “The… thing… was weird, but it’s fine. Temporary.”

“Do you think we shouldn’t have done it?”

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because, in isolation, reading a porn fic about yourselves wasn’t a big deal. No one got hurt. Everyone who needed to be consulted was consulted. The episode made the two of you a lot of money, and Jungkook even promised to send some of it to the author, so your bases are beyond covered.

So, should you have done it? There wasn’t a good enough reason not to, because the story itself was never the problem.

The problem is staring you right in the face. It’s sitting on your floor, a book cracked in half at the spine and forgotten in his lap. The problem is looking at you like you hold all the answers to the universe’s secrets, and it’s no small thing to be looked at like that. The problem is that Namjoon is looking at you like that from across the room but you’re wondering what it’d look like from on top of you.

The problem is that you’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, have known him even longer, and you’ve just realized today that you want to have sex with him.

And you can’t say that, can you, because Namjoon came here to fix things which really does not lend itself to a hookup. Namjoon cares about your friendship and your working relationship so much he came here to try and salvage it, so you’re going to keep your mouth shut. You’re going to say, “I think it’s okay that we did,” and leave it at that. Because it is okay.

Because you’re the problem.

It feels like a small victory when Namjoon sags in relief. When he exhales and says, “Okay, good, because I think so, too.”

“It made us a lot of money,” you tack on.

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he laughs. “Right? Like, that was almost too much money. Just to watch us read porn?”

“About ourselves. I think that was the selling point.”

He stands. You do, too. “Never thought I’d be doing that,” he says, returning the book to where it belongs. “Definitely the most embarrassing thing I’ve done for money.”

“Being a man with a podcast wasn’t embarrassing enough?”

He snorts. Gets closer to the door. “Hey now.” You’re going to survive this. “Thanks for entertaining me, by the way. For a second there I was really worried we’d fucked it all up.”

Just the ending. Just one more thing to say and you’ll be done with this, and then you can take your third cold shower in recent memory and triple text Yoongi with a full-fledged mental breakdown. Maybe he’ll bring Holly back and you can register him as your emotional support animal.

And Namjoon must sense the awkwardness that’s crept back in, because he tries to cover it with a joke. Says, “Haaa, like you’d actually piss on me, right?”

Except it sounds like he’s got a mouth full of marbles.

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

Because he says like you’d actually piss on me but you hear like you’d actually kiss me, and there isn’t a universe that exists in which the following makes sense: you, stunned into silence in the doorframe, Namjoon saying his goodbyes, you thinking fuck it, last chance and saying, “Yeah, I’d kiss you.”

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

Your entire body is on fire. “Is, uh. Is that not what you said?”

“I don’t think it matters anymore what I said.”

“I’d argue that it does, for the sake of my digni—”

“You’d kiss me?” Namjoon… doesn’t look put off of the idea, which is surely a point in your favor. Interesting to note that his diction is crystal clear, now. Bastard. “You’d kiss me right now?”

There’s also no explanation for the way you say: “It’s only been an option for ten seconds and you’re already begging for it?”

You’d say there’s no explanation for the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches, the way he repeats I don’t beg for anything, but maybe the simple fact is: the two of you want to fuck each other. And, judging from the way Namjoon crowds your space, keeps dropping his gaze to your mouth, it seems very likely to happen.

All that fixating you’d done on Namjoon’s thighs was wasted, you think, as you take in the shape of his mouth. His lips. The way his tongue darts out to run along the bottom at the last second before he reaches out, tilts your head up, and finally presses his mouth to yours.

And you’ve got to laugh, because no piece of written fiction could ever accurately portray what it feels like. How soft his lips are. The way he touches you—gentle, but still dominant enough to have you moving the way he wants, have you backing up into your apartment so he can smile against your mouth as he closes the door behind him.

No piece of fiction would get it right, the way you’re unsteady on your feet, breathless at the way Namjoon’s kissing you. How he only breaks apart long enough to ask where do you want me in that throaty, deep voice of his. How you’re so overwhelmed you can’t decide: unsure if you want to waste the time it’d take to get to your bedroom, but if it’s only going to happen once, wanting to make it count.

So you decide to risk it. Plant your hands in the middle of his exceptionally broad chest and push him in the direction of the hallway, and if the two of you can’t wait, can’t control yourselves, well.

But the story had gotten one thing right: Namjoon does kiss like a branding iron, hot and greedy. Namjoon kisses you like there’s nothing else he wants to do in this lifetime, and it makes you dizzy. Has you off-kilter, stumbling into the wall as you try to remember where the fuck your bedroom is and why it’s so far. Just like the fictional version of you, you also moan when he licks into your mouth.

“Should I do it the way we did in the fic?” Namjoon asks as the two of you cross the threshold into your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face. “Do it like this?” he questions, pushing you gently until you’re on the back in the middle of your bed, chest heaving as you lift your head to look at him.

Namjoon is so, so big from where you lay, just hovering at the foot of your bed. Cheeks ruddy, bulge prominent. “What’d you say you wanted?”

Takes a second to remember how to breathe, let alone what you’d read. What do you want, Namjoon had asked, right before he’d sank to his knees in front of you. “Whatever you’re willing to give,” you answer.

Namjoon smiles. Puts one knee on the bed, and the way it dips beneath his weight is unsettling. Why does he have to be so fucking large. “That’s right, baby.” Christ, you think, because there’s another thing that fic had gotten right. No one on earth would be immune to Namjoon calling them baby in that tone of voice.

The riposte biting at the back of your teeth gets swallowed whole as Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “May I?” he asks, hands poised above the waistline of your leggings. You nod, and Namjoon drags down your underwear with them. “Fuck, look at you,” he groans, awe creeping into the edge of his words.

“You want me to do it the same way? Hm? You’re being awfully quiet; thought you were giving me shit about being the one in charge,” he chides.

Because you’re short-circuiting. Namjoon’s on his knees, just like you’d envisioned, and his mouth is dangerously close to your cunt. How can you be expected to think and speak under these conditions? But if Namjoon can find the brainpower to be a bastard, so can you, because what you’d read and the way he’d reacted can both never be forgotten. So you thread your hands into his hair and pull. The resulting moan is enough to sustain you for years.

“Are you gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna make me come on it?”

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

There’s precedent. Fictional Namjoon ate you out like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough. Had fictional you writhing and insatiable, so it’s a lot to live up to, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He hesitates for only a second, giving you one last chance to back out before the two of you set every last boundary on fire, and then he’s settling between your thighs and making you see stars.

Now you know what it’s like. Now you don’t have to rely on fiction, and it doesn’t matter because it’d never compare to the way Namjoon feels as he works to bring you to your ruin. The way he flattens his tongue to lick long, thick stripes; the way his lips suction around your clit. The way it feels when he groans against your core. The way he says, “Fuck, you do taste good,” like that’s a completely normal thing to say. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you.

But you need more and Namjoon knows it. His mouth doesn’t leave your cunt for a second, but his fingers find your mouth, so you put on a show. Wrap your lips around them, suck on them the way he’s doing to you, make sure they’re slick. Namjoon groans again, doubles his efforts. Slides one thick finger inside of you and barely lets you adjust before he’s adding a second.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Namjoon has you unraveling. Presses incessantly on a spot that has your vision whiting out. Has you trembling, a little panicked as you say, “Joon, fuck—Namjoon, wait—” as it builds and builds and builds.

You might black out for a second, because you come to and Namjoon looks… stunned. He looks like he can’t believe any of what just happened, and you blink a few times, try to come back into your body, and when you regain enough consciousness, you’re extremely aware of the large wet patch beneath you.

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

“Namjoon, that’s not—that’s embarrassing—can you grab a—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Presses the taste of you into your skin, and all those silly protests die in your throat, because if Namjoon was needy before, he’s desperate now. Covers your body with his own, hips dipping down low enough to press his erection into the juncture of your thigh, and the weight of him is delicious. Has you fisting the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer, has you pulling it over his head, his pants following. Has your hands skimming down every thick part of his body until you reach his cock, hard and aching and slick with pre-cum.

“I need to suck you off later,” you say, done with overthinking. Time to just be honest, and Kim Namjoon has a dick you need to feel down your throat. “Remind me.”

He whines, thrusts into your hand a little harder. “How could I forget that?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t know if this would be the only time,” you answer. “Did you bring a condom?” Namjoon nods, fetches one from his wallet and rolls it on.

He hovers above you again. Looks nervous, all of a sudden, like he can’t tell his lefts from his rights. All out of sorts. You’re about to tell him it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to, don’t have to do anything at all, when he says, “It doesn’t have to be.” You just stare. “The only time.”

There’s a conversation to be had. You know that. Both of you clearly have feelings you need to talk about and sort out, but you reckon they can wait. They’ll still be there in the afterglow, in the morning. So you nod, say okay, Joon, and kiss away the insecurities that still linger.

You think about the fic. Think maybe Namjoon would appreciate it if you cracked a stupid joke, just like he’d tried to do earlier. “Has anyone ever called your cock stupid?”

He laughs, breath fanning against your skin. “No. Wanna try it and see what happens?”

Might as well. You try to remember the exaggerated tone of voice you’d used. Repeat the line—“Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”—and wait.

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

Namjoon swallows thickly. “I, um. Unfortunately, I think that really works for me.” You laugh. Pull him closer. Wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to move against you. Has jokes of his own. “Please. Please let me fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, laugh tapering into a giggle. “Do you know how?” Namjoon nods, looking all too much like a puppy eager to please its owner. “Do you promise?” He nods again. “Okay. Okay, come here.”

You expect him to move fast; expect the first time to be frenzied and a little awkward. It isn’t. Namjoon lines himself up and pushes the smallest bit inside, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you. Threads your fingers together, squeezes your hand. Pushes further inside and mumbles praise just beneath your ear.

It’s dizzying, the amount of care Namjoon handles you with. How soft he is. Does nothing to ease the discomfort of the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, but he talks you through it. Tells you how good you feel, how beautiful you look. Spills a lot of words you’d probably be embarrassed to hear and he’d be embarrassed to say if this was any other time, but in the heat of the moment it all just works to unravel you faster.

He bottoms out. “Okay?” he asks, and you’re rewarded with a dimpled smile when you say you are. Namjoon is a devastating kind of beautiful.

But, as he gives you time to adjust and you give him the all-clear, he also fucks like a demon. What once was hand-holding is now your wrists pinned to the bed, your body caged beneath him as he rolls his hips at a pace that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve been deceived. Lured into a false sense of security.

It’s almost a shame this isn’t being recorded, because you want to memorize all the sounds Namjoon’s making. Want to hear them for the rest of your life. Don’t want anyone else to be the reason he sounds like this, and as he ups his pace and presses his lips to your neck, you don’t want to sound like this because of anyone else, either.

Maybe one of those times in the future, you can talk him into it.

Namjoon reaches down, rubs circles into your clit. Every time you think you might be close, he pulls his hand away, smiles like the devil. You let him have his fun for a while, let him think you’re keen to lie back and take it, and then you tighten your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back.

He doesn’t think it’s very funny. Looks up at you all bewildered. “What’re you—”

“You were taking too long,” you snark. “Figured I’d take matters into my own hands.”

“Yeah? Shit,” he says as you begin to move. “Fuck, baby, like that. Ride me just like that.”

You do. Don’t change a thing, because Namjoon’s cock is long and thick enough to hit exactly where you need it to. You can feel yourself clenching, feel yourself getting wetter, and the sight of Namjoon beneath you does nothing to stave off the inevitable. He looks even better than you’d imagined: skin flushed, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, sweat-slick. You want to make him cry. Want to give him the entire world. You will.

Namjoon thrusts at the same time you roll your hips, and that’s what does it. Has you crying out, has stars flashing behind your eyelids. Has you saying fuck, fuck, fuck as he drives you over the edge for the second time. Has you on the brink of oversensitive as he thrusts a few more times to chase his own end, almost delirious at the way Namjoon moans as he spills into the condom.

Has you swooning, just a bit, at the dopey way Namjoon smiles at you, eyes half-lidded and crinkled at the corners.

“Was that okay?”

You snort. “Yeah, I’d say it was decent.”

“Maybe next time you could pee on me,” he jokes.

You whack him on the chest. “Sure. Or we could record it.”

Has you a little shocked at the way his cock twitches inside of you at the mention of it.

On Monday, you don’t wear a pretentious sweater.

When you stroll in, Jungkook’s already got the best donut shoved halfway into his mouth because he’s a shithead. He eyes you warily, probably hoping with all his hope that you spent the weekend finding God and getting your shit together.

And then he realizes you’ve got on Namjoon’s hoodie and he nearly chokes to death.

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

Namjoon appears at that very moment, and it’s so hard not to take credit for the way he’s glowing, the dazed smile on his face. But Jungkook notices, because Jungkook notices everything, and his gaze darts between the two of you: your hoodie, Namjoon’s face, your face. He opens his mouth, something inappropriate bound to spill out, but Namjoon beats him to the punch. “Ready?” he asks you, and you nod.

It’s seamless.

No hiccups, no awkward stuttering. Namjoon gets through the intro without a hitch, and it feels exactly like it used to. Just two friends having a conversation. It’s obvious Jungkook still wants to say something, but after suffering through last week, he stays quiet lest he makes it worse and sends the two of you back to the bad place.

“How was your weekend, Pipe? Do anything fun?” Namjoon rolls his lips, tries not to laugh.

So you play along. “No, not really, just some dog sitting. How about you?”

“Oh, you know me. Had another first date on Saturday.”

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

It’s a blessing Jungkook isn’t filming this, because your eyebrows raise so far they nearly disappear from your face altogether. There isn’t even a hint of hesitation in Namjoon’s voice, and although you would’ve described it the same way, hearing him say it with such conviction has you a little stunned. “Wow. You gonna see her again?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, sharing a private smile with you. “I think I am.”

who the FUCK is namjoon dating Posted by u/pod-shipper 7 minutes ago This has honestly ruined my entire day. I thought all the stories he told about dating were a bit… Like, what kind of guy has a podcast about relationships but can’t seem to be in one? But you could just HEAR it in his voice how much he likes this woman he went on a date with over the weekend and I’m sick to my stomach. (+2195) ↳ bro you and me both 😭 i genuinely thought him and piper had something going on fr (+1302) ↳ Seriously might stop listening because of this! Any woman with self-respect would never let their partner host a podcast with someone they’re obviously in love with. If he gets serious with this woman, Piper will be gone within 6 months, mark my words. (+927) ↳ I wouldn’t worry about it too much! My cousin works at a really nice restaurant in the same city Namjoon lives in, and she said she saw this “date” on Saturday and that it wasn’t anything serious. (+788) ↳ Piper got a cat and Namjoon finally got a second date. Face it, it’s over. (+325) ↳ cannot believe him and piper aren’t dating.. do you think i should delete all my tiktok edits? (+4) ↳ this is unhinged lmfao i thought y’all hated piper? you’re in here bitching abt her being a “misandrist” every week and now ur gonna stop listening bc namjoon isn’t dating her? pick a lane and stay in it (-64)

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and reblogs/shares are always welcome! I appreciate you very much~ ♡

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jewel writes

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lvlybin · 2 months ago

Text

𖦹 ̼ ᮫ JUNOᘞ̸⠀ ׁ ₊ SUNG HAN BIN

૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა you thank your lucky stars that Sung Hanbin was brought into your life. you’re even more grateful that you both have made it this far: marriage, home, jobs… the only thing that’s missing are tiny versions of you both and he’s more than happy to provide 18+ MDNI

( first part of my short n sweet mini series )

wc 5187 ! 🎧ྀི ♡⸝⸝ sung hanbin x f!reader , non-idol au

an a/n 🧾 I feel insane for writing this >_< literally just something about this man I guess… enjoy my loves . . . warnings under the cut !

warnings p in v sex, unprotected sex, so. much. baby talk, heavy heavy breeding kink, semi-public sex, phone sex, oral f!receieving, fingering, nipple play, clit play, bulge kink?, talks of periods and ovulating

“You’re so lucky to have a boyfriend like him,” was always the first thing people told you when they would meet Hanbin. The way their eyes would scan over him: his pretty face and kind smile as he greeted them, a hand resting on the small of your back to make it clear to the person that both you and him were taken. If he weren’t so polite, barely uttering a word or two to a friend of yours, you would’ve gotten jealous at how much attention he attracted. But of course, his mother had raised him to have a personality that would fit the perfect genes his father had given him.

It was easy to assume that he was out of your league, especially when you first met him, although he never made you feel that way. Hanbin made sure you knew how you were the only one for him–how you were the only woman who had the entirety of his being and praised you for simply existing. And the truth was, you really were lucky. Lucky to have found someone capable of so much love and someone that complimented you like he was made for you. It was as if the two of you were cut from the same cloth because even from the first interaction, he understood you better than anyone else and when he had laughed, those cute whisker dimples appearing on his skin, you were a goner.

“YN won the lottery,” your best friend had laughed when you had shown her the picture of the man who had asked you on a date after the smallest interaction in the coffee shop.

Laying on her bed, fuzzy socks clad on your feet and 13 Going on 30 playing in the background, you had popped another kernel of popcorn in your mouth as you rolled closer to her. “Right?” as you take your phone back from her, another text from Hanbin alerted on your screen. You grinned, “I don’t know what I did in my past life, but I am grateful for it now.”

Your friend laughs as she sinks into the pillows at the head of her bed, “Keep working that magic to make him fall in love with you.”

“I don’t know, he already seemed head-over-heels when he asked me out.”

She scoffed as Jennifer Garner kissed a young Mark Ruffalo on the TV.

“That’s gonna be you guys someday, getting married. God, YN, I swear if you don’t marry that man–”

“Shh, I just met him,” you giggled and your friend offered her free hand to you.

Halfheartedly, you high-fived her. “Exactly. The rest of it should be easy.”

And it was. The next night with Hanbin only solidified it, and being with him finally introduced you to what a loving, healthy relationship should be. You made each other happy, and it was like no other person existed to the two of you. Years passed, and you both graduated from university, got a place together, and moved in, settling down and solidifying your jobs.

None of your friends were surprised when Hanbin popped the question to you privately on the deck of the overwater bungalow you were staying in on your fourth-anniversary trip to Fiji. Or at the fact that you had said yes.

It was a dream come true getting married to him. Your wedding day was everything you had wanted since you were a little girl, especially the groom, and for two more years, the two of you were enough. Until Hanbin started talking about getting you pregnant.

Folded at the waist over the marble countertop of your shared kitchen, your husband groans loudly as he buries his length deep inside of you again. Your walls flutter weakly around him, his pace slow and harsh as you feel the veins of his length drag along the inside of your cunt. Hanbin’s grip against the back of your waist is bruising and all you can do is call out his name as one of his hands reaches around you to push against your lower stomach, feeling himself push into you again and again.

The pressure has you seeing stars and Hanbin coos softly, “Yeah, baby, let me take care of you… I’ll take such good care of you, just let go and feel it for me.”

“Binnie!” you cry out, feeling that coil inside you getting ready to snap and Hanbin pants heavily.

“‘M here, my love, I’m here,” he gasps out, thumb brushing over the hardened bud of your clit and you don’t have to see him to know he’s smirking as your orgasm hits you. As you ride out your high, his hand drifts over the soft part of skin just above your mound, his hips slamming into yours much faster.

“You’d look so pretty pregnant,” he mutters under his breath and you gasp softly. “Wanna put a baby in you, breed you so good and see your tummy get round–” Hanbin has to stop himself and he lets out a choked moan. The overstimulation’s beginning to hit you, but you can’t find yourself to care, your fuzzy mind filled with thoughts of him having you in a way no one has had you before. No one other than him would be able to have you.

“Give it to me,” you grit out, slowly losing what little you have left of your composure. “I’ll give you a baby–”

He’s releasing inside of you before you can utter anything else.

It only gets worse after that impromptu session that random Wednesday morning. You knew Hanbin had great stamina, but clearly, you underestimated how high his sex drive could actually get. More often than not you were waking up with his head between your thighs, his tongue lazily flicking your clit as he begged you to give him some relief before he had to leave for the day. He had you working your hips over him whenever you tried to sit next to him on the couch, had your mouth around him while he was driving you both home from work, was joining you in the shower any chance he got–he was insatiable.

Things increased tenfold when you both attended your niece’s fourth birthday party. It was strange to you that throughout the few hours you’d spent there, Hanbin hadn’t approached you once, opting to spend time with your brother-in-law and father, which was extremely unlike him. Normally, he would be attached to your hip, but it was your niece who was held in your arms for those few hours, demanding your whole attention. You missed the way Hanbin’s eyes darkened just in the slightest as you so effortlessly picked up your niece, speaking to her softly and making her laugh.

It was so natural for you, and Hanbin felt that small voice in the back of his head that had been steadily growing louder the past few weeks finally snap. If he got any closer to see you like this, he wouldn’t be able to contain himself, so he watched you from a distance. The image painted in his mind of your niece having his nose, your eyes, his face shape, your smile– it was almost too much to bear. He was tense for the rest of the birthday party. And for the entirety of the car ride home.

Later that night, after you had already gotten ready for bed, sitting between the sheets as you waited for Hanbin to finish up in the bathroom while scrolling on your phone was when he finally brought the topic up.

“What d’you think about having kids?” he’d asked through the open bathroom door. The words caused you to look up from your phone immediately, your heart racing.

“I want them,” you started softly. “They’re a big responsibility though, I don’t just want to rush right into it…”

His head popped out from around the edge of the door and he looked so adorable, hair a fluffy mess and skin shining a bit from the moisturizer he’d just applied. “...Could we maybe start thinking about having them?”

You turn your phone off as the corners of your lips twitch into a smile, “How long have you been thinking about this, Bin?” His cheeks turn a light shade of pink as he turns off the light in the bathroom, entering the bedroom. You laugh softly as he shrugs and practically throws himself onto the bed.

“A while…” he admits shyly, burying his face into your stomach, your shirt separating him from your bare skin. “I want it so bad, though. I’m in love with you, I’ll always be in love with you, and I want you to be the mother of my children.”

“You can’t just say that–”

He laughs, “But it’s true!”

You’re silent for a moment, running your fingers through his hair, the sensation helping you gather your thoughts. When he looks up at you, eyes wide and pleading, you feel your resolve crumble, “Please?”

How are you supposed to say no to that?

“Well…” You have to look straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with him as you voice your thoughts for the sole point of not getting distracted. “We both want kids… and we’re financially stable…” Hanbin lets out soft hums of agreement at each thing you list, moving up your body until his face is right next to yours.

“Please let me get you pregnant.”

“Hanbin–” You try, but his lips are pressing against your neck and suddenly it’s so much harder to think.

“You’d look so pretty. Your belly full of our child and you wouldn’t have to lift a finger.” He mouths at a sensitive spot of skin and you arch your back to press your body closer to his. “I’d take such good care of you…”

“I’d… I’d still have to get off the pill.”

Hanbin chuckles, “I’d love you so good that your birth control wouldn’t stand a chance.” You let out a noise somewhere between a giggle and a moan as he pulls away from your neck, a smile on his face as you make eye contact with him.

“Then consider it done,” you whisper to him just before his lips meet yours.

The next day, you turn off your alarm for when you’re supposed to take the pill, and Hanbin’s more than happy to throw the little foil packet into the trash. And to fuck you on the bathroom counter afterward.

The first week of being off of birth control you get your period. It’s surprisingly nowhere as near as heavy as you expected, but it’s still annoying to deal with, except for Hanbin being the angel he is and comforting you through the first two days of the subtle pain. Bringing you your favorite snacks, cuddling you whenever you asked for it, and giving you massages. Even though this level of care was nothing new, Hanbin hadn’t hesitated to bring up how this was his practice for when you were pregnant. You had rolled your eyes at his words.

But when you start ovulating, it’s torture. The worst it’s been in a while, actually, and sitting at work all day, mind running a thousand miles a minute with thoughts of Hanbin, Hanbin, Hanbin and you wish you’d never gotten off of the pill. You shift in your seat, unable to focus on anything as you feel your panties cling to you, the slightest movement making you want to scream out in frustration.

when’re you gonna be done with work tonight?

Your husband responds almost immediately:

Around 5

Why?

You grumble a little, sending him another message and trying to be as blunt as possible.

I’m so horny Hanbin

can’t believe I actually listened to you and went off the pill this is horrible

The three little dots appear and bounce around for a few moments only for four little words to pop up on your screen.

Go to the bathroom

You’re getting up from your desk immediately, making your way to the family restroom and locking the door behind you just as Hanbin’s contact appears on your phone. You don’t hesitate to answer his call.

“Is it that bad?” is the first thing he asks and you squeeze your eyes shut, rubbing your temples with your free hand.

“Maybe I’m being a little dramatic, but I cannot focus on anything for the life of me– Hey, don’t laugh.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he gets out between the sweet sounds of his laughter. Just hearing his voice is already making you feel better. He’s quiet for a moment after his chuckles die down, “Do you want help?”

A rush of arousal goes through you, “Please.”

“Okay, honey do whatever you need to do and I’ll stay on the phone with you–”

“Just– Keep talking,” you breathe out, your hand that’s not holding your phone undoing the button of your pants so you would have enough room to slip your hand into your panties. He laughs softly again and the sound practically has you gushing all over the fabric of your clothes.

Your fingers run through the wetness growing at your entrance, making sure you have enough lubrication before you begin circling your clit. “Oh, my sweet girl… You’re so good for me. Doing all of this so we can have a family.” You let out a small whimper and Hanbin coos gently, his voice low and intimate.

“I’ll make it so worth it, baby. You’re not gonna be leaving our bed at all tonight.” Your breaths are coming out in soft pants, struggling to control yourself as your movements quicken and your hips buck to meet your hand, practically humping your fingers. “‘M gonna come in you over and over and over again so there’s no chance that you won’t be pregnant by tomorrow.”

Your voice is breathy and you have to bite your tongue to stay quiet, “Please Binnie.”

“Tell me what you’re doing.” You swallow down a moan.

“Rubbing my clit. Trying to do it like you do but it’s hard,” you complain, trying to stay as quiet as possible as you run a finger over the hardened bud, only drawing yourself closer to your release.

“I’m here, baby, just keep doing what feels good,” Hanbin encourages and if your head wasn’t the slightest bit fuzzy, you would probably be able to hear the strain in his voice. You press a little harder and you feel your high beginning to creep up on you, leaning your head back against the bathroom wall.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whisper, holding on just for the sake of waiting for his permission.

Hanbin hums, “It’s okay, my sweet girl, let go.”

Your orgasm washes over you instantly and your teeth sink into the side of your cheek to prevent you from crying out, Hanbin’s soft praises helping you ride out the length of your high. When you finally calm down, Hanbin’s the first to speak.

“Feel better.” You smile weakly. “Much. Thank you.”

He chuckles, “It’s the least I can do. Are you sure you’re gonna be okay for the rest of the day?”

You pull your phone away from your face to look at the time, “Just a few more hours. If I need anything else I’ll just call you again.” The smile in his voice is evident.

“I hope you would,” he pauses for a moment. “I love you.”

It’s your turn to smile, it’s almost subconsciously, but you can’t help it. “I love you. I’ll see you when you come to pick me up.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he repeats back to you, before you end the call, giving yourself a moment alone to catch your breath and try to get your hormones under control.

Surprisingly, you’re able to get some things done for the rest of the day. Maybe it’s the motivation from being able to see your husband in just a few hours, but time doesn’t pass by nearly as slow as it did in the morning. Finally, you clock out, entering the parking garage after Hanbin messages you that he’d arrived. You’d never been so relieved to see his car in your life. And your heart rate increases tenfold when he gets out of the driver’s side, you traveling the short few steps before wrapping your arms around him tightly. The velvety sandalwood scent that clings to him infiltrates your senses and you let out a deep sigh, relaxing immediately.

He rubs your back, kissing your head softly, “I missed you.”

“Missed you more.” You pull away slightly to peck him on the lips, “Let’s go home?” At your suggestive tone, Hanbin smirks a little, never letting go of you as he makes his way around the front of the car, opening the passenger's side door for you.

“Let’s.”

You’ve never wanted to teleport so badly in your life, the car ride back to the house feeling like it stretched on longer than your entire work day. The best you could do to distract yourself from the longing growing inside of you again was watch as the city passed by, doing everything in your power to not look over at your husband because his hand resting on your thigh was more than enough. You figured that Hanbin must be as sexually frustrated as you, or at least the smallest bit with the way his fingers began to dig into your skin and the brief image of him gripping the steering wheel tightly. But to your disappointment, his impeccable control was still intact when you both entered your house.

Hanbin hadn’t pushed you up against the wall or bent you over the nearest surface, he’d simply taken off his shoes, then your own before walking towards the kitchen. You gaped a little, eventually following him while wondering what happened to that desperate man from a few weeks ago. All you could do was watch in disbelief as Hanbin dug around in the fridge, getting out some leftovers and warming them up before placing them in front of you.

“Eat.” You were getting tired of his one-word commands as you slid into one of the seats at the island counter, beginning to eat quickly. “Slow down a little, honey, I don’t want you to choke,” he laughed softly, reaching to hold your wrist and force you to relax your movements.

You tilt your head, “Hanbin.” He responds with a soft hum. “Do you really have to draw this out even more?”

“Do you remember what I said on the phone earlier?”

Carefully, you eat another mouthful of the food before answering, “That you were gonna take care of me.”

“I did say that,” he agrees, leaning on the counter with his hands. “What I meant, though, was how I’m not letting you leave our bed tonight.”

Oh. You didn’t think it was possible to feel even more turned on.

“And you’re not going to, so eat.” Your face flushes as you hesitantly resume eating. His warm brown eyes never leave you as the contents of the plate slowly disappear, and when you swallow the final bite, Hanbin is taking the plate away. He sets it by the sink and then before you can process where he is, you’re in his arms and his lips are pressing harshly against yours.

It’s like he’s trying to consume you as his mouth melds so perfectly against your own, his tongue slipping past your lips when you gasp at the suddenness to swirl around your mouth. You grip onto his shoulders tightly, scrunching his shirt under your palms as his hands find the undersides of your thighs, squeezing the skin as he begins to walk. The moments where he pulls away from kissing you are short-lived, only meant for taking in small breaths and to make sure he wasn’t going to run into a wall. He shifts your weight against him as he pushes the door to your bedroom open.

Your feet find the floor and Hanbin’s holding your face with his hand as his taste continues to fill your mouth, making your brain cloudy and full of thoughts of just him, him, him. Gently, you push at his chest, breaking the kiss to catch your breath, a small string of spit connecting your mouths. Hanbin smiles and your heart almost beats out of your chest.

His hands slide under the bottom of your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your waist as he begins guiding you backward.

“Needed you so badly today. You sounded so pretty on the phone my dick was hard for hours,” he groans before his lips land on your neck. Hanbin bites softly, leaving marks all over the expanse of your skin and when his teeth brush against a particularly sensitive spot, you yelp. His breath is warm against your neck as he sucks at the spot harshly before pulling away.

“Want it, Bin, want it so bad– Need you inside me.”

“Be patient,” he mumbles, but with the way his hands are instantly pulling at the hem of your shirt, you can tell that he doesn’t want to wait either. “And be careful with what you say.” His tone is heavy with lust as you fall back against the covers of your bed, the sheets a mess since neither of you had bothered to make it that morning.

“Either way I’m gonna get what I want,” you say as he tugs the straps of your bra down, muttering a few words of annoyance as he reaches behind you to undo the clasp.

His hands feel so big as he pulls the clothing in, his cheeks turning pink as he drinks in the sight of your bare chest. “And what is it you want?”

“Want your baby.” Hanbin practically groans at the three words, mouth lowering to the top of your tits to trail soft kisses in a horizontal line across them both.

A small moan leaves your lips, “Sounds like you want it as much as I do.” His pink lips are wrapping around one of your nipples, running his tongue over the bud and sucking to erect the nerves.

“‘M gonna make you a dad.” His fingers pinch harshly at your other nipple, which he quickly soothes by running the pad of his thumb over it. It was almost like a warning, but all it made you do was rub your thighs together, wanting more friction. When Hanbin removes himself from your nipple, it already feels sore, the skin red as he kisses it quickly. Then the other.

“Can’t wait to see your tits get all swollen. You gonna let me massage them? Let me make you feel better while your body grows our baby?”

“Yes,” you groan out eagerly, arching your back slightly to press your body closer to his.

“I know, baby, I know,” he reassures, rubbing your nipples in small circles as he kisses his way down your stomach. “You’re gonna be so relaxed, you’re gonna feel so good that you won’t even care how full you’re gonna be with my cum.”

“Please, Binnie,” you whine as his hands leave your breasts to undo your pants, pulling them down your legs impatiently along with your panties. He hums a little as his hands gently guide your thighs apart.

His thumb dips into your entrance just the smallest bit, collecting your wetness before spreading it all around your pussy, avoiding your clit. “Relax,” he repeats, kissing your inner thigh before wrapping his lips around your clit. Hanbin’s tongue flicks quickly over your most sensitive spot, making you cry out and your hand shoots down to hold him against you.

“You taste so good,” he mumbles against you, and the vibration has you reeling, bucking your hips toward his face. The tip of his tongue teases you, gently moving the bud back and forth as you feel spit run down from your clit to your entrance, making your opening even more messy. Hanbin sucks on the hard little nub as his middle finger begins to work its way into you, the thrusts deep and slow as he eases you open. The sounds of his finger pumping into your pussy and his slurping against your clit make you cry out louder, and you prop yourself up onto one of your elbows to get a better view of him.

His eyes are already on you, pupils blown wide. “You’re so pretty, Binnie. Mouth feels s’good,” you slur, running your hand through his hair, and your praise has him pushing another finger into you. “God! Make me cum, Bin– Make me cum,” you whine as he stops sucking on you, flattening his tongue and lapping at you, fingers speeding up and curling so perfectly that your wetness is gushing around him.

Every time he eats you out, he acts like a starved man. Desperate for your attention and desperate for your pleasure as he ruts against the bed every so slightly, eyes falling shut as he takes your clit back into his mouth. The pressure has you practically sobbing and you feel yourself clench around his digits when a third finger brushes against your hole.

“Y’gonna cum already?” Hanbin teases and you let out a frustrated grumble.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day, don’t tease me.”

He thrusts his fingers into you roughly and you’re falling apart around him, his thumb resting on your clit to give you enough friction to enjoy your orgasm as his face comes back to hover over yours.

“Was thinking about your pussy all day too, baby, no need to get angry.”

“‘M not angry, I just need you to fuck me.” Hanbin chuckles and his lips meet yours in an opened mouth kiss, the taste of you heavy on his tongue. He pulls away just enough to slip his shirt over his head as your shaking, weak hands fumble with his belt. Soothingly, he kisses you again, taking your hands in his own and placing them on his shoulders before he takes care of the rest of his clothes himself.

You want to cry in relief when you feel his tip run along your entrance, collecting the wetness that had seeped out of you from your previous orgasm. “Ready?”

“Please,” you whine and Hanbin doesn’t hesitate to slowly push his length into you. Both of you are moaning as he fills you up, that itch you’d needed to scratch all day finally subsiding as the weight of him rests inside your pussy, letting you adjust around him. You both kiss lazily for a moment as you relax. “You can move,” you finally whisper into his mouth.

Hanbin’s hands wrap around your calves gently as he guides them towards your face, your thighs pressing against your chest and allowing him to get deeper inside of you as he begins to fuck into you. “My wife, only for me, right?”

He starts at a borderline painfully slow pace, getting lost in the feeling of your velvety walls wrapped around him so tightly and enjoying how you’re pinned underneath him. Your hands clutch at the sheets beneath you, mouth falling open at the steadiness and precision his hips have as his knees dig into the mattress.

“Only– f’you, Binnie!”

“Mhm.” And if it weren’t for the way his eyebrows are slightly furrowed, you would think your fluttering walls around him weren’t even affecting him. “All mine. All mine to love, and to fuck, and to get pregnant.”

“Ah!” You cry out as he begins forcing into you at a faster pace. “Yes! Need it~ Need you to fill me up–”

“Keep your eyes on me,” Hanbin demands, his drag along your walls ruthless and everything feels so intimate. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing it harshly and flicking it side to side, trying to build up your pleasure so you can’t focus on anything else. He pulls out to the tip, pushing into you again and he feels a rush of your arousal spill around his length, causing him to moan as well. “Want this forever, baby. You don’t understand–”

“Yes, please, forever,” you blabber, so dick-drunk and gone already. He chuckles, tongue slipping out to lick at the sweat building up on his upper lip. “Baby… Baby~”

“I know, sweet girl, I’m gonna give it to you,” Hanbin reassures, hand leaving your calf to press against your abdomen. “Feel how deep I am? That’s where I’m gonna finish, ‘s where you’re gonna get all round and full with our baby and– Fuck,” he curses, feeling you clench tightly around him.

He looks at your dazed eyes, love evident in his expression and it almost feels like it’s too much. But you want it, you want it so bad, the images of him holding your baby consuming your mind and you pant out little, ‘Ah-Ah-Ah’s weakly. Hanbin’s thrusts slow a bit, but with the way he’s hitting that spot inside of you every time, you don’t really notice that much.

“Oh yeah, you like that so much, don’t you?”

“Please.” Is all you can manage, reaching up to hold his face with your hands, desperate for something to ground you as he begins to fuck into you at a faster speed again. Hanbin kisses you gently, a complete contrast from the way he’s moving inside of you and rubbing you and he’s never been like this before but you do–you like it so much.

His upper body comes to cover yours as he removes his hand from your clit, resting his elbows on either side of your head so he can see your face as you approach your high. “‘M close–”

“Cum for me,” he gets out, hips moving to provide you as much pleasure as possible, feeling himself near his orgasm as well. “Cum for me, I’m right behind you.”

You moan out his name loudly as you fall over the edge, nose pressed against his as his eyes stare into your own. Hanbin’s mouth drops open a bit as he feels you cum around him, burying himself inside of you as he releases as well. The warmth of his cum inside of you has you whimpering slightly, both of you breathing heavily as you catch your breath for a moment. Hanbin pulls out of you with a small ‘pop’– looking down to watch as his release leaks out of you.

A soft sob leaves your lips as his fingers gather the liquid, forcing it back into you. “Shh, shh, shh,” he shushes you, and you flinch at the overstimulation, hips jerking away from him a bit. Which he clearly doesn’t like, his hands pinning your hips down as he fits his length into you again.

“Don’t run away from it…” he trails off, leaning over to kiss you sweetly. “We want it to take, right? I don’t care if I have to handcuff you to the bed, ‘m gonna make sure you’re pregnant by tomorrow morning.” And when you feel Hanbin begin to weakly buck into you again, you know he’s not lying.

#⠀๑﹙ 𝓖entle愛𝓓aydreams ﹚ㅤ𝆬 ̼⠀﹗#lvlybin ☆ shb #zb1 smut #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone smut #zb1 #hanbin smut #hanbin x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 hanbin x reader #zb1 hanbin #zb1 hanbin smut

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sanjisblackasswife · 1 year ago

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𝕋𝕪𝕡𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝 ℍ𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕤

Ft. Zoro, Luffy, Sanji

Bad Summary: Just describing girls they’d be interested in the Modern AU.

CW: None reallyy.

Sanji

Says he doesn’t have a type but he always finds himself gravitating to a woman of a particular kind.

It’s true he doesn’t discriminate but if he HAD to build a woman she’d be a pervert like him.

He wants a woman that understands him, he’s attracted to woman that loves to sit down for hours and listen to his problems.

He loves a woman that expresses her true feminine side, he will spoil you until the ends of the earth. Don’t worry about paying bills, or anything like that he’s got it. He really wants a woman that is strong willed but is also willing to submit to him and let him be the breadwinner of the relationship.

He loves a woman that is caring and so sweet he gets a tooth ache just from being around her. Being so sweet and tender with him makes his heart melt.

He wants a woman that can be his safe space.

He wants a woman that isn’t afraid to eat.

He wants a woman that is able to see the good side of him, because he has struggles seeing it himself

He wants a woman that isn’t afraid of his touch.

He likes a girl that can be open with what she wants from him, willing to speak up and always tell him “ i love you” even at the most randomest times.

He wants a woman that doesn’t want to change him. Only to help him be a better person.

He is in love with big pretty smiles, it just makes him try harder to make you smile even more.

He wants a girl that babies him, he loves being spoiled too whether he admits it or not.

He wants a woman that can carry his children. He does want his own family one day and knowing she does too makes him the happiest man on earth.

Zoro

He’s attracted to a strong woman, not in physique but emotionally and mentally strong. Not wanting to back down from any obstacle that approaches her life.

He wants a good headache. He is a Tsundere at heart and having a girl that can annoy him (In a healthy way) is something he doesn’t mind adding to his life.

He wants a woman that is patient. He isn’t the best verbally expressing his FEELINGS and if you’re willing to work with him on that he will absolutely make it worth your while.

He wants a funny woman. He loves to have a good time laughing and making memories with her, cracking jokes and just taking it easy

He wants a woman that’s cuddly. He wants his girl to like his personal stuffed animal when he is laying down or sleeping.

He wants a woman that can bring the best out of him.

He likes a micture of a girly girl and a tomboy. He loves his woman to be feisty, smart mouthed and little, but still knows her boundaries as his girlfriend.

He wants a girlfriend that isn’t easily jealous, he doesn’t care for women that expresses little to know trust in him. It’s a bother.

He wants a woman he CAN trust. Showing his feelings is hard. And he wants that reassurance he can work through it with you.

He wants a woman that gives constant hugs and kisses, whether he says it or not he loves the affection and attention of one woman. Everybody else can literally go away when he’s with her.

He wants a private woman. He isn’t a fan of putting his relationship all on social media nor for everybody to know about. Not saying he wants it hidden but not everything they do together needs to be displayed for the public

He wants a woman that knows her self worth. He will never allow her to sit and talk down about herself or think she doesn’t deserve him because in reality he KNOWS he doesn’t deserve her.

He wants a woman willing to listen to him.

He wants a woman he knows he can spend the rest of his life with and not just anything temporary.

Luffy

He wants someone adventurous! He wants a girl that can wake him up from his nap to go hiking or to the park or even out to eat!

He wants a woman that is a tomboy at heart. He doesn’t mind really any kind of girl, but knowing he can be a little more rough with her is actually better for him

He wants a woman that doesn’t try to change his beliefs or his lifestyle. He’s a carefree man and if she is more “strict” living it may not work out

He wants a woman that laughs a lot. Nothing makes him smile more than seeing his girlfriend cackle at his jokes.

Speaking of jokes he also wants a funny woman. He likes girls that doesn’t care for people’s opinions, and willing to be herself regardless of who is around

He wants a woman that can teach him new things. He’s easily impressed so if she is the smarter one in the relationship it helps a lot.

He wants a woman that isn’t sensitive. Nothing wrong with feelings and expressing them but if he cracks a joke and she gets pouty and upset with him over and over and over again it gets tired. Real fast.

He wants a woman taller than him. Height usually isn’t a PREFERENCE for him, he isn’t out looking for a tall woman but he gravitates to them more…..He likes climbing her back.🧍🏾‍♀️

He wants a woman that loves PDA. Luffy likes to touch, touch, touch, he has no shame. Kissing, hugging, hand holding, all of it.

He wants a woman that stands up for herself. He also finds it attractive when she defends hum as well.

He wants a clingy woman. One that is stuck at the hip with him. He doesn’t like to be alone anyways so having his favorite person always around him soothes him.

He wants a goofball of a girlfriend.

He wants a foodie girlfriend

He wants a playful girlfriend

He wants a girlfriend that can be by his side.

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aithusarosekiller · 11 days ago

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Imagining a pirate au with two infamous ships captained by each black brother respectively and they're forced to join together because they know they're being sought out by a common enemy. They both have reputations for being violent and ruthless but they have a sense of camaraderie and love for their crew so they both go into it expecting the other to be fucking awful only to realise they seem to be the only two pirate ships out there with any level of trust and loyalty. Because of this, it's easier to assimilate because they already work well among their own crew.

And at first they all hate the decision but eventually it becomes a beautiful found family thing where they all find a home with each other and choose to stick together for the rest of their lives. One ship gets badly damaged and they help to save what they can before moving in to the other.

There are so many petty rivals to lovers arcs too. Dorlene both bicker over being in control of arms while trying to ignore the fact they're clearly interested in each other and it drives everyone else insane. MarPanLily have a weird competitive relationship going on that none of them understand but they get strangely protective of each other during raids.

Jegulus take FOREVER to get over themselves because Regulus heard stories of James from word of mouth and James heard about Regulus from Sirius so they've both told themselves for years that they'd have nothing in common and hate each other, only to realise they were painfully wrong when they actually meet and have to talk to each other about course planning.

Something about pirate aus make my fav ships seem so timeless and predestined to me idk. Like other aus are fun but something about meeting under such unusual, brutal circumstances and ending up travelling across the vast ocean together forever feels like peak romance to me even if it would be kinda sucky in real life bc pirates were not a fun happy healthy bunch. Still, the beauty in going to the ends of the world with someone and being apart from society is so beautiful for my little gay ships. Someone do that with me :(

#jegulus #marauders era #regulus black #james potter #sirius black #the black brothers #marpanlily #dorlene #found family #the marauders #the valkyries #the emeralds

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daechwitatamic · 5 months ago

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Vice;Grip || chapter 5 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose. A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!!

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out.

Section Specific Warnings: language, depictions of depression and depressive episodes, mentions of doctors' offices and medication, angst, mentions of attending therapy, recreational drinking, kissing

wc: 6.9k

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

Now - Fall

Vernon’s watching his ceiling fan when his phone chimes - a noise he isn’t fond of: incoming email.

For the last few months, his emails have all been from recruiting directors and head-hunters - either thanking him for his interest but regretfully informing him they’ve gone in a different direction, or head-hunters pretending they found him a great opportunity when it was really an underpaid, short-term position where he’d spend more on his commute into the city than he’d ever earn.

It’s been real fun. He sucked it up and finished grad school, threw his diploma behind a cheap frame, added the degree to his resume. Quit going to classes (because there weren’t any), quit spending whole nights on assignments (none of those anymore either), and still - he finds himself no happier than he’d been before, even with all the free time in the world. So maybe, he considers, grad school wasn’t the problem, and he’d done the right thing to just push through and finish.

On top of this - on top of the fact that he was still bored with life, still unenthused to be here - the break-up has sucked, just to make things even bleaker for him.

Can he even call it a break-up? You were never together. But it’s been nine days since he made you cry in his car - not that he’s counting - and all nine of them have fucking sucked. He’s wrestled with indecision for all of them - did he make a mistake? Should he try to undo the damage? Wasn’t what he had with you still better than being alone?

But he knows this will be better for him in the end. He knows that what you two were doing together wasn’t real, wasn’t a relationship. It couldn’t grow with him - it was stagnant by nature. So, even though something in his bones screams at him to take it back, in the end he doesn’t regret the decision to try and do something better.

He does regret that he can’t do something better with you. He regrets that he lost his temper and yelled, regrets that he was cold in his last moments with you.

Regrets that he spent two years walking towards a dead end.

Still misses you, despite this.

He picks up his phone and scrolls to his email, already feeling the frown take over his face in anticipation of another rejection. As expected, the email is from a company he’d interviewed with last week - he’d even gotten to a second in-person round, which was rare. Still, he hadn’t wanted to get excited about it. He knows how unlikely it is that they’ll want him.

Dear Mr. Chwe,

Our team was delighted to meet with you last week. We found your background impressive, especially your internship experience with -

Vernon’s eyes skim the page, so fast the words are a blur.

…Would like to formally offer you the position of… annual salary of… additional opportunities within the company including traveling to… working with… reporting to… expected start date of… we are looking forward to having you on our team!

Vernon’s heart thuds and he turns the screen off and stares at his ceiling again. He’ll answer it later, accept it graciously, call his eomma, probably shop online for some button-downs and maybe some ties. Later, though. Later. For now, he reaches for his lighter.

He kind of wishes he could tell you - hey, I got a job offer. hey, guess who gets to wear a suit five days a week now? hey, all that bullshit paid off in the end.

Would he have texted you any of that if he hadn’t ended things? You’d never talked about this kind of thing - that had been part of the problem.

Still. As illogical as it is, you’re the one Vernon wants to tell first. It aches a little, like sore muscles but somewhere inside him, behind his brittle ribs.

He wonders if you’re doing okay. He wonders if you care at all, or if you’re fine. He turns his lighter over and over in his fingers, and then realizes he’s just read the words contingent on... drug test…

“Fuck,” he grumbles, then picks up his phone again. Maybe he’ll call his mother first, after all.

—

You were never a big fan of autumn. A lot of your friends are - the season shifts and everyone starts posting about sweater weather and PSLs, the aesthetics suddenly revolving around pumpkins and ghosts.

You have plenty of ghosts, but not the right kind.

Your phantoms haunt your phone, mostly. You feel it buzz in your pocket, hear it vibrate on the table from the other room. Sometimes you even wake up from a dead sleep, sure you’ve heard it going off, reaching for it frantically, only to turn on the screen and see nothing.

No missed calls, no new texts.

You dream about him, too. In some of them, you’re still fighting, yelling at the top of your lungs in a way you never had in real life. In some, he isn’t even present - you just know he’s missing. In some, you’re trying to get to him, but never can - stopped by nonsense laws of dream physics.

In one of them, you tell him you love him, and he staggers backwards, breaths starting to rasp the way they had when you’d talked him through a panic attack, like he was just as scared of the admission as you had been.

Maybe he had been just as scared about it, back when it had mattered. Maybe he was just better at handling it than you are.

You never see his whole face in your dreams - only glimpses, fragments. You don’t want to examine if that means anything.

You fucking hate your brain.

You’re starting to hate your phone, too.

—

You lose November to grey - the whole month, a wash. You miss three days of work, unable to do anything - unable to cook, unable to get dressed. You feed the cat because you have to, and it’s the only reason you leave your bed except to pee.

When the grey days break as December dawns, you follow an impulse and schedule an appointment with your primary physician through their app. As you click the button to confirm the appointment, you burst into tears, loud and embarrassing. You cry with abandon, pulling your hoodie up to cover your face, to muffle the noise that you can’t stop.

You should have gone to a doctor years ago, and you know it. It feels like a big deal. It feels like a potential mistake - like opening a can of worms and now you have to deal with them. It feels like admitting something is wrong when you’ve worked so hard to look like nothing is. It feels like a farce, like nothing that bad is wrong with you, and you’re wasting everyone’s time.

But you keep the appointment anyway. You make yourself small in the chair on the other side of your doctor’s little table, and you admit, eyes on your hands, “I want to talk about my mental health. I think I’ve been dealing with depressive episodes. For… a long time, now.”

It’s so damn scary. As scary as loving and losing someone - like, yes, Vernon - had seemed. And you’re somehow surviving both.

Something to think about.

You buy yourself good job you did the scary thing ice cream on the way home. You go inside, put it away, and then scoop Nana off the couch, burying your face in his belly and cooing, “How is my favorite boy today?” He tolerates your nonsense with aplomb, as always.

Chan has never forgiven you for naming a cat “Banana Bread”, and you think that’s why Nana has never warmed up to him.

Nana loved Vernon, but you don’t want to think about that.

You kind of want to text him. You think he’d be proud of you for what you did today. You think he’d tell you good job.

(Chan would tell you good job, too, and will, when you call him later. But it doesn’t feel the same.)

You wonder if he’d answer if you told him. You wonder if he wouldn’t answer, but be proud of you anyway.

You fill the prescription, you leave your contact info with a therapist as advised by your primary physician. You don’t text Vernon.

You take your pride and your sadness, your fear and your hope and you channel them into greens and yellows. As late autumn grips the leafless trees outside, you paint something that looks like spring.

Now - Winter

Winter howls through your life like you personally pissed it off. You and Nana huddle under thick blankets with your tablet night after night.

Sometimes you close your eyes and remember Vernon’s hands slipping underneath his own hoodie on your skin; it helps you feel warmer.

Sometimes you think about the way he’d said the word wasted about the time he’d spent with you; it makes you feel cold all over again.

You click through all the tabs you’ve had open for days - different universities with decent visual arts programs, all advertising admission for the spring semester.

None of them are big name schools, not like the one you’d turned down all those years ago. But they aren’t nothing.

You’d brought it up to your therapist last week and she’d encouraged the idea - accepting that you can’t unstitch the mistakes in your tapestry, but you can control what new patterns emerge.

This was the plan: start classes. Open social media accounts to showcase your work. Network through school, look for job opportunities at galleries or for collectors. Open commissions, maybe.

On your best days, this seems like a list of goals to shoot for. On your worst days, this seems like a list of things you’ve already failed at before you’ve even started.

You text options to Chan, ask him, which school colors can you see me in?

Your best friend sends back, all of them. any of them. look at you go!!

You sit in your living room and watch snow fall lazily outside the window. You daydream about what classes might be like, if you get in. You take pictures of the snow in the park, then try to paint something similar once you’re home again.

You wonder if Vernon’s doing okay. You worry that he’s going through his hard days alone. You worry that maybe he’s not - maybe he found someone who helps him better than you did, maybe he’s so happy with them that he doesn’t have hard days at all.

(You know life doesn’t work like that.)

You paint Nana, just for shits, and post it on instagram. It gets the most engagement you’ve had so far. Someone messages you asking if you do commissions for pet portraits. You frown, looking at the message.

Maybe I do, you think.

Your apartment is cold. You burrow under blankets, rub your legs together like a cricket to warm them up, and think maybe after I’m a cicada, I could be a cricket next.

There’s no one to share the joke with who’d get it. Just another of the thousand ways you feel Vernon’s absence in your life. You hadn’t realized how much space he took up until he was gone.

—

Everywhere Vernon looks, all he sees are circles. The hands on his kitchen clock circle each other, align, move on again. They tell him he has two minutes to get out the door before he’s late.

He checks his appearance in the bathroom mirror, straightens his tie, smooths back his hair, then grabs his crossbody bag and heads for the bus.

The hands of the clock in his office mark his passage through his schedule: one circle until his 10:00 meeting will end. Two more after that and he can take a lunch break. A circle and a half until his one-on-one with his boss, to discuss his first few months here.

On his lunch break, Vernon rides with two of the guys he works with to some nature trails nearby, as they usually do. They swap suits for joggers and zip-ups, pop in airpods, and head out. Vernon didn’t run before this job - didn’t exercise much at all, really. He’d gone along with the guys the first time there had been an unseasonably warm day, just to be out, and he’d found it felt good to get fresh air and some endorphins before returning to his desk.

It’s cold today, the air brittle as he inhales, but the rest of his body feels warm as he works to keep up with the other guys. It’s not as hard as it used to be, keeping up.

The trail is a circle, too, passing a small, man-made lake before looping around back to the changing facilities. On his wrist, a fitness app closes circles to quantify his steps, his speed, his progress.

At home again, he runs his thumb around the edge of the circular joystick as he waits for Seungkwan and Wonwoo to sign in and join him for a round or two before he figures out dinner.

“Some of us were going to the bar tonight, you in?”

“Shouldn’t,” Vernon says. “But maybe this weekend?” Unfortunately, his new nine-to-five forces him to make decisions like this - better decisions. He kind of likes his job. He kind of doesn’t want to feel like shit in the morning.

His mind, a circle - always coming around back to you when it gets too quiet.

He opens his messages.

how have you been? … are you doing okay? … hey, i’m - … I think I’m sorry … what if we did it differently …

Of course he doesn’t send any of them. Instead, he searches for your instagram. You’d never followed each other in the first place, and he considers it a win that you didn’t block him when it was over. But you haven't posted anything that he can see in the last eight months.

Except - one post. It looks like your cat.

He clicks it and realizes that it’s not a photograph, but a painting, and the caption links to another account. He clicks that, too, and finds himself on a page that seems dedicated to posting paintings only.

Yours, apparently. He scrolls through slowly, rolling to his stomach so he can look more closely. He never knew you painted, let alone that you were good - great, even, to his untrained and certainly unbiased eyes.

Part of the problem, his mind chimes in.

Somehow, despite understanding each other better than anyone else in your lives, at the end of the day you hadn’t known each other at all.

Now - Spring

happy hour after lecture???

plsss can we

bestie YES!!!

The sender of the original invite - a girl close to your age called Juri - eyes you from two rows up, expectantly. Normally, you’d go straight home after class. But you’d been talking to your therapist about almost this exact situation - the way you closed people out, squandered friendships to the point that only Chan managed to hang onto you for more than a year. (Vernon had made it about two years, a sick voice in your head says, and then answers itself with, but you weren’t friends, anyway.)

So, you send the group chat, sure!

(You’d also been talking to your therapist about that last fight with Vernon. I can’t get that conversation out of my head, you told her.

I’ve been caring about you way more than I should, he’d said.

You’d been talking to her about how your brain had skipped like a flat stone right over that detail and had sunk deep on I don’t want to do this anymore.

“What did you think he meant?” she’d asked you, watching you carefully. “When he said do this, what did you think this was?”

Me, you’d whispered. Anything with me - hook up, sleep, spend time together, talk, anything.

She’d helped you see the context of the fight - that maybe by “I don’t want to do this” he’d meant “be with you but not with you”.

“Sounds fake, but okay,” you’d joked. She hadn’t laughed. Negative ten points at Therapy.

You were still working on trying to believe it.

You still weren’t sure if it fucking mattered what he meant, because instead of asking him, “what do you want, then?” you’d gone defensive, had greedily grabbed at the excuse to push him away, hard and careless. He wouldn’t want you back now, even if that’s what he’d wanted at the time. You were sure of it.)

Happy that you’ve agreed to go out, Juri flashes you a grin and then turns around in her seat to watch the board again.

The bar Juri chooses is cute, not crowded or noisy yet this early in the evening. You sip at a beer and talk with the girls about upcoming projects, about the professor you all can’t stand, about the term paper you all feel you shouldn’t have to do.

It’s nice, and honestly when you glance at the time and decide you’d better get home to feed Nana, you regret that you have to. Still, you make your way to the bar to pay for your portion.

You don’t even notice the lean, handsome man who sidles up next to you while you wait for your check until he speaks.

“What’s your drink?”

You look over at him, surprised. “Oh,” you say, which isn’t really an answer. “I’m leaving, actually.”

He gives an exaggerated frown. “It’s so early!”

You shrug. “Sorry. Places to be.”

He’s cute, you consider, as you pay your bill and head for the door. Two years ago, you probably would have picked up what he was putting down.

At home, you feed Nana, then collapse on the couch, pulling a throw blanket all the way over your head. Your stomach churns with discomfort.

You open your phone, find Vernon in your contacts.

You sit on his contact page, thumbs hovering over his number, for so long that your screen goes black twice while you stay locked in indecision.

Don’t call him don’t call him don’t call him.

But you’re lonely, and you miss him, and going out made you think of him, and you wonder what would happen if you did it, if you called. Would he even answer?

Eventually, you let reason win this time, and get up from the couch, the blanket falling from you like you’d shed a skin.

In your spare room, you eye the last painting you’d finished - mostly black but with a fractured, fragmented view of a tabletop littered with empty glasses and half-finished drinks, all the liquids a toxic, piercing neon pink. You hadn’t posted that one; it felt too much like an admission.

You stare down the empty canvas, tapping your mouth with the wooden end of a brush, deciding how to begin. You close your eyes and see the beast that’s followed you these last few years - even before Vernon. The embodiment of your shame, your regrets, your failures. It’s never left your side for long.

When you finally begin to paint it, you start with the claws.

—

you up for a 1v1?

arent you on a date???

obviously not.

you didn’t go? bro.

i went. it was just. idk.

it was just what?

idk dude.

you didn’t like her?

she was fine?? she was funny, and hot, and it was fine

so why are you home alone at 8:30 asking me to come online

Vernon rubs at his face in irritation. He doesn’t know what to say, how to explain to Seungkwan why the date had felt flat.

What could he say? It was fine. It just wasn’t… enough.

He could still remember how he’d felt the first night he met you. He wanted to feel that.

idk, he told Seungkwan. lack of chemistry, ig.

Now - Summer

You think you’ve learned a lot over the past few months - between starting classes again and beginning therapy, you’re just bursting with new knowledge.

Something you’re working on is appreciating the shadows.

In class, you work on shading, on adding darks even when you think an area should all be light. Sometimes, somehow, shadows are exactly what you need to make it right on the canvas.

You think about this concept for your whole drive home from therapy - how the shadows under trees change the way you see them, how the darks affect the lights, how the shadows in your own life are natural and maybe, in the end, not so catastrophic.

At home, you duck your head into the shadows under your bed and drag Nana out by the middle.

“Come be social,” you scold him, plopping him on the couch.

After dinner, you go back to work on what you were painting. You’d been stuck for a few days, not happy with any change you made, but today you have an idea.

You create a palette of black, grey, navy, and deep purple. For two hours, you work meticulously, adding the midnights, the bruises, the shadows. They belong here, too.

—

Chan tells you he’s proud of you, the next time he’s over, and it makes you cry even though you’re only one your second sip of wine.

“Stop it,” you scold, avoiding his gaze, burning up under the attention.

“I mean it,” he says seriously. “I’m so happy that you’re painting again, I could throw up. And going back to school? And therapy? Damn. The glow-up.”

“Ew,” you frown at him, because this feels safer than acknowledging that you have been working hard on yourself, on your life. “What year is it, 2017?”

He gives you a look to make sure you know that he sees through your bullshit.

“It’s not all perfect,” you admit quietly. You feel like it should - like you’ve done the work, and now you should get the happy ending. But it hasn’t worked that way. You’re still working at a job that feels like a waste of time, painting on the side. You’re accumulating some debt for the classes you’re taking. The grey days still come and go, though admittedly their grip is less intense.

And you still think of Vernon, near daily.

Chan shrugs. “That’s normal. Perfect isn’t real. It’s unattainable. If your therapist hasn’t told you that, then you’re wasting your money.”

You laugh. She had told you that. Another thing that was easier to say than to put into practice.

You recork the bottle after a second glass, put it in your fridge for another day. Returning to your spot by Chan’s side, you tell him, “I keep thinking about him.”

Chan cocks his head, probably unsure if you’re talking about who he thinks you are.

“The guy I was hooking up with.”

“Ah.” He inclines his head knowingly.

You recount what he already knows - that you’d been whatever you were for about two years, that it had ended. That it was your fault.

“I think,” you say, taking a deep breath mid-sentence to steel yourself for the truth, “I think I could have loved him. I don’t know… maybe I did.”

“Either you did or you didn’t,” Chan points out, which is fair.

“It’s just…” you say, thinking about it. “We kept our boundaries so tight. We didn’t talk during the day, didn’t meet each others’ friends or families… barely got to know anything about each other. But it was like… even so, I think we just understood each other. It was like a lot of it just went without saying.”

Chan considers this, face serious. “Sounds like the potential was there, at least. If nothing else.”

“Yeah,” you said sadly, tracing the bottom of your wine glass with your finger. “Potential.”

Wasted potential. You’d heard that plenty before, just not usually about your love life.

Chan reaches out and shakes your knee playfully. “It’ll happen again,” he promises.

You don’t know what would be worse - if it never did, or it did, but it wasn’t Vernon. You’d never believed in there only being one right person for you - like soulmates or shit like that. But looking back at your time together, you’re not sure anyone will ever have a hold over you the way Vernon did. The grip he had on your life was unshakable.

Before he leaves for the night, Chan hesitates by the door.

“Hey,” he says, “this weekend? A bunch of the guys are driving down to the beach for the day. Wanna join?”

Something else you would have said no to, before. You’re trying to say yes more, plus you can’t deny that the sea air and sunshine sound like heaven.

“Sure,” you say, shifting to block Nana from slipping out the front door as Chan opens it. “Text me the details.”

Later, you ask what you should have asked first. who all is coming?

Chan sends back the list - six of his friends, ending with, seungcheol-hyung and his friend hansol. i think you’ve met him once or twice at the bars? he’s a good guy.

Something in you knew this was going to be the answer. You counted your breaths, tried to talk yourself down from immediately bailing on the plan.

Sleep on it, you told yourself. See how you feel in a few days.

You followed your own directions, but for days your mind spun around the question, buzzing and frantic.

Are you ready to see Vernon? To be around him, and act normal? Is it a good idea? Will you fight? Will you fall back into old habits? Will he bring out the worst in you?

Actually, you consider, that isn’t fair. Vernon never brought out your bad habits - he just coexisted peacefully with them, never tried to kick them out.

You’re scared that seeing him will undo the work of getting over him. But that isn’t true, either - because you don’t think you moved on from him at all.

In the end, you do slip into old habits - you let yourself make a potentially bad decision. You decide to go.

A twisted, quiet part of you is kind of excited.

The louder part is scared to death.

—

The day is perfect - blue sky, barely any clouds, hot and bright. Chan drives you and two of his friends; a second car with the others is somewhere en route, will meet your group once you’re there.

Chan’s car arrives first, and you help the guys unpack the trunk. Loaded down with beach bags, chairs, and coolers, you make your way unsteadily through the sand, pausing at one point to take off your flip-flops, tired of how they slow you down in the dry, loose sand.

You pick a spot and lay the towels out, unfold the chairs, get the umbrella anchored down in the sand so it doesn’t fly away.

The whole time, you can’t stop watching the parking lot, waiting for the other group to arrive - waiting for the moment of truth. What will happen when Vernon sees you?

Once everything is set up, you lay out, trying to enjoy what is admittedly beautiful weather. It’s so bright that when you lay on your back, you want to throw an arm over your eyes to block out the light, to really relax.

It feels like forever when you hear a distant shout and sit up, blinking against the glare of the sun, returning your sunglasses to your face as you get your bearings. A group of Chan’s friends approaches, one of them - Mingyu, you think - shouting hello and waving like a fool.

You stand to greet them, waving hi when they get close enough. You bite your lip nervously and glance at Vernon. He’s near the back of the group - their car had brought four people, just like yours - and his face is absolutely unreadable as he looks at you. It reminds you of the beginning, when you noticed how hard he works to keep his expression blank.

He’d stopped doing that with you, near the end. You’d almost forgotten.

Meeting and holding his gaze, you give him a solemn nod. I can be normal if you can, you try to promise, silently.

The moment is tense; you aren’t sure how he’ll react. Then, he gives you his own tiny nod back.

Relief melts through you like butter. Seeing him aches, but it isn’t unmanageable. You can do this - you’ll both be okay. You’ll both get through the day.

You help set up a second umbrella while a few of the guys move a few yards away to set up a volleyball net.

For a few hours they play volleyball. You sit on your towel with airpods in and watch, trying not to notice Vernon, trying to keep that part of your brain locked tight in its little box. But the sunlight streams down, not half as blinding as his smile as he jokes and laughs with Chan and Seungcheol, nowhere near as glittering as his laugh when he doubles over, elbows on his knees.

The sun is almost directly overhead when you get warm enough to brave the ocean.

“I’m gonna swim for a few,” you announce, standing and brushing some loose sand from your thighs.

Chan collapses on his towel, next to yours, pushing his hair back and heaving a deep breath, exhausted from volleyball.

“Maybe in a few,” he wheezes. “I need a minute.”

“I’ll go,” Soonyoung says, tossing his sunglasses onto his towel so he doesn’t lose them in the ocean.

You head down to where the waves are breaking onto the wet sand, foamy water dancing up to your ankles before retreating into the deep sea again. It’s cold, but under the midday sun the cold is welcome. You wade until you hit the awkward point where it’s hard to stand without being constantly battered by breaking waves, and then you duck underneath the surface and swim past the breaking point.

Treading water, you turn to see if Soonyoung made it out with you. He’s still back a bit, jumping each time a wave comes through. Beside him, Mingyu splutters, having taken a wave to his face. A few feet back, the water only at their knees, Vernon and Chan laugh maniacally.

You missed those goose honks.

The guys take their time catching up to you until all five of you are treading.

“Do you think there are jellyfish?” Soonyoung asks, peering into the water behind you.

“Probably,” Vernon deadpans, and you laugh, then immediately wonder if you shouldn’t. Luckily, he grins at you appreciatively as, behind him, Chan points out that there could be sharks, too.

“I’ll probably go back in soon,” Soonyoung says, trying to sound cavalier, but his unease shines through.

“We’re fine,” you promise. “You don’t have to out-swim the shark. You just have to out-swim Chan.”

Chan curses and splashes water at you as the others laugh.

You talk and float for a little longer until you consider the goosebumps on your limbs, the growl in your stomach.

“Anyone interested in lunch?” you ask.

Mingyu raises his arm and squints at his watch. “It is one,” he says. “I could eat. What did you guys bring?”

Chan starts rattling off what’s in your coolers as you start to make your way back to shore. You reach the point where your feet touch the sand, only to get slammed in the back by an incoming wave. You stumble a little, and someone holds your elbow steady, helping you stagger through it without completely tripping.

You give Vernon a grateful smile as he retracts his hand, but your stomach is swooping and your arm is burning where he’d held you.

Rejoining the others, you plop down on your towel, suddenly exhausted. The ocean water drying on your skin under the sun makes you shiver as you dig through the cooler. You pass out drinks to the guys closest to you, toss a bag of chips at Seungkwan when he asks for them, then settle back on your own towel to eat.

After, full and happy, you flop backwards and put airpods back in. Seungkwan and Soonyoung head back to the volleyball net. Mingyu and Chan seem content to bake in the sun, like you, and beyond them the others have circled up and are playing a card game, open cans of beer in the sand beside them.

You feel truly at peace, and you take a moment to ask the universe - can I hold onto this? Can I remember, when things go grey, that these moments exist?

Once you’re warm again, you pull your shorts back on and whack Chan on the arm. He startles awake, pushing his sunglasses up to glare at you.

“I’m going to walk up the beach for a little,” you tell him, pointing, just so somewhere will know where you are. He nods, his head sinking back down to his towel, eyes closing again.

You walk where the waves flood over your feet every few minutes, never getting higher than your ankles. You search for shells as you go, carrying one or two, but mostly stopping to take pictures of them and leaving them where they are, wanting to paint them later.

There are four shells in your hand when you hear someone call your name. You turn, surprised, and your stomach swoops again; Vernon approaches, hat twisted backwards and sunglasses perched over the top of it, one hand reaching out to show you a shell he’d found.

You hold still, you let him come to you. When he’s close enough, you hold open your hand and let him drop the shell there. It’s a mostly-white spiral top.

“Thanks,” you say, looking away from the shell to meet Vernon’s eyes.

He looks down at the other four in your hands. “You gonna paint them?”

You feel yourself physically take a step back in shock. “What?”

Embarrassment darkens his face just slightly. “I’ve been following your art page,” he admits, shoving his hands into his shorts pockets. “I didn’t know.” Then, “I feel bad that I didn’t know. You’re really good.”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t painting when we… I used to. I stopped for a long time. Just started again, after…” You trail off. After you left me. After I pushed you away.

He nods, licks his lips. “Does it help?” he asks, and you know exactly what he’s asking - does it make the rocks weigh less, does it make the grey lighter?

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. “In general. It’s been… kind of cathartic.”

You both stand there, the shells on your palms between you, a decision teetering between you.

You should be the one to mend it, you think, since you were the one who’d ruined it before.

“Do you want to walk with me?” you ask, a little tentatively. “You don’t have to - I’m fine on my own -”

“I’d like to,” he says, voice quiet, and something about it makes you want to well up - that he’s willing to give you his time, that he doesn’t hate you as much as you deserve.

You walk quietly together as the sun starts to sink a little, casting everything a bit orange.

“What’s new with you?” you ask, finally.

And he tells you - new job that he actually likes despite how stuffy the nine-to-five thing sounds in theory, new mile time on his daily run, new friends through work.

“And you?”

You fill him in, telling him about taking classes part-time around your job, the commissions that aren’t enough to sustain you but aren’t nothing - you even shyly admit that you’ve been seeing a therapist.

It was the most either of you had ever talked about your real lives, you thought. It struck you how normal it felt, like it wasn’t something new or novel.

“Sounds like things are coming together for you,” he says.

“You, too,” you return.

Everything between you sits heavy, weighing the moment down, pulling towards the ocean’s depths like an anchor.

Then, at the same time, you break.

“It’s good to see you again.”

“Vernon, I’m really sorry.”

He stops walking, turns to face you, aglow as the golden hour inches closer. The sun is warm on your skin, the sand is warm beneath your feet, and you are dying to make it right with him.

“It’s good to see you, too,” you whisper. You’re scared of this moment - scared it will burst, like a bubble, like waking up from a dream that you can’t get back.

“Don’t be sorry,” he counters. “We both screwed up.”

You shake your head, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. “No,” you say emphatically. “You had every right to be mad. You were right that you were wasting time.”

He glances down, mouth pulling into a frown. “I’m sorry I said that to you. It wasn’t a waste.”

“Maybe not entirely,” you allow. “But you were right. I was never going to give you what you wanted - not back then, not with… how I was. That last fight we had… it would have been so easy for me to just let you in, and everything would have been fine. And I just… couldn’t.”

He listens seriously, watching your face carefully. You look at your feet in the sand, feeling the beginning trickles of shame down your spine. But you remember that the beast can’t get you - you’d locked him on a canvas. You don’t succumb to him in these moments anymore - you take a breath and remember that you’ve grown since then.

“And -” you swallow, take a breath, “- and I’m sorry. You deserve so much better than that.”

He nods, slowly, his eyes suddenly on the ocean. You watch his throat work, and your stomach clenches in regret. Then, he says, “I should have been clearer with you - way sooner than I was.”

“I’m not sure it would have changed anything,” you admit sadly.

He nods again, agreeing. “Still,” he says.

Still.

“I really like your paintings,” he says, and then laughs at himself before you can respond. “Sorry, that sounded so lame. I don’t know the art terms or anything. I just… like them.”

You smile despite how serious the conversation had felt only seconds ago. “Thanks,” you say shyly.

“What’s the best thing you’ve learned in your classes?” he asks, stepping a little closer.

You don’t even have to think about it. “Shadows,” you say simply, looking up at him. “Even the brightest painting is nothing without the shadows.”

His smile grows slowly, and you know he gets it. Of course he does. He’s been in the trenches right alongside you.

“I thought about you a lot,” he admits, and you realize how close you’re standing. Had you been standing this close the whole time?

“I did, too,” you murmur, heart hammering.

His fingers brush up your sun-warmed arm, and you shiver despite the heat.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice low, a little unsure.

He’d never asked before.

You nod, unable to speak, lifting up to meet him halfway. He kisses you like he never had before - featherlight, gentle, like you’re the most fragile thing.

Neither of you say anything after, but as you start walking back towards the guys, you slip your hand into his, and he gives it a squeeze.

You’re still hand in hand when you reach the towels, and you watch Chan clock it out of the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t call you out, and you promise yourself that you’ll give him the conversation you owe him - later. When you’re alone.

You stay a few more hours; the guys play a little more volleyball, you sit on the towels and fill pages in your sketchbook. You draw Vernon - all angles, so sharp, so beautiful.

When the sun sinks low enough, the guys start packing things up, and you help haul everything back towards the cars.

As you slam the trunk of Chan’s car shut, you turn to find Vernon waiting.

“What about now?” he asks.

“What?”

“You said not back then,” he explains. “You said back then you couldn’t give me what I wanted. What about now?”

The question lands like a mine. “I don’t know,” you say, as honest as you can be. “Vernon, I don’t know. I’m scared - I’m scared I’ll hurt you again, mess it up again. I don’t know what I can promise you.”

He considers this. “Okay,” he says finally, in that easy way of his. “What if I don’t want a promise? What if I just want to know… what’re you doing next Saturday?”

You and him, you’d existed only at night. You’d never done this before - considered dating, considered giving him more than just the hours between midnight and three am. You’d never considered letting him be him and not just one of your many vices, one of your distractions, one of the things you used to hide from how broken you felt. But here, now, with the summer sun beating down on your shoulders, you take in his whole, unfragmented face and see how open it is, how willing he is to meet you where you are.

You’ve been missing out on so much, you think. It’s about time to stand in the light - with him. With him, you could try.

“Nothing,” you say, smiling up at him. “You got a suggestion?”

“Yeah,” he says, sending you a wink as he starts to back away, the car keys jingling in his hand. “I know a place.”

<- Prev

thank you so much for reading my veyr first svt fic!! i hope to write many more in the future :)

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bonny-kookoo · 6 months ago

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Jungkook/Taehyung

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭: 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 [teaser]

Humanity is facing serious problems- extinction, to name the worst. Introducing Project: New Generation- where polygamy is strongly encouraged, and relationships are 'matched' by irrefutable data. Though some people prefer it the 'old fashioned way'...

Tags/Warnings: Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x Reader, no taekook action tho sorry, futuristic AU, romance, angst, smut, fluff, more TBA

Type: Oneshot

Wordcount: not yet set

There is no taglist for this fic.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

It's like you've reached the final finish line with them both. They've finally turned into two people unashamedly being themselves, no longer keeping themselves locked away because of what they've been told is meant to be kept hidden- no. These two are proud, confident, and all the safety and comfort you always longed for.

"Jung-" you start, trying to stay quiet, but Taehyung behind you doesn't seem to think at all about his partner next to you.

"Is sleeping. Like a rock." He chuckles into your neck. "And I doubt he'd get upset being woken up by a sight like this." He just comments, before his hand moves in between your legs under the covers.

"I'm awake, actually.." Jungkook mumbles with his eyes still closed, moving a little to stretch his legs. It's only after a few more breaths that his eyes finally crack open, watching you, before his hand reaches out to brush some hair away from your face. "You're always so slow.." he says, while Taehyung laughs.

"And you always tire her out too much.." he argues teasingly, while his hands still have you entirely under their control.

"Hm, but she likes that, too.." Jungkook chuckles, before he leans in to kiss you, completely shutting off your brain it feels like, as you can't concentrate on anything else than what your body feels anymore.

And maybe that's what you always wanted in the end.

Love, so much of it that there's no space for anything else in your head. Who cares if humanity faces extinction? At least in this moment, none of you do.

You should feel bad about this. Bad about 'wasting' Taehyung's 97% rating on the fertility scale. Bad about not 'making use' of Jungkook's healthy genes. Bad about contributing nothing to the Project, and basically working in favor of humanity's downfall- you should feel terrible knowing that all three of you will most likely just throw your best years of life out the window in favor of love-

But you can't bring yourself to care.

One day, the project will realize that the system is fundamentally flawed. That it's being exploited by people like you, who just want to exist, and not have to worry about anything. But right now, they've got other problems to face.

You know for a fact that the world will collapse way sooner than you three will grow old together-

So why not make the best of it while you still can?

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook fanfic #bts taehyung imagine #bts taehyung imagines #kim taehyung imagine #taehyung imagines #taehyung imagine

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rt-closetcryptic · 5 months ago

Note

that's good, in the best ending besides, how's CatNap and Dogday? Did CatNap regret the things he did and apologize to his friends? Is DogDay back to being a leader and a herding dog on this farm? and most importantly, how is the relationship between these two?

(they're both my favorite characters from Poppy Playtime, you know? besides, I love your AU)

Aaaaa! Thank you! I'm really glad that you enjoy my silly au and that I absolutely adore them too, but now to your questions.

Both Catnap and Dogday would be okay! Granted both of them would have some serious issues of their own that they would have to navigate due to the trauma. Especially now that they both would have a chance to breath and look back on it all at their own pace.

Catnap eventually did feel regret for some of the stuff he did. Not killing the humans. or giving his "friends" a fright, but about greatly harming them and falling for the ruse that led to it... He genuinely believed he was doing what was right at the time and that the prototype was his friend and savior. Besides that, he did apologize eventually! Granted it was really awkward and embarrassing by the end of it, yet he did it!

Dogday would more or less have his leader role back. Mostly because none of the others wanted to deal with all the organizing and planning with their new living situation. The other toys tease him about it, much to his dismay. Now on the other hand, Dogday is a bit too big and frightening to be a herding dog. At least "officially." The medium or smaller sized toys more than likely take care of things like that due to them actually being able to reach the smaller areas.

Finally, Dogday's and Catnap's relationship. They're civil with each other at the very least. Working out and seeing if they're even able to rekindle their friendship in a healthy and positive manner. It's a bit of a struggle as Dogday is the designated mom friend in the group to make sure everyone is doing what they need to be doing. It's rather amusing to watch as long as it's not you getting pestered by him.

#z-hero001 #ask #poppy playtime #poppy playtime au #Frayed Feathers AU #Good Off Grid Ending #catnap #dogday #rtcc draws

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starryevermore · 9 months ago

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the house of snow (7) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: snow is pushing his luck with you, but you will not let his attempted slights go by.

word count: 3,004

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: breaking wedding superstitions, you and snow get in an argument, jealous!coryo, pet name (petal), not proofread

“Oh, you actually look like a bride!” your mother exclaimed as Tigris led you into the sitting room.

“She has always looked like my bride,” Snow said.

When you received word that Tigris had finished making your wedding gown and was ready to start the fitting process, Snow had insisted that it be done at the palace. Another form of control over you, you were sure.

Tigris, who was helping you gather the skirts, reached over and squeezed your hand, careful not to let Snow see. You did not know what had caused Tigris’s and Snow’s relationship to become so strained. You remembered, at the Academy, that Snow and Tigris were quite close. At least, as close as Snow would ever allow a person to be to him. He was very good at keeping people at arm’s length. The only person that he truly wanted in his inner circle, it seemed, was you.

“Is there not some saying about it being bad luck for a groom to see the bridge in her gown before the wedding day?”

Of course, you were fine with a healthy smidge of bad luck. This entire ordeal was doused in it. But it also annoyed Snow any time you tried to deny him something, and that was joy enough for you.

“I won’t come to the final fitting,” Snow said.

“I don’t think you understand how luck works.”

Snow hummed. He rose from his seat on the sofa and crossed over to you. When he reached for your hand, you allowed him to take it. Tigris took a few quick steps away from you. He lifted your joined hands above your head, and you began to twirl. He hummed again.

“I do not need luck when I have a bride as beautiful as you,” he said. To Tigris, he said, “You have outdone yourself this time.”

“Thank you, Coriolanus,” Tigris said.

Snow’s lips curved up into a smirk. “Hmm, see how easy it is? Calling someone by their name?”

“Tigris is your cousin. She is family. It is not inappropriate for her to call you by your name.” You looked back at Tigris. Guilt settled in the pit of your stomach for placing her in the middle of this dispute, but Snow started it. You were smart enough to finish it. “You are an incredibly impatient man, Snow. We are weeks away from the wedding. Are you truly that restless for me to say your name that you cannot wait that long? My, it’s a wonder anyone thought you were disciplined enough to be King.”

Tigris tugged on your skirt, trying to urge you to be silent. You wondered if she had seen Snow when his anger was at its worst. Was that why they were no longer close? Because she had looked into the beast’s eyes and was terrified by what she saw? Perhaps you would be better off holding your tongue. Yet, a part of you liked this challenge. You enjoyed discovering new buttons you could push.

But Snow only laughed, and that alone was infuriating. He looked at his cousin and remarked, “She always keeps me on my toes.”

Tigris’s lips stretched into a thin smile. “Well, I suppose someone must keep you in line.”

“Of which, she is an expert.”

What a terrible expert you must be then. Had you ever kept Snow in line? You had certainly told him off before, made certain he knew how little you wanted this kind of life. But to keep him in line? The thought was laughable. The man was King. The only way he could lose his power was to something so particularly heinous the Electors would be forced to remove him, or if he died.

Snow reached for your dress, his thumb running over the embroidered designs. His smirk slowly became a smile as he traced one of the roses. “Do you think you could add more of these?” he asked Tigris.

“Of course. I’ll go draw up some more designs,” Tigris said.

“Can I take this off now?” you asked. At Snow’s nodding, you turned, Tigris gathering up your skirts so that it would not drag across the floor.

You and Tigris quickly reached the room where she had been helping you dress. It was not far from the drawing room. Irritation had been bubbling up inside you the entire short walk. It drove you insane how much control Snow had over you now. How was this fair? Why did you have to be a little puppet that Snow could pull the strings on?

“He drives me mad,” you said. Perhaps you shouldn’t admit that to his cousin, one of his only family members, but if there was anyone who could understand, you figured it would be Tigris.

“Coriolanus is a maddening sort of person,” Tigris admitted, shutting the door behind you once inside the room.

You could not stop yourself. If you could not understand Snow himself, you might gain some insight from his cousin. “Is that why you are no longer close?”

Tigris looked up at you, her pale eyes turning sad. “He changed. After he came back from his time with the Peacekeepers, I mean. Before, I was hopeful for the kind of man he could become. We…We had hard lives before all of this. Coriolanus would never let anyone know, of course. Too prideful. Too sure that he would get us out of ruin. He was successful in the end, but I think he lost a part of himself.”

Your brows pinched together. “Do you know what happened?”

Tigris shrugged. “No one does. He keeps that part of his life close to his chest. All I know is, when I saw him upon his return, he did not look like little Coryo anymore. He looked like his father.”

You had heard stories of Crassus Snow. He was once a friend of your fathers in their youth, but grown distant as Crassus became colder. It probably had something to do with the peasant uprisings. From your understanding, Crassus was as prideful as Snow. Perhaps more. When he was able to enlist, he quickly rose through the ranks until he was a general. He had the power of the army clenched in his fist. He might have won the war singlehandedly had he not been caught in a rebel trap.

“But…” Tigris paused. She shook her head. “Never mind.”

Well, that just couldn’t do. Tigris couldn’t just begin to put the pieces of Snow’s personality, his motivations, for you, and yank away one of the final pieces.

You reached for her hand. You gave it a gentle squeeze. “Please, tell me. I am going to marry him soon. Do I not deserve to know what I’m getting into?”

“Coriolanus is different now.”

“How do you mean?”

“He’s…kinder with you,” Tigris said as she skillfully undid the fastenings to your gown.

You stifled a snort. “That hardly means anything. A lion might let a gazelle run free, but that does not mean he is any less a beast.”

“You think I’m a beast?”

You fought the urge to jump. One might think you should have become accustomed to Snow’s sudden appearances. Yet, he always managed to catch you off guard. Instead of revealing your shock, you turned your head to where Snow stood in the now opened doorway. “Only a beast would interrupt an unmarried woman as she is undressing.”

Tigris grabbed your hands, pulling you behind the dressing screen. You maintained eye contact with Snow the entire way, careful to make sure he wouldn’t try to follow you. He already kissed you before the wedding. Who was to say he wouldn’t do something more heinous? Snow was very insistent that he could do with you as he pleased.

“Does it matter if you are unmarried when I am going to marry you regardless?”

You decided to not deign his question a response. How many times had you had this conversation with him? Telling him to be respectful of societal expectations, him deciding he knew best. Oh, was this what your life would him would be like? Would he ever give you peace? Maybe if you gave him a few children…Though, you supposed, Snow would want more than a few. He seemed the sort of man that desired a dynasty. A legacy that would be firmly cemented. That could only be done if you played your part to the letter. And if you didn’t…

“Why are you here? Besides to be a Peeping Tom.”

You heard Snow chuckle. “Clever little thing, aren’t you? I came to ask if you would accompany me to the opera tomorrow evening.”

“Quite a late invitation, don’t you think? Perhaps I have a date with a suitor.”

Tigris’s head jerked up as she helped you step out of the wedding gown. She shook her head. Well, too late now.

“You would not.” Oh, you could hear the poison leeching into his tone. This was fun. (At least, for now. You imagined he would make you regret this impropriety later.)

“You seem so convinced that I am going to leave you for Sejanus. Perhaps I have decided to actually give you a reason to be upset.” Tigris helped you into the gown you wore to the palace, trying to put it on you as quickly as possible. You really needed to wait to pick these fights until you were alone. You hated to make her collateral. “It is not very becoming, you know, to be so jealous.”

When you turned to step out from behind the privacy screen, you jumped. Snow was already standing there, his face an amusing shade of red. His usually pale blue eyes were much, much darker. You weren’t sure you could see any blue at all.

“Take it back.”

“You know what the truth is, Snow. Why should I have to keep repeating it? I am your fiancé. We are going to be married by the end of the month. I have promised you to be on my best behavior. That would include, I assume, not leaving you for another. And yet…The simplest of teasing turns you into a mad man. It was all in jest. A joke about a last minute invitation.”

“It was last minute because I was arranging for a private performance for ourselves and our loved ones.”

You blinked.

Oh.

Well, you hadn’t expected that.

“I beg your pardon?”

Snow did not look away from you, never breaking eye contact. He stepped closer. You could feel his breath. Somewhere behind you, you could hear Tigris shuffling around. “You still enjoy the opera, don’t you?”

“How did you know I—?” You shook your head. That was not important at the moment. “Yes. I do, very much so. I…Thank you. That is uncharacteristically kind of you.”

Snow snorted, looking away for a moment as if to collect himself. But when he turned his gaze on you again, his eyes were softer. Back to their usual pale blue. “You cannot even compliment me without an insult.”

“It is so easy to insult you. It is fun to see what will burrow the furthest under your skin.”

He hummed. “For now, let us move on to lighter conversations. Who would you like to invite? So that I may invitations sent out before it is too late for anyone to accept.”

“If the King sends an invitation, anyone would accept.”

“And so too shall the Queen,” Snow said. A fond smile crossed his face. He reached for your hand. His thumb stroked it, in a way that was if your hand brought him comfort. “Who should you like to be there?”

You thought for a moment, considering your options. “My parents, which goes without saying. I have a few cousins that would like to come. The Dovecotes, the Cardews.” You spoke the next name quickly, hoping to hide it in your rush. “The Plinths, naturally. I think we should invite the Ravinstills, as a gesture of good faith. To show the former family mingling with the current.” You hoped that that line would delay Snow’s realization of who you slid into the list of invites. “I don’t want the Creeds there.”

Alas, your efforts were not successful.

“The Creeds will not be there if you do not wish it. Everyone but the Plinth family, however, will be extended invitations.”

“The Plinths will be there. You said I could invite my loved ones.”

“Our loved ones, petal. I said our loved ones. And, let me make this clear, I bear no love for the Plinths at this time.”

“Because of Sejanus?” you asked.

Snow’s jaw ticked. “It does not matter why. I shall not send them any invitation.”

“Then I shall send one myself. I shall personally invite them, and I shall ensure that Sejanus is allowed to sit right next to us. If you are doing this as a proclamation of love, then you should not try to hurt me by excluding someone I care about.”

“And you try to hurt me by including someone who is trying to take you?”

“She is not a prize for you to win, Coriolanus,” Tigris snapped.

You had forgotten she was there. Why was she still there? Anyone else would have run for the hills the second a lover’s quarrel with the King broke out. Of course, she was his cousin. She grew up with him. Tigris probably knew more about Snow’s temper tantrum and their fallout than anyone. Perhaps you should take her presence as a blessing. Perhaps you should worry about what that might mean.

Snow squinted his eyes at Tigris. “Because I have won her. I am only ensuring that no one tries to steal her out from under me.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

His attention snapped back to you. “I will ask you kindly, just this once, to please exclude the Plinth family from your list of invitees. If it means so much to you, I will allow his parents to be invited. Just not him.” He paused. “Please.” It almost sounded like it pained him to utter the word.

“If you do not invite Sejanus, I will,” you repeated.

Snow’s eyes flashed. You were pushing too hard. Probably. But you could not find it in you to care. Snow was already getting everything he wanted. Was it necessary for him to rip every comfort you had away from you?

“Sejanus will not be invited to sit with us,” Snow hissed. “You cannot manipulate me as you did your mother.”

Did Snow really think that you would bend to his will so easily? Had he learned nothing from all of your spats in school? From how often you went toe-to-toe with him the last several weeks? You knew Snow was not an idiot. Far from it, in fact. He was easily the top student at the Academy, clearing over the children of Panem’s best and brightest with seeming ease. The only person who stood behind him was you. Snow should understand that this was not going to be something you back down from.

And to bring your mother into this? You were not sure what she told him. It would have been about your engagement ball, of course. That was the only time you attempted to change who your mother believed she could invite to the ball. But you were sure that whatever she told him only further cemented the idea in his deluded mind that you were helplessly in love with Sejanus Plinth.

“He will! Coriolanus Snow, I will not allow you to slight our friend like this. He might be interested in me. And I might have considered a marriage with him if you were not here and my parents allowed it. And I might have fallen in love with him if we did wed. But you are, and it is insulting that you think so little of me—”

“I do not think little of you,” he interrupted. You nearly rolled your eyes.

“—then, that you are so insecure that you cannot pull your head out of your ass long enough to realize that I will not do anything to harm this relationship, however much of a sham it is, for something that might work out even less than this. My Mama told me you want my loyalty. Well, this is as close as you will ever get to that. Do you understand? I know you value your reputation, and mine, and I know you care about how you, we, are perceived. I may not bend to your every will, but I will not do anything that would reflect poorly on the Crown.”

“I want more than your loyalty.”

“This is all you will get it, and you should be grateful. I could make this a lot more difficult. I could live everything moment to ruin your life. But I am not stupid. I know the security that comes with a title and money. I am grateful that I will want for nothing if I all do is act a dutiful wife. You should be equally grateful for the power and trust of the people that will be granted to you for appearing to be a family man, a good husband, and an eventual good father. This is not a marriage of love, and it never will be. I have accepted the convenience of it all. You should too.”

“I will not invite him.”

Well, there was only one option left to change his mind. If he would not listen to reason, it was time to be irrational.

You took a step closer to him. Snow squeezed your hand, almost in warning, as if he could anticipate what you were about to do.

“You will send the entire Plinth family an invitation, or I shall not come at all. Do you wish for your attempts at romanticism to be in vain?”

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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schpect · 1 month ago

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I would like to know more about the wilting oil rose au(also how did rose get put into that ship name?)

I don't have a specific ask, but I guess, how would Canon go down? Ep1, more specifically, liek, does J still die? Or does she shut her mouth cause she's more dependent on V in this one

I love it when my gays get to be happy, but they can suffer a little bit or a lot before that

Also, I love how you draw their expressions, J looks the perfect mix of uncomfy and nervous while V looks like she's trying her best

SRY IF THIS IS MESSY and long. I haven’t had time to make it comprehendible. so none of this is *solid* fact for the AU lol

Honestly i’ve only thought about Pre-Canon and Post-Canon so far, its been a bit of a struggle to fit it all into the canon timeline and have it make sense 😭

most of the relationship aspect happens in the Pre-Canon, so I believe it wouldn’t stray *that* far from Canon (?). Only slightly changed by focusing more on OilRose and J’s betrayal towards the end of MD

but yes J still does “die” in EP1 , V is incredibly upset at uzi for that and is more hostile to her in this au :-) (shes a lot more ruthless too)

J is still essentially the same company loving, selfish drone, still hung onto what she has left of tessa. even if that means siding with cyn

they break up in ep 8 💔🥀

..P.S. V has a whole development Post-Canon where N and Uzi teach her that she can be in a healthy relationship. They love her! Although it takes her quite a bit to accept it.

this au is also based on trauma bonding between victims, which is why V & J were as close as they were in the first place! (since N was the only drone who had his memories wiped)

credits to @rosenapppiing for helping me form thoughts and ideas for this 😭

#murder drones #serial designation j #serial designation v #oilrose angst #oilrose #wilting oilrose #yeah none of this solid canon its still a work in progress 😭#ask response #thank u so much by the way i really appreciate it!!#this also was a quick overview of the au as a whole #i hope this answers ur question feel free 2 ask more LOL

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from-izzy · 8 months ago

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[03:10] | the boyz kim sunwoo

Sunwoo hums to acknowledge your thoughts. "Let's try again, okay? Together this time."

PAIRING » tbz kim sunwoo x gn!reader (fast proofread once! lmk if i missed anything!) TROPE/AU » established relationship au!, non-idol au! GENRE » hurt/comfort at night (morning), fluffy fluff fluff, a sprinkle of angst, sunwoo being your understanding and patient boyfriend, sunwoo tucks your hair behind your ears (i find this so so so cute), big spoon sunwoo who protects you from the world, sunwoo tries to steal your (his) clothes because he's staying the night over and can't fit in yours WORD COUNT » 1836 ESTIMATED READING TIME » ~7 mins WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!) » reader has trouble sleeping, reader has a history of taking prescribed melatonin, mentions of unsupportive family, reader has medium to long hair, sunwoo is physically bigger and taller

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'

thank you for reading and helping with genres/warnings @sohnric !!

something that i wrote up back late december 2023 but only releasing today because it marks day 100 since i had my last melatonin pill. taking melatonin pills everyday since 2021 has had a toll on my body and i see the effects that it has on my body even more after stopping. with it, my body clock somewhat matches the time frame that society 'accepts'. without it, the birds chirp first and even though sleeping at 5-6am is exhausting, i tell myself to keep pushing on.

for another note, this story is not written to influence the audience into thinking that taking medication is bad! please take your medication properly and on time! do not be influenced and swayed by society for your health!

please always stay healthy and i'm rooting for you! hang in there! you can do this!!

You didn't need to look at the clock to know what time it was at night—or should you say at this point, day.

You were thankful that Sunwoo wasn't asleep yet or on a call with his friends when you sent him a message, asking if he was able to come over. You debated even texting him at first, seeing that it was past midnight but you remember the time he bent down to look at you at eye level, hugging your lips with his before pulling away and telling you to always send him a message if you ever needed him at any time and anywhere.

At that point, all your worries washed away as it was the exact words that you needed to hear from your loving boyfriend.

As soon as Sunwoo read and replied to your message, it took him less than ten minutes to appear on the other side of your window—but it took you a second quicker than him to open the said window before he could knock on its frame as all you did after you turned off your phone was put your arms around your legs, resting your chin on your raised knees and watch the mocking moon in the sky.

It was so high on a cloudless night that your stomach churned with anxiety and the truth that time waits for none kicks you in the gut devastatingly. The physical time tells society to sleep and wake up because that's the universal time to keep the world going. The long hand ticks in your head while the short one follows bit by bit—like a bomb that explodes when everyone greets you a ‘goodnight’. Your body has always run at a different time and even though the moon gives so much light and comfort to the night for some, it only serves as a grim reminder for you that your seven o'clock alarm will ring in less than four hours.

It's heartbreaking to realise your perception of the ray of light in the black night that you used to be excited for has changed as you grew older.

"Hey..." Sunwoo keeps you close to his body as soon as he jumps inside your room. One hand holds the back of your head gently, the other wrapping around your waist. He dips his head down to press a kiss to your forehead, a little smile against your skin on his soft lips, "You're okay. It'll be okay."

"I can't fall asleep, Woo..." Your hand harshly grips the leather material of his jacket at the sides of his body and the shape of your nails is most probably imprinted on his daily outwear by the number of times you've done this.

Sunwoo hums to acknowledge your thoughts. "Let's try again, okay? Together this time." His fingers that run through your hair leave you slightly breathless and you try to focus on his careful and slow action towards you, successfully easing your racing thoughts. "I'm here now, bubs."

The smile on his face grew when you nodded against his chest, still burying your face into his chest and to breath in his comforting scent that always seemed to calm your whole body. Delighted and relieved at your response, Sunwoo begins to sway his body from side to side, singing a gentle tune with his mellow singing voice that you love. He alternates between singing the romantic words straight to your ears and humming the words out as he presses multiple kisses on the parts of your face that he can reach.

"Were you sleeping when I messaged you?" You whisper guiltily to his chest.

"Don't worry about those little things." Sunwoo continued humming after. When he finishes singing the last note, your hands no longer hold onto his jacket for dear life, instead just leisurely around his waist. He pulls away just enough to finally face you in the limited light that your nightlamp gave. "Hi there, bubs."

The way Sunwoo says the pet name that you adore so much makes your heart break a little bit. You could tell at a glance that his eyelids were heavy, that he was probably trying to fight the yawn from his song and that his legs were probably trying their best not to fall asleep. Sunwoo quietly observes your trembling lips and he picks up the high possibility that you were most probably conflicted in your thoughts.

It still haunts you more than the moon outside; more than any horror movies or the amusement horror houses you’ve been in. Maybe it’s because, during all those situations, you had someone beside you. But it’s inevitable once again when your eyes won’t close that you think of the scene in the dining room. When that one artificial light hangs on the ceiling in the middle of the dining table, the square sides taken up by the other members of your family, you will never forget the disbelief and scoffs of disgust when you told them about the small white circle in the palm of your hand that your doctor prescribed.

"I'm so sorry. Maybe I should've just taken the medic—"

"Don't be like this to yourself." The moonlight behind your boyfriend highlights the tears that roll down your pale cheeks. Your heavy, shaky inhales are what prompts Sunwoo to bring yourself back to the present time. "I want to be here, okay? I want to take care of you." Your cold cheeks met the warmth of his palms, his thumbs brushing across the underside of your eyes to wipe your tears away while the rest tucked the lone strands of your hair behind your ears. "If you don't want to take the pills then you don't have to. Please don't be sorry for anything."

"But you're so tired..." It's a miracle that the sentence was comprehendable though it did break multiple times along the way.

He keeps his reassuring eye contact with you when he shakes his head, "You must be more tired than I am."

You whimper at his thoughts, biting your bottom lip to keep your cries from growing any louder. Sunwoo shakes his head once more, resting his forehead on yours and whispering sweet nothings to you delicately. His thumb lands on the outline of your bottom lip before lightly pulling it down to free it from the pain you were inflicting on yourself. When your cries did break out from your lips, restrains fully gone, your boyfriend's kind heart completely breaks.

Sunwoo takes your breath away by giving you his own when he tilts your head slightly to meet his plump lips. He drinks all your sorrows, cupping your jawline to bring you closer, the sides of your nose brushing against each other. Your lips stop trembling, focusing on the love and patience that he gives you. Your hands unclasp from his back, moving to curl and envelop his wrists, resting the pads of your thumbs on his to feel his calming heartbeat. The muscles that made your eyebrows furrow relaxed with the way that Sunwoo held you so carefully in the now-broken, silent night.

Sunwoo learns from the number of times that you have called him in this situation that showing you gestures like these are the fastest and most effective way to ease your mind and ground yourself. His heart does little loops and jumps every time before he kisses you but he is more focused on making you feel better than anything. As much as it makes him happy to know that he's the only one who could give you the loving gesture, nothing beats the feeling of knowing that you will always feel better and be in a better state of mind afterwards.

The boy pulls away eventually, scanning your face to look for any discomfort. When he found none, his thumbs continued to brush over your skin for a little while more, trailing a series of kisses from your forehead, the shape of your nose, your eyelids that protect his favourite pair of eyes to your precious lips that his own would never get enough of.

"May need to borrow some clothes, bubs." An eyebrow raises from him and a teasing grin makes its way to his face, "Even though ‘borrow’ is a weird word as it’s mine in the first place." A chuckle fills your room melodically. "Will you lend me my clothes?"

"And if I say no?" You did a little nose scrunch, pouting after.

Sunwoo is not the strongest soldier, especially not to your cute actions that sent his heart beating erratically against his chest when your sparkling eyes met his. "Bubs, I'm not going to fit in your clothes. Even if I could, I don't think you would like it when you get it back all stretched."

"I have oversized too, you know."

"You mean my clothes that are oversized on you."

Your eyes smile at the short conversation and Sunwoo's heart feels full and content, relieved to see the beautiful sight that he has always wished you would have in long nights like these.

After Sunwoo changes, you both cover your bodies with your weighted duvet. Just like before, he holds you close to his body, resting an arm for you to lay on before bending it up to soothingly run his fingers across your scalp. You smile contently, hiding your face to his chest, pressing a kiss on his jawline.

"I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

Just like every time as an act of 'goodbye' or 'goodnight', you relish the forehead kiss that goes on for slightly longer than all the other forehead kisses. After a date and a long day, you would always pout and beg for another one, not wanting to leave his side yet. But on nights like these, when his arms would spoon your figure and you would hug his other free arm, you wouldn't need to pucker your lips to him, knowing well that it's a 'goodnight' and not a 'goodbye'.

"I love you so much, bubs."

"I love you so much too." You push your body up a little bit, careful not to crush the arm beneath you and press a final kiss to his lips before trying to reset your body clock for another day. "Thank you for coming, Woo."

"Anytime and anywhere. Never forget that."

Sunwoo did fall asleep first but his presence with his little snores and the warm exhale from his lips comforted you greatly. Your head seems to agree with your heart because when your eyelids become heavy and sleep finally overtakes your body, you're glad that the last thing two things you see before drifting off to one of the best sleeps in your life, are the sight of your intertwined hands between your bodies and the thought that you're blessed to have Sunwoo who loves you so much and so dearly.

Wrapped in patient love, the seven o’clock alarm didn’t seem scary to you anymore.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 'especially to you...' tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here or removed!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @sanaxo-o

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minniepetals · 2 years ago

Text

yellow lights

— summary: who would have thought your coworkers would mean more to you than you initially thought a year later?

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: fluff, poly!au, office!au, established relationship

— word count: 7.0k

— warnings: none

— commission for @vickyyy97

“Someone looks happy today. Who’s got you smiling like that, darling?” You look over at Seokjin who greets you the second you walk into the office today, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Was it a man?” He asks and you feel heat slowly rising upon your cheeks.

He takes note of that.

“Well actually, u-um,” you scratch the back of your head, trying to play it cool but knowing nothing can ever get past the Kim Seokjin.

“No way! You’re serious?” Someone else comes up from the other side of the room and you turn to find Jimin and Taehyung walking over, the older of the 95 liner holding a hand over his gaped mouth as if this was the most shocking news he’s ever heard in his life.

“I never knew you had a man in your life already, Y/N,” Taehyung says with an arm coming over to pull you into a headlock as he ruffles your hair.

“Tae!” You whine, pouting slightly at his antics. “I don’t have a man but there was this cute barista I saw just a few blocks away.”

“Damn! She’s now taken!” He smacks his hands over his heart in a dramatic gesture you have to push him off you a bit so the coffee in your hand doesn’t spill over.

“I’m not,” you reiterate.

“But there’s a chance, yeah?” Seokjin says as he takes your coffee cup without permission to show off the number written there. “He gave you his number.”

“That’s…” You avert your eyes, biting your lower lip.

“Ooh, look at that,” Jimin takes the cup in his hand, examining it with a playful snicker, “he drew a little heart.”

“Stop it guys, you’re embarrassing.” You try to take your coffee back, only they don’t give you a chance.

“Hey if it doesn’t work out, you can always come back into my arms to cry, yeah? I’ll always be right here to cheer you up.” Despite how playful he sounds right now, you know there’s always a high chance Taehyung means it more than anything. It doesn’t take over the fact that his constant flirting doesn’t always get you worked up, however.

“I-I don’t think I’ll be needing it but uh, thanks for the offer.”

“Well, whatever happens,” you see Seokjin take the coffee back from Jimin who’s still laughing over the little note the barista gave you, in order to hand it back to you, “as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

You feel a light pat on your head, a gentle gesture he tends to do when he wishes to cheer you up.

Ah. How sweet.

You feel your heart skip a beat.

“...Thanks Jin.”

“I never took you as a coffee person.” Yoongi, on the more quiet side, as compared to the rest of the boys, gives you a small raise in his brow when he takes note of the coffee you have on your desk for the third day in a row. “I thought you preferred tea or...other things.”

You did once speak on drink preferences though you never thought Yoongi would ever take note of them seriously because they were always just small talks that led to no direction. Yet here he is, raising a brow at the coffee you have.

“Is it the barista?” He asks and you know by now the boys probably all know your encounter with the cute barista a few blocks down the street. When you feel your cheeks heating up, you hear Yoongi let out a small chuckle. “I get it, Y/N. Feelings always start off with the infatuation you have for someone, but you have to keep in mind not to force anything you dislike for someone else. What’re you going to do when you’re unhappy just to keep someone else happy? That isn’t exactly healthy, now is it?”

“You sound like my mom always giving me life lessons,” Hoseok comes in with rolled eyes over his hyung’s words. “Don’t listen to him, Y/N.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Even if you are, it’s not like they can’t talk things over once they get closer. Isn’t that right?” Hoseok turns to you, putting you on the spot and making you freeze up.

“W-well, yes. I suppose so.”

“Well.” Yoongi lets out a sigh. “If you aren’t going to drink the coffee, just order a black coffee and I’ll drink it for you the next time you return.”

And so it becomes a routine where you’re rushing in the morning, ordering the black coffee just to have a small conversation with the cute barista before it’s time for work and once you’re in, Yoongi takes the coffee for you, drinking it.

For a good time it goes on like this; the constant teasing from the boys, Namjoon scolding them, and Yoongi sitting back to enjoy the show with his free coffee every morning.

Though at times you feel Taehyung’s flirty comments are much more common than usual, Seokjin’s a little gentler, Jimin’s a little touchier, Jungkook’s a bit more pouty and cranky, Hoseok’s by your side more often, Yoongi more willing to engage in conversations rather than his usual responses of “mhm” and “yes” or “no,” and Namjoon being more observant.

Perhaps it’s the change in the seasons, perhaps it’s the new project the team’s working on, or perhaps they’re just looking out for you because you’re still a bit new to everything and they don’t want you getting hurt or taken advantage of.

They’re kind after all. Ever since the first day you joined the company since your move here, the boys have been nothing but kind and welcoming towards you, helping you out in areas you need to improve on, exchanging numbers, offering to hang out outside work hours, and just anything and everything for you in order to help you feel more comfortable.

It’s sweet having people looking out for you.

“Date?” One late night with just you and Jungkook left behind, you decide to relay the news to him as the two of you finally finish off for the night. “Well finally, seems like that bastard wasn’t ever going to pick up the guts to ask you out.” He sounds a bit irritated, as he usually would when the topic of the barista is brought up. “So then, where you going?”

“He said he’ll be taking me out to dinner.”

“Dinner, huh? So you’ll be dressing up all nice and pretty for him, huh?”

“Well-” You cut yourself off, looking off to the side with a hand hovered over your cheeks. “It’s..the normal thing to do, right? When..one goes on a date?”

“I guess,” he shrugs, sounding bored with his hands in his pockets.

“I haven’t done this in a while, I’m kind of nervous. Though to be honest, I don’t really enjoy one-on-one meal dates too much, especially with someone I don’t really know that well. I mean even though I find him cute and nice it’s just…hm, I don’t know. It’s just nerve-wracking I guess.”

“Really? Dinner dates aren’t your thing?” Jungkook looks over at you, a bit surprised.

“I just get too much social anxiety,” you chuckle nervously his way. “I mean, there’s always a chance my date might ditch me and I’ll end up sitting there being awkwardly stared at by other customers and the waiter will also be placed in an awkward position. Not to mention the food choices are way too many to choose from and you can never really guess what will be good and what will not. Plus I’m just an awkward person in general when it comes to one-on-one interaction over a formal occasion. What if he finds me boring?”

“He’d be a fool if he did,” he mutters under his breath.

“Huh?”

Jungkook clears his throat, speaking louder this time. “I said that’s stupid to be worrying over.”

“Oh.” You blink. “Is it?”

“I’m not saying it’s–” He pauses, takes a breath in and out before speaking again. “What I meant was, you shouldn’t worry about that because you’re not boring. Well, not to me.”

“Ha ha, that totally helped release all of my anxieties at once.”

“I’m just saying,” he purses his lips into a small pout, “I mean I get awkward with people all the time because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to keep a conversation going but I’ve never been uncomfortable with you. You’ve never made me feel bored and I’ve never had a thought of wanting to get out of a conversation with you so it’d be dumb if that bastard did. I’m the most awkward person on Earth. I’m sure you’ll do fine with him.”

You giggle at the way Jungkook seems to shy away after giving you a few compliments, his ears a little red, head turned off to the side but you catch sight of the slight blush on his cheeks under the night sky.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

“Come on,” he rushes forward, opening the passenger side of the door for you in order to snap out of his embarrassment. “Get in, I’ll take you home.”

“Uh, what? You want me to spy on Y/N?” Namjoon looks the maknaes dead in the eyes before turning his back to them, returning to the coffee maker in the break room. “No. I’m on a break, stop bothering me.”

“Oh come on hyung!” Taehyung whines as he tugs on the hem of Namjoon’s blazer.

“If you’re that desperate to see how her date goes, why don’t you go yourself?” He pauses. “Actually, that’s a bad idea.”

“Yeah exactly! Taehyung and I both know we’d do a horrible job and get noticed right away, which will put Y/N in an awkward situation, and Jungkook here has anger issues so if that barista does something wrong, he’s also bound to get noticed.”

“Listen, I know I have my problems but hearing it out loud still hurts, you know.”

“The truth hurts, maknae.” Jimin pats his head, causing him to frown even deeper. “And Yoongi hyung,” he turns back to Namjoon again, “he’s also bound to punch the dude if something goes wrong. Jin and Hoseok hyung are great candidates but they’re working that day. You’re the only one available, hyung.”

“I’m also working that day.”

“You get out early.”

“How is it that you know my schedule so well, Park Jimin?” Coffee done and set in a cup, Namjoon turns back to the three of them, letting out a heavy sigh. “Can’t you just let it go? Y/N can’t keep staying under our wings forever. She’s a grown woman capable of taking care of herself.”

“Yes, yes, but what if something goes wrong?” Jungkook says, the three of them still holding their stance.

“Seems like you want it to go wrong.” Namjoon takes a sip of his drink, staring them down.

“Whaaat? Now why would I want that? Y/N’s happiness matters most of all and if that happiness is with the barista, why would I wanna intervene?”

“You’re gritting your teeth.”

He avoids eye contact, not even wanting to deny Namjoon’s accusation as he places his hands in his pockets.

In the end, the maknaes’ persuasion skills are much more in effect as they manage to rope Namjoon into their shenanigans, so when the day comes, the man finds himself being there to be the witness to how your date with the barista goes.

And unfortunately on your end, it doesn’t go too well.

“You…have a girlfriend?” You look at the phone he has in his hand when he turns around, surprised you caught him in the act when he excused himself to pick up a call, only to leave you in that restaurant for some time so you decided to step out to check up on him and now here you are, staring at a man who holds onto a dumb expression because he got caught.

“Who’s that?” You hear a voice from the other line of his phone and Woosung turns around for a second again, putting the phone back to his ear as he whispers “I’ll call you back” before turning back shamelessly around with an awkward smile.

You bite your lower lip, feeling like a fool as your shoulders keep their tense state and you take a step back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Things were rocky,” he says, “we still are–”

“That doesn’t make it right to go around and sweeten up to other girls,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear the excuses. “If you wanted another relationship, you should have broken up with your girlfriend first but instead here you are, making a fool out of me, using me as a side piece. If things went back to normal with your girlfriend, you were just going to toss me off to the side, weren’t you? Or use me as a secret affair?”

“Y/N-”

“Don’t say my name, please.” You take a few more steps back, feeling lightheaded and done. “Don’t contact me again. Delete my number, please.”

You turn to walk off, only to have your wrist pulled back.

“Hear me out-”

“I don’t want to hear anything!” You try to pull your arm back to get away from him but his grip is too tight for you to actually do much. “Let me go. You have a girlfriend.”

“I’ll break up with her,” Woosung tries to concede but you can only scoff in his face.

“Are you serious? If you can go around her back and try to get with other girls, you can do that to me too.”

“Y/N-”

“Let go,” you beg, feeling your voice crack as the tears finally begin to form upon the forceful way he holds onto you, not wanting to release his grip no matter how much you try to escape. “Please, I don’t want anything to do with you anymore, I-”

Just as you feel a drop of tear about to fall from your eye, a foreign hand is placed right upon your eyes to block your vision, the sling of arm he has on you pulling you back against his chest and a voice rumbles from the depths of his throat.

“Do not ever waste your tears on spoiled milk, sweetheart, do not let him think he has power over you,” the voice says, a voice you recognize, a voice that begins to fight off the fear you had thinking you were alone and no one would help you out of this situation. Suddenly the hand isn’t so foreign anymore and you find yourself relaxing a bit into that chest of his.

“Mind letting go of that precious hand, buddy?” Namjoon says, his voice dropping an octave when he addresses your admirer. “We don’t want to make a scene here now do we? Unless you do, and in that case, I can definitely give you a show.”

When he doesn’t say a word in response, too frightened at how grave Namjoon sounds, your rescuer lets out a scoff before giving you a squeeze on the shoulder to let you know that you were to be leaving.

He turns you around, taking his hand off your eyes, but not from your shoulder, and guiding you away from the scene, knowing not to leave you alone until the two of you were finally away from the sight of Woosung.

“You alright?” Only then does Namjoon let you go and take a step back, watching to make sure you don’t look too uncomfortable.

Yet his hands being placed on you wasn’t the problem, it was the fact that you just found out the guy you thought was interested in you had a girlfriend all along, and in the shameful feeling you’re suddenly forced to face tonight, your head lowers to the ground, unable to look Namjoon in the eyes.

“Sorry you had to…see that.”

“Why are you apologizing? You have nothing to apologize for.” He hands you a tissue to which you take, wiping your tears despite it still coming down, and when it seems as if they won’t stop any time soon, Namjoon takes the initiative to take a step forward and pull you into his arms, embracing you in the way you need it.

You bury your face into his chest as he holds you, the night breeze flying past with nothing but the sound of a few cars passing by and your little sniffles, and in this very moment, all you can think is that Namjoon’s arms feel so warm, so comfortable, and so kind.

Just what you need.

Just what you needed.

“Sorry,” you croak out again, voice sounding a little more broken but Namjoon shakes his head as he holds you tighter.

“It’s alright.”

“I probably look like a fool,” you say and yet he shakes his head.

“None of this was your fault.”

“I should have known,” you pull back just slightly to wipe at your eyes, “all men, whether in Korea or elsewhere, has the audacity to be such assholes.”

“Hmm, you’re right. In one way or another, everyone’s the same.”

You look up at him, sight a little blurry. “Why’re you not defending men or saying ‘not all men’?”

“Because that’d piss you off,” you scoff, “and I know how we can be.”

“But you…” You bite onto your lower lip, staring down at his white dress shirt as tear stains and some bits of your makeup managed to fall upon them — a sight he doesn’t care to pay attention to. You now feel embarrassed for a different reason. “I probably look like a mess right now, I’m so sorry,” you cry, hating the sight of your mascara wet on your fingers.

“You’re cute,” Namjoon chuckles and you give him a little punch on the chest, wanting to hide your embarrassment and only causing him to laugh a little more.

“How’d you know to even find me? How’d you even get there in the first place? It was like you were already there.”

“Well…” When he hesitates, you look back up at him, blinking.

“Don’t tell me Jungkook set you up to this?”

“Not just him.”

The maknaes. “Of course it’s them.” You let out a sigh. “I’m kind of surprised with how protective they seem to be, they didn’t come here themselves and sent you instead.”

“They sent me because they knew if something went wrong, they wouldn’t be able to stop themselves before that barista has a couple of bruises on his face.”

You laugh a little at that sentiment. “Well aren’t they aware.”

“If I tell them you cried, I wonder what they’d do.”

“Don’t!” You quickly say, grabbing a fistful of his shirt to make sure he knows just how serious you are. “I already told them where Woosung works at so if they know what he did, who knows what they’d do.”

“Are you that worried?”

“They have absolutely no care for what other people think of them so of course I’m worried.” You quickly wipe the remaining tears left on your face. “I don’t want to be the reason someone gets hurt.”

“I suppose I can leave out a few details.”

“Thanks, Namjoon.” You look around the empty streets of the night, feeling a bit awkward now that things are starting to calm down. “And..thanks…for being there…..and here, right now.”

Namjoon lets out a light chuckle. “Mr. Bang told us to look out for our newbie, didn’t he?” He says, a light reminder of your company CEO’s words to them when you first joined. “Though even without him saying so, we’d still be taking care of you.”

You smile up his way, knowing that if he hadn’t been here tonight, a different outcome would have occurred and you aren’t sure how you would have been able to deal with things were it not for him.

“Sorry you won’t be getting your usual free coffee anymore.” When you take a seat beside Yoongi the next day, something tells you he probably knows the actual full story about what happened the night before unlike the three younger ones. Namjoon probably felt it safe to tell the older ones and that you wouldn’t blame him for it.

He’s right.

Before the man can reply, Jimin’s sliding his chair on over with a comment of his own. “Who cares? Hyung can get his own coffee and there’s always plenty of fishes in the sea.”

“He’s right, I’m a fish,” Taehyung says with a smirk sent your way. “I’m a great fish.”

You laugh a little at that. “It’s alright guys. He was cute but I forgot that pretty faces don't always mean pretty hearts.”

“I’m literally right in front of you but go off.” Taehyung sits himself on Jimin’s lap with a roll of his eyes, causing you to giggle.

“I knew he was a red flag,” Jungkook joins in with his arms leaning over your desk. “Everything about the dude screamed red flag.”

“You never even met him.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t tell,” he argues. “If you ask me, even Taehyung’s a better candidate.”

“See, what’d I tell you?” The older one is quick to agree as his eyes light up. “Why don’t you give me a chance, sweetheart? I’d never break your heart.”

“That’s a lie,” you laugh.

He pouts. “Why would you say that? You don’t trust me?”

“I’m just saying it’s inevitable to break someone’s heart whether you mean to or not. That’s just what happens when you’re in a relationship right? Not everything is smooth sailing.”

“Well, you can break my heart anytime.”

“Alright, alright, stop bothering me and get back to your stations already.” When Yoongi finally speaks up among the conversation you seemed to attract without meaning to, the three boys are quick to obey their hyung’s words, sitting up and scattering to their destination after a quick wave of goodbye your way.

You yourself were just about to return to your own station when Yoongi stops you mid-way.

“By the way,” he starts, allowing you to look back at him, “Stop apologizing, you’ll wear yourself out.”

It’s blunt the way he says it but you know that Yoongi always means well so it makes your insides warm hearing him giving you kind words in return to what you initially came to him for.

“So, what do you think about this?”

Hoseok takes a glance at your computer screen before looking back at you, whose eyes seem to look slightly dreary despite the excitement settled in them.

“I think you need to take a break,” he says and you’re quick to frown.

“Come on, Hoseok, just look it over for a second, yeah? I promise I’ll stop bothering after.”

“You said that last time.”

“I really promise this time!”

“No, you’re lying,” he says with a poke at your forehead, forcing your head to get pushed back away from him. “You’ve been working too hard these days you might actually collapse soon and what kind of sunbae would I be if I didn’t look out for my hoobae’s health?”

“But I’m fine-”

He knows all too well the sudden shift in focus you’ve had on work ever since the failed date with the barista down the street, a sort of focus that forces you to work much too hard and way too much than needed.

“Come on, it’s almost midnight.”

“And?”

You’ve even forgotten what tomorrow implies.

He takes ahold of your chair, rolling it away from your computer so he can make sure everything’s saved before shutting it off, causing you to groan in response, yet when he goes on to get your jacket, you’re reluctantly obedient.

“Have you forgotten what today is?” He asks and you look at your phone.

“The twenty-second of January. Why?”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“The twenty-third.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course you’ve forgotten.”

“Forgotten what?” Wide eyes, innocent and curious, totally oblivious as you allow him to help you put your arms through the sleeves of your jacket.

Hoseok looks out the window and you follow his eyes, wondering why the night sky has caught his attention, but when there’s nothing there and he says nothing in reply to your question, you go on to gather your things just as he checks his watch.

“Are you free right now?” He asks, not looking up from his watch.

“I have a few minutes to spare.”

“Just a few?”

You chuckle. “I’m free, Hoseok.”

“Great.” He takes a step from where you are gathering your things, sliding up from behind and leans right into your ear. “Happy birthday, Y/N.”

It’s so soft and quiet against your ear but you know you haven’t misheard a thing just as the phone on the desk lights up and you see that it’s 12:00 am, the twenty-third of January; your 26th birthday.

“Come on then,” he takes your bag before you can protest, walking off to have you chasing him right behind, “we’ve got plans.”

“Plans?” You blink, hurrying to keep up. “Wait, what do you mean ‘we’?”

Yet you receive no answer as he takes you in his car and drives off with a grin on his face, leaving you wondering with anticipation for what’s to happen.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you arrive at some sort of park you don’t think you’ve ever visited before.

“Why are we here?” You ask and yet all you receive is Hoseok’s hand asking you to just trust him and follow along. You take his hand and he leads you toward the inner part of the park until you’re standing right before a fountain. “How pretty,” you say, wondering why you never took the chance to ever come to such a place before. “Hoseok, you–”

When you turn around to address the man who brought you here in the first place, there’s no one in sight.

“Hoseok?” You call for him, confused as you begin to look around.

Just then, lights begin to appear.

Pretty little fairy lights decorated along the lampposts and hedges of the part. Bright white and golden all around, leaving you to only stare in awe at the sudden burst of lights gleaming all around while you stand in the center of it all, heart picking up its pace at just how pretty everything looks.

All for you.

No one’s ever done something as grand as this for you, not even your closest friend,s and yet here you are, cherished by people whom you’ve known for only a year or so.

“Do you like it?”

You turn at the familiar voice to see Hoseok with a grin, and just behind him stands the rest of the guys who share the same sentiment.

“Like it?” Words can’t even begin to describe. “I..”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Are you crying?!” Seokjin’s the first to rush up to you when he sees your hands raising up to your face, taking them in his and blowing his warm breath onto them to warm it up as Yoongi presses both his gloved hands upon your cheeks. “Don’t cry now, this was supposed to make you happy.”

“I am happy,” you say as a few tears slip. “I’m really happy.”

“Are you sure because crying usually means—”

“I promise,” you cut Yoongi off when you see the serious frown he has on his face, a sign of worry as he frets over your tears. “I promise I’m happy.”

“You have such an odd way of proving you’re happy,” he grumbles under his breath, causing you to let out a laugh.

“We have cake but I don’t think you’d be able to blow out the candles in this windy environment.”

January is still Winter after all.

“That’s alright,” you say to Jimin, “we can just pretend the fire’s on.”

And so he goes on to get the cake with Taehyung in toll, and in the middle of the pretty park they’ve taken the time to show you, a soft birthday song rings in the air, and when that’s over, you intertwine your fingers together for a wish before blowing out the imaginary fire on the candles.

January is a bit cold, a little worse when the moon has risen high in the sky, but tonight you feel anything but the coldness, not when these seven boys have taken the time to dedicate themselves to making sure you’re having a good time.

“You know if you keep staring at me, you might burn a hole in my face.”

“Hm? What are you talking about?” Hoseok starts, his chin still propped upon his hand, eyes shamelessly staring without a hint of movement anytime soon. You let out a little chuckle, flustered, and hit him lightly on the chest. “What? Do I make you flustered?”

“You’re almost as bad as Taehyung sometimes.”

“What’s wrong with a little flirting?”

“I’m going to take it the wrong way one day,” you tell him as you get up from your seat to head on over to the printer where a few papers await their turn. “I know you’re all joking though but sometimes, well, admittedly,” you hide your face behind your hair, staring straight at the printing machine to finish its job, “my heart does skip a beat...or two.”

“Really?” He says it so nonchalantly you think your reaction is the least bit of his concern. “Hm, then it’s working,” until he says those words.

“Huh?” You look up, flustered, with blinking eyes. “What do you mean it’s…working?”

Hoseok sends you a smirk just as Taehyung slides up along his side, arm draping over the older man’s shoulder with a mirrored smirk.

“Oh I think you know what that means, darling,” the younger one states, his brows wiggling playfully.

You take the collection of papers that have been printed out for you and huddle them close to your chest, not fully comprehending them only because you wouldn’t want to create a misunderstanding and interpret things wrong when it’s actually meant to have a different meaning.

“I..I-I..”

Before you can finish your stuttering, however, a roll of paper comes along to smack both Hoseok and Taehyung on the head.

“Stop flirting during work hours, you know better than that,” Namjoon warns with a firm expression.

“But you know our girl will never get it if we don’t get to the point,” Hoseok argues.

“The point?” You blink.

“Then get to the point.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, looking exasperated by the antics of the group as he joins the crowd with Jungkook, just as Jimin and Seokjin walk through the doors.

It’s clear the seven of them all know exactly what’s going on while you remain standing there in confusion, left to try to interpret things under your own limited understanding unless they decide they want to come out and just say whatever it is they’re holding out on.

“See, look at her. She’s confused.” Yoongi points out, his head beckoning your way to make them look at you.

You freeze under their stares, not…uncomfortable but more so…shy.

“She’s not confused, she knows exactly what’s happening,” Seokjin speaks up, a slight grin resting on his lips as he walks a few steps forward to take your papers for you. They were meant for him in the first place. “She’s just afraid it might turn out to be false,” he says, purposely staring you down with that glint of playfulness in his eyes.

“Now we don’t want any miscommunications around here, do we?” Jimin sneaks up behind you, hands pressed upon your shoulders. “So why don’t you tell our little one exactly what you mean, hyung?” He’s baiting Hoseok, that slyness in his tone not being able to escape your ears especially when he’s so close to you.

As for the older one, he simply remains calm, instead glancing at the maknae. “Didn’t you want to do the honors? You’ve been waiting for the perfect moment, right?”

Jungkook’s cheeks turn red, his face turning to the side in an instant once the attention is brought down to him instead, and while Jimin snickers, Taehyung holds his laugh, Seokjin hides a grin behind his hand, and Namjoon’s expression turns fond, you find the gentleman who became the first friend you made ever since moving to Korea and working alongside him as a new employee to be quite cute.

He’s always been cute from the very beginning.

You’re the closest in age after all, so with him feeling more comfortable to approach you and make you feel comfortable, you found his company to be a delight you enjoyed looking forward to each day you came to work.

And now here he is, almost a year later, flustered like a teenage boy trying to hand his crush a love letter.

And the boys are eating it up.

“Jungkook?” So you call out to him, knowing he may need a little bit of encouragement to tell you the thing he needs to say, all the while preparing your heart just in case the answer you’re seeking turns out to be wrong and you were just misinterpreting things. “It’s alright, take your time.”

“That’s right, maknae, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

You lightly hit Taehyung on the chest. “You’re not helping the boy.”

He laughs in response. “You already know what he’s trying to say so why not save him the embarrassment?”

“Do I?”

“Oh, would you look at that?” Namjoon raises a brow, impressed. “Someone’s feeling cocky.”

“Huh, no I didn’t mean that!” You’re quick to say, hands rushing to wave it off as you become flustered again. “J-Jungkook I didn’t-” You turn to him, stumbling out your words. “Well, I mean, I think I..I-I don’t exactly..-But if it’s what I think it is..-But if it isn’t, uh-”

“Oh god, they’re hopeless,” Jimin laughs aloud before simply squeezing your shoulders as he leans in. “Why don’t we stop the act and just become ours, hm? I think you know we all feel the same way at this point.”

“Hyung what the hell?!” Jungkook suddenly shouts with his mouth held agape, offended his moment was stolen from him.

“You were taking too long!”

“That doesn’t mean you can take the spotlight!”

In the midst of their little dispute, all you can hear is Jimin’s short yet meaningful confession in your ears, one that seems to make your heart race more than any man has ever made it beat before and you stand there right in the center, eyes unblinking, feeling as if the world is slowing down as you hear each beat your heart drums aloud for you.

“So what do you say?!” Taehyung jumps in, leaving Hoseok’s side to drape his arm around you instead.

“You’re both so annoying!” Jungkook yells, his brows furrowed deeply as his lips jut into a pout.

With cheeks heated and heart set aflame, you take the pouty man’s hand and look him straight in the eyes, taking a moment to calm him down so that the whole room can fall silent, before you turn to look at them all, hands trembling a bit when you say;

“Mmn, I’ll…I can…..yeah.”

Their faces brighten in an instant, and in that moment you realize despite how brave and nonchalant they all may seem to appear on the outside, perhaps deep within their hearts, they were just as nervous and frightened of what your answer may be.

And for that you say the words that Jungkook had been meaning to say but was robbed of the opportunity.

“I like you. I like you so…so much.”

Two years later

“Mr. Bang approved the proposal and he told me he’d be able to connect me with some people and-” you let out a scream of delight as you jump around before Seokjin, taking his hands along with you for him to see just how excited you are right now. “I’m ranking up Jin! I’m ranking up! And soon the company’s going to skyrocket and my efforts will be rewarded! It is rewarded! It’s being rewarded!”

Despite the onlookers of passersby taking quick glances at the two of you as you jump for joy, Seokjin simply smiles fondly at the pretty girl before him, looking her happiest and knowing he’d never want to rain on her parade and cast that look aside.

“Look at that, my little rockstar all grown up,” he says with a smile so gentle and fond of you you think you might fall in love with him all over again.

“Are you proud?” You ask and he chuckles as if the answer was that obvious and did not warrant a question.

“So proud,” he reaffirms your thoughts with hands cupping your cheeks and bringing his nose to playfully graze it with yours before he proudly lands a short yet sweet kiss on your lips.

“Jin, don’t do that in public,” you back away just a little, now noticing the people who’re just trying to walk the street.

Yet Seokjin laughs at you. “I thought you enjoyed public displays of affection.”

“I never said that,” you say as you take his hand and begin to walk off towards the apartment building the eight of you reside in, “that’s Taehyung and Hoseok. And Yoongi doesn’t care about anything so whether it’s embarrassing or not, he’ll do it if he’s in the mood — which can get a little frustrating.”

“Does it?”

“It does. Though now that I think about it, I think all of you except Namjoon and I care about modesty when it comes to displaying affections publicly.”

Seokjin raises a brow. “Jungkook too?”

“He enjoys seeing my reactions!” You say with a huff. “But then when I get him flustered, he goes on a whole rant as if he doesn’t do it frequently to me. Couldn’t you talk to him for me? He’d listen to you.”

“You think he’d listen to me?”

“You’re right, never mind, he never listens to you.”

“I listen well,” just as the elevator doors pop open, someone approaches the two of you from behind, their head propping in between your two bodies, “there’s just a time and place for everything.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes at Jungkook’s response as the three of you walk into the elevator. “It’d be good if you can listen to your elders, Jungkook.”

“Come on now, don’t start giving me life lessons again. It’s just that sometimes tuning some people out is the best thing to do.”

“Excuse me?” You hide your laugh behind a hand at Seokjin’s offended expression but he catches you quickly. “And what’re you doing teaming up with him? You were against him just a few seconds ago,” he says, snaking his arm around your waist to pull you in as you let out a yelp at his tickles.

“You can’t win against our maknae bond, hyung,” Jungkook snickers as he takes your other side, wrapping his arm around you as well.

“Stop, you’re going to suffocate me.”

Just then, the ding to the elevator is heard and you take their moment of distraction to escape their clutches, quick to rush out the doors and run for your apartment door.

When the door opens after unlocking the code, you run right in towards the first person you see, shoes and all.

“Yoongi catch!”

He looks like he’s just gotten up from a nap and yet when he sees you running towards him at full speed, he doesn’t think twice before his arms are instinctively holding you up when you jump onto him successfully.

“What’re you doing back early?” He yawns when another voice chimes in.

“Yeah, you’re not supposed to be back until an hour later,” Namjoon says.

You narrow your eyes. “Not happy at my early arrival?”

“I was trying to surprise you with a cake,” Taehyung yells from the kitchen, to which you turn to see both him and Jimin busy with frostings and cake batter.

“Tae? Baking?” You get down from Yoongi’s stronghold to walk towards them as Hoseok comes around to take your coat.

Taehyung pouts. “Are you doubting my skills? Why don’t you doubt Jimin?”

“Because we all know I’m a great baker.”

“Y/N, shoes.” Seokjin warns from where he stands, pointed eyes your way, stopping you just before you step into the kitchen.

Hoseok helps you out of them so you thank him with a kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods as he walks over to the shoe rack.

“What’s the cake for?” You step into kitchen territory once approved, peeking over Jimin’s side as he focuses on decorating the cake and seeing the words ‘congratulations’ on it. “Wha..but I didn’t even tell you what the results were.”

“Do we even have to hear it?” Jimin chuckles, stopping midway to give you a kiss on the head.

“You were that confident I’d do well?” Your lower lip juts out, feeling touched by their actions.

“Oh baby, we knew,” Taehyung says, kissing you on the cheek.

“Why is it that you guys spoil me so much? You’re going to overwhelm me.”

“Because you’re our girl, why else?”

Such a calm answer, so straightforward and simple as if that was obvious from the very beginning. They’ve always been like this; considerate and sweet, and when Taehyung pokes your nose and leaves frosting there and you chase him after to exact revenge, when Namjoon scolds the two of you in a calm voice and Jimin shouts at the both of you to not make a mess, Jungkook laughing in the corner, wanting to join in but Seokjin pulling him back, all the while Hoseok and Yoongi simply stands back observing it all, the happiness that bloomed from the very moment you met the seven of them and how they’ve managed to continue allowing you to live in these sweet moments, you know that you will never care for anything else as long as they remain by your side until the very end.

Nothing else in this world matters more than their love and support.

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caustinen · 3 months ago

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what about a modern clegan au where they’ve been married for years and to spice things up they do a roleplay where the other comes to pick the other up from a bar 🤭 bucky would be insanely into pretending gale is some unhappy & closeted married man on a worktrip that he starts to flirt with and eventually brings home to show him the best time he’s had in years 🤭 but gale… oh man he was so shy and inexperienced when they first got together his flirting was very lowkey but OH BOY does he take advantage of this opportunity to woo bucky now when he knows he’s a sure thing, i’m talking showing up wearing slutty clothes and pretending nonchalance while also being touchy-feely and getting bucky tipsy as he whispers low on his ear how stupid bucky’s husband must be to let him just walk anywhere looking that handsome, oh you must work out so much you could probably crush me with these strong arms, wanna play a game and guess the color of my underwear? while bucky’s fantasy is about him being the right one for gale even if he mistakenly ended up with someone else in the playpretend, gale finds it hot to think that bucky would want him so much that all his other moral compases would be second to his desire 🤭 like actual cheating in their loving healthy relationship is so far-fetched that none of real insecurities are even a factor in this fantasy and they can just enjoy being silly together 🥰

#buck x bucky #clegan #mota #buck #bucky #writing

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bluemari23 · 10 months ago

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lemon tart | choi seungcheol

summary: a new cafe for a much needed date brings out tons of giggles and plenty of kisses

pairing: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: soulmate, soulmate au, fluff, established relationship

warnings: none really, mentions of an awful supervisor,

word count: .8k

masterlist

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“Right this way please.” The hostess began walking to the right, leading you and your soulmate to the table reserved for you both.

It was a long day coming, having had trouble trying to find the time between both of your jobs to have a much needed date. You worked at his company, but that still didn’t mean you always got to be with him.

Seungcheol had been having a lot of practices and rehearsals recently at the stadium, making sure everything was perfect for the first concert of their world tour coming up. It would be the first tour since covid, and him and his entire group were beyond excited and ready to perform and see their fans again.

When you get to the table, Seungcheol moves to your seat, pulling it out for you to sit in.

“Why thank you, kind sir.” You grin up at him as he pushes your chair in, slightly tugging on your hair teasingly as he does so.

“You are most welcome, my dear.” He goes along with your playful attitude, his own grin prominent against his cheeks as he does a posh sort of accent. He sat down and you both ordered your drinks, ignoring the weird look from the hostess at your playful attitudes.

“Shua says they have really good lemonade here.” Cheol says offhandedly as you both read over the menu. Joshua had been to the small cafe before with his soulmate and recommended it to you because of your love of lemon. The cafe seemed to be known for their lemon treats and lemonade.

“We’ll have to try some then!” You exclaim, looking over all of the different lemon flavored treats.

In the end, you ordered a plate of little lemon cakes and tarts to share and he ordered a sandwich plate to share.

While you waited for your food, you both sipped a little on your drinks. The lemonade was sweet and a little tart, the perfect drink for the little date you had together.

“I think you should come on tour with us.” Cheol breaks the fun atmosphere with a serious suggestion. It had been on both of your minds lately that you should go on the world tour with them.

Neither of you wanted to be away from each other for long, but all the company policy on soulmates states is that you need at least a couple days every couple weeks to bond and keep the soulbond healthy. It didn’t specify anything about being allowed on tour with them.

“I don’t think I’ll be allowed to, Cheol.” You repeat the same thing every time this conversation comes up. You had pretty much given up on going with the boys. Your supervisor seemed to laugh every time you brought up the suggestion and refused to bring it up to any of his bosses.

“Well, what if I said I talked to your division head personally? I know that jerk of a supervisor won’t do anything.” He was right, your supervisor thought it was hilarious that you had a soulmate, finding you incapable of anything and thought your soulbond was a huge joke.

“I would ask you what he said?” Your voices pitches at the end of your sentence, confusion lingering in your tone as you raise an eyebrow at your soulmate.

You wait somewhat impatiently as your soulmate takes a sip of his lemonade, slowly breaking out into laughter as he catches the look of disbelief on your face at his teasing.

“Then, my lovely soulmate, I would tell you that we need to start packing suitcases for you.” Your eyes widen in shock, wondering how long your soulmate had kept this little surprise from you.

Ignoring everything around you, you surge forward and capture Cheol’s lips with your own, catching your older soulmate off guard. He was swift in his reflexes though, catching you and holding cupping your cheek with one hand as the other goes to steady you against him.

In your excitement you almost knock the lemonade out of his hand before he quickly placed it back on the table.

“Wow baby. If this is how you react to going on tour, I wonder how many kisses I get when I tell you we get to go to your home city.” Cheol’s guess would have been wrong either way, because you both lost count to how many excited kisses you placed on his lips, his chin, his cheeks, and his nose.

You hadn’t been to your home city in a couple of years, and it would be the first time for Seungcheol to go as your soulmate. You were beyond excited with your soulmate.

After pulling back and sitting back in your chair, your face was flushed and your lips were swollen. Not even the tartness of the lemon in your cake could make you lose the smile on your lips.

#choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #svt scoups #svt #scoups #scoups soulmate #soulmates #soulmate au #seventeen imagines #seventeen #svt scoups x reader #seventeen x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #seventeen soulmate au #fluff #bluemari23

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lokisprettygirl · 7 months ago

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My Love is mine, All mine (18+) (CEO! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon -Modern AU)

Read Chapter 3 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 4

Summary : After you realise that you're the problem in this relationship, you come to a difficult decision.

Warning: 18+, smut, insecurities, miscarriage , mention of abuse, smoking, extreme insecurities and trust issues, mention of infertility, reader has anxiety, mention of infidelity.

He could hear the sound of faint crying coming from the closed bathroom door, causing him to wake up abruptly. He tapped on the side of the bed but you weren't there so he sat up and turned the lights on. As soon as he looked at your side of the bed his heart sank into his guts, there was a patch of blood where you slept and he knew what had transpired. He immediately got out of bed and rushed towards the bathroom door, only to find it locked from the inside.

“Y/n? My Love..open up ..I'm right here” Daemon begged as he knocked repeatedly on the bathroom door, eyes welled up as he spoke but all he heard in response was the sound of your cries.

He had to break the door to step in there and he knew the scene would haunt him until the end of his days.

You sat there soaked in your blood on the bathroom floor, your wailing shrieking through the walls. You were three months pregnant and the doctors had warned you and Daemon of the potential risks but you wanted to try, for both of you, but most of all for him. You knew how much he wanted to have children.

“Ohh my love” he immediately bent down and wrapped his arms around you to hug you as tightly as he could, nothing he could have said in that moment would have comforted you so he just stayed quiet and allowed you to let it all out.

“I'm sorry I'm so sorry I'm sorry dae.. it's all ..my fault” you mumbled between your broken cries so he shushed you gently, he won't allow you to blame yourself for this, never, none of this was your fault.

Daemon would always place you at the top of his priorities, nothing else would ever matter more to him than you.

He looked at you sharply as if you had asked him a question that was too ridiculous to comprehend for him.

“What?” He asked you so you sighed,a hint of frustration evident in his voice. You immediately regretted opening your mouth, knowing that nothing good would come of this.

“Sheena..do you think she's attractive? Are you attracted to her?” You tried to soften your tone as you repeated your question, but even you could hear how unreasonable it sounded after the question you had posed.

He looked down at the towel he was holding in his hand before he tossed it in the corner of the room.

“Is this what it is about hmm? That's why you're acting this way?”

He asked you as he stepped closer to you so you crossed your arms, eyes teared up as you found yourself on a spot. Your insecurities were getting the best of you, you felt unsure of how to express your emotions in a healthy way.

“You didn't answer my question” his jaw clenched as you said that.

“Answer what? Hmm? What do you want to know here huh? You want to know if I'm fucking my secretary behind your back?” Your eyes welled up as he said that, you could see his frustration spilling over as he spoke, his voice rising with each word. It was clear he was hurt, he never got upset with you, anger wasn't inherent in him, he only ever got agitated when he was tired and hurt, and right now in this moment he felt it all at once.

“Just answer the question” your lips trembled as you responded and his eyes teared up as well so he sighed and sat down on the bed, that white t shirt he had worn made you want to cuddle him and protect him from your insecurities, but you couldn't bring yourself to touch him in that moment. You had said too much to step back now.

“What do you want me to say y/n?” The longer he dodged the question, the worse you felt, all he had to say was that no you were being ridiculous, that she was hideous and he didn't find her attractive at all.

“Truth..tell me the truth”

You spoke as you sat down at the edge of the bed a feet away from him, you knew that this was a question that could cause more harm than good, and you didn't know if you were ready to hear the answer.

“You're my wife..i married you because I knew i could do this with you all my life” he answered

“That's not my question Daemon -”

“She's attractive yeah” he mumbled quickly and your eyes welled up as you looked down to keep your tears at bay, this was like your worst nightmare coming true and your heart would have ceased to beat if he hadn't finished his sentence “That is not to say that I'm attracted to her like that..it's just that I'm not blind y/n” he looked at you lovingly as he said that even though he was still agitated.

“I wish that it would have made me feel better but it doesn't” you said to him so he leaned down to grab your hand as he propped his weight on his elbows.

“You have nothing to worry about here..i promised to never hurt you like that and i won't..we have had this conversation before” his voice was soft as he rubbed his fingers over your skin, the warmth of his skin offered you a small sense of comfort.

“Fine..if you say so..I just know she's into you” you said to him so he sighed deeply.

“She's not baby..she's a capable employee and that's the only reason why she was hired”

“I see the way she looks at you Daemon and I'm never wrong about these things” he placed his head down on the back of your hand for a moment before he looked up at you again

“What do you want me to do then? Want me to fire her because you have a suspicion?”

“Don't do anything like that..I'm not trying to cut someone off their livelihood” you pulled your hand away from him as you got under the covers and pretended to sleep. He couldn't sleep that night, he knew you had trust issues because of your previous relationship but he didn't know the extent of it.

Sheena wasn't the first one, Daemon had to let go of an employee before as well because you had a suspicion that she had developed feelings for him but you weren't wrong at the time.

With Sheena however he didn't think she felt this way about him, she was very professional with him at work and sure there was a sense of admiration from both sides, he appreciated her capabilities in the field and he admired her zeal but that didn't mean that he wanted to fuck her or held any sort of sexual intentions towards her.

The moment he had proposed you he had made a vow that he'd never put you through betrayal, he knew the unimaginable trauma it caused and he would never become the reason for it, you were the love of his life and you'd be his only forever but in moments like he didn't know how to convince you that he wasn't out to hurt you.. that he just wanted to love you and take care of you all his life.

He got extremely blessed when you had stumbled upon his life by chance, before he met you he was not keen on relationships or having a partner but you came into his life and showed him that he didn't have to do this all alone , you stood by him when he didn't even have hundred pounds in his bank account, you became the beacon of hope for him, an ember in the darkness, when he was the lowest you kept encouraging him to move forward then how could you even think that he'd ever hurt you so cruelly and lose all of this, how could you think that he'd be okay after losing you?

Before you his invention and his business was the only thing that held any importance to him but now none of this would matter one penny if he didn't have you here with him, none of it would make any sense if he didn't have a home where his wife wasn't waiting to hold him in her arms at the end of the day.

Next morning when you both woke up there was a wall of tension between you two, like everyday you put out his clothes for him, you kept everything prepared for him, you made sure he had his breakfast but none of you spoke to each other in words.

The silence was deafening.

Daemon had planned to leave the house and give you some time to cool down, but he couldn't just walk out the door knowing that you were feeling so unsettled. He took a deep breath and turned back around, heading towards the bedroom and that's when he found you on the bed with your head down and knees pulled into your chest.

The sight froze him so for a moment he just stood there and watched you cry, the sound of you sniffling revered him back to reality so he loosened his tie and put down his laptop bag to walk towards the bed.

As soon as you heard the sound of his footsteps you looked up and wiped your tears.

He proceeded to sit down at the bed facing you, one leg still touching the floor while the other rested on the soft mattress as he turned towards you.

As his phone rang he picked it up immediately but his eyes were on your features, you looked into those hazel irises but found yourself unable to hold the gaze for long. The moment between you two felt so uncertain after such a long time, none of you knew what the other was going to reveal.

“Push it back..I'll be late today, something important has come up” that's all he said as he hung up the phone and turned it off altogether to give you his undivided attention.

“Are you going to talk to me now?” His voice was soft but full of determination as he tilted his head to pierce your eyes.

“I'm just not feeling good” you mumbled meekly so he nodded.

“Mmmhm ..what can I do to make it better?”

You looked down as he said that, you felt like a burden in that moment, he shouldn't have to bear the burden of your broken spirit and your insecurities, he wasn't the cause of it so why were you making him feel responsible for it?

“Nothing..I'm fine Daemon..you should go to work” you shrugged your shoulders as you spoke, though him leaving was the last thing you wanted,

“I don't want to”

“What do you want then?”

“I want us to talk so when I step out of here i'd be assured that my wife is not crying herself to a headache all alone” he replied gently, his eyes showing concern as he looked into yours.

“It's not your fault that I feel so …inadequate all the time, it's not your fault that you being in the presence of other women - beautiful women.. is enough to send me into a fury” his eyes teared up as heard your soft low murmurs, he didn't really show it but he felt his heart breaking at the sight of you feeling this way for days and not sharing it with him. A lump formed in his throat that rendered him unable to speak.

“Keep talking” his tone was gentle but firm at the same time, he wasn't going to let go of this matter until he had you happy and giggling in his arms again.

“Nobody has ever loved me the way you have..I didn't even know I could be loved so deeply before I met you but now I do.. and the thought of losing you and all this love you have brought into my life terrifies me every second. I fear that one day you'll wake up and regret this life with me, regret the time you have wasted on me, I fear that someday a better woman would just sweep you away and I'd be left all alone with a broken heart and no will to move forward”

As you finished your sentence you broke into another fit of cry, that's when tears rolled down his eyes as well, all this time you felt this way and he had no clue, he stays so occupied with the work that he has no time to consider that he's never here for you when you need him the most.

He grabbed your feet and dragged you closer to him until he had you in his arms, his embrace was tight and comforting, fingers scratched your scalp while his lips placed feathered kisses on your neck.

“The only way you'd ever lose me is if I leave this world before you, until then you have all my love and all my loyalty.. I'm all yours my darling”

Your fingers clenched around his neck as he said that, you couldn't lose him in anyways.

“I don't feel enough for you, I can't even give you a child” you cried in his arms so he pulled away a little and cupped your cheeks between his palms.

“I don't want one if it's not with you..we talked about this sweetheart, we agreed to adopt someday hmm? You remember that?”

He mumbled softly as his fingers caressed your cheek to wipe your dripping tears “Don't feel enough for me? Darling I'm nothing without you..all this work that I'm doing, the money that I'm making, it's for both of us, you're the only reason I wake up everyday and feel grateful about this life” he pecked your lips softly while you just stared into his eyes mindlessly, you were listening to him and as assured as his words made you feel a part of you feared he was saying these things just to comfort you because you had made such a big deal out of this thing that was nothing to begin with.

“What if you fall out of love with me Daemon, what if you find someone who makes you happier than I do and is able to give you everything you deserve” you asked him and he felt defeated, he felt as if you weren't even listening to him.

“What if you do? What if you find a man that would love you enough that you wouldn't feel as awful as you're feeling right now..do you have an answer?”

When he reversed the situation you realized how toxic and cruel you were being to him at the moment. Nobody would ever love you the way he did and perhaps that's how he felt about you as well but you didn't know how to reach that point in life where you'd start to believe that you were enough for him.

“You love me enough Daemon”

“And you're enough..more than enough, all these negative thoughts that you have about yourself, all such notions that you're lesser than every other woman out there, they're not true or real in any which ways, if you could see yourself the way I do you'd be able to see your true value”

His voice was soft and gentle, as it always had been with you, words dipped in honey melted in your ears, he was there, he was so close and he wanted to be yours all your life. So why couldn't you just let go of your worries and live in the moment? Why did you have to ruin your present thinking about the future?

“Don't you dare disrespect my precious wife this way, I'm letting it slide this time, I won't be so generous in the future” his lips latched onto yours as he finished his words, he laid you down on the bed underneath him as the kiss got heated with every passing second.

“You should go to work” you mumbled between the kiss so he looked you in the eye and shook his head.

“No..ask me to stay, tell me that you want me to stay here” he murmured against your mouth and the husky tone of his voice made you feel tingly all over..

“What about –”

“Ask me to stay y/n and be nice” he spoke again and whatever resistance you had was gone now as well.

“Will you please stay with me today?”

“That's my girl..see you could be polite and ask me when you need me here”

“I need you all the time dae..I can't expect you to drop everything and serve me everytime I'm having a fit”

“Why not? You're my wife..that's the least I can do for you”

He grabbed the hem of your dress and lifted it over your thighs, his fingers slid between your legs as he rubbed your clothed cunt, the ragged moan escaped your throat as you felt the sweet familiar sensation building.

“We need to communicate more often, you need to talk to me about these thoughts you get, why do you feel as if you can't share these things with me?”

He asked you so you sighed but that sigh turned into a gasp as he lowered down your underwear and slid his cock inside you, you felt every inch of his girth moving in slowly.

“You don't talk to me either, you hire a new secretary and don't tell me, you start smoking again and don't share with me” his lips pursed as you said that before he leaned down to kiss you.

“I'm sorry about that ok?”

“Okay I'm sorry as well..i didn't mean to accuse you of anything.. I'm just scared”

You truly wished everything was fixed after the conversation and that sweet sweet love making, you wished all your insecurities were magically gone after the efforts he had made to look after you but that wasn't true at all. You still feared Sheena, you still worried that she was out to steal your man, at times you felt a bit too full of yourself and your husband but then how could you deny your eyes, how could you not feel worried when you watched Sheena batting her eyelashes at him everytime he looked her way.

Daemon celebrated his birthday with the people of the office every year, they would get together and throw a party for him to show him their appreciation for being such a good Boss and this year Sheena had gone out of her way to make him feel special, she bought him a gadget that he'd most definitely appreciate, she invited people he hadn't seen in a long time, she did everything you should have done for him.

Throughout the party Daemon kept his eyes on you to make sure you were feeling okay so you gave him a fake smile but you couldn't do this anymore, you felt suffocated and you knew you'd combust if you had stayed there for a moment longer

“I'll see you at home then?” Daemon asked you softly as you stated your need to go home early, he'd have gone with you but that would have seemed disrespectful to the folks.

Your eyes moistened as you knew that by the time he'd come home you wouldn't be there, you didn't want to hurt him like this but you had to, you had to get away from him to protect both of you and this relationship that you knew would end if you wouldn't stop hurting him with your baseless accusations.

Before you left you held onto him as lovingly as you could and kissed him for all the days you won't be able to do so in future.

Daemon sighed as he watched you walk away, he didn't want you to leave but you insisted so he didn't want to put you under more stress.

After you left he had to finish some work so he excused himself and went to his cabin and Sheena followed him immediately, as she entered his cabin he looked at her a bit confused,

“I won't be needing you Sheena, you can enjoy the party” he mumbled as politely as he could but instead of leaving she closed the door behind her.

“I'd just like to sit in peace if you don't mind sir” she spoke in a tone that made him feel that she wasn't feeling well so he asked her to sit down.

“Everything good?” He enquired even though his eyes were focused on the laptop so she sighed and groaned in response

“It's just Carl” she mumbled meekly so he looked at her, Carl was the boyfriend she had told him about.

“Why do you suffer with him Sheena, you are capable enough of leaving this thing” he told her so she looked down and didn't say anything, her eyes teared up so she placed her palm over her eyes and now he felt bad. He had no clue what was actually going on in her personal life so he shouldn't have given unsolicited advice.

He pulled out his kerchief and got up to walk around the desk to console her. What was he supposed to do with a crying woman? He cared about all of his employees and never wanted to see them distressed.

She stood up as he approached her and grabbed the kerchief from his hand to wipe her tears

“If you need help Sheena, just ask for it alright?” He spoke in a gentle tone so she looked up at him and then out of nowhere she suddenly leaned into him to kiss him, he immediately grabbed her hands to stop her from doing whatever she was going to do further.

“What are you doing?” He asked her sharply, his brows furrowed in annoyance, he had defended his employee in front of his wife but it seemed now that you were right about your suspicion again.

“Y/n is a lucky woman to have you and she doesn't even appreciate it”

He had never heard Sheena speak to him in such a way so he was shocked and disappointed at the same time. Sheena was a smart and beautiful girl, he appreciated her but not in this way.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Sheena? Are you drunk? And don't you dare speak of my girl as if you know her” he warned her to watch her mouth, there's no way he'd allow an employee of his to disrespect his wife this way.

“I know her, and I see how she treats you”

“Shut up” he raised his voice and stepped away from her before she could lean into him again, he didn't want to get so angry like this but he knew he had this new problem that he had to fix now, he couldn't have a secretary working for him if she harbored such feelings towards him.He felt even worse when he thought about your intuitions regarding her, you were definitely always right about such things…

“I'm so sorry sir..i think i misunderstood our relationship and I'm very drunk right now.. please don't fire me..I'm really sorry” she spoke between her cries so he sighed in response.

“Just go.. I can't even look at you right now”

He just wanted to go home and apologize to you for this, he wanted to talk to you about this and let you know that you weren't wrong but as he reached home that night he didn't find you anywhere, you were gone someplace far away from him.

And you definitely didn't want him to find you anytime soon.

😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔

Taglist

@anukulee @erebus-et-eigengrau @daenny-t @123forgottherest @mcufan72 @dixie-elocin @shuichiakainx @ammo23 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @avalyaaa

#daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x reader fluff #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader angst #non canon au #modern day au

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