My Mind. In A Nutshell.

Aaaaah my chest 😩😩😩🤧 ex husband joon sounds so 😩😩😩ughhhhhhi want them to work out like TALK IT OUT GUYS!!!!

You know, I read this and immediately thought what this Namjoon would be like trying to talk it out.

Pairing: Namjoon x f!reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, Namjoon's an asshole

Your husband, Kim Namjoon, is generally punctual, but he’s unfailingly, always late to your appointments with your marriage counsellor.

It’s a power play, he wants to show you that you can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do, even if it’s your marriage at stake.

Your husband, Kim Namjoon, is unfailingly, always an asshole.

It was hot when you were in college together, when he’d stroll in, thick thighs stretching out grey sweatpants, sit next to you and copy over your shoulder in politics class.

It was hot on your wedding day, when he got bored at the wedding dinner and dragged you into an alcove to shoot his cum down your throat whilst telling you to ‘swallow it down like a good girl, Mrs Kim.’

Honestly, it’s even sometimes hot now, when you’re pissed off at him for being late and he saunters in, manspreads on the couch and nudges your thigh none too subtly when your counsellor Mrs Lee says something he doesn’t agree with.

Namjoon embraces his feral side with a don’t give a fuck attitude you can’t help but admire even as you want to throttle him.

You’ve tried to throttle him a few times but he just laughs and pins your hands over your head and fucks the anger out of you.

You’re in the middle of telling Mrs Lee about your week when Namjoon enters the room. He apologises for being late, the good Korean boy in him coming to the fore just in time to charm her and prevent her from yellow carding him.

If this were a game of football, and you a referee, your husband would be banned for the season for his unsportsmanlike behaviour.

You try your best to hide your sour expression as he presents Mrs Lee with a small succulent for being so accommmodating with her time.

Namjoon excuses himself to make a telephone call, even though he’s just arrived at this counselling session, and you’re sorely tempted to stab him with Mrs Lee’s silver pen.

Your phone vibrates in your bag, and you’re reaching for it when Namjoon returns.

He sits next to you quietly, and to your surprise, the next 45 minutes are spent talking through the difference in the way you and he communicate with each other. He doesn’t so much as roll his eyes once.

As Mrs Lee sums up, you catch him eyeing your thigh where your skirt has ridden up slightly.

Ah, there he is, your familiar asshole. Hidden but never really gone.

Namjoon follows you out of Mrs Lee’s plush, soothingly neutral office, and into the car park.

‘Can you give me a ride?’ he asks.

‘To where?’

‘I have a date. It’s at the French bistro downtown.’

‘We’re still married, Namjoon, why are you going on a date?’

‘Keeping my options open?’ he suggests. The asshole has the audacity to smirk at you.

‘Nah. You can walk,’ you snap.

‘It’s not a date,’ he says, quickly. ‘I’m meeting Yoongi.’

You stare him down.

Finally you say, ‘OK. I’ll drop you off at the subway.’

You unlock the car, get in, and wait for Namjoon to fold his long frame into the passenger seat.

He gets in, pointedly adjusts the seat to accommodate his long legs, reclines the back.

‘C’mere,’ he says, voice low, husky.

He spreads his legs a little, lets the bulge in his crotch show against the thin material of his pants.

Your husband’s at least half-hard, and you’re angry with yourself for even contemplating helping him out.

Shit.

You’ve spent too much time thinking about it.

You can hear the smirk in his voice even without looking at him.

Namjoon says, ‘Look straight ahead, ok?’

His warm hand slips over your bare thigh, under your skirt.

‘I can see your bra,’ he tells you, conversational. ‘It’s that lacy one isn't it? Makes me want to bust a nut just looking at it.’

His other hand skims the front of your chest, tweaks your nipple.

You bite down on your lower lip as he caresses you over the thin material of your blouse.

‘If we weren’t here I’d be sucking on your tits now,’ he continues. ‘Getting your nipples nice and hard for me.’

He laughs softly. ‘Look at yourself, baby.’

Despite your better judgement, you drop your gaze to where your nipple is pressing against his thumb, peaked and so sensitive you could scream.

Namjoon flicks his thumb over your nipples, back and forth, only reluctantly dropping his hand when someone walks past on the way to their car.

Thank fuck you have an SUV.

Namjoon slides his hand under your skirt, fingers reaching straight for your core.

You can both hear how wet you are.

‘Fuck,’ Namjoon swears. His hand ghosts over his crotch, you can see the outline of his hardness so clearly now you know he’s almost fully erect.

You reach out to touch him, and he stops you.

‘Let me feel you first, ok?’

Namjoon pushes your legs apart, strokes his long fingers over you.

‘Look at this messy cunt,’ he grunts. He slips a finger into you, and you whimper at the invasion.

‘Joon!’

‘Use me,’ he murmurs. He slips another finger inside you, and the stretch is so good you’re moaning.

He rocks his thumb over your clit, leans over to mouth at your neck.

His tongue laps over your skin.

‘Wanna taste you,’ he groans.

His forearm flexes as his fingers move in and out of you, curving, hitting your sweet spot with the precision of a man who’s spent years learning what you like.

You come with a gush of wet that makes him groan again, loud.

‘Fuck,’ he pants, using his wet hand to stroke himself.

‘Wait, fuck,’ you cry, beyond caring that you’re pushing the boundaries of public indecency.

You lift your leg over and climb on top of him.

‘Fuck, baby,’ Namjoon grunts. His strong arms curl around you as you seat yourself onto his rigid cock.

He hisses. ‘Fuck, gonna come, fuck.’

He grinds you down into his lap, big hands either side of your hips. A moment later you can feel him twitching inside you.

Namjoon buries his face in the back of your neck.

In amongst the impassioned swearing he moans your name, like he can’t stop himself.

***

A baby wipe cleanup and several muttered curses on both your parts later, you find yourself dropping Namjoon off at the bistro.

‘Fuck, Yoongi’s going to be pissed, I’m so late,’ Namjoon says.

He makes no move to go, though, flashing a dimple at you, mischief in his eyes.

‘Should I just cancel on him and take you home instead?’

‘Don’t be an asshole,’ you tell him.

Namjoon laughs quietly.

‘Yeah.’

He gets out then, and just before he closes the door he says, ‘Hey. Ignore the texts I sent you earlier, ok?’

‘What texts?’

‘I didn’t really have a phone call to make at our counselling session earlier. I spent the time texting you instead,’ he confesses.

‘Kim Namjoon, if you sent me a bunch of dick pics I’ll block you,’ you threaten.

‘Yeah, it’s dick pics, I don’t mind if you save them,’ he says. He winks at you, slams the door closed and then he’s off, hurrying across the street.

***

You’re snuggling into bed when you remember you haven’t checked Namjoon’s messages.

Your husband has a beautiful dick, you’ve seen it plenty but you figure you could always use a visual reminder.

You click on the picture and freeze.

It’s a picture of you and Namjoon in college when you first started dating. He’s got his arm around you, most of his face obscured by a cap but you can see just enough to know he’s smiling. You’re tucked into his side, face bright with adoration.

You both look so young.

You both look so fucking happy.

A tear slides down your cheek.

Your vision blurs but you can see enough to read the next message.

I miss you.

You’re still thinking about him as you fall asleep.

©hamsterclaw 2023

He is breathtaking 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

breathtaking

So, so happy that this story got a new chapter! I love it so much and can’t wait to see how the story unfold!

All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

💜 Chapter 3: Part 1 💜

Table of Contents: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (part 1)

Pairing: Namjoon/f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Chapter Word Count: 6K (for part 1 only)

Chapter Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is all my work and my page as a whole; Talk and depictions of cancer, its treatment, and the symptoms of both; implication of some disregard for personal agency by entertainment industry; character experience and description of disassociation; flashbacks of a distressing situation; soulmate skinship; cursing; conversations surrounding soulmates and sex; character experiences an emotional breakdown; light embarrassment; CONFLICT (you knew it was coming, right?), there is plenty of fluffy stuff too I PROMISE 😂😅

Author's Note: Wow. It's been a minute. If you're still reading this story, thank you for sticking with me, and I apologize for the stretch of time between updates. For the longest time, I just couldn't get this part right...and then it was far too long, so I split it up, and I'm still editing the second, and (potentially) third parts. I got several messages from readers who were worried I might have abandoned this fic, and let me assure you, far from it! I am not a speedy writer, and struggle with doubting if what I'm putting on the page is good enough, so sometimes it takes me a minute to update, but let me assure you, these characters are so special to me and so alive in me, and I ask thank you for your patience as I work to tell their story! Thank you for your lovely words of encouragement and feedback on the story - I appreciate each and every one of them!!

P.S. If you want to join the tag list, drop me a comment or ask!

P.P.S. If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

Chapter below the cut:

"I needed the light of your energy, I looked around, devouring hope."

~Pablo Neruda

Chapter 3: My Windows Ache

  "FUCKING FINALLY."

    "Hey, Di."

    "How dare you ghost me for the forty-eight most interesting hours of your life?!"

    "Well, I was low-key occupied..."

    "TELL ME EVERYTHING." 

     You sighed, settling down on a shaded bench in the garden grounds of the hospital to which you had escaped for a little privacy and an important phone call or two.

    "Uh oh. That was your 'things are complicated' sigh," Diana prodded.

    Your eyes tracked a swallowtail as it flitted from azalea to azalea.

    "Well, things certainly aren't conventional or straight-forward, that's for sure. But where's the fun in understanding the basic parameters of what you're getting yourself into on a life-altering scale, right?"

    "Ummmm...what does that mean? You met him, right?" You could barely hear your sister's question over the crinkle of plastic in the background.

    "Yeah, I did. We bonded too."

    "Oh mah gah!!" Diana choked out amidst sounds of crunchy chewing. "So what's he like?"

    You thought for a moment.

    "He's kind and intelligent. Obviously extremely resilient. His presence is impressive, but he has something about him that's very disarming. He's kind of clumsy and at moments almost...shy? Like, I don't know what I expected, but there's this sweetness to him that you wouldn't anticipate from someone in his position."

    "As a cancer patient?"

    "As an idol."

    You sighed again.

    "I don't know...he's..."

    Diana let out a strangled sound and uttered an enthusiastic string of words you couldn't make out.

    "I have no idea what you just said. Could you please decide whether you want to talk to me or consume an entire bag of Doritos?" 

    "Hey, it's dinner time here!" she whined, "And I said," her voice quickly changed to take on a smug sing-song tone, "That last sigh was your smitten-kitten one..."

    "It was not!" you cut her off sharply. "And get every single idea of Namjoon and I as a couple out of that scheming head of yours because he's very much taken. I'm meeting his fiancée for lunch today."

    "What? He's engaged?" Diana let out an exasperated huff. "Why didn't they tell you about this right off the bat? You're going to be the soulmate of a married man? What does that even mean? This is bullshit."

    You had a hard time disagreeing with her there. It was, in fact, bullshit that Namjoon's team had kept his relationship status a secret. Would it have changed your decision? Probably not. This had been about saving Namjoon's life, not some bizarre attempt at matchmaking. But having a third person to consider, and so intimately, as part of the equation for the rest of your earthly life felt like something you should have been made more immediately aware of. Navigating your boundaries with your soulmate had already been complex enough without introducing the prospect of being a fixture in his married life. When Namjoon had breached the prospect of meeting her, he had been taken aback at your surprise - he, like you, had assumed that Hybe's representation had disclosed everything of significance.

    "So it's a good thing I came here as a lifeline, not a mail-order bride," you reminded your sister, "And that seems to be working, by the way. His vitals are already stable. They stabilized overnight, in fact. And his white blood cell count was way up this morning, which is good because I guess he was experiencing immunosuppression from the chemo."

    "Oh, nice," Diana murmured. You had to remind yourself that she was young and excitable, and not to be annoyed at the disappointment that he crept into her tone. However, never one to be down for long, her voice brought its usual bright mischief through the speaker as she posed her following question.

    "By the way...how was bonding?"

    She had said it with an inescapably salacious undertone, which is why, you told yourself, heat had begun to creep up the base of your neck. You stammered, switching the phone from one ear to the other as you bought yourself time to reassemble your decorum. 

    "Ah...I mean...it was...intense?"

    "Ooooohhhh," Diana trilled, only making you more uncomfortable as the heat spread from your neck to your cheeks, "Intense, huh? Like in a good way?"

     You squirmed uncomfortably where you sat, thoughts of Namjoon's pleasure-stricken face and the strength of his hand and how his skin felt against your own hitting your hippocampus like a flash flood.

    "Y/n?"

    "It was fine, okay? And it worked - so that's what's important."

    "....Okaaay..." Diana drawled skeptically. You scrambled for another talking point.

    "That kid visited. The one who came to the States - Jungkook. And another one of the members too - Jim...Jimin? I'm still trying to get their names straight. Some of them don't go by their actual names on stage - Namjoon is RM...but you knew that. Anyway, I digress. Both the boys were really sweet. Seems like they're all very close. I'm supposed to meet the rest of the members later in the week at dinner. They wanted to have a sort of 'last supper' for us since we're probably going to start rejecting food soon."

    "That's cool, you get to meet the whole team! Oh my gosh, you're just going to casually have dinner with BTS...this is still so unreal!"

    "Yep," you affirmed, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Namjoon had hit you with a couple of whoppers last night, but this was one you were actually looking forward to. You told Diana all about your first two days in Seoul - about the impressive hospital and its kind staff. About meeting Namjoon, and his condition. About how everything was still so fresh and new. About how so many things were still unsettled, so many questions unanswered.

    "So are you nervous?"

    "About what?"

    "Meeting his girlfriend."

    You had been so wrapped up in filling Diana in on it all that you had actually forgotten about the impending lunch date. As you pulled the phone away from your ear to check the time, your stomach lurched. 

    "Shit, I better get going. It's almost eleven-thirty." You sprang up and started quickly back toward the building.

    "That wasn't an answer," Diana scoffed, "But, hey, sis?"

    "Yeah?" You pressed the "up" button on the elevator.

    "Don't be."

    You smiled.

    "Love you, Di."

    "Love you too. And so does anyone worth a damn."

***************************************************************

    After deciding that you smelled like outside, you showered quickly then slipped into caramel-colored corduroys and an off-white tee. You rummaged around the small suitcase Matt had brought from the hotel for you in search of a sweater. After several exasperating minutes of unsuccessful digging, you heaved the bag of laundered clothes that had been returned to you by the hospital staff this morning, having gone through much of the what the Hybe staff had initially pilfered from your luggage in the last two days. You grumbled in relief as you pulled out your dark green cardigan and slipped it over your shoulders, wondering what the hell the hospital laundry services had done to stretch it out so badly. But, you didn't have time to fuss - so you bunched up the sleeves and headed to the opposite end of the hospital's outdoor grounds where you suspected Namjoon and his guest were already waiting. 

    The hospital grounds were extensive and beautiful, sporting a garden that extended from the western wing, and a lawn punctuated by traditional pavilions to the east. He had pointed out the one he had reserved to you last night - tucked away in the shade of the large gingko trees flanking the little man-made stream that delineated the border of the grounds. As you made your way toward the shady spot you chided yourself for being so uneasy - everyone surrounding your soulmate had been as lovely and warm and welcoming as he had been, and the woman he loved would likely be no exception. After Namjoon had disclosed that she was a musician like he was, you had done a bit of online recon before going to bed that night.

Her given name was Kim Hyung-seo, but her stage name, by which she was well-known, was Bibi. She was four years Namjoon's junior, but seemed nearly as ambitious. From what you could tell, she seemed to share a similar drive for artistry and honesty in her musical process as her future husband, and though her tendency for loose-canon candidness had landed her in hot water more than once, her earnest sincerity had engendered her to the hearts of her peers and fans alike. In an industry that seemed to often censor and restrict women, Hyung-seo didn't seem to give much credence to the rules. You liked that. You were actually kind of excited to get to know her a bit and ask her about her art - you had always been a woman's woman, and being in the company of strong feminine energy was something you found deeply empowering and grounding. You anticipated that your soulmate's girlfriend was someone you could respect, and you allowed yourself to venture to hope that feeling would be mutual.

    You trotted up the steps of the pavilion and took in its contents. The center had been fitted with a low, round table bearing a colorful and mouthwatering spread of gogi, bibim guksu, gimbap, and banchan. Cushions had been placed on the floor for seating, but none bore the lunch companions you had been anxious not to keep waiting. You were about to take your place at the table when a figure moving near the creek caught your eye. You moved to the far side of the structure, to see your soulmate deeply engaged in conversation...with a duck.

He was standing near the edge of the water, his tall figure clad in silky modern navy blue hanbok. The top was untied and hung loosely over a white tee - the only contrast to the deep muted tone apart from his cognac loafers. He wore a dark beanie pulled low on his head, which was bowed in affectionate greeting to a juvenile Gadwall who had paddled away from his family to sample the little bits of starchy fluff that the stranger had sprinkled onto the water. You pressed your palms against the painted wood, taking him in with a smile as he crouched down, extending a bit of bread between his fingers slowly toward the curious little water foul.

This man, you were learning - this erstwhile underground rapper, this leader of men, this brilliant intellectual and genius artist - this great, powerful, impressive man could be called out of his poise in an instant by the sweet and tiny things of the world. You watched as he waited patiently, the little duck swimming in to-and-fro circuits and drawing closer and closer to Namjoon with each pass, until finally it was close enough to snatch its prize from him and scuttle off quickly to rejoin its mother and siblings. Namjoon chuckled, smiling fondly as he watched the duck make his way back down the creek. This man, you thought to yourself, could not possibly be real.

    "So you're a Kpop idol and a Disney princess, huh?" you called, causing Namjoon to startle and rock back on his heels, landing on his posterior in the damp grass.

    You slapped a hand over your mouth to repress the laughter that threatened to bubble up at the site of his large well-dressed figure tipped back haphazardly on the creekside. He huffed a sheepish laugh as he stood, swiping at the back of his pants.

    "Give a person a little warning?" he chided lightly, approaching you where you leaned on the railing.

    "Sorry," you chuckled, "I didn't want to scare your little friend."

    "So you settled for scaring your soulmate? I see how it is." 

    You smiled and ducked your head.

    "Sorry," you murmured, flicking your gaze back to his. He looked up at you, fixing you with his warm brown eyes and bringing his hands to grip the railing on either side of yours. Suddenly, you felt shy. You shook yourself.

    "Hey, hang out with the ducks and you'll end up with a wet tail," you teased. Namjoon's eyebrows drew together in mock disgust.

    "Yikes, you're almost as bad as Seokjin hyung," he remarked disparagingly.

    You shrugged, smirking.

    "I have no idea what that means, but whoever Seokjin is, he must have a superior sense of humor." Namjoon was opening his mouth to respond, but was cut short, as the tiny motion of your shoulders had slid one of your hands just a centimeter down the railing and barely flush with his own. The slight contact was enough to send sudden little tingles of comfort shooting up your arm and across your chest. In a millisecond you felt yourself relax where you hadn't realized you were tense. You could have imagined it, but you thought you felt Namjoon press his hand just a fraction more into yours as he swallowed and heaved a deep sigh. You reminded yourself for the hundredth time since you arrived that this was biological. Clinical. The means to an end. Damn, he felt good though. You found yourself snatching your hands away to push up your cardigan sleeves and then stuff them into your pants pockets where they would stop confusing you. You distracted yourself from Namjoon's subtle look of disappointment with an apology.

    "Sorry about your pants," you rocked back on your heels as you looked out over the little ribbon of water rippling over its stony bed behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and brushed himself off again before waving a hand in dismissal. Your eyes focused back on the blue silk. "I didn't realize this was a fancy lunch. I feel under-dressed."

    "You look nice," Namjoon rebutted, as he glanced over your attire. Then his brow pinched as his eyes halted on your torso, flitting over your arms and shoulders. "But isn't that -"

    "Joon?" A voice behind you caused you to turn. Standing at the top of the steps was the woman it belonged to. She was tall and beautifully slender - her svelte figure draped in a slinky chrome dress with a triangular cutout that displayed the smooth skin of her upper abdomen. Her glossy raven tresses were styled away from her face in a high ponytail, drawing sharp attention to her sultry features. Her smoky eyes glanced over your form with a lazy intensity, lids half-raised over dark irises, and her pouted lips pursed in appraisal. You wondered just exactly how many ridiculously beautiful people traveled in Namjoon's circle. She stepped toward you, her chunky pink heels marking her confident strides on the floorboards, before bowing and extending a small hand with sharp white acrylics and icy sliver rings.

    "I'm the girlfriend!" she hummed, her deep, velvety voice matching her features.

    You bowed in return before shaking her hand politely.

    "So nice to meet you," you smiled, "I'm -

    "The soulmate," she cut you off, glancing over your shoulder at Namjoon, who still stood outside the pavilion, "of that weirdo." Namjoon circled around to the entrance of the pavilion before joining you with a wry smile. He introduced the two of you formally, before being the first to take a seat at the table. Hyung-seo joined him, shimmying her cushion closer to Namjoon's as she used a pair of chopsticks to load her plate with selections from the spread. 

    "Oh my god, I'm STARVING," she gushed, staring at Namjoon impatiently as he took a bit of kimchi fried rice and a few slices of samgyeobsal.

    "My stomach feels like it could take some real food for the first time in a while," he said with eager enthusiasm, glancing up at you with a smile of gratitude. 

    Hyung-seo tapped her chopsticks against her plate as she watched you survey the dishes before you. You took some kimchi fried rice and carefully ladled out a small bowl of doenjang-jjigae. You pulled your hands into your lap and watched the steam rise from the fragrant broth.

    "Ah, unnie..." Hyung-seo began before Namjoon shushed her and lightly tapped her knee. You glanced between them in confusion. Namjoon merely smiled at you, and you smiled back, glancing down from his warm gaze to your plate.

    "Oh for the love of god, would you take a bite?"

    You looked up rather startled at Hyung-seo, who was leaned forward, her desperate eyes tracking your movements, and the chopsticks clutched in her right hand hovering over a plump, sweating mandu. You blinked, fumbling for your chopsticks as your soulmate admonished the woman next to him. You took a heap of fried rice onto your chopsticks and brought it to your lips, looking questioningly between the two across from you. Hyung-seo groaned in impatience, her head lolling back.   

    "In Korea, the eldest eats first," Namjoon offered in soft explanation, his features trained in apology.

    As realization washed over you, you all but shoved the rice into your mouth, hoping to swallow your embarrassment with it, followed quickly by Hyung-seo, who popped two mandu into her mouth consecutively. Her eyes rolled back as she let out a groan of appreciation. You watched Namjoon carefully savor a piece of samgyeobsal. He smiled a dimpled smile. You smiled to yourself as you tucked into your fried rice. Namjoon's fiancée watched you both. Her cheeks were full, but she wasn't smiling. Your little trio ate in contented silence until your visitor, having satisfied her belly, fixed her eyes on you with a different sort of eagerness. The time for questions had come, you realized. You set down your chopsticks, taking a drink of water.

    "I'm sure there is so much we'd like to know about each other," you offered with a smile.

    She pulled her lips into a brief grin, sipping from her own glass as her eyes trailed over you.     You cleared your throat.

    "So, I read that y-"

    "How does it feel?" she interrupted, starring at you raptly. You blinked.

    "I'm sorry?"

    "When he touches you." She licked her lips. "I heard it's like cumming. I heard it's better."     Namjoon slid a large hand over her thigh. You saw it squeeze.

    "Jagiya..." he murmured.

    You glanced at him and gave him a reassuring grin which he returned, though not as readily as before. Not the start to the conversation you had hoped for, but she was living up to her brusque reputation. You let yourself laugh a little at the question, and saw Hyung-seo's mouth curl up a bit at the corners, though it didn't reach her eyes.

    "It's nothing like sex, actually," you mused, trying to be as forthcoming as possible without abandoning politeness. "Strangely, I guess, because it is all about physical exchange and contact. But...it's more like...nourishment? I don't know...I haven't had long enough to think about it." You had had quite long enough to know that it was ineffable, but in the most intoxicating, magnificent way - and a hell of a lot better than most of the sex you'd had. This, however, wasn't the time and place for descriptions of the bond that could be ripped from the pages of drugstore romance novels.

    You found yourself turning to Namjoon with a questioning gaze, as if to ask if he had anything to add. He nodded in response, not meeting your eyes.

    "Yeah, it's different," he murmured succinctly.  

    Hyung-seo hummed in assent, chewing on her lip, her gaze still roving over you. You decided to try again.

    "So how did you m-"

    "How do you do it?"

    You stifled a small sigh that threatened to escape your lips.

    "Do what?"

    "Use the bond. Like, do you hold hands, or...or what?"

    You looked to Namjoon who murmured something in Korean that sounded like a warning. This wasn't going as you'd hoped. Her questions were natural ones, but not the first you thought you'd be asked, and not so pointedly. In fact, they were ones she should probably have put to her partner. Had they not spoken since you arrived?

    "The bond works with any physical contact. When I first got here, I had so many questions myself. The hospital personnel were very informative while helping us navigate our questions. I still know very little, but as someone whose partner is bonded, I'm sure they would have someone who could better answer these types of questions than I can," you offered. It was the opposite of forthcoming, but you were absolutely not prepared to launch into a conversation about you and her fiancé spooning in your undergarments. The trajectory of the exchange had to go elsewhere, so you resolved to take the wheel.

    "Is there anything you'd like to know about me? Maybe I could tell you a little about myself. My job in the states wasn't glamorous, but I loved it. I was -"

    "A social worker, I know," she murmured with a sigh, and Namjoon's head snapped toward her.     You could feel your confusion pulling into a frown. In your beat of silence, the woman in front of you gave into another impulse as she placidly launched into an answer of your unasked question.

    "You're a social worker from the west coast, oldest of three kids. Your father died when you were ten. You graduated summa cum laude, and chose a career in women's services. You support your mother's living - you have been, long-term. Your brother is an engineer and your sister is in nursing school. You've never committed any crimes, but you were arrested once in college at some political protest about immigrant rights. Your blood type is O positive. You don't seem very good with your money, but you've never asked for financial assistance. You've never been married." 

    Silence.

    Your ears were ringing.

    You blinked as you tried, grappling for something on which to stabilize your composure. This isn't how this was supposed to go. You felt your control slipping as the words pierced you in echoes that knocked you back down each time you reached out to steady your mind. 

    "Your father died when you were young..."

    "...You support your mother's living..."

    "...You don't seem very good with your money"

    Your mind whirred as the silence closed in, and for a moment you were suspended.

        Dianna and Henry weren't pillars, you thought - they were tiny little babies as your mother clutched them on either side of her prone, shaking form as shovels of dirt were shifted back into the gaping hole that held a pine box covered in flowers. You looked down at the flag in your hands, and then up at the white flowers, still fresh and blooming, being caked and sodden with damp soil. You felt something rising up in your chest - something that never reached the surface. You turned from the wound in the earth as Dianna reached out and tugged at your arm. The babies looked afraid. You couldn't see your mother's face from where it was buried in her skirts. You tucked the flag reverently under your arm and took the little hands.

    Somewhere outside the amniotic sack of your mind, you saw Namjoon's figure stand. You heard his garbled voice speak to the woman beside him. He was angry, his voice pitched low. Hers in response was sharp and high.

    You took a deep breath and exhaled and willed yourself back into this world you had chosen. This place which, like the others you had inhabited, would discover its new tenant didn't take long to adapt. She was built to withstand.

    "Namjoon," you called softly, as you looked up at your soulmate. His eyes snapped to yours, his face showing subtle but unmistakable signs of distress - eyes reflecting remorsefully and jaw flexing. You smiled at him gently, reassuringly.

    "It's alright," you insisted, your eyes not leaving his. You saw his shoulders sag, and his head bow. His hand came up to scrub over his face. You realized then that she was looking at you. Hyung-seo's expression was apprehensive, her eyes scouring your face.

    "This must be an extremely difficult thing for you, whatever the reason," you offered earnestly.

    She regarded you in silence, her eyes flickering like the flame of a candle.

    "I would say, 'I understand', but I don't. I have no idea how hard it must be to fall in love with someone only to watch them suffer at the hands of disease, and to suffer so greatly and to come so close to losing them that you turn to finding a person who can save them, and who - if they are saved by - they will need and desire for the rest of their natural life. A person who isn't you." 

    Her eyes quivered as they held you in their gaze.

    "I know I'm supposed to be a saving grace," you continued, having gained your ground, "But I know I could also look a lot like a threat. Trust me when I say that you can be open and honest with me about how you feel. This is a difficult situation where we're going to feel burdened by things we shouldn't. Namjoon and I discussed this."

    You smiled again at your soulmate, who was watching you with relief and something else in his features. You wanted to call it admiration, but you had only known him for two whole days.

    "Whatever fears you're carrying that make you feel like a burden in this moment, could I ask you to set them aside? For a chance to get to know me in the real way that you deserve? This isn't a trap. Or a cage. We've all chosen to be here."

    You regarded Hyung-seo in the silence that followed. Her eyes had fallen from your face - they glanced over toward where Namjoon stood, barely raising toward his figure, when she suddenly dropped her face into her hands and began shaking with sobs.

    You let out a sigh of relief too soft to be heard by the others.

    "Fuck...." Hyung-seo choked out against her palms, "I'm such a piece of shit..."

    Namjoon moved to place a hand over her back and assure her she wasn't. You wondered what she felt when he touched her. Your heart ached with pity for her. Namjoon drew her into his chest and held her as she cried her makeup off. He stroked her hair as her regarded her with weary, worried eyes. You couldn't help but feel that you were encroaching on a private moment...expect that you were a part of this as much as they were. Was there a lifetime of this feeling to be endured? You sighed again.

    "I'm gonna give you guys a minute," you whispered as you clambered to your feet.

    Namjoon nodded silently over the woman in his arms. 

    You watched scattered leaves from the boughs overhanging the far side of the stream spin as the were swept away. Your eyes tracked one in particular, twirling as it sailed around a protruding rock and under an arching root, only to be stopped as it was doubled at the middle by a thin, swaying reed. You found your feet moving to where the water rushed around it as it billowed helplessly on both sides of its obstruction like a flag of surrender. You slipped off your shoes and rolled up your pants. You waded into the cool, clear water and, reaching out, tugged the little leaf free. You watched as it sailed on, disappearing around a bend in the waterway. You glanced back up at the pavilion. If you could have been sure it was the right move, you would have left altogether, but you wouldn't want your sudden departure to be taken the wrong way.

    You sighed. You pulled your phone out of your back pocket as you waded back out of the stream. Dead. You were bad about keeping it charged, and your conversation with Diana had drained its aged battery. You wished you had a book. Glancing about, your eyes caught a fairly large patch of clover flowers a few yards down the bank, and crossing the soft grass, you sank down in its center. You smiled weakly to yourself as you plucked one of the little white buds near the base of its stem. You and your siblings would spend hours at the park under the shade turning sprawling patches of the puffy blooms into garlands, crowns, bracelets, and rings. You picked another flower and tied its supple stem into a knot just under the other flower's head. 

    By the time Namjoon came to join you, sinking down across from you in little clover patch you had fashioned yourself a crown and a necklace, and were working on a garland to send to Diana. You set down your handiwork to look up at him. He was regarding you with soft, somber eyes and a little smile that looked like one he didn't have the energy for but couldn't help besides. He picked a flower and twirled it between his fingers.

    "I'm so sorry," he murmured, "If I would have thought that things would go that way, I wouldn't have insisted on her meeting you before she left. She's going on tour and I thought...well, I thought if she just met you her anxieties would be eased."

    You nodded thoughtfully.

    "Thank you for your patience and kindness. She was out of line saying those things to you like that...you were...that was everything she needed to hear, I think."

    You cast your eyes down as you tied off another knot in the garland.

    "Is she okay?" you asked quietly.

    Namjoon sighed.

    "She's...embarrassed. Ashamed of herself. She wasn't in any condition to finish that conversation, so I suggested she go home."

    "Understandable," you assented, nodding again.

    Silence hung between you for a moment before you raised your eyes to his again.

    "Namjoon...there are some things I think we should discuss."

    He nodded earnestly, his eyes falling, brow creasing and tongue pressing into his cheek.

    "I know we haven't had much time," you continued, "And we have literally the rest of our lives...but, I think we should be on the same page about what we've been told about each other. I think it will make this whole process easier? I don't know. There are some things you assume you'll have to tell someone at a certain point in knowing them - some things that are...deeply personal..."

    "Aren't things between us already that way? Deeply personal?"

    You looked up and those half-lidded brown eyes were looking right at you in a way you weren't prepared for, in a way that flooded your veins. Soulmate. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to feel him and what he brought to you. You wanted him to feel it too. But you ddidn't know him, and he didn't know you, and he needed healing, which is why you were here. He loved someone who loved him whose lives you were disrupting. This feeling was basal, you knew - came with the territory...but you were going to need some strong boundaries if this was going to function. You were going to need honesty, for a start.

   "They are," you relented slowly, "But I have questions that I need answers to. Your trust in me is clear, and I appreciate that...but...I need time to get my footing here."

    Namjoon nodded in assent.

    "I get that. So, what do you want to know, specifically? I'll answer any question you have."

    You nodded gratefully.

    "Thank you. Do you think I could take a little time to think about what I want to ask? I'm kind of still processing everything that just happened."

    "Of course," he was quick to answer, "Whenever you want to talk, just let me know. Did I say how sorry I am?" he asked smiling weakly as he looked up from where he struggled to knot the stem of one flower around another, suddenly looking down again when its stem snapped between his fingers.

    You huffed out a little laugh.

    "Yes, you did," you did, you answered, offering him a rueful grin.

    He picked another flower only to realize he had  cut its stem too short for his purposes. He tossed the little blossoms back into the grass.

    "Can you make me one?" he asked pathetically, pouting at the garland in your hands.

    You chuckled as you tied off the one in your lap and leaned forward to slip it over his head. He adjusted it around his neck, looking down at it with a pleased expression.

    "You know...if you can believe it, we actually got lucky in there," He smirked, his forehead creasing as he raised his brow.

    You gave him a look of confusion. His eyes trailed over your torso again before flitting back up to yours.

    "She didn't notice that you're wearing my sweater."

    You froze. Then you blinked down at the giant green cardigan that had, in fact, slipped down off of one shoulder. Then you gaped at him.

    He snickered.

    You scrambled to yank the sweater over your head, even as he laughed and protested, you blustered apology after expiative after apology.

    "Shit, it was in my laundry bag!" you whined in explanation as you shook it out and began to fold it in your lap.

    "Stop, just keep it on," Namjoon insisted, still clearly amused at your state of panic.

    "I have one just like this. Like, identical but obviously smaller. I just assumed it had stretched out in the wash..." You extended the sweater toward him.

    He shook his head.

    "Just give it back later, you'll be cold." He looked up at your exasperated expression at started laughing again.

    "Stooop..." you whined in embarrassment, and when he only laughed harder, you tossed the sweater in his face. As he balled it up with a smile where it fell down into his lap, his smart watch trilled. He glanced down at it.

    "I've got labs scheduled now," he sighed.

    "Hopefully they'll bring more good news," you offered, at which he nodded. "I seem to be getting the job done, if I do say so myself," you teased, leaning back on your hands and offering him a smug look. He nodded, tongue in his cheek, then pushed to stand - with effort, you noticed - and extended a hand down to you. You didn't realize what the little smile on his mouth was for until you accepted his hand with your own, by habit, and were nearly knocked off back off your feet as the bond surged through you like a wave of mind-numbing euphoria that left you unable to process information outside of what was sent coursing through your every cell from where he touched you.

    You blinked up at him as you got your wits about you, and he was looking down at you through little slits in his barely-open eyes, head tilted back and mouth hanging open - little smirk still tugging at its corner. You pursed your lips, trying not to grin back.

    "You did that on purpose," you chided, trying and failing to train your features in a scowl.

    His smirk deepened.

    "What? I was just being courteous..."

    You rolled your eyes.

    "I'm feeling a little weak, I think it would be best if you helped me back to the room," he muttered slyly, turning to head back toward the building. The smile that was dimpling his cheek and creasing the corners of his eyes did something to your stomach that had you yanking your hand out of his grasp.

    "Yeah, right," you huffed, forging a few steps ahead of him, "You're putting a lot by your poorly reputed coordination to think you could walk while I was touching you." 

    He let out a laugh behind you. It was loud and bright and had you biting back a smile to match it.

    "What happened to getting the job done, sweater thief?" he called after you teasingly.

    Shit. Yeah. Boundaries. You were going to need them.

_________________________________________________

Well, they met! Next part to follow soon.

Thank you for sticking with me here!

Tag list: @butterymin @little-dark-empress @aretha170 @kamilamb @jlee97 @thephotoend @callmenoona25 @felicityroth @softforyoongles @berlianv @honneypies @deadrose287 @n0pesir

Everybody wanna love you - Pt. 1 (M)

Summary: BTS gets drunk and reads fan fiction together.

Pairing: Platonic OT7

Genre: Ridiculously filthy smut and boys being boys

Word Count: 4914

Warnings: The fan fiction the boys read is quite explicit, but the boys stay (mostly) platonic 

Part One      Part Two      Part Three

A/N: All of the fan fiction the boys read in this is written (badly) by me. Any resemblance to other people’s stories is coincidence. I am not trying to make fun of anyone other than myself as an avid reader and writer of BTS fan fiction.

“I hate you Jungkook!” You shout breathlessly, desperately pounding his rock-hard chest with your small hands as he cages you against the wall of your bedroom. You have hated Jungkook since the first day you met him. You hate the way he struts around school. You hate the way all the girls stare at him and giggle when he gives them a confident wave. You hate the way his hair falls perfectly across his forehead in a way that makes you ache inside. “I hate you!” You cry again, pushing him away from you.

 “I don’t care!” Jungkook grabs you by your shoulders and pins you roughly against the wall. “I know it has only been a week since you transferred to our school, but you make me feel a way no other girl ever has.” He holds you to the wall as you try to squirm away. “Don’t you know I love you Y/N?”  He looks at you with desperation and a bit of madness in his eyes. His lips are just inches away from yours. You are terrified that he might kiss you and terrified that he might not.

A sudden noise from the hallway makes Jungkook flinch so hard he almost drops his phone directly into the toilet. He looks up from his phone, listening to make sure it’s not one of the other members trying to get into the bathroom. Jungkook really shouldn’t be doing this right now. Jungkook should be working on that new cover song that he wants to post before they go back out on tour. He checks the time on his watch. “Just one more minute…” he thinks to himself.

Keep reading

My favorite person

Weverse - Black and white - Selcas - 2019-2023

The Lease Chapter One: The Meeting

(A/N: Super excited to put this out! The first chapter is mainly just a set up of what's to come but I hope you guys like it!! I'm so excited to see what you guys think!)

Read Preview Here.

masterlist.

It was one of those rare days of utter perfection.

Crisp, wintery air holding you suspended in the world with the promise of spring warming the earth beneath you. The sun was out for the first time all week, shining brightly in the sky without a cloud in sight. It was the kind of day you'd ideally spend alone, in a park or hiking or journalling by the river. Things were better when you got to spend time outside, it lifted a weight off your shoulders and reminded you that the world was much bigger than whatever problems you had.

Everyone had gotten used to it at this point, knowing that on a day like today- a bright and shiny one, that there was no use making plans because you'd be busy spending time in the world alone. It was the kind of thing you did all the time, turning your phone off for the day and just secluding yourself to reconnect with nature.

It was exactly what you were doing now, taking a walk in one of the few parks you hadn't visited yet. You didn't normally think too deeply on these days, but this time was different. You couldn't stop thinking about something that seemed to be an open wound in your brain, bleeding into other areas of your life.

See, you had a theory.

The ability to love genetic- it had to be. There was no other explanation for every relationship in your life to fail the same way every relationship in your family failed.

If couples in your family weren't divorced then they should've been. It had to be some sort of a curse or a genetic mutation in your DNA dictating that you weren't meant to stay in love with anyone for longer than a couple of years or so.

You longest relationship had made it to a year and a half, ending when your ex proposed. He thought he loved you- you believed that he thought that, but all you could see was yourself in five years, stuck in a loveless marriage just like your parents had found themselves in. You were too young for that level of commitment, too young but you could see the end so clearly.

No way- that wouldn't be you.

You didn't think about your ex often, like you just mentioned- you hadn't really been in love if you could already tell it would all go to shit. You didn't think about your ex often, but you thought about him now, staring at a couple in the park making out unabashedly.

You tilted your head, very openly staring at the obnoxious shiny watch on the man's wrist. Your ex liked that brand too, said it made him feel expensive. You got him a platinum one for his 23rd birthday, two days before he proposed. It really was expensive. When you turned him down he threw it at you, ripping your favorite sweater.

Looking down at your sleeve, you eyed the sewn up tear near your elbow. The tear was invisible to everyone else but you could see it, plain as day. You remember the time it took to sew it up and the number of times you pricked your finger. You could see the threads you had painstakingly mended the tear with, a slightly more matted finish then the rest of the beige colored material. No one else could see the tear, but you could.

Yeah, you definitely made the right decision in ending things.

Besides, things were different now. You had a whole new life, a new apartment with a view of the city, a new job at your best friends' coffee shop. You were selfish with your time but it was yours and yours alone. You liked it this way, for the first time you owned every part of your life in its entirety.

Whatever- this was supposed to be a leisurely walk in nature, secluded and detached. Secluded and detached, secluded and detached.

You turned on your heels, taking two steps before swiveling around and walking the other direction on instinct. Leisurely walks require little to no navigation, you have to go where your feet take you and right now, they wanted to go towards the pond you spotted out of the corner of your eye instead of away from it.

There were park benches all along the pond begging to be sat on, three choices laid out in front of you. One was covered in bird shit, instantly eliminating itself as an option. That left two- one with a woman who was talking too loudly, which annoyed you just enough to detour you from sitting there. The last bench was under a tree but miraculously clear of any bird poop with a man quietly sitting on one end of it, scribbling furiously into a notebook.

Furious scribbler it is.

You stared at the pond in front of you, watching as a random swan swam across your viewpoint gracefully, another following it closely. How the fuck did two swans even end up in the middle of a city park anyway- what kind of traumatic experience brought them here? They probably didn't even like each other, probably just decided to stick together like humans often did. It was trauma bonding- nothing else.

"You know people think swans mate for life, but they don't. Even swans get divorces- if they can't mate successfully or if one of them dies or whatever. Scientists actually did a study and one in six swans are actually illegitimate."

You turned your head slowly, looking anxiously at the man who you had chosen to sit next to. You figured he looked normal enough when you had approached the bench. You would've gone even farther to say that he was attractive- flawless skin, sharp eyes that softened slightly when you asked if you could sit beside him, but clearly he was a freak and you should've sat with Chatty Cathy.

Or had you just ranted about trauma bonding aloud? You frowned, feeling deeply confused and slightly dazed.

The man seemed completely unaware of how bizarre his rant had been regardless of your own internal conflict, eloquently explaining the sex life of a bird stared as he straight ahead with a disapproving look on his face. The swans flocked together, entangling their necks to make a cheesy little heart shape.

"What a letdown," You said flatly, looking back at the swans.

The man next to you clicked his tongue and a silence fell over the two of you. See, you thought, not even birds could stay together. Yet another piece of evidence that long term monogamy was a farce.

You thought about the swans far too often until saw the same man a week later, a rice ball in his hand and a frown on his face.

All in all, you were having a shit ass day. A customer yelled at you, you had dried up whole milk on your shoes, and you were pretty sure your dinner plans fell through for later that night.

"Hey, snap out of it."

You blinked, snapping your head towards the sound.

Suddenly, the world around you was engulfed in noise. The sound of milk frothing, the low hum of espresso shots being pulled. You could hear people laughing, coworkers chattering to each other. Working at a coffee shop was a hectic environment, zoning out in the middle of your shift should've won you a medal for maladaptive daydreaming. Instead, your best friend and boss was glaring at you with mock annoyance.

"I'm gonna fire you if you keep dissociating," She warned, gesturing towards the multiple people in line waiting to be attended to.

"I'm the only one here who knows how to run a business, you'd go to shit in an hour." You pointed out, rolling your eyes. "You didn't even know what a wholesaler was before you hired me."

"Well, I do now!" Binna snapped back, stomping her foot down petulantly.

You smiled at the next customer, a short man with a nervous look on his face, and took his order- medium cold brew with sugar free hazelnut syrup and a splash of 2%. You passed the order on before spinning on your heels to face Binna, "Oh yeah? What's the name of the guy who we get our coffee beans from?"

Binna stared at you blankly, tilting her head before laughing awkwardly, "Okay- fine. Maybe I'm not the best at stuff like that, that's why I need you to pay attention so I don't go bankrupt!"

You grumbled but focused on clearing the line, helping the baristas by picking up half of the orders and making them yourself while Binna called out completed orders. Things slowed a little after, giving you time to make yourself a chai latte.

"But seriously, why are you so spacey today?" Binna asked, knocking her hip against yours.

You shrugged, pouring oatmilk into your cup, "Just one of those days- Did you know swans don't actually mate for life?"

Binna rolled her eyes, leaning against the countertop, "Please don't tell me you're about to compare humans to swans right now."

"It's true!" You cried, throwing your hands up, "If swans don't do it, why should humans!"

She threw you a pointed look, shaking her head, "You need to get a boyfriend."

You willfully ignored her, going back to making yourself a drink. Managing the shop was somewhat of a random career switch for you from your old corporate job but when Binna called you, sobbing about how in over her head she was, you were happy to help. Sure, your mom didn't understand it and it was a lot more responsibility, but working with your best friend was fun and the endless supply of coffee wasn't so bad either.

Except for days like today.

It was like you had a storm cloud hanging over your head, striking you with a lightening bolt of disdain every now and then. It hadn't been until your shift ended that you realized it was another perfect day outside. Less perfect than last week, you spotted a cloud on the way over here. But still, too good of a day to be wasted on your bad mood.

Suddenly, none of it mattered- two steps into the park and suddenly the day was turning itself around.

"Still looking at that pond, huh?" You asked jokingly, approaching the man slowly.

"Wha- Oh," He said, a look of recognition crossing over his face, "Sorry, is this your usual bench or something? I can move."

"It's fine," You said quickly before he could move to get up. "It's a public park, we can share ownership of the bench."

He stretched his lips into a tight smile and nodded, going back to eating. Sweet smile, cute dimples. You snuck glances of him every now and then, taking note of his large stature that took up more than half of the bench. His skin was tanned and his hair cropped short, although you could barely see it with the way he had a beanie pulled over his head.

"You got any more bird facts?" You mused, pulling your knees up to your chest and hugging them tightly.

You had no idea why you were making conversation with him, but after the day you had had, a little conversation wouldn't hurt. You liked the tone of his voice, mellow and low almost to the point of intelligibility, forcing you to put your undivided attention on him.

"No, just that they're pretty territorial. They've been known to attack people for getting too close," He smiled awkwardly.

"A slutty bird with trust issues," You said slowly, "Sounds like me."

The man laughed at that and you felt pride blooming in your chest. It was a little embarrassing to admit, but you started looking for him everywhere after that. Strange, how foreign a face could be one moment and then the next you were double taking every tall man on the west side of town in hopes that it was Bird Man.

Thankfully, you knew you'd see him at least once a week. It was the beginning of an unspoken tradition: every week, you'd share custody of the bench between the two largest oak trees at the park near your house facing the pond. You'd watch the birds and talk about stupid shit.

Sometimes you'd bring him coffee from work- an iced americano or an iced oatmilk latte with an added shot of espresso. Sometimes he'd bring you a rice ball, always tuna mayo and never salmon for some reason.

There were a lot of variables between the two of you, you were more different than alike, but one thing you agreed on wound up being the most important thing-

"So, you come here a lot." He said one day, handing you a rice ball wordlessly.

You snorted and nodded, taking it from him gratefully and willfully ignoring the way your fingertips grazed against his, "So do you."

"I come here to write- I'm a writer." He explained, a far too humble look on his face.

You raised your eyebrows and eyed his notebook and then his shoes. His notebook was old and the leather was cracking, held together by two jumbo sized rubber bands with a cheesy little pen with a tiny cactus on the end of it stuffed between the pages. His shoes were nice and looked too expensive for you to afford yourself.

Writers were usually broke if they were no good- but from the looks of his shoes and the worn down edges of his notebook made you curious- could you find his prose in a bookstore? What name would you look for him under? You really should ask for his name.

"Why are you always here?" He asked, cutting your train of thought off. You blinked blankly once before processing what he had said, smiling awkwardly.

"For the swans?" You joked, "I guess I just like nature, I dunno- I've just always been like this. I prefer being outside. It makes me feel...better, somehow."

"Less insane," He nodded, a look on his face saying he felt exactly the same way as you did.

You stared at him, astounded that someone could feel the exact same way as you. You tilted your head, wide eyes scanning the shy smile on his face. It was like someone lifted a veil over your eyes and suddenly there he was, the handsome stranger you had randomly befriended. You weren't sure if it was because you were finally taking the time to look at him, like really look at him- or if it was his mindset that suddenly made you all the more intrigued by him.

Ah, shit- you've got a crush.

"What did you say your name was again?" You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

He grinned, leaning back against the bench with a satisfied smile, as if he knew exactly where you were going with this and why you were asking his name, "Namjoon. My name is Namjoon."

You smiled, a blush blooming on your cheeks. Namjoon. It paired nicely with your name, not that that mattered, "I'm glad we met, Namjoon."

taglist: @vanilla-sky01

He is the love of my life 😍

My mood every time I listen to Take Two

It's the difference between the belt grab and the 🍆 grab for me.

The way JK grabs into the smallest part of himself and Joon grabs the largest part 🥵😅

[disintegrates]

cr. @hrlykoo on twt

Just reblogging for my future enjoyment 😁

Gemini Masterlist

Gemini Part 1 Part 2 (Jimin)

You and your twin brother Yoongi are heirs to the Min empire, richer than Croesus. Yoongi's set to take over the company, but you're not sure where your niche is. And then you meet Jimin.

Knight (Yoongi)

Yoongi prides himself on being a professional in the boardroom. You seem to be determined to crack his facade.

Lush (Jungkook)

Jungkook's built his empire from nothing, and he's damn well going to sit back and enjoy the spoils.

Charming (Seokjin)

You and Seokjin are in an arrangement of convenience, one that will enable each of you to claim your inheritance in a year. You've got an iron-clad contract, one that takes into account all eventualities, including romance. What could go wrong?