#namjoon angst

[n9mgi]

street thing kim namjoon x reader

producer! namjoon x fem non-celeb! fem reader

summary: on the side of a sunburnt los angeles road, you with a broken down car meet a man you can't stop thinking about. he's older, composed, impossibly charming, and far too experienced to be looking at you the way he does. you're used to immature love that never knew how to hold you properly. but with him, everything is different.

themes: age gap (reader is 24, namjoon is 33), los angeles in the 2000s, smut, fluff, famous producer x non!celebrity reader, reader doesn't know who he is, confident joon yum, mainly readers pov w/ brief joon's pov, he's whipped, brief texting, tension, established relationship, strangers to lovers, teasing, they go on dates, joon is a gentleman, relationship building, joon is so dom and a lil possessive, nicknames, porn with lots of plot, eventual love confession

warnings: sexual themes, explicit & descriptive smut MINORS DNI 18+ (hard dom! joon, slight age kink & size kink, slightly semi-public sex(?? in his studio :3), unprotected sex, praise/dirty talk, missionary, cowgirl, edging/teasing, fingering, oral f, slight choking if u squint, creampie)

word count: 18k.. whoops

inspired by arirang joon because he's just too fine

♬ ₊˚. street thing - aaliyah

read part 2 here ✧ domestic au, boyfriend namjoon.

it was a late, blazing july afternoon with the kind of california heat that sticks to everything.

your beater car had just given up on you in the worst possible place it could—pulled over on the stretch of a busy road with no shade, just heat shimmering off the black asphalt and distant palm trees that don't feel helpful at all.

you already tried the obvious things. ignition, gas, trying it all again like it might change something.

it never did.

you leaned back against the passenger door of your car letting out a frustrated breath, hair sticking to your neck as you watched cars pass by with the soft sound of your hazards blinking in the background.

of course it's today. of course it's here.

that was when you suddenly heard the low hum of an engine slow down beside you. a sleek, black bmw—expensive, but not loud about it. it pulled in front of your car, and for a second you think the car is just stopping briefly.

that was before the driver door opened.

he steps out like he’s not in a rush to be anywhere else.

tall—noticeably so, he moves towards you easily, like he’s used to taking up space without ever forcing it.

sunglasses sit low on his nose, shielding his eyes, but not enough to hide the way his attention lands exactly on you. his shirt is simple—lightweight, slightly open at the collar, sleeves pushed up just enough to show his forearms. nothing flashy.

but it fits him too well. everything about him does.

dark jeans, clean shoes, watch on his wrist that you can't recognize but can tell is expensive. you notice all of him in the mere seconds he takes to walk over to you, the feeling hitting you all at once.

dear god, he was fine. the kind that made you straighten up a little bit without realizing; running a quick hand through your hair and fixing your jewelry.

he walks toward the front of your car, unhurried, one hand sliding briefly into his pocket before resting against the hood of your car.

up close, it’s worse.

sharper features than you expected. clean, but not overly polished. there’s something slightly worn in about him—like experience and maturity that sits on him well.

“everything alright?” he asks, voice is low and steady.

you blink for a second longer than necessary before responding. why does he look like that... helping me with my car?

"uh-" you stammer before clearing your throat. "it's- it's dead."

"yeah..." he says, eyes examining your car closer. "i can see that."

you nod and suddenly there's a pause, small but noticeable.

he comes around the side of your car, closing the distance between you to look inside of the window. you fumble while taking a few steps back as he looks at your dashboard then back at you, suddenly flustered by his presence.

"you got jumper cables?" he asks.

you simply shook your head.

"didn't think so," he says simply.

he walks back to his car, and you stand there feeling so helpless in the hot sun as he turns his car around to face yours in a swift manner, opening the door casually before coming around to his trunk like he's done this plenty of times.

when he comes back with the cables, he quickly slides his sunglasses in a way you almost miss a glimpse of his whole face.

you assumed it was because of the sun. but little did you know, it wasn't.

because before he walked back to his car, he had looked at you a little too closely. it wasn't some polite, quick glance. it was one that lasted a second too long.

he noticed everything about you.

the way your top fits—not overly revealing, but just enough to catch his attention without trying. the fabric light, slightly clinging from the heat. your skirt—shorter than it probably needed to be, riding just a little higher from the way you shifted against your car door.

his gaze dropped, brief, controlled—then came back up. your legs, your hands, the thin bracelet at your wrist. rings that don’t match perfectly but somehow work. jewelry that feels personal to you.

he takes note of that. of course he does.

then, your face. slightly flush from the heat, skin warm toned and sun-kissed. there's something effortless about you, like you spent more time living in the sun than hiding from it.

your expression—somewhere between annoyed and trying not to be. and your eyes, focused on him, but not softened. not entirely impressed by him, but more appreciative.

and when he closed his trunk, he forgets to look away. so he pulls his sunglasses back over, quick and casual. like it's nothing.

and not because of the sunlight, but because he was looking at you a little too openly. and he knew it.

he arrives at your car and connects everything smoothly, no hesitation and big hands steady. it was unfairly attractive.

“so,” he says, glancing up while he works, “you live out here or just enjoying the scenic breakdown experience?”

a smile pulls at your mouth despite yourself. “neither. i was just trying to get home.”

“mm.” he clicks something into place. “dangerous thing to try in LA.”

that gets a small laugh out of you, softer now and less defensive.

when the car finally sputters back to life, you visibly relax. he steps back, wiping his hands lightly. “there you go."

you should've just said thank you and left. but something in you doesn't act immediately. because now that the problem was gone, the silence between you two felt different now.

“so how do i… repay you?” you ask, half-joking, half-serious.

he tilts his head slightly. "you don’t.” a beat passes. "just don't break down in the worst place possible next time."

you rolled your eyes a little, a smirk tugging at your lips. "no promises."

that earns a small smile from him. he steps back toward his car, then pauses like he’s deciding something.

“i’m—” he starts, then stops himself, like he’s choosing not to introduce himself the usual way. "i’ll see you around.”

"yeah... thank you."

and you watch him get back into his car, driving away and getting lost in the sea of los angeles traffic as you realized two things;

you didn't get his name, and you would likely never see him again.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

one week later

he's just getting off the phone when it happens.

“yeah, send it over tonight,” he says, already half-distracted. “i"ll listen then.”

a pause. “mm. yeah. i got it.” he ends the call before the other person finishes their last sentence.

he slips his phone into his pocket, stepping onto the sidewalk, the afternoon sun hitting just right—warm, a little blinding, the kind of los angeles light that makes everything look softer than it is.

but he's not really paying attention at first.

he's thinking about work. about a track that still isn’t sitting right. about whether he even wants to go to the next session he has lined up.

and then—he sees you.

just down the block, wired headphones plugged into your ears as you walk towards a small coffee shop.

it takes him half a second too long for him to register it. he slows before stopping in his place on the scorching sidewalk just to be sure.

same walk. same unintentional confidence—like you're not trying to be noticed, which somehow makes you stand out more. your outfit catches his attention again without effort. something light, slightly different from the first time he saw you, but still you.

skirt again—of course. not the same one, but same idea.

he notices that. he notices everything.

you push the door open to the shop before disappearing inside. and for a second—he considers just letting you go, letting the roadside interaction stay that way, a one time street kind of thing that didn't need to turn into anything else.

he exhaled quietly before shaking his head, "yeah, no." he changed his direction subtly like he was always going that way.

by the time he reaches the door, he's already composed again. no rush or urgency in him, just the same steady stride he always carried around.

inside the cafe, it’s quieter than the street. low music, soft conversations, and the smell of coffee swirled in the air.

he scans the space once and it doesn't take long for him to find you, standing near the counter, slightly turned away, looking up at the menu like you're stuck deciding between the same two things.

he watches you for a second. not long, but enough. and suddenly, there's that feeling again rising up in his chest.

he steps into line behind you—close enough to matter, not close enough to be obvious. he lets the moment build naturally. of course he does. he lets you stay unaware just a second longer.

then, as you shift your weight and turn slightly back—he steps forward at the exact right time. light contact, your shoulder to his chest. just enough to capture your attention.

"oh, sorry—" you say automatically before looking up. it took a moment for you to process that the same, gorgeous man who jumped your car last week was the one currently blocking your vision.

he tilts his head slightly, like he’s just as surprised. “well,” he says, calm, almost amused, “this is becoming a pattern.”

you blinked. "you... helped me with my car."

"i did," he agrees. "and now apparently i'm following you around LA."

you narrow your eyes slightly. "are you?"

he puts a hand over his chest, mock offended but calm. “i prefer ‘running into you repeatedly by tragic coincidence.’”

that earns a laugh from you, the first real one between you. the barista calls you next in line, and he trails behind you like you're a couple ordering together. his presence alone makes your heart thump against your chest.

the barista takes your order and before you can even unzip your purse to pay, you already see a large hand coming from behind you, inserting a card in the machine.

the barista hands the man behind you the receipt and you turn around abruptly, tilting your head up to fully face him as you both drift away from the register. "i can pay for myself," you said.

"i know," he says simply.

"i was supposed to pay," you corrected as you picked up your freshly made coffee order.

"why?" he asked genuinely, tilting his head to match the angle of yours. it sent a light pink blush up your cheeks.

you look at him like the answer is obvious. "because you jumped my car."

his eyebrows pulled together. "that was like five minutes of my time." you all but blinked, suddenly at a loss of words under the intense gaze of this mysterious, confident man.

he begins to walk towards a table and you follow him, still protesting under your breath. "that doesn't mean you get to—"

“get to what?” he glances back at you, sunglasses now off, and it’s worse without them in a way—more direct, more readable. more of his perfectly chiseled face exposed to you. “buy you coffee?”

you open your mouth, then close it. because the way he said it made it sound ridiculous to argue.

you both end up choosing a table by the window. endless blue, moving slowly under the late afternoon sun. a few people pass by on bikes, others walking along the sidewalk with iced coffees in hand, like time moves differently here.

not sat too close to him, not too far—just enough space that it could still be casual if either of you decided to pretend it was.

“so, what do you do?” you ask finally, wrapping your hands around the cup.

he leans back slightly in his chair. “music.”

“that’s vague.”

“it's intentional.”

you give him a look. “oh, so you’re mysterious.”

“i’m tired,” he corrects lightly, a smirk of amusement tugging at his lips. “there’s a difference.”

that makes you smile. “what, like a band?” you press.

“no,” he says. “behind the scenes.”

“oh.” you tilt your head. “like a manager?”

he pauses for a moment. "something like that."

it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. you nod like you accept that answer, but the curiosity doesn't go away.

“and you?” he asks.

you almost laugh. “i don’t do music.”

“didn’t say you did.”

“i mean…” you gesture vaguely. “nothing like that. i work. i live on the edge of LA where nothing interesting happens.”

his gaze holds on you a second longer than necessary. "that’s not true,” he says.

you frown slightly. “you don’t even know me.”

“i know you broke down on the side of a road in peak heat and didn’t immediately panic,” he says. “that tells me something.”

"like what?" "that you're stubborn," he replies calmly.

you lean forward a little, eyes analyzing his expression. "that's not a compliment."

“it can be,” he says. “depends who it’s about.”

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

you and him slip into easy conversation—half started stories, simple questions, the kind of conversation that doesn't feel like you're trying too hard.

you're mid-sentence, explaining something about where you live—how everything feels slower out there—when he interrupts you, but gently. “how old are you?”

you pause, caught off guard. “that’s random.”

“it’s relevant,” he says, like that should be obvious.

“to what?”

he lifts his cup slightly, studying you over the rim for a second before answering. “to how seriously i should be taking you.”

your eyebrows lift immediately. “excuse me?”

there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “i’m kidding,” he says, calm, unbothered. “mostly.”

you shake your head, trying not to smile. “twenty four.”

he nods once, like he expected that. “yeah,” he murmurs.

“yeah what?” you press.

“nothing,” he says, setting his cup down. “it makes sense.”

“that’s so annoying,” you say. “you don’t get to say that and not explain.”

“i just did.”

“no, you didn’t.”

he leans back slightly, relaxed, completely comfortable letting you be a little frustrated. “you carry yourself younger at times,” he says. “but not in a bad way.”

you narrow your eyes. “that still feels like an insult.”

“it’s not,” he says, softer now. “it’s honest.”

you look at him for a second longer than you mean to. “okay,” you say quietly. “then how old are you?”

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he tilts his head slightly, watching you like he’s deciding how much to give. “what do you think?” he asks.

you study him now, more deliberately. he doesn’t look older, not really. no obvious lines, no tiredness. and of course, he looks put together in a way most guys your age aren’t.

“twenty-seven,” you say finally. “maybe twenty-eight.”

he lets out a soft laugh—low, almost under his breath.

you frown immediately. “what?”

“nothing,” he says, shaking his head slightly with amusement.

“no, what?”

“you’re off,” he says.

“by how much?”

he pauses, then shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “enough.”

“that’s not an answer,” you says leaning forward closer now.

“it is,” he replies calmly. “just not one you like.”

you stare at him, half-annoyed, half-curious. “you’re not going to tell me?”

“not yet.”

your eyes narrow. “why?”

he meets your gaze fully this time. “because i want to see if it changes anything for you.”

you lean back slightly, thrown off in a way you don't show completely. “why would it?” you ask.

he shrugs after a small pause. he glances down at your cup. “you drink your coffee too slow, by the way.”

your mouth falls open a little as the moment quickly softens again. “oh my god.”

“just saying.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“and you’re still here,” he points out lightly.

the conversation drifts again after that, easier now. you talk more without meaning to—little things, fragments of your life. he listens in a way that feels attentive, but not invasive. like he’s not collecting information, just understanding your pace.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

you both drift toward the door without really deciding to. the conversation doesn’t end—it just slows, like both of you are aware it has to, eventually.

outside, the afternoon has softened. the heat isn’t as sharp anymore, but it’s still there, hanging in the air between you.

you shift your weight slightly, glancing down the street, then back at him. “this was…” you start, then stop, like you don't want to overdefine it. he watches you, gazed fixed on you patiently.

“unexpected,” you continue on.

he nods once. “yeah.”

“i still owe you,” you say.

he glances down at you. “you don’t.”

“i do.”

“you don’t,” he repeats, softer but final. but after a small beat, “if it makes you feel better, you can get the next one.”

you narrows your eyes. “there’s going to be a next one?”

he paused again, but only for a fraction of a second too long before he shrugged slightly like it was nothing. "if you break down again, i might start thinking it's planned."

you rolled your eyes, but a smile pulled helplessly at your lips. as you stepped out into the light of the sun, you realized two things at once. this man still hadn't told you who he is or his name, and that you somehow already agreed to see him again.

"let me see your phone," he said lowly, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes once again. it wasn't really a question.

and so you reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone, and without asking—he takes your hand gently, turning your palm slightly towards his. the faintest brush of his fingers sent an unexpected warmth up your arm in a way you couldn't ignore.

he picked up your phone that now seemed so small in his hands, typing something quickly before handing your phone back. you looked down at your screen, squinty slightly from the sun.

his name. a number.

joon 213-555-0010

when you look back up at him, he's already watching you—unreadable in a way that sent a pink flush throughout your cheeks.

"joon," you said, like you needed to say his name out loud. like you knew it was just a nickname.

he simply nodded, something small like a smile tugging at his lips from the sound of you hearing his name. "yeah."

he paused, low eyes peering above his sunglasses as he looked at you closely. "you gonna tell me yours?" he asked lowly, the baritone of his voice hitting a little too close.

so you told him, and he repeated it a few times under his breath like he had to let it sink on his tongue. "y/n," he said finally, voice quieter than usual. "pretty name for a pretty girl."

your eyes couldn't help but widely slightly at his bold words, the pink on your face turning into a deep red.

a small pause filled the air before you swallowed, trying your best to lock in your confidence in front of this man. "you didn't ask for my number," you said.

"i know."

"that's a little backwards."

"not really."

you titled your head. "why?"

he took a step back, giving you just a little more space. "because now it's your choice."

you study him for a second, like you're trying to figure out if this is some kind of game. some kind of reality tv show where they prank you with some hot mysterious man. but it didn't feel like one.

"and if i don't text you?" you ask.

a small pause before he shrugged easily. "then i'll assume you didn't want to." but his tone didn't have any pressure or persuasion in it.

"confident," you mutter.

"selective," he corrected.

you almost rolled your eyes—but you don't quite let it happen. he glances past you for a second, like he's remembering that he actually has somewhere to be. then, they quickly averted back to you.

"if you do," he continues, quieter now. "don't over think it."

you let a small laugh. "too late."

that earns a small smile from him, dimples tugging at his cheeks in a way you noticed immediately. "i figured."

another pause before he steps back swiftly, like he's deciding that he couldn't stay any longer than necessary—even if he wanted to. "i'll see you around," he says, for the second time.

before you can respond, he's already turning and stepping away, suddenly gone in the same effortless and casual way he arrived.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

that night, you tell yourself you're not going to think about him.

and you failed immediately.

you failed when you went to dinner with your friends, when you did chores around your house; in the shower and when you laid in your own bed that night—the bed that was supposed to make your thoughts go away. it was the small things at first.

the way he didn’t rush anything. the way he answered questions without really answering them. the way he looked at you like he already understood something you hadn’t said out loud yet.

and as the night continued on, the bigger things settled in your brain, making heat shamefully pool between your legs.

he didn't ask for your number. he didn't try to lock you in. instead, he just left his number with you.

who is he?

your phone sat next to you with the screen dark and off, but it felt louder than anything else in the room. you fell into a cycle of picking it up and putting it back down.

finally, you picked it up again, finding his contact. you flipped it shut, sucking in a sharp breath at the thought of messaging him. you found your thumbs typing, deleting, then typing something again.

you exhale softly, leaning back against your pillow trying your hardest not to overthink it, his voice replaying in the back of your head.

he wasn't some typical guy—you could tell in the way he carried himself. he walked casually, but with assurance. he dressed with stride, but still managed to blend in. he talked with confidence, and every line was coated with experience.

so now, it wasn't just about texting him. it's about what it would mean if you did. because somehow, after one roadside encounter and a cup of coffee—you already wanted more than you should have.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

namjoon's drive back was quiet. not because he wanted it to be—but because nothing else fit how he felt at the moment.

not even any of his music.

he had driven these streets thousands of times. the same turns, the same streets, the same palm trees. usually his mind is somewhere else entirely—work, mixes, deadlines, people who expect things from him.

but not tonight. because tonight, it kept circling back to you.

it all kept replaying in his head—the way you looked at him like you were trying to figure him out. he noticed the way you didn't try too hard. you didn't perform like everyone else in LA.

you didn't know what he is, who he is, or what kind of world he's involved in.

that was the part that was stuck in namjoon's head so deeply. because most people that meet him are already adjusted to him—already well aware, careful with their words and their tones, their intentions.

but you certainly weren't.

because you argued with him. you rolled your eyes and called him annoying. and you meant all of it.

a faint smile pulled at his mouth as he came to a stop at a red light. "twenty-seven," he muttered to himself, shaking his head and laughing slightly.

but still, you didn't hesitate.

he pulls into his place, kills the engine, but doesn’t get out right away. he glances at his phone, sitting in the center console of his car, dark and quiet.

but he doesn't reach for it. because namjoon was a patient man—he always had been. in work, in life, in everything that mattered.

once he gets inside his spacious, sleek home, he dropped his keys on the counter, running a hand through his hair, exhaling.

namjoon had been with plenty of women before. older, younger—in his world and outside of it. he always knows how it goes. he knows how to keep it light and uncomplicated.

but this didn't feel like that. because it felt like something that could get complicated. but instead of pushing it away like he normally would, he leaned into it. just a little.

an hour passes. then two.

namjoon tells himself he's not checking his phone. but it turns out to be a lie, because throughout night—he checks it without picking it up. glancing every time he walks past, like it might light up if he looks long enough. but it doesn't.

he tells himself to relax, that you have a life or that you might not be interested at all. but still—he wonders what you're up to. if you're thinking about him the way he's thinking about you. if you're overanalyzing that moment outside of the coffee shop.

suddenly, his phone buzzed. he doesn't look right away. he just looked at it before reading the unsaved number, no name attached. he picks it up and opens it almost immediately.

unknown: do you always leave girls with this much pressure or am i just special?

he lets out a quiet breath—half a laugh of amusement, half something else. there you finally were, exactly the way he had anticipated. he begins to type before he stops and quickly deletes it.

he leans back against the counter, thinking—not about what to say, but about how much he should give. because namjoon didn't want to rush this. he didn't want to come on too strong.

but he couldn't pretend that he was unaffected either, because he most certainly couldn't even if he wanted to. not with you.

he types again, this time sending it.

him: i was starting to think you wouldn't.

he watches the screen for a second longer than necessary, saving your contact before setting his phone down. it wasn't far, but it was just enough. because now, you know that he was waiting too.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

you exhale softy, rolling onto your back with a smile that couldn't help but tug at your lips.

you: oh so you were waiting

a pause settled on the screen before the typing bubble popped up again.

joon: i was curious

you: that sounds like a more mysterious way of saying waiting

joon: you can call it whatever makes you feel better

and now, you definitely smiled at that. because he was already doing that thing again—side stepping without hesitation.

you: you're too difficult to read

joon: you're trying too hard then

you: i think you're just confusing

joon: only for you sweetheart

you actually laugh out loud at that, shaking your head and ignoring the way the nickname made pink tint your cheeks.

you: wow so is this how you talk to every girl you buy coffee for?

his reply comes faster this time.

joon: i don't buy anyone coffee

you: good answer

joon: an honest one what are you doing right now?

you glanced around your room like he could somehow see.

you: nothing important

joon: doesn’t sound convincing

you: i could say the same about you

joon: i’m working

you: doing your very mysterious job?

joon: still stuck on that?

you: a little

joon: you'll figure it out eventually

you bit your lip slightly, thinking of an answer.

you: you're very sure i'm going to stick around long enough to figure it out

joon: aren't you?

your heart does that annoying little jump again, and you don't answer right away. and he doesn't send anything else. instead, he waits. three minutes later;

you: maybe

joon: that's a start

another painfully long beat passes before your cellphone vibrates again.

joon: you busy tomorrow night?

you stare at the message, blinking twice to make sure you read it right. but somehow, half of you wasn't surprised. you were practically waiting in a way you couldn't admit. but the other half was incredibly in shock.

you started to type.. deleted it.. then typed again.

you: depends what are you planning?

joon: something better than coffee

you smiled immediately, even though you tried not to.

you: that's a little confident

joon: doesn't seem like you hate it

you: i don't

joon: good

a pause settled on the screen again.

joon: 8?

you exhaled slowly, the reality creeping in as you stared at the screen. you were really going to go on a date with this man. the same, confident and attractive man that had jumped your car and saved your day. the same man who's age and job you couldn't quite detect.

you: okay

joon: i'll pick you up don't overthink it

you rolled your eyes, smiling.

you: too late

joon: i know

and just like that, with one text conversation, it definitely was more than just a street thing.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

you almost regret saying yes the moment you hear a car pull up outside, engine rumbling lowly outside your apartment window.

not because you didn't want to go, of course. but because now, it's real.

you check yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing the bumps in your hair and coating your lips with gloss one last time. simple, but intentional. something that said you tried... but didn't try too hard.

your phone buzzed.

joon: i'm outside

when you step out, you see the car first. the same sleek and clean car that had pulled over in front of you on that busy highway engulfed in heat.

then him.

leaning slightly agains the driver's side door, towering over the car with his sleeves pushed up, looking like he's only been there for a minute—but completely settled anyway. he wore a costly-looking dress shirt, glimmering chain around his neck and a sparkling watch wrapped around his built arm. you swallowed hard.

his eyes flick up from the ground immediately when he notices you. and for a second, he just looks at you. completely, unashamedly taking you in with his eyes slowly.

"yeah..." he says lowly, dragging his lips ever so quickly along his lips as you approached him, heels clicking beneath you. "you're going to be a problem tonight."

you couldn't ignore the heat that sent down your spine, but you simply peered up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently. "aren't i always?"

"i haven't seen you always," he replied.

you rolled your eyes, but a small smile pulled at your lips anyway. then, he stepped back, opening the door for you. you don't the miss the way he does it without hesitation. and when you sit inside, you don't miss the way his gaze burns into you before closing your door.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

the drive was easy, music low in the background, city lights coming to life as the sun started to dip below the horizon.

namjoon doesn't fill every silence—and somehow it makes it easier for you to talk.

"so where are you taking me?" you ask eventually.

"you'll see," he says casually, one hand on the steering wheel while the other rested between you.

"that's not helpful."

"it's not supposed to be."

you shook your head, smiling out the window. he pulls up to a restaurant that sits right by everything—the beach, the water, and the city. it was definitely upscale, but nothing intimidating.

inside, the lighting is warm yet dim, swift music playing and low conversations humming.

you were seated quickly. no waiting or confusion. you didn't quite realize the line of people who were standing for a table, and how you and him were able to breeze right past it.

when you arrive to your seat, it's right in front of the window, city lights and palm trees stretching on the glass in front of you. he pulls your seat out for you, helping you take off your coat and placing it along your chair.

after you place your orders, the conversation flows faster this time. less guarded, and more natural.

"so," he says, leaning back in his chair slightly. "what do you actually do?"

you sigh softly, like you already know the answer isn't impressive, even compared to his incredibly vague one. "i’m a waitress," you say. "nothing exciting."

he watches you for a second. "you keep saying that."

"because it's true."

"or because you think it's supposed to be."

that made you pause. "it's not exactly... impressive," you admitted.

he shrugs lightly. "most things that are don't matter."

you let out a small breath, like you didn’t expect that answer. “you always talk like that?” you ask.

“like what?”

“like you know something i don’t.”

a small smirk pulls at his mouth. “sometimes i do.”

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

you and namjoon are laughing a few minutes later—about something small and stupid—and it feels easy. too easy.

the song currently playing comes to an end and the music shifts. a different song comes on—smooth, familiar, something that's even playing everywhere recently.

you perked up immediately. "oh my god, i love this song."

he stills ever so slightly. it's quick and barely noticeable, but there's a flicker of something across his face. he glances down at the table, then back up at you. "yeah?" he asks, casual.

"yeah," you nod, smiling. "it's so good."

he hums in response, leaning back in his seat like it's just background noise. "not bad."

you narrow your eyes slightly. "not bad?" he shrugs. "it's alright."

you laugh. "you're impossible."

and he doesn't argue. but there's a faint smirk but he doesn't fully hide this time.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

the dinner stretches longer than you expected. because neither of you seem to be in a rush to end it.

by the time the check comes, you reach for it instinctively. because at the cafe, he said he would let you get it this time.

but he's faster. of course he is.

"you don't have to—" you start.

"i know."

"that's not fair," you protest.

"it doesn't have to be," he said.

you sigh, but you're already smiling again.

as he hands the card over, the server pauses. "sorry," the server says, almost hesitant. "are you... are you—namjoon—"

namjoon already knows what's coming. he exhales softly, not annoyed at all, just used to it. "yeah," he says with a polite smile. you blinked.

"sorry- i thought so. i didn't want to assume."

he gives a small, reassuring nod.

"do you think i could-" the server gestures awkwardly. "just like, a quick autograph? my brother and i are huge fans."

you completely froze.

fan?

huge?

he doesn't make it a big deal. "yeah, no problem," he says, like it was normal. like this happens all the time. because it does.

he signs something quickly, hands it back with a polite smile.

"thank you—i appreciate it. you two have a great night," the server said before walking off.

silence settled between you for the brief a second. you were completely staring at him now, trying to control your facial expressions as you processed what just happened.

"you didn't tell me that happens to you," you said.

"i didn't think it mattered," he replied casually.

"well," you said slowly. "what exactly do you do?"

there it was. the question he definitely couldn't avoid this time. he leans back slightly, studying your expression. it was curious, but not intimidated or totally impressed. just curious.

"i told you," he said. "music."

you shook your head. "no, you said behind the scenes."

he huffed a small breath, close to a laugh before he paused. "i produce," he said finally. it was simple and direct—no bragging or boasting.

you blink again. "like... that song?"

a beat passes for a small moment before he nods once. "yeah."

and now, the air between you shifted. because now you knew; he wasn't just some guy who stopped to help you on the side of the road.

and somehow, it almost made things worse. because now, you had to figure out why he's here... with you.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

the air outside feels cooler than before. or maybe it’s just because of the way everything shifted inside.

namjoon pushes the door open for you, stepping slightly to the side to let you walk out first—but as you pass, his hand settles lightly at the small of your back.

guiding. not grabbing or lingering too long. just there, resting on your back. it's subtle, but you can feel the intention seeping through you, especially in the way it instantly sends a shiver up your back.

your steps slow for half a second—not enough for him to comment on, but enough for you to notice yourself.

but he notices too.

you both walk a few steps in the parking lot in silence. it wasn't awkward, it was just both of you recollecting the entire night—including who he really was.

“so,” you say finally, glancing over at him, tone light like nothing’s changed, “you’re kind of a big deal, namjoon.”

he exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “no.”

“that guy literally asked you for an autograph.”

“that happens sometimes.”

you narrow your eyes. “that’s not normal.”

“it is for me,” he says simply. it wasn't cocky or defensive, just the honest truth. it should've been intimidating. but you didn't let it land that way.

you shrugged slightly. "okay. but that still doesn't mean i'm impressed."

there's a pause before he looks at you—really looks this time. and something shifts in his eyes, subtle but sharper. more interested and intrigued by the young woman standing before him.

"good," he said lowly.

you blinked. "good?"

“i’d be a little concerned if you were.”

your lips press together slightly, trying not to smile. “you’re unbelievable.”

“i’ve been told.”

you both reach his car, but neither of you move to get in right away. he leans back against it slightly, arms relaxed and eyes fixed on you.

you cross your arms again. not closed off, just grounding yourself under his gaze. "so you just... make songs people know?"

"sometimes," he said with a shrug.

"ugh, that's such a non-answer."

his lips fought a smile at your remark. "it's an accurate one."

you shook your head, a small laugh escaping you. "you're so annoying."

"but you keep talking to me," he points out.

you finally glance up at him fully, and for a second, the eye contact lingers for a moment too long. it causes you to look away first, pink tinting your cheeks.

and namjoon notices everything.

the way you're holding eye contact a little less now. the way you're slightly more aware of yourself. the way you're trying not to let it change anything. but it doesn’t turn him off—it only pulls him in more.

“you got quiet,” he says.

“i didn’t.”

“you did.”

you look away for a second, then back at him. “i’m just thinking.”

“about?”

you hesitate. “nothing,” you say.

he tilts his head slightly, unconvinced—but he doesn’t push. instead, he steps a little closer. not enough to crowd you, but enough to spark the energy in the space between you even more.

“you’re doing that thing,” he comments quietly, eyes trailing up and down your figure.

your brows knit. “what thing?”

“trying to act like nothing changed.”

your stomach flips—annoyingly and immediate. “because nothing did,” you said.

a pause fills the air. he studies your face, like he’s deciding whether to call it out further. “alright,” he says finally.

you exhale softly. “you’re not going to say anything else?”

“i don’t need to.”

“that’s so—” you cut yourself off, shaking your head.

he watches you, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth now. “say it,” he murmurs.

you look at him, trying not to react to the way his voice dropped slightly. “it’s just… a lot,” you admit.

your answer was too honest for your liking, yet he didn't laugh or dismiss it. "yeah," he said quietly. "it can be."

a beat passed. "but i'm still the same guy you had coffee with," he said softly. and those words land, harder than anything else he's said.

you study him for a second, searching for something—ego, arrogance, anything that would make this easier to categorize.

but you don’t find it. instead, you're only able to find that same calm, steady version of him. the one who stopped his car for you. the one who let you decide whether to text him. the one who didn’t even bother to impress you.

“…okay,” you say finally. and you mean it.

there was a small shift in the air between you, the tension softening— but not totally disappearing.

“so,” he says, pushing off the car slightly, “you still letting me drive you home?”

you raise an eyebrow. “do i have a choice?”

“you always have a choice,” he said. a beat passes. "but i’d prefer if you said yes," he confessed playfully.

you huffs out a quiet laugh. “you’re very subtle.”

“i try.”

and for the second time that night, namjoon opens the passenger door for you. and this time, when you got in, it felt different; reality swirling around you and settling into your head.

the drive back was quieter than the one there. it wasn't awkward or empty—just filled with unspoken words and incredibly thick tension.

his gaze was fixed on the road, but you couldn't ignore the way you caught him glancing over at you multiple times in the corner of your eye. the music is low, humming softly through the speakers before another song comes on.

you glance over at the console, then over at him. "did you make this one too?" you ask, half teasing.

he doesn't look at you right away, a smirk pulling at his lips, leaving a sharp shadow along his jaw. "maybe."

you roll your eyes, fully smiling now. "you're never going to give me a straight answer, are you?"

"not all at once, pretty girl."

there it is again. not just the nickname that sent heat through your spine and in between your legs—but that confident, indirect promise of you sticking around long enough to unlock every thing about him.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

you're looking out the window, surrounded by the kind of silence that makes everything feel more noticeable. but you're not really seeing or looking at anything, because you're too aware.

too aware of namjoon. the way he drives—one veiny hand on the wheel, relaxed but precise. the way the scent of his expensive cologne and shampoo made your knees weaken. the way he continues to glance over every now and then, quick, like he’s checking something without making it obvious.

you shift slightly in your seat every time he does.

suddenly, his hand moves from the wheel for just a second—resting briefly against the center console as he adjusts his grip. but through that movement, his large fingers brush lightly against your thigh.

he dragged them ever so softly on your thigh for what felt like forever—but only lasted two seconds—before moving his hand back to the center console. his fingers were barely there, not lingering or deliberate enough to call out. but it wasn't exactly accidental enough to ignore either.

your breath catches for just a second, but he doesn't react or apologize. he doesn't even look at you, and somehow that makes it worse.

you swallow hard, turning your head slightly towards the window again. but now you're even more hyper-aware of the space between you. your heart was doing something very annoying again, and you knew it.

he knew it.

he slows the car as you reach your place, parking smoothly before killing the engine. and just like that, everything went still.

neither of you moved right away. you looked down at your hands, then back up like you were about to say something. but you didn't.

he simply watches you for a second, less teasing in his eyes and more focus. he took in every inch of you, sitting so still and pretty in his car. looking at him like he was still the same guy who jumped your car, not like he was a guy who made every hit song. "you got quiet again," he says softly.

you let out a small breath. "you keep saying that."

"because you keep doing it."

you glance at him. this time, you don't look away immediately. "i'm just thinking."

"dangerous," he murmurs, pulling a small smile from you.

you reach for the door handle. "thanks for dinner," you say, like you're trying to keep it normal.

"yeah," he replies with a soft smile.

you open the door, stepping out thinking that the night is wrapped up. that he'll pull away and let you go. but then, you hear his door open too.

he rounds the front of the car, meeting you halfway up the short path to your door. he took his time not rushing—because he never did.

when you stop in front of your door, you turn to face him. and suddenly, it's close. closer than it's been all night. there wasn't a table, a center console, or any distractions now. just him, towering over you and filling your entire vision with nothing but him. his musky cologne quickly filled your nostrils, throwing your mind off balance.

"you don't have to walk me up," you say quietly, close to a whisper.

"i know," he says. but he doesn't step back.

a long pause fills the air, stretching long enough for the tension to feel intentional. his gaze drops briefly, to your lips—then back up to your eyes.

your breath catches again, softer now. but you were too close for namjoon to not notice it. "are you always this—" you start, then stop.

"this what?" he asks lowly, clenching his jaw ever so slightly at the mere sight of you fumbling with your words in front of him.

you shake your head slightly. "i don't even know."

a faint smile pulls at his mouth. "good." he took another step closer, not enough to trap you, but enough for the warmth of his body to wrap around you.

then, his hand lifts, hesitating for half a second before gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. he does it carefully, like he was giving you all the time in the world to pull away. but you didn't.

"you're overthinking again," he murmurs, low eyes scanning every inch of your face.

your voice comes out quieter than you expect. "you keep saying that like it helps."

"it does," he suggests casually.

"how?"

he leans in barely. he doesn't completely close the distance between you, but it was enough to send a bolt of warmth down your body. "because you're still here."

you tilt your head up just a little, before he leans in just a sliver more. and for a second, the moment is right there, sitting heavy in the little distance there was between you.

and then, he stops. just barely, coming to a small still when you could practically feel his breath on you. just enough that it didn't happen.

your eyes flicker across his face, confused, a little breathless. he watches your reaction carefully, low eyes trained onto your every movement.

and suddenly, there's that faint smirk again—but it's softer; barely there and more restrained than usual in a way you almost didn't catch.

"goodnight, doll," he said lowly. "sleep well."

like nothing had almost just happened.

he steps back, ripping the thick air that had just sat between you like a third person. breaking it and leaving you there standing with it.

“you’re—” you start, but you don't even know what to call him.

he tilts his head slightly, licking his lips and averting his gaze down you one last time. “what?”

you exhale half-laugh and half-frustration. “annoying.”

he smiles, dimples pulling at his cheeks. “i know," he says, before turning around and walking back to his car.

from the doorstep, you watch him get in, turn on the engine, and leave. leaving you there with more thoughts than your racing heart could keep up with and a miserable dampness in your panties.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

namjoon's place is quiet again. too quiet.

he tosses his keys down, walks a few steps in, then stops—like his body forgot what he was about to do.

because his mind was entirely somewhere else.

it was still at your door. still immersed into that moment.

he leans back against his kitchen counter, exhaling. he's replaying everything now, like dinner—the way you didn't switch up when you found out what he did. you weren't suddenly impressed or started asking the wrong questions.

you stayed the same. maybe you were a little quieter, a tad bit more aware. but you didn't completely fold.

that absolutely sat under namjoon's skin now. he was completely enamored by you, and didn't want to pull a girl like you into his chaotic world. didn't want you to adjust to him because of who he was, like most people did.

but you didn't. you just took it in, and kept going. you stayed exactly the same—you still called him annoying and told him he wasn't impressive.

he looks at his phone sitting a few feet away. he already gave you control once. he let you decide whether or not to text him, to decide if it was going to go anywhere or not.

but he wasn't going to do that tonight.

him: you always look at people like that or was that just for me?

he sets the phone down, but not far. because you've consumed every inch of his mind again without even trying to. he thinks about the your eyes dropped to his lips, the way you didn't pull away.

his jaw tightened slightly. he knew he was in trouble.

his phone lit up again.

her: like what?

he lets out a quiet breath, a smile pulling at his lips. the way you played it off, like you always did, made him only want more. made him think that maybe he should've kissed you right then and there—should've forgot about being a man and taking his time with you and—

he slowly took in a deep breath through his nose, dragging a hand across his face.

him: like you were about to do something you'd regret

her: don't know if i'd call it regret

namjoon liked that a little too much, licking his lips and leaning back. because now, he knows you felt it too.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

a few days and several text conversations later, namjoon sends you a text on a night he knows you're not working. no question or explanation, just;

joon: be ready at 7

when he picks you up, the air already shifts when you walk outside. it was in the way he looked at you, slow and deliberate, like he wasn't hiding it at all anymore. he takes his time, eyes trailing from your shoes, to the way your skirt falls, the jewelry at your wrist, to your face.

"you always dress like this, doll?" he asks lowly, stepping closer to you.

you raise an eyebrow, ignoring the way the name made your brain feel like mush. "like what?"

"like you knew exactly what you were doing when you picked that."

your lips pressed together slightly, trying not to smile. "maybe i did."

a faint smirk pulled at his lips. "yeah," he agreed. "i think you did."

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

the driver is longer, along the coast again. his tinted windows are cracked, music low with the sky fading into the darkest blue that only happens by the water.

you and namjoon talk, but it's far from that careful, first date way. the conversation flowed between you easily. you interrupted each other, went off on tangents. doubled back to things you both said earlier. like you both have done this together longer than you actually had.

when you arrive, the place is even more secluded than last time. a quiet overlook with soft lights and the ocean extending endlessly in front of you. the sound of waves clashed below in a way that was steady and grounding.

it felt private, like the rest of the world didn't exist here.

you and namjoon sit closer this time without question. dinner stretches and the conversation flows. you don't even discuss all the big things, but it's the way you talk about the small ones that makes it feel different.

you tell him about what hobbies you have, about your job—how it's routine, how people underestimate it, and how sometimes you feel stuck. and he doesn't brush it off or give you empty encouragement like most people did.

"you're not stuck," he corrected you firmly.

you scoff every is slightly. "that's easy for you to say."

"it's not about me," he replies softly. "you just need to find what you want."

you pout slightly in a way that makes his heart falter. "and you have?"

he pauses for half a second. "yeah." that same confidence remained in his tone, and for a second it felt like he might have been talking about something else.

at some point, his hand settles at the back of your chair. but this time, it stays. it wasn't touching you directly, but it was close enough to make you aware of it. aware of him.

you shift slightly and his slender fingers brush at your shoulders. they rest there for a second longer than necessary before pulling back. his warmth and his actions sent an unbearable heat between your legs.

after dinner, you both step away from the table, walking along the edge of the overlook. the night air is cooler now, ocean breeze slipping through you. you and him walk a little closer than before, shoulders lightly brushing with every few steps.

you wrapped your arms around you slightly, and his jacket is already around your shoulders before you can say anything.

you glance back at him, stopping in your steps to look at him properly. "you know... you're very sure of yourself."

"that bothers you?"

"no," you admit honestly. "it's just—different."

he pauses for a small moment. "from what you're used to?" he asks.

you nod slightly. he studies you for a second. "you're trying to figure out how old i am again."

your eyes widen slightly. "i'm not—"

"you are."

you exhale. "okay, maybe a little."

he lets your confession sit in the air before he nods slightly toward a couple walking past you two—a generation older than you, quieter, and settled. "you think i'm closer to them, or closer to you?" he asks.

you look back at the couple, then back at him. you really look at him, thinking about the way he carries himself. the way he speaks. the way he doesn't rush anything.

your expression shifts. "...okay," you say slowly. "how old are you?"

he pauses for longer than just a few seconds. "thirty-three," he answers finally.

you can't help but blink. once. twice. "...really?"

"yeah."

you study him again, like the answer didn't quite align with what you were seeing. "you don't look thirty-three."

"i know," he answered casually.

"that's kind of unfair," you said playfully.

he smiled softly. "i've heard that."

a quiet beat passes as namjoon watches you carefully, curiously watching your expression.

you shrug slightly. "okay."

he tilts his head. "that's all?"

"what?" you ask. "were you expecting something else?"

"most people... adjust," he stated.

you look at him deeply, peering up at him through your eyelashes. "well i'm not most people."

he steps closer, lightly closing the space between you. his scent filled your head once again, making your breath catch.

"yeah," he said lowly. "i noticed."

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

later, when you leave the restaurant together, you don't rush out. you never do.

namjoon walks slightly behind you first as you both headed towards the entrance, one hand finding its way onto the small of your back. it became natural now, something you didn't react to—externally, at least.

his hand was there, guiding you carefully down the steps.

two hostesses near the front glance up. then they glance at namjoon. then to you, then back at him.

a quick look exchanged between them followed by a few whispers and positive smiles. he catches it immediately. of course he does.

namjoon doesn’t look directly at them—he doesn’t acknowledge it—but there’s the faintest change in his expression. then his hand presses just slightly firmer at your back.

a quiet, almost instinctive gesture. not to show off. just to keep you close—and slightly focus the attention on you.

you don't notice the whispers, but you do notice the presence of his hand grow warmer. "what?" you ask, glancing back at him.

"nothing," he says easily.

the lights from the restaurant glowed behind you, the cool night air and a soft breeze coming off the water hitting you all at once.

there's a small set of marble steps leading down towards the parking area. you start down them without thinking—mind entirely captured by namjoon—and suddenly your heel catches slightly.

it's quick—barely a stumble, but it's enough to throw you off balance slightly. his large hands instantly find their way to your waist firmly, tightening his grip and steadying you before you could even process anything.

"careful, baby," he murmurs, low and close. the name slipping out like it had always belonged there.

you freeze for half a second, breath catching slightly before you steady yourself, hand instinctively brushing against his arm.

"I'm fine," you say, a little too quickly, beginning to continue a careful ascend down the steps and ignoring the heat on your cheeks.

namjoon however, doesn't move his hands right away. they linger on your waist a second longer than necessary, making sure you're fully balanced. "i know," he says calmly.

you look up at him, trying to play it off. "you don't have to—"

"i know," he cuts in softly.

and when you reach the bottom of the steps, his hand doesn't leave your back. it stays there, steady, guiding you towards his car like you're already part of his space.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

the drive back is quiet, the low vibration of the music and the city lights and palm trees flickering past practically lulling you to sleep.

and namjoon's presence, of course.

his large hand rested on the wheel, the other on the center console. close enough. by the minute, you swear it continues to get closer.

"tell me about him," namjoon says suddenly, the deep baritone of his voice making your thighs press together slightly.

you frown slightly from confusion. "about who?"

"your ex."

it catches you off guard. "...why?"

he shrugs lightly, sharp eyes still on the road. "i'm curious."

you hesitate before sighing. "he was..." you trailed off, trying to find the right word. "lazy."

half a second passed. "immature," you added. "didn't really pay attention to me unless it was convenient."

and as you talk, namjoon's jaw tightens slightly. it's subtle and controlled in a way you don't notice, but it's there.

"he just-" you shook your head slightly, looking out the window. "i don't know. it felt like I was always asking for the bare minimum."

for a long second, silence fills the car. namjoon's fingers tap once against the console. then, they shift. his hand moves unhurriedly, eventually finding its way to rest against your thigh, making a sharp bolt of warmth shoot down your body.

"yeah," he says finally, voice low and rough. "that sounds about right."

you glance at him. "what does that mean?"

he paused for a second. "guys your age," he continues, calm but edged with something sharper now. "they don't know what to do with a woman like you."

your stomach flips in a way that is impossible to ignore. "and you do?" you ask teasingly, trying to keep your tone steady.

his thumb shifts slightly against your thigh slightly. butterflies erupted in your stomach and your thighs shifted in a way you couldn't help, trying to disregard the heat between your legs.

"i wouldn't ignore you," he says simply.

the air in car seems to shift as you swallow hard, glancing out the window before looking back at him. "you barely know me."

"i know enough," he answers.

your breath catches slightly. namjoon's hand stays sat on your thigh steadily, like he knows exactly what it's doing to you.

"and i definitely wouldn't have you asking for anything," he adds. his words land deeper than they should, etching themselves into the back of your mind without asking.

you let out a quiet, almost nervous laugh. "you're very confident."

"i'm honest," he says. he pauses for a moment. then, his voice drops just a little—"big difference."

you look at him again, thoroughly scanning his face this time. "you always talk like that?" you ask.

"only when i mean it."

another silence settles between you, this time sitting thick; heavy with everything both of you haven't said. his hand finally shifts, but not away from you. it only slides higher along your thigh before settling again.

"relax, doll," he murmurs softly, voice low and deep.

you exhale slowly, trying to steady yourself. "you're doing that on purpose."

"doing what?"

you shake your head slightly. "you know exactly what."

a faint smirk pulls at his lips. "yeah," he answers. "i do."

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

suddenly, the rest of the drive feels too short.

namjoon pulls to your curb, parking swiftly with one hand before cutting the engine. silence fills the space, neither of you reaching for the door immediately.

you look down at your hands, then back up, like you're about to say something—but the words don't come as easily now. because everything, from the restaurant, the drive is still sitting in between you. his hand, his voice. doll.

"you got quiet again," he says softly.

you let out a small breath. "you make it hard not to."

he stills ever so slightly, like your words had pulled something out of him. "do i?" he asks.

you look at him, holding his intense gaze this time. "yeah."

he pauses for longer than normal, eventually moving his hand before his mouth. he starts slow—not to your thigh this time—but higher. his fingers lift, brushing lightly along your jaw. just the tips, tracing the line like he needed to memorize it.

your breath catches immediately, peering up at him through your eyelashes as you seemingly couldn't look away from his face. he tilts his head slightly, watching your reaction closely.

"you always look like this when you're thinking?" he murmurs.

your voice comes out quieter than you expect. "like what?"

his thumb lingers beneath just beneath your chin for just a second. then it shifts slightly, guiding your face just enough so that you're looking directly at him and nothing else.

"like you're trying to figure out if this is a good idea," he says.

your heart practically stumbles. because he absolutely was right. "and?" you ask quietly.

a small smirk pulls at his mouth. but this one was softer, like it was more certainty than teasing. "i think you already decided," he murmurs. his gaze drops briefly, down to your lips, then back up again. this time, he doesn't even try to hide it.

"you're dangerous, you know that?" you say, barely above a whisper.

he leans in slightly, his scent taking over your lungs. "yeah?"

your breath is uneven now. "yeah."

his gaze drifts again, over your face, slower this time. fully taking you in. "you still thinking about the age thing?" he asks.

"no," you respond, holding the burning eye contact.

he studies you for half a second, like he's deciding if you're telling the truth. then, he exhales quietly, almost amusedly. "yeah," he says. "didn't think you would."

his hand lifts from your chin before resting lightly at your waist, thumb pressing just slightly before easing.

"probably better for you," he adds, voicer lower now, teasing but grounded in something real and deep, "if you didn't get used to someone like me."

your stomach flips instantly. "who says i'm getting used to you?" you shoot back, trying to play it off.

a smile tugs at his lips. "doll," he murmurs, softer and closer, the warmth of his breath hitting your neck. "you're already here."

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

a few days later, namjoon sends you an address located in the corner of a private street in LA telling you to meet him there. telling you that he wanted to show you something.

a building tucked slightly off the main road, close enough to the water that the air already feels different when you step out of the car.

you hesitate for a half a second before going in. not nervous, but just a little too aware of what you were walking into. with a few instructed taps on the door buzzer, you were let in.

inside, the hallway light is dim, soft lights lining the walls that were decorated with award cases, album posters, and framed vinyls. the floors were sleek and bass echoed through the walls.

you followed the sound the sound down the hallway, until you find a studio door that's slightly open. the gold plate on it reading, "kim namjoon" then below it, "head executive producer."

you exhale softly, heart slightly stopping at that and swallowing a little too hard before you push it gently, and that's when you see him.

sitting at the main console, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting near the soundboard. one hand adjusting a dial, the other resting against his chin like he's listening too closely.

he was so immersed that he hadn't noticed you yet.

the room was lowly lit—colored LEDS instead of overhead lights, the glow from the equipment reflecting softly against his face.

and there's something about him like this—focused, quiet, and completely in his element—that hits differently, making your stomach twist into a knot.

his sleeves are pushed up again, glistening watch catching the light as he moves his hand. a chain rests below his collar, barely visible, but sparkling in the light.

everything about him is so simple, but it fits him all too well. you don't mean to stare, but you definitely do.

and then, like he felt it—namjoon finally glances up. your eyes immediately meet, and you swear you felt a spark flash through your body.

for a split second, he doesn't say anything. he just looks at you, gaze taking you in deliberately.

then, he licks his lips so lightly you almost don't catch it. "you just going to stand there," he says, voice low and soft. "or are you coming in?"

you blink, snapping out of your trance slightly. "i-i didn't want to interrupt."

"you didn't," he replies easily. but his eyes linger on you for a second longer, almost like he knew you were watching him.

you step inside, softly closing the door behind you. the white lighting from the hallway had disappeared now, fully engulfing you into his world—his studio, his creative space—the place where he made every hit even possible. the big room suddenly felt smaller now, more private.

you look around, taking it all in. the walls are boarded with soundproof panels, and large speakers are placed around the sleek equipment. there's two chairs, a beanbag, and couch with folders of music sheets and lyrics scattered on the floor and on counter tops. "this is... really nice."

"mm," he hums, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs slightly. "it works."

you glance at him. "you say everything like that."

"like what?"

"like it's not a big deal."

a faint smirk. "it's not."

you roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at your lips. he gestures towards the seat next to him. "come here." it wasn't a question.

you walk over, sitting beside him—closer than expected, immediately greeted by his warmth and the musk of his cologne.

he turns towards the console, grabbing a pair of high-end headphones. "listen to this," he says. he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear before carefully placing them over your head.

music plays—smooth and layered. it had no lyrics, but it was already catchy. you hummed in delight. "it's really good," you said softly, gently taking the headphones off.

"i know," he replies casually.

you laugh. "you're insufferable."

he glances at you, a smirk forming. "you're still here though."

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

after a few minutes of namjoon showing you some buttons, he glances at you. "you want to try something?" you look at him, a bit hesitant. "like what?"

he shifts slightly, turning your chair just enough so that your angled more towards the board. "come on," he says, nodding towards the controls. "i'll show you."

"...i feel like i'm going to mess something up," you say.

"you won't."

"how do you know?" he leans in slightly, his breath hitting your neck ever so slightly. "because i'm right here."

your stomach flips again. he reaches around you slightly, one hand bracing lightly against the edge of the console near you, the other guiding your hand toward a dial.

“turn this,” he says, voice lower now, near your ear.

you try to focus. you really do. but namjoon is close. too close. his warmth spilling all over you, hitting you in all the places that made your thighs pull closer together.

you turn the dial slowly—and immediately the sound distorts in a ridiculous way. you both pause.

"...was that supposed to happen?" you ask.

he stares at the board for a second before a short laugh escapes him, dimples tugging at his cheeks. "no," he says.

you burst out laughing. "i told you!"

he shakes his head with another laugh, reaching forward to fix it, his arm brushing yours again. "you didn't break it," he says. "relax."

"i definitely did something."

"you did," he replies with a smile. "just not what i said."

you laugh again, softer this time.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

you're standing now, not sitting anymore.

because namjoon told you to.

“stand here,” he said, guiding you lightly by the waist until you were in front of the soundboard. no asking, just placing you there. you stiffened under his touch that sent a light shock through you.

"relax, doll," he murmurs behind you. the deep baritone of his voice hitting a little too close.

you exhale slowly, trying to focus on the board in front of you—but it's hard when you can feel him right behind you. he steps in closer, practically pressing you together.

one hand reaches around you, bracing against the console. the other finds yours, fingers sliding over yours, adjusting your grip on one of the controls. "not like that," he says, low. "too quick."

"i'm not doing anything fast," you defend weakly, trying your best to sound steady.

you hear a quiet, almost amused exhale behind you. "yeah?" he murmurs deeply.

his chest brushes lightly against your back as he leans in closer, guiding your hand again—slower this time. "you rush when you're nervous."

"i'm not nervous."

"mm," he hums, unconvinced. his hand tightens slightly over yours, turning the dial with you. the sound shifts, smoother this time. "like that," he says.

but he doesn't move away, not even a little bit. you swallow, your body hyper-aware of every point of contact. his hand over yours, his chest behind you, his voice vibrating your ear. and you definitely tried to ignore something hard resting against your ass.

"you do this with everyone?" you ask.

"no," he answered simply.

at to that, your heart stumbled. his hand left yours, but only came to settle at your waist, firm and steady. in his grip he turned you slightly—not fully, but enough to turn your attention away from the board and onto him. "you're distracted again," he murmured.

you let out a soft breath. "you keep saying that like it's my fault."

a smirk pulls at his lips, one that you can practically hear in his voice. "doll," he says lowly, "you haven't been focused since you walked in."

your stomach flips as you turn your head slightly, giving just enough space to look back at him—but it's a mistake. because he's already looking at you, his face much closer than expected and barely any space left between you now.

"you always get like this?" he asks softly.

"like what?"

his gaze drops slowly, then back up again. "quiet." he pauses. "...when you feel something."

your breath catches. "you act like you know me," you say.

"i do," he replies casually. those words shouldn't hit you as hard as they do, but they do anyway—causing your heart to leap.

he shifts you fully this time, making you fully face him as his large hands still rested at your waist, thumbs pressing in ever so slightly.

"or maybe," he adds, voice quieter now. "you're just not used to someone who pays attention."

your chest rises slowly. "and you do?"

"to you?" he asks quietly, something flickering across his eyes. "of course i do."

a small pause. "i wouldn't ignore you," he mutters in your ear, breath hot down your neck in a way that makes your hairs stand up. his hand tightens slightly against you. "not like they did."

his words land, striking the base of your heart deeply. "and i definitely wouldn't have you guessing where you stand."

your breath is uneven now, but you can't seem to look away. "confident," you murmur.

"experienced," he corrects simply. his voice and his head dips lower just slightly—"difference is...i know how to treat a woman like you properly."

and suddenly the last thread holding you steady is already gone. you exhale softy, almost a laugh, but not quite. "you always talk like this?"

"only when i mean it."

silence fills the space around you, heavy and close. one of his hands lifts from your waist slowly before coming to your jaw and tracing along it deliberately, just like he did before.

his thumb sits at your chin, tilting your face up just slightly. it takes everything in you for your knees to not buckle right then and there, taking in his low, piercing gaze.

"you keep looking at me like that," you whisper.

"like what, hm?" he asks, voice low as he tilts his head lower, leaving little space between your noses. you felt like your whole world was spinning, trying to ground yourself properly without clinging onto him.

"like you're about to do something."

he pauses for a split second, licking his lips while his eyes practically swirled with darkness. then—low and certain—"i am."

and this time, namjoon doesn't stop himself. he leans in, fully closing the last bit of distance between you, crashing his lips onto yours. it's immediate—but not rushed. he kisses you slow, deep, like he's been holding it back for too long and finally had decided he was done.

you respond quickly, completely melting under the contact and moving your lips into his. your breath catches against his, one hand instinctively finding one of his big arms, while the other gripped on his shirt to steady yourself— because it hits you all at once.

the way he pulls you closer against him, one of his hands firmly settled at your waist while the other holds your head possessively, gently tilting your head at an angle that allowed him to kiss you deeper.

you lean into him without thinking—and he feels it, of course. he hooks his fingers around the belt loop of your denim skirt, pulling you even closer. the kiss deepens—but it isn't overwhelming. it's certain, like he wanted to take his time with his lips against yours.

your fingers tightened against him, causing him to exhale quietly against your lips, like he had been waiting for that exact response from you.

when you both pull back, you barely move an inch. foreheads close, breath uneven, and neither of you pulling away. his hands remain at your waist, yours still on him.

and after a second of catching your breath—namjoon leans in again. not because he's testing it anymore, but because he wants it—no, he needs it again. and you seem to meet him there just as fast.

his lips capture yours for the second time that night, practically taking your breath with him. your thighs press together slightly as you kiss him back, your hand sliding higher along his arm, gripping his bicep and pulling him closer without even realizing it.

his grip tightens slightly. "don't start something you can't finish, doll..." he murmurs quietly against your lips, voice rough.

the kiss suddenly shifts, not messy or rushed—but hungry. namjoon's hand slid shamelessly down your waist and onto your ass, sliding up and down its curve like it was already his.

that pulled a gasp out of you, and he saw it as the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. you allow him, opening your mouth more to let him further explore it with his tongue. your lips practically molded together, saliva mixing as he swirled his tongue around yours.

"look at you..." he mutters, barely pulling back, his thumb brushing your jaw again. "so responsive."

your stomach flips more times than you can count. "don't—" you start, breath uneven, but you can't even finish the sentence before you feel dampness between your legs.

"don't what, baby?" he asks lowly, smirking faintly against your lips. "don't notice you?" he kisses you again before you can answer. his hand slides up from your ass, up your waist to your side—slower and more deliberate, before settling it there again, like he's grounding you there with him.

your grip on him tightens, deepening the kiss without intending to. "doll..." he murmurs, quietly now like it's a warning.

but he doesn't stop, and you most certainly don't want him to. all of a sudden namjoon is moving, guiding you back without breaking the kiss, step by step, until the back of your legs hit the couch.

you exhale softly in surprise—before you're sitting and he is too, pulling you with him. now, you find yourself on his lap—straddled on top of him with his hands firmly gripping your thighs and with everything much closer.

your hands find his broad shoulders, this time holding onto him like you desperately need to steady yourself, leaning into him once more. and namjoon notices, like he always does.

a low exhale leaves him, almost like a quiet laugh. "not pulling away anymore, are you, baby?" he murmurs, brushing his lips along your jaw slowly while his big palms drag up and down your thighs.

his plush lips trace the line of your jaw, littering soft kisses and your head tilts slightly to give him space without even thinking about it. "good," he praises quietly against your skin, lips trailing their way down your neck.

as he presses soft kisses along your neck, one of his hands presses a little firmer into your thigh, keeping you against him as the other rested gently at your neck—not enough to put pressure—but enough for your mind to go blank and make your thighs noticeably shift.

your breath hitches just above him, and his other hand soothes slowly against your thigh to steady you. "you have no idea..." he murmurs, lightly digging his teeth into your skin, making you shudder. "how hard i was trying to take my time with you."

your fingers tighten against him, struggling to ignore the unbearable ache in your core. "then why aren't you?" you manage softly, voice weaker than usual, knowing you didn't want that.

he paused for a moment, the warmth of his breath tingling down your neck and through your spine. his voice comes lower this time, but steadier. "because you stopped me from wanting to."

he pulls back just enough to look at you again, dark and low eyes trailing every inch of your face. his hand comes up, brushing your hair behind your ear slowly, slower than before.

"you're trouble, princess," he says lowly, another nickname rolling off his tongue with ease. "but i like it."

your breath is still uneven, your heart racing faster than your mind—but you don't look away. "good," you murmur.

namjoon's jaw tightens slightly at that—not in frustration, but in complete restraint. what's left of it, at least.

his hand that rested along your neck slid up, tilting your chin upwards with his thumb once again, making sure that you were really looking at him. "you sure about this, doll?" he asks lowly.

you nod without hesitation. "yes."

a small pause fills the thick, small space between you, but his smoldering gaze doesn't leave yours. his gentle hold on your jaw tightens ever so slightly—not to harm you, but to ground you into the moment. "you understand...i'm not the kind of man you forget after this."

your breath catches, but you don't pull back. "i know," you say softly, holding his gaze.

his hands return to your waist, firmer this time, pulling you just slightly closer to him—close enough that space barely existed anymore. "yeah..." he murmured, his thumb tracing lightly along your skin. "then stay with me."

you nearly shuddered from his words, the warmth of his body on yours surrounding you and making your skin tingle. "i will," you nearly whispered, praying that he couldn't feel the dampness between your legs at the thought of never leaving his side.

"good," he grunted in your ear, hot breath spilling down your neck. he pulled back just slightly before closing the space between you once again, tilting your head with his thumb and pulling your lips in with his unhurriedly.

you immediately softened into him as you moved your lips together, your chest immediately becoming flush against his and practically folding underneath his touch. his hands left your waist, finding their grip lower and onto your ass, holding you steadily against him while his tongue explored you once more.

his lips left yours to litter your neck with kisses—sloppy and open-mouthed this time, sucking harder and marking a trail of red marks down to your collarbone. you whimpered with every suck, thighs noticeably shifting against his legs.

namjoon's slender fingers found their way underneath your top, sliding it up slowly—like he was waiting for you to stop him—but you never did. you only complied, lifting your arms up. and in one swift motion, your top was off, and his lips already found themselves on your cleavage.

"so beautiful, baby," he murmured into your skin, tongue lightly lapping against the mark he had just made on top of your breast.

suddenly you felt his big palms on your waist once again before he manhandled you—lifting you up and lying you gently across the couch before his large figure quickly filled your vision and filling up your entire view.

all you could see in the ambient light of his studio was his broad shoulders, his low, piercing eyes, and glimmering chain now hanging in front of your face before he captured your lips again. you practically moaned into it, fingers gripping tightly into his shirt like you needed more.

"fuck," he murmured against you between kisses, intertwining his long fingers with yours, dragging your palm deliberately up his chest. your hands moved before your mind, tugging him closer by his shirt and immediately fumbling with the buttons.

he smirked, large hands moving to help you take it off. once he tossed it somewhere in the room, your hands danced around his body greedily, trailing over his abs, from his chiseled chest and to his swell back.

"should be taking you to my house like a fuckin' man. should fuck you in my bed slow 'n proper. but i've lost my patience with you, doll," he breathed lowly, licking his lips with hunger.

you could only bring yourself to whimper, as namjoon's big palm creeped around your thigh, trailing every so slowly inwards before stopping. your legs couldn't help but twitch helplessly underneath his touch, causing him to let out an amused breath of air.

"but you don't want that, do you?" he asked lowly in your ear, the desire in his voice making your core ache with unbearable need. his hands trailed closer to your heat, dragging his fingers leisurely against your inner thigh.

you shook your head desperately, but that wasn't enough for him. his fingers hooked around your skirt. "wanna hear you use that pretty mouth of yours, baby."

"i—yes—" you blurted breathlessly, struggling to find the words. "i want it—want you. here, joonie. right now."

his cock strained even harder against his pants. "good girl," he muttered before pulling your skirt down. when it was disregarded, namjoon's hands found your thighs again and you suddenly felt his long fingers trace against slowly against your sopping heat barely shielded by your lacy thong, sending a shiver down your entire body.

"wet for me already and i haven't even started with you," he smirked, finally hooking your panties to the side and letting your soaking core be hit by the cold air. your thighs instinctively went to clamp shut, but he quickly stopped them with his big hands.

"so sensitive, doll," he murmured, placing one big thumb just above your clit while the other fingers outlined your inner thigh. "guys your age don't take their time like this, do they?"

you shook your head immediately, whining out before his fingers glided up slowly against your wetness, his index finger swiping in between your folds. his thumb rubbed your clit in a long circle, pulling out a desperate whine out of your mouth.

finally, he pushed one long finger in between your folds, sliding into your hole that sucked him in, your wetness gushing his fingers. you whined loudly as he dragged it along your walls before plunging back in.

namjoon closed the distance between your faces, capturing your lips in with his and sucking on your bottom lip as he inserted another finger, thrusting into you at a steady pace while his thumb remained on your clit.

when he pulled away, it was only to align his face at your entrance. his hand firmly gripped onto your thighs, holding you in place. his fingers slowed inside of you as his nose came close to your core, the warmth of his breath directly hitting your pussy and making you twitch underneath him.

a small smirk pulled at his lips before he poked his tongue out, licking a light, gentle stripe against your folds. "mm, taste so sweet, baby." you reacted immediately, thighs clenching around his head in a way he enjoyed a bit too much, his free hand wrapping around your leg firmly as he lapped delicately at your entrance.

you moaned his name, legs finally relaxing under his grip as he took his time with soaking your taste on his tongue. namjoon couldn't help but smirk against your folds, his plump lips completely enveloping your pussy into his mouth and sucking your wetness in hungrily.

it wasn't long before you felt his tongue greedily prying through your entrance, crying out in breathless moans. his two fingers stretched open your walls to allow more room for him to explore you with his tongue.

namjoon was absolutely driving you over the edge—his tongue plunged through your tight walls like no other, slender fingers stroking your insides while his thumb massaged your clit vigorously. he ate at you like he had starved for this—your back immediately curving off of the couch as you felt unbearable pressure twine into your stomach.

"that's it, doll," he cooed against your folds, his nose sitting on top of your clit. then, his voice dropped lower—"cum for me."

and so you did—completely letting go as your first orgasm tore through you like lightning. your legs shook around namjoon's head, his free hand rubbing against your thigh gently while his two fingers slowed inside of you. his tongue moved against your folds slowly, taking in every last drop of your release between his lips.

when your body was finally at ease from the state of euphoria he took you to, namjoon trailed kisses from your stomach and up, his hands gently caressing your sides.

"look at you taking me so good," he murmured between kisses, lips on yours now. "think you're ready for my cock, hm, baby?"

you nodded quickly, practically squirming beneath him. "yes joon—need it so bad." your fingers found his belt loop—his large hands finding yours immediately, helping you take off his pants entirely.

it was then when you saw the largest imprint strained tightly against his boxers, making you swallow hard without even realizing. his fingers looped around the hem, taking them off in a swift motion as he stood up.

his cock sprung out in front of you—thick, long, and angry with pre-cum glistening at the end. you sat up straight, jaw slightly slack without even realizing. namjoon's lips fought a smirk as he hovered over you, large shoulders swell and thick member curving up.

his low eyes looked down at you, clouded with darkness. he wrapped his large hand around the thick base of his cock, stroking slightly while taking in the sight of you in front of him.

"fuck," he grunted, "don't got any condoms, baby." "it's okay, joon," you replied softly.

"you sure, doll?" he asked, tracing his fingers lightly against your jaw, tilting your head to look up at him fully.

you nodded. "wanna feel all of you," you said almost shyly.

"have no clue what you're doing to me," he responded lowly, almost to himself. then namjoon leaned down, grabbing your hips and lifting you up swiftly. you yelped in surprise as he sat down, bringing you back on top of his lap. only this time, you were skin to skin, your arousal miserably smearing onto his legs.

but he didn't seem to care. his large hands rubbed softly down your sides as he licked his lips. "you're so small, baby," he muttered in your ear, his thumb pressing into the side of your hip. "might break you."

"that's okay," you whispered, peering up at him with big, needy eyes.

"yeah?" he asked darkly, like your response had just snapped the last bit of restraint left in him. he held onto your hips firmly as he pulled you up, aligning your entrance with his cock. "gonna ruin you then, baby."

your hands gripped onto his broad shoulders immediately to steady yourself, his fat tip pushing through your folds and breaking into your tight entrance. you moaned out in a mix of pleasure and pain, feeling every inch of his width pushing slowly into your walls as you sunk down fully on his lap.

his grasp on you became tighter as he guided you further down, hissing in pleasure as he split you open widely with his cock. your eyes shut tight as your inner thighs kissed his. slowly, the tip of his member found the back of your walls, your head throwing back from the overwhelming stretch.

namjoon held you against him firmly, allow you to fully adjust to his length before he captured your lips into a kiss. "it's okay, doll," he murmured against you. "you're taking me so well."

after a minute of soft, warm coos in your ear—namjoon began to slide you up and down his vast length slowly with his large hands, emitting a loud whine from your lips. soon, he picked his pace, his cock repeatedly kissing the deepest part of your hole. "good baby... that's it," he praised lowly.

your head was filled with nothing but the thought of you, him, and his fat cock curving up inside of you and exploring your walls. he took you to a pure state of euphoria as he thrusted up in you. his hold was firm on you as he bounced you up and down his cock.

your eyes fluttered at your view, melting under his piercing gaze— his jaw tightened in pleasure and concentration, low eyes scanning your fucked-out expression hungrily. you nearly screamed in pleasure.

"such a good girl for me," he grunted in your ear, one large palm trailing up your sides before resting along your neck. his fingers wrapped around it slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to apply pressure that made your mind dizzy and your pussy clench his member tightly.

his other hand came firmer around your waist before suddenly you were moving—your head being guided back down on the couch while your body was being manhandled by namjoon while he kept his cock buried deep inside of you. one hand settled beside your head while the other remained grazing your throat lightly.

once you both fully adjusted to the new position, namjoon continued to thrust in you, roaming your pussy at an entirely new angle. your wetness gushed around his cock sloppily, filling the room with lewd slapping noises. "you fit around me so well, doll," he muttered breathlessly, breath shooting down your spine as he littered messy kisses along your neck.

his hand traveled from your throat down to your thighs, finding your clit and rubbing it softly. you were a moaning mess beneath him as he fucked you relentlessly now, tip slapping messily against the spongiest part of your walls, making your mind go blank.

his palm found its way around your thigh, lifting it above his shoulder. he closed the distance between you two, cock greedily marking a place inside your hole in a way no one had ever done before as his chest pressed against yours.

he rutted his length inside of you, making your eyes roll back and the couch move back and forth with every movement. "gonna fill you up tonight, doll. gonna make you mine," he murmured. "what do you think, baby?"

you could only moan in response, lost in the feeling of his cock buried so deeply inside of you. "nuh uh," namjoon ticked lowly, his thrusts becoming brutal. "wanna hear that pretty voice of yours, baby."

"mmph—yes~ make me yours, joon," you whined breathlessly.

you cried out—heat coiling unbearably in your stomach, pure bliss clouding your mind as namjoon picked up his pace, feeling your walls hugging him in tightly. "yeah... right where you belong baby," he muttered. "taking me so good like this."

your second orgasm of the night hit you even harder this time—ripping through you like a monstrous ocean wave. he fucked you through your high, your legs shaking violently against him; release spilling all over his cock as you moaned out his name breathlessly.

"that's it, baby," he grunted lowly as he made his final, slower thrusts, burying himself inside you as deep as possible before releasing his hot seed into your walls. "come on my dick, pretty girl."

your vision was practically filled with stars as your body became limp under his grasp. he milked his cock deep in your walls before he pulled out with a sharp hiss, laying down beside you—lengthy body half on the couch and half off of it.

you both laid there next to each other breathless, chests moving up and down in sync as you processed what had just happened.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

suddenly, the studio is quiet again.

it wasn't completely silent—just the low hum of equipment filling the room with one of his tracks still looping quietly in the background.

clothes half-on, curled against him on the couch with his large arm around your waist, holding you close against his chest like he had no intention of letting you drift away.

for awhile, neither of you say anything. namjoon's fingers moved slowly against your side, absentmindedly tracing soft patterns into your skin. the movement only grounded you into him more.

then finally, a low exhale left namjoon's lips. "c'mere," he murmurs softly, even though you were already pressed against him. his big hands slid higher along your back, pulling you in even closer anyway until your head was resting properly against his chest.

it only made your cheeks flush a bright red—the moment feeling possessive in a way that was ever so gentle. like he just needed to make sure you were still there. now, you can hear his heartbeat. it thumps steadily now against his large chest.

"you okay?" he asks quietly.

you nod against him. "yeah," you reply softly.

then his lips brush lightly against the top of your head, placing a soft kiss that lingers. "good," he murmurs.

something about the way he said it made warmth spread through your chest again. his hand settles at your waist once more, thumb brushing lightly beneath the fabric of your top. "you still overthinking?" he asks after a minute.

you let out a small laugh against his chest. "maybe a little."

a quiet hum leaves him. "don't."

you tilt your head slightly to look at him. his expression is softer now. his gaze still intense—because he always looks intense when looking at you—but softer. "you regret it?" he asks gently.

you shook your head immediately. "no," you replied, meaning it with everything in your chest.

at your words, something in namjoon's expressions shifts. it wasn't surprise, it was only something deeper. his hand moves to your jaw, thumb brushing slowly along your cheek.

"good," he says again, quieter this time. then, like his confidence had just made a return—"would've been a problem if you did."

you laugh softly, cheeks warming again. "you're crazy, joon."

"for you?" he murmurs. "starting to think maybe."

your stomach flips all over again. namjoon studies you for a second, gaze moving slowly across your face like he's memorizing it. like he still can't believe that you're here. with him, and in his arms.

his hand slides along your thigh gently. this time, it isn't teasing. instead, it feels familiar and warm. "come back to my place," he says quietly.

you hesitate for maybe half a second, but only because your heart is racing faster than your mind. his thumb brushes lightly against your leg. "you don't have to leave, doll," he murmurs.

"you sure?" you ask quietly. because in your past, once guys were done, they were done with your presence for the night—or even forever.

"of course," he says. then, a faint smile touches his mouth, voice dropping a little. "i'm not doing being around you."

and it only seemed that you weren't exactly done being around him either.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

two months later, being with namjoon feels easy. and it wasn't because he was simple. it was the exact opposite.

he's still intense, but still composed. he still walks through every room like he owns it without needing attention from anyone in it. but with you? he's soft in all the places it matters.

namjoon becomes part of your life so naturally it almost scares you sometimes.

mornings tangled up in his expensive sheets while sunlight pours through the massive windows of his house that overlooks the city. his large hand resting on your waist while he scrolls through emails lazily with the other. his bright smile on display every time he made you laugh or blush.

in his free time, he'd show up to your work with your favorite dinner meal. sometimes, he'd sit at a table in your section and order food just to be able to talk to you any chance you'd get.

afternoons where he pulls you into his lap while he's working on music. he'd barely let you sit more than a foot away from him before he was already touching you again somehow.

his fingers through your hair, your legs draped over his. his mouth against your temple when he quietly tells someone important over the phone that he'll "call back later."

and of course, he spoils you constantly. it wasn't in a loud way either. it was more like taking care of you and putting a smile on your face had just become his instinct.

he buys you things you casually mention liking once. he leaves designer bags on the bed like it's nothing. he'd get annoyed when you'd check price tags. he would sneakily place things in your basket at sephora as he trailed behind you, filling it up with everything you simply picked up and looked at.

you even tried to avoid going shopping with him sometimes because you never happened to pay for anything again.

"doll," he murmured one night, pulling your back against his chest, wrapping his large arms around you while you stared at a pair of brand new, christian louboutin red bottoms that he bought you. "if you like them, they're yours. stop thinking so hard."

and god, he hated it when you worked too much. he hated it even more when work stressed you out.

"you should call out," he tells you one morning, voice rough from sleep while you're leaving his bed for work.

you laugh softly. "some of us have to work, joonie."

his buff arms loop around your waist, pulling you back into the mattress effortlessly. "i know," he murmurs against your neck, nuzzling his nose into your warmth. "that's the problem."

eventually, namjoon starts saying it more seriously.

"quit," he says.

you look at him like he's insane every time. "be serious, joon."

"i am serious."

his hands slide along your thighs as you stand between his knees while he sits at the edge of the bed, looking up at you with that same, calm certainty he’s always had.

“i’ll give you whatever you need,” he says simply. “why are you stressing yourself out when you don’t have to?”

and the craziest part of it all to you, was that he meant it entirely. it wasn't because he wanted control—it was because taking care of you pulled at his dimples and his heart more than anything else ever had.

somewhere along the way, you became each other's favorite part of life. people notice too and eventually, the internet catches on.

a photo of you two start surfacing of you leaving restaurant in west hollywood, his hand firm at the small of your back. then, photos of him opening the door for you. and photos of him looking at you instead of the camera.

one set of paparazzi pictures blow up incredibly fast—you climbing into his car while he stands beside you in sunglasses and all black. one hand casually resting against the roof above your head, the other firm on your thigh as you settled into the seat.

neither of you comment on it, not publicly at least. but namjoon doesn't hide you either. because if anything—he loved being seen with you.

you noticed it in the small moments. the way his hand settled on your thigh more confidently when people recognized him on a date. the way he pulled you closer when cameras appeared. the way he looks almost amused by attention instead of irritated.

it was like he was always thinking, yeah, she's with me.

namjoon flexed you more than the music plaques on his wall or the collection of sleek cars in his driveway.

because throughout his entire career, no success, no hit record, or no amount of money—had ever made him look at proud as you do sitting beside him.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

4 months later~

the city outside namjoon's windows is glowing gold and white beneath the dark sky, soft music playing quietly somewhere in his giant house.

you're curled against him on the couch in one of his hoodies. legs across his lap while he scrolls lazily through something on his phone with one hand resting absentmindedly along your thighs.

you both had been like this all evening. quiet and comfortable; surrounded by the kind of silence that only exists when two people know everything about each other completely.

honestly, it could scare you a little. because somewhere along these four months, you and namjoon had stopped feeling temporary. it stopped feeling like some kind of whirlwind or fling.

instead, it just started feeling right. it just felt like you and him and nothing else completely belonged.

you looked over at him. observed the sharp line of his jaw that was softened by the warm lighting. the expensive watch sitting around his wrist. the reading glasses he only wore at home that sat low on his nose while he checked emails.

the realization hit you about a month ago so hard and your chest had felt tight ever since. you were completely, undeniably, and utterly in love with him. but now, you couldn't seem to hold it in anymore.

"you're staring again."

your heart jumps slightly. namjoon doesn't even look up from his phone when he says it. you roll your eyes. "you're obsessed with yourself."

a smirk touches his lips. "no," he murmurs calmly, finally looking over at you. "just obsessed with you."

you look away before he can see your flushed face, but of course he already noticed it. because there simply wasn't a thing he didn't notice about you. his phone turned off immediately. "hey," he said gently.

your eyes lift back to his. immediately his expression changes into something softer, but more serious. his hands slide up from your thigh to your waist, pulling you a little closer across the couch until you're practically in his lap. "what's going on in that head, hm?" he asks.

"nothing."

"liar."

the words are gentle, affectionate in a way. you laugh softly, but it comes out nervous. he catches that too. one hand comes up, brushing lightly along your jaw. "talk to me, doll."

you swallow. your voice comes out quietly—"what if... i love you more than you love me?"

the room goes completely still. namjoon stares at you for seconds that stretch far too long, like you had just said something completely. unbelievable.

his brows pulled together. "baby," he says softly, confused, "what?"

your heart pounds instantly at the name. you try to laugh it off, suddenly embarrassed now. "i don't know, i just—"

"no," he cuts in, hands tightening gently at your waist. they weren't harsh, but it was enough to stop you from spiraling away. "no, don't do that."

you looked back at him. and the way he was looking at you now—god. like this mattered. like you mattered.

"you really think you're ahead of me here?" he asks quietly, eyes boring into yours.

your breath catches as namjoon shifts closer, forehead resting lighting against yours. "i've been in love with you for a while now," he admitted softly.

for a second, you felt like you actually stopped breathing. his thumb brushed slowly against your cheek. "you just took longer to realize it."

a shaky laugh leaves you instantly, eyes burning now. namjoon smiles softly at that, an expression you only ever get to see.

"i love you," he says again, quieter this time. but it was certain, as if it were the most obvious thing it the world.

and suddenly every fear you had—about the age gap, about his fame, about his feelings for you—had totally disappeared. because this man—this calm, confident, impossible man—loves you so deeply that he didn't even hesitate to say it.

your eyes fluttered in disbelief, laughing away the butterflies in your stomach. "i love you too."

the smile that breaks across is face is small, but almost disbelieving. but it was unquestionably proud, like he had just won something prized. after that, he kissed you slowly. he enveloped your lips with his tenderly, soaking in all of your warmth beneath him.

"there you are," he murmurs softly. like you were always meant to end up here with him.

and somewhere between the side of the road and his arms, your little street thing had become everything.

‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.

a/n : hope u guys loved this as much as i do eee! sorry there was so much relationship building... this is the longest bts fic i've made (on this app at least) omg..but joon is actually so sexy i could die.

read part two here

love u guys sm <3 read more of my joon fics here !!

[kookooluvr]

MADE OF HONOR | JJK

you gained a lot from university; a law degree catching dust in your attic, countless arguments with your roommate about laundry schedules, and a best friend whose biggest fear in life is commitment. in essence, jungkook's world gets flipped upside down when you take a trip to london and he finally realizes his feelings for you...only to find out you've come back with a fiancé.

pairing: jungkook x (fem) reader x namjoon

genre: fluff, angst, smut, f2l au, strangers to lovers au, love triangle au, bestfriend!jungkook, fuckboy!jungkook, baker!reader, photographer!namjoon

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

w/c: 63k

warnings: chaotic meet cute, lots of friendly banter, emotional constipation from jk, impulsive decisions made by oc and joon, BRITISH NAMJOON, some unrequited love at one point (right person wrong time), jealousy jealousyyyy, jk does some questionable things for love LMAO, fear of dying alone, some emotional cheating, yearninggggg, crashing a wedding, explicit sexual content; two separate sex scenes, kissing, dirty talk, handjob, oral (m. & f. receiving), breastplay, bigdick!joon, sub!joon, lightdom!jk, switch!reader, unprotected sex, wedding night sex, cowgirl, missionary, creampies.

a/n: FINALLYYYYY HALLELUJAH IT'S HERE Y'ALL 😩😩😩 this fic took me longer than i anticipated but i'm really happy with how it turned out and i hope you all love it as much as i do !!!! it's super duper long and i had to split it into four because of the 1k block limit (which is annoying but it's okay) so sit back and grab some popcorn y'all !! these characters are all a bit flawed and that's okay so please bear with them 🙂‍↕️ i'd love to hear all of your thoughts and opinions on moh pleassse send all your lovely asks so we can chat because i always love interacting with you guys. and don't forget to like, comment, reblog and ENJOY !! i love you soooo much !!! & banner creds to the lovely and talented @voyter 🫶🏼

main masterlist moodboards spotify playlist moh extras

It's Halloween night on campus, which means three things: a really loud, obnoxious party filled with really loud, obnoxious people, drunk hookups that no one will remember in the morning, and you've locked yourself in your room to avoid all of the above.

The entire university is pulsating with the energy of drunk frat boys in capes, girls dressed in skimpy lingerie calling it their costume, and at least three professors who are far too old to be dressed up amongst the students. You, however, are in your true element: large hoodie, fuzzy socks, a half-eaten Snickers bar on your nightstand, and a thick law textbook open in front of you.

Parties aren't your thing. You'd rather be sued than make small talk with a guy dressed as a ketchup bottle. While your roommate, Jieun, spent hours hot-gluing rhinestones onto her platform space boots for her "sexy astronaut" outfit, you politely declined all invitations and instead declared war on your midterm readings. The only spooky thing in your life right now is the growing realisation that you don't actually want to be a lawyer, the thought that you'll probably die single, and knowing you'll be buried in student debt by the time you graduate.

And honestly? That's still more appealing than the campus party.

You take a break from studying around 2am and finally decide to turn off the light and get some rest. Until the door of your dorm room creaks open.

You pause, blinking your eyes open in the darkness of your room. Maybe Jieun forgot her phone. Maybe she brought back a stray alien from the party. Either way, you don't move, not until the unmistakable dip of the mattress under your legs almost sends your soul flying from your body.

Someone just climbed into your bed.

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, your heart racing in your chest. It's pitch black, the only light coming from the little slit under the door.

"Jieunieee," the voice whispers, smooth and far too seductive. "Are you ready for the best dick of your life?"

That's it.

You scream as loud as you can, springing straight up. You grab the bottle of Chanel perfume on your nightstand and spray it directly into his eyes.

"AHHH—WHAT THE F—!"

The stranger falls out of your bed with a loud thud, hitting the floor dramatically like he's been shot in a Western.

"What the hell?!" he groans, writhing on the floor with a hand covering his eyes and the other holding his head. "You maced me!"

"That was perfume!" you yell, feeling your heart in your throat, the perfume clutched tightly in your hand, holding it out in case you have to spray him again. "And why are you in my bed, you psychopath?!"

"I was looking for Jieun!"

"You can't just crawl into beds like a raccoon in the night!"

"I thought this was her bed!"

"Do I sound like Jieun?!"

He blinks rapidly on the floor, his voice strained through his agony. "I don't know, it's dark and I was promised a sexy astronaut!"

You switch on the bedside lamp with the force of a woman ready to kill.

And there he is.

Black leather pants. Tight black shirt. Fake bruises and cuts on his face, presumably made with makeup. An eyebrow piercing. Tousled hair. Ridiculously attractive even while clutching at his eyes like he's just been gassed in battle.

Your brain fills in the blanks before he even says it.

"You're Jeon Jungkook, aren't you?"

He lowers his hand just enough to smirk at you. "And you're ___. The infamous roommate I've heard so much about."

You sigh, flopping back against your headboard in disbelief. "Of course she's hooking up with you of all people."

Jungkook is a campus legend. The boy whose reputation includes at least two streaking incidents, three girls who dropped out of the university due to their heartbreak, and a tongue that's done unspeakable things according to the word on the street.

And now he's on your floor, still very much looking like the kind of man your mother warned you about even after being sprayed in the eyes with perfume.

He sits up, rubbing his eyes. "For the record, I've had a lot of entrances, but that was definitely my worst."

"You scared the crap out of me!" you exclaim, tossing your pillow at him. "Who just walks into a dorm and climbs into an unfamiliar bed?!"

"I didn't walk," he scoffs, catching the pillow with an insufferable grin. "I strode."

You glare at him.

He grins wider. "Come on, that was funny!"

"You have a concussion, don't you?"

He wipes his eyes with the heels of his palms, settling on the edge of your bed. "Honestly? If you weren't so terrifying, I'd be impressed."

"Excuse me?"

"You're terrifying," he deadpans. "You sprayed me in the eyes and insulted me all within five minutes. That's worse than most of my Tinder dates. Not by much, but still."

You fold your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him. "Maybe don't go crawling into beds with strangers."

"Technically, you're the stranger," he quips, pointing a finger at you. "And you've maced and verbally abused me. That's a lot for a first impression."

You sigh, rolling your eyes. "Unbelievable. Are you always this irritating?"

"I like to think of myself as…persistently charming," he smiles.

You give him a dry look, your eyes narrowing. "You're the human equivalent of an unsolicited dick pic."

"Oof," he winces, placing his hand over his heart. "Okay, that one hurt. But also...kinda hot that you're this mean."

You blink at him. "Do girls actually fall for this crap?"

"Usually," he shrugs.

"Well, congratulations," you scoff. "You've officially found the girl who's immune to your bullshit."

He holds up his hands in surrender, laughing softly. "Okay, you've made your point. I'm sorry I invaded your bed. I didn't mean to scare you like that. I apologise."

Your face softens ever so slightly, giving him a curt nod. "Thank you."

"But also," he adds, leaning back on his hands, "you're hilarious. And clearly not afraid to defend your space. We should be friends."

You stare at him. "What?"

"Friends," he repeats, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "You and me. I'm serious."

You narrow your eyes once more. "You literally came here to hook up with my roommate."

"Which clearly isn't happening anymore," he sighs, lounging on your bed like he's at a beach club. "But now I've met you. And I like you."

You scoff. "You don't know me."

"I know you don't care about going to a hot party and hooking up on Halloween night, and would absolutely tase someone if you had the chance. Right?"

You pause. That…is not incorrect.

"I also know that girls like you usually avoid guys like me. Which is fair. But still…" He swings his legs off the bed, standing up. "I want to be friends."

"Why would we do that?" you ask, genuinely curious.

He grins. "Because you're the first girl who's actually told me I'm full of shit to my face."

You open your mouth, then close it again, and he takes that as a win.

"Anyway, I'll see you around," he smiles, walking toward the door. "If Jieun asks, tell her I tested positive for an STD or something."

You roll your eyes. "Get out!"

He's halfway out when he turns back and winks. "Nice meeting you, ___."

"Likewise, Satan," you grumble, gesturing for him to shut the door.

He laughs, loud and boyish, and disappears down the hall. And just like that, your quiet Halloween night turned into something totally unexpected.

You met Jeon Jungkook. And he wants to be your friend.

God help you.

The library is dead silent, but your soul is screaming.

You've been staring at the same paragraph in your property law textbook for the past eleven minutes and it's starting to feel unbearable. You've underlined the phrase "freehold estates" three times in three different colours, and it still means absolutely nothing to you. Your highlighter is on life support, your brain is fried, and you'd sell your soul for caffeine.

But instead of caffeine, you get Jungkook. Perfect.

"Hey, bestie."

You flinch so hard your pen skitters off the desk.

He slides into the seat across from you like he owns it, as if you invited him. As if this is a casual meet-up instead of a sacred study bubble you built with blood, sweat, and overpriced stationery.

"Why," you whisper, your eyes narrowing, "are you here?"

He blinks innocently, shrugging. "Checking on my friend. You did say we'd be friends."

You raise a skeptical brow.

He leans in closer, his voice mock-offended and far too loud for the library. "Which is interesting, because I've texted you three times this week and you haven't replied once."

You open your mouth, then close it, unable to come up with a valid excuse.

"I had to force you to give me your number last week when we ran into each other in the cafeteria," he continues, his arms crossed over his chest. "Do you always ghost your friends, or am I just special?"

You groan, rubbing your temples. "I've been busy, Jungkook."

"You probably didn't even save my contact," he mumbles dramatically. "I'm still just a number. I feel so objectified."

You blink at him, fighting the chuckle threatening to bubble up your throat. "You're so dramatic."

"And you're so avoidant. Classic enemies-to-friends arc," he muses. "We're already ahead of schedule."

You roll your eyes, glancing back down at your textbook. You really don't have time for this, but Jungkook props his chin on his hand and looks at you with that annoyingly charming smile of his, like he's got nowhere else to be. Like being here, distracting you, is the most important thing in the world.

You hate how disarming it is.

"You done soon?" he asks.

"I have a property law test tomorrow," you mutter dryly. "So, no. I will never be done. I will die in this library and haunt the footnotes of this stupid textbook."

He laughs loudly, earning a 'shhhh!' from a student two tables away. "What if I bribe you with coffee?"

You look up, contemplating it for a second before going back to the dreaded textbook.

"Not interested," you mutter lowly, though it's not even convincing to your own ears.

"You're clearly tired," he scoffs, raising an eyebrow. "And cranky. And there's a weird twitch in your left eye. Come on, ___. Take a break with me."

You purse your lips, letting out a deep sigh. The twitch is real. And your head is pounding. And caffeine does sound like heaven right now.

"You're really annoying," you mutter. "I mean it."

"I've been told," he grins, rising from the chair like he's already won. "Come on. Twenty-minute coffee break. Your brain cells will thank me."

Against your better judgment, and possibly because you might actually fall asleep in your chair, you shut your textbook and drag yourself to your feet, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"Fifteen minutes," you grumble. "If I fail this test, I'm blaming you."

"Fair," he shrugs, grinning as he holds the library's door open for you. "But at least you'll have had the best coffee of your life, so it'll be worth it."

The café is warm and noisy, filled with the comforting smell of espresso and baked goods. Students sit hunched over laptops. A barista is arguing with the espresso machine. Someone's crying in the corner over what sounds like an econ midterm.

You're halfway through the line when Jungkook turns to you, holding two fingers in front of the glass display.

"Okay," he huffs dramatically. "Crucial decision. Strawberry muffin or banana cinnamon walnut?"

You blink up at him, your eyes narrowing. "What?"

"I can't decide," he confesses, peering at them like they're ancient artefacts. "I want both but I can't get both. That's too much sugar and fat and I'll lose my abs. A girl licked whipped cream off my abs two days ago. I need them."

You snort, taking a step forward as the line starts moving again. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm serious," he whines. "Pick one for me. I trust your judgment for some reason."

You sigh in resignation. "Do you want nuts?"

"I don't like nuts," he mutters with a grimace. "But I also don't like not liking things. Feels like I'm limiting my potential."

You stare at him like he's actually insane.

He stares at the muffins.

"Banana walnut it is," you nod.

He looks at you like you just sentenced him to death. "Really? I was kinda hoping for strawberry."

"You said you don't like not liking things. Expand your horizons. Live a little. Face your fears. Eat the nut muffin."

He lets out a groan like he's being tortured. "If I hate it, this is on you."

"Oh relax, you'll live," you scoff, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What if I die?"

"If you die, I get that expensive laptop of yours."

He nods solemnly. "Deal."

After a long wait that's most definitely over fifteen minutes, you sit down at a corner table by the window, both of you nursing warm drinks. He watches you take the first sip of your mocha like you're some sort of science experiment.

"You were desperate for this, huh?" he chuckles.

"Don't judge me."

He laughs and takes a bite of the banana walnut muffin. He chews slowly, his face unreadable.

You watch him, waiting for the verdict.

He swallows, licks a crumb off his thumb, and looks pleasantly surprised. "…Woah. This is amazing."

You smile, sipping your coffee. "Told you."

"Who knew I liked nuts?"

"I did. You're welcome."

He leans back in his chair and smiles over at you. It's soft, genuine, not the usual grin he uses when he's being annoying.

"I'm starting to think we're meant to be," he quips.

You nearly choke. "Over a muffin?"

"Yeah. You just made a decision that changed my life. This is fate."

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks heat up nonetheless.

He nudges your foot gently under the table, slowly sliding the muffin over to you to taste.

"Thanks for coming with me."

You take a little bite of the muffin, nodding at the taste. "Thanks for the invitation."

And just like that, it starts. A small, insignificant tradition that might mean more some day, but for now, it's just comfortable and easy.

Just…friendship.

—

The kitchen is a mess. There's flour on your cheeks, frosting on your elbow, and a criminal amount of cupcake batter missing from the mixing bowl. Your cousin asked you to bake a batch of vanilla cupcakes for her bridal shower and of course, the new pain in your ass decided to come over to your dorm to 'help'.

"Jungkook," you warn, pointing your spatula at him, "if you eat one more spoon of raw batter, I will throw you out. And no, that's not a threat, it's a promise."

"I'm not eating it," he mumbles, his mouth full. "I'm...quality testing."

"You're gonna get salmonella and die."

"I'll die a happy man because this batter's really good," he grins.

You sigh, scraping the last of the creamy batter into the cupcake liners while Jungkook leans against the counter, licking the spoon you gave him to keep him busy. He has cake batter on the corner of his mouth, and somehow he still looks good. Ridiculously good. Stupidly, unfairly rude levels of good. You pretend not to notice.

"You're supposed to be helping," you sigh.

"I am helping," he says proudly. "You said these are for your cousin's bridal shower. What better way to show my support of the union than selflessly sacrificing my digestive system?"

"You don't have a logical bone in your body."

He grins, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "And yet, here I am, in your kitchen, helping a friend who desperately needed me."

"You invited yourself," you deadpan. "As usual."

He shrugs. "You didn't say no."

You sigh and slide the tray of cupcakes into the oven before setting the timer. The warmth of the kitchen hums around you. It smells like vanilla and feels like a comforting hug in the midst of exams and stress and the impending doom of early adulthood.

Jungkook hops onto the counter, swinging his legs to entertain himself now that the fun part—eating raw batter and watching you stress over quantities of baking powder—is over.

"I still can't believe you made all this from scratch," he murmurs, looking genuinely impressed. "These are, like…actual, professional cupcakes."

You wipe your hands on a dish towel, chuckling. "My cousin's paying me, so that's kinda the point."

He tilts his head, watching you intently. "You're really good at this."

Something in you blossoms at the compliment. He says it so casually, like it's obvious, like it's a fact. It feels good, something you're not sure you've felt before.

You smile faintly and sit down at the little table in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the mess around you; edible flowers, mixing bowls, an empty packet of cupcake liners.

"It's what I love," you murmur softly, a look of tenderness blooming in your gaze.

He raises a brow. "Baking?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Always have. Even when I was a kid. I used to make these terrible little chocolate chip cookies that were more like…burnt rocks...but I'd still force everyone in my family to eat them."

He laughs.

You don't.

"I used to dream about owning a bakery," you add, your voice a little softer, more vulnerable. "Still do, I guess."

There's a pause. He watches you, remaining quiet, waiting for you to elaborate without making a silly comment. You don't look at him, but you can feel it, the shift, his attention going from teasing to genuinely trying to understand you a little deeper.

"But…" you sigh, leaning your chin on your palm. "My parents want me to be a lawyer. That was always the plan. It's respectable. Stable. It makes sense."

"Do you want to be a lawyer?" he asks, his eyebrows knitting together.

You hesitate, letting out a deep sigh. It's as if a gate has opened inside your chest because you don't seem to hold anything back.

"No," you scoff. "Not even a little."

The confession feels heavier than you expected. It feels like you're finally being honest with yourself, which is far scarier than being honest with him. You can ignore his teasing remarks, but you can't ignore that little mocking voice in your head that tells you your dreams probably won't work out anyway.

Jungkook doesn't say anything right away. He just keeps swinging his legs slowly, tapping his fingers against the edge of the counter.

Finally, he asks, "Then why are you doing it?"

You roll your eyes, looking anywhere but his eyes. "Because…I'm good at it apparently...and they expect it. I don't want to disappoint them."

He nods slowly, his eyes downcast.

"You know what would be more disappointing?" he murmurs, his smile barely reaching his eyes.

You tilt your head, looking over at him.

"Waking up ten years from now and hating your life," he deadpans. "And never even trying."

Your chest tightens, your head racing with endless possibilities of a future you thought was already set out for you.

"You're so good at this, ___," he smiles, gesturing to the cupcakes in the oven, the kitchen, the part of you he wants to explore further. "Like, actually good. Not just hobby-good. This is your thing."

You swallow thickly, remaining silent. You don't usually tell people this stuff. You don't usually let yourself say it out loud because then it feels too real. Too scary. But for some reason…with him, it doesn't. You've come to realise he makes you feel seen, which is weird, considering he usually forgets girls' names and faces after a single encounter. This is different, though. You're not a girl he wants to sleep with. You're ___, the girl he wants to hang out with at 2am just because. You're the girl he genuinely wants to spend time with because he enjoys your company, your friendship. You like that. It makes this all feel more genuine.

There's a long beat of silence before you begrudgingly admit the thoughts plaguing you. "You can be really sweet when you're not being an idiot."

He laughs, his nose scrunching up in that way that makes your stomach feel tingly and fluttery. "Don't spread that around. I have a specific brand to maintain."

You laugh, loud and sincere.

"I think you'd make a great bakery owner," he murmurs softly, flicking some leftover flour in your direction.

You wave him off like it's nothing and check your cupcakes, but for the first time since you started studying law, you finally believe you're capable of more than settling, all thanks to the boy on your counter with flour in his hair and sincerity in his eyes.

—

It's almost midnight when Jungkook's phone buzzes on the nightstand. He's half-asleep, sprawled out on his bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, one sock missing. He squints at the screen through bleary eyes, seeing your contact name.

He's awake in an instant.

"Hello?" he croaks, already sitting up, his hair sticking up in all directions. He hears the catch in your voice before you even say a word.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, sniffling. "Did I wake you?"

His heart drops. "Are you okay?"

"...Seungcheol...he cheated on me."

Jungkook is already pulling on sweatpants before the word 'cheated' leaves your lips.

Of course. Fucking Seungcheol. You weren't even really looking for love when you met him. He was just a friend of a friend in one of your classes—a smooth talker who carried around a leather briefcase like he was already a full-time lawyer instead of a sleep-deprived undergrad. Jungkook never liked him, always thought he was a bit pretentious, but of course he wouldn't burst your bubble. Looks like he was right about the dick after all.

"I'll be there in ten."

You open your dorm door in your pajamas, eyes red, nose pink. Your expression crumples the moment you see him, and he doesn't hesitate, just wraps you up in his arms, no questions asked.

Even after just seven months of friendship, you cling to Jungkook like a lifeline, like he'll put all your broken pieces together again. Sure, your relationship with Seungcheol only lasted two months but that means a lot to an eighteen-year-old, so there are still a lot of broken pieces nonetheless.

"He said he didn't mean to," you mumble against his chest while you lie in bed together, willingly this time. "Like that makes it better. Like I should be grateful that it only happened once."

Jungkook exhales hard, like he's trying not to yell. "He's a fucking idiot."

"He said I made him feel…small. That I was trying to outsmart him. That I was too independent. That I...made him feel like he couldn't 'be the man', whatever that means."

Jungkook pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes fierce, his hands cupping your face.

"You are smart. And independent. And so beautiful. And funny. And you make the best desserts in this entire goddamn city. If he couldn't handle that, it's not because you were too much. It's because he just wasn't enough."

Your eyes well up again, tears silently slipping down your cheeks.

"He cheated with a really pretty girl. Blonde. Really big boobs," you grumble.

Jungkook's voice softens, his thumbs stroking your wet cheeks. "Don't compare yourself to some other girl. You are...so fucking gorgeous, by the way."

You snort, shaking your head. "Shut up."

"I'm serious." His thumb brushes away another tear. "You walk around like you're not insanely beautiful, and you think no one notices. But I do, ___."

You stare at him, stunned into silence.

He shrugs, pulling you closer to rest your head against his chest. "Just saying. Don't cry over some knock-off loser when you're literally you."

He stays wrapped around you for as long as you need, one hand gently running through your hair. You sniffle into his neck, your eyes eventually fluttering shut from the warmth and safety of it all.

Eventually, you fall asleep against his chest, breathing steady, a hand loosely clutching his hoodie.

Jungkook remains still, simply looking at you, admiring you in all your glory. Memorising the curve of your cheek against his collarbone. The way your lips part ever so slightly when you dream. The way your fingers curl, even in your sleep, like you're afraid to let go.

He's not the guy who stays for too long. Not the guy who commits. He's built his whole identity around not being that guy, but holding you like this, he kinda wishes he was.

He stares up at the ceiling and sighs, a quiet, hopeless sound.

"I wish I could be the man you need," he whispers into the dark. "But I'm not there yet. I don't know if I ever will be."

And even though you're fast asleep, you still mumble something soft and unintelligible into his chest. You still hold on, and so does he.

—

Your dorm room is lit by a single lamp, the soft yellow glow contrasting violently with the hyper-pink DVD menu of Legally Blonde looping on your laptop. You've watched it a million times before but it's a Friday night and you're having a movie night with Jungkook, so naturally, you're introducing him to one of the classics.

Jungkook is sprawled across your bed, legs crossed at the ankles, one hand buried in a bowl of popcorn and the other dramatically thrown over his forehead as if he's on his deathbed.

"I swear I don't deserve this," he groans. "I mean...I know I call her Number Three but she didn't have to ghost me just because I wouldn't be exclusive with her. I was actually planning on seeing her again and then calling it off, like a gentleman."

You blink, glancing over at him. "Number Three?"

He sighs. "We've been over this, remember? The girl from the accounting party. Short. Cute. Gave me a hickey shaped like a continent. I think South America?"

You stare at him, slowly shaking your head. "You're insufferable."

He brightens. "Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"You say that," he grins, grabbing another handful of popcorn, "but I feel like you secretly admire my dedication to the craft."

"What craft?" you deadpan. "Being a man-whore?"

He gasps, clutching his chest. "You wound me."

"And you wound women," you chuckle.

"Wow. That hurt, ___."

You toss a pillow at him but he dodges like an athlete. Of course he does. Jackass.

Eventually, when the popcorn is half finished and your patience is half gone, you nod toward the laptop screen. "I'm honestly surprised you're not out tonight."

He blinks. "What do you mean?"

"It's Friday," you deadpan. "Your natural habitat is...I don't know...bars, random beds, broom closets. Anywhere but here watching Legally Blonde with me."

He pouts, actually pouts.

"Hey, I like hanging out with you. I cancelled plans to hang out with you."

You scoff, visibly unconvinced. You secretly feel very special and quite flattered, but that has to be too good to be true, right?

He continues casually, "I'm not completely heartless, you know. I have layers. I'm like an onion. A sexy onion."

You snort. "Please never say 'sexy onion' again."

"But it's true!" he insists, nudging your calf with his foot. "I really like hanging out with you. You're fun, easy to talk to, and you don't pretend to be someone else around me."

"And your other girls do?"

"They pretend to like whatever I like, dislike whatever I dislike. It gets boring listening to them just agree with whatever I say."

You roll your eyes. "Poor baby."

He rolls his eyes right back, as if you don't understand how hard it all is for him.

"You know what your problem is?" you ask, adjusting the laptop and pressing play.

"Oh, here we go."

"You don't believe in romance. Or in actual relationships. Or in…anything that requires feelings."

That's not entirely true, but he shrugs anyway. "Feelings are messy. Hookups are simple. Everyone wins."

"Not everyone," you mumble under your breath, your eyes trained on the laptop screen.

He tilts his head, his mouth stuffed with more popcorn. "What's that supposed to mean?"

You ignore his question and push on. "I just…I don't get it. How can you have meaningless sex with someone? Doesn't it feel empty?"

"Actually when I do it, they usually feel very full," he smirks.

You throw a balled-up pair of socks at his face and he catches it one-handed. What a show-off.

"Look," you clarify, sighing, "I'm just saying, I personally...want something real. Someday. Something that actually matters. A person who actually matters."

"Happily ever after, huh?" he teases.

"Maybe," you mutter, growing defensive. "Why not?"

He makes a face as if you just told him the Earth is flat. "Uhmmm...because that doesn't exist."

"You're so dramatic, yes it does."

"You're the dramatic one!" he argues. "You act like the universe is going to drop Prince Charming out of the sky."

"Maybe it will."

"It won't," he laughs.

You sigh, your eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. "You don't know that."

"I do. I know love ends in heartbreak ninety-nine percent of the time."

"So what? You avoid the one percent just in case it hurts?" you challenge.

"Yes," he chuckles carelessly. "And I'm thriving."

You stare at him for a long moment—this beautiful, aggravating, confusing man who can make you laugh until your ribs hurt and then say something that makes you want to shake him.

He has no idea what he does to people.

Especially you.

Especially because lately you've been catching yourself staring at his hands more when he gestures, or the way his hair falls into his eyes while he plays video games, or the sweet, sincere smile he gives you right before he ruins the moment and says something stupid.

You refuse to acknowledge any of it. Crushes on Jungkook are a disease, and you are absolutely vaccinated.

You distract yourself with the movie. Elle Woods is about to confront Warner. Great scene. Then—

His phone buzzes on the bed. Just once.

You don't mean to look but your eyes flick down instinctively while he rambles absentmindedly about the scene playing out on screen.

There's an unanswered text still waiting on the screen from his friend, Seokjin, asking about some business admin assignment. He didn't bother to respond yet. You're sure Seokjin is used to him taking forever to respond to texts, considering they've known each other since high school and now share a few classes together, which you found out on a tipsy Wednesday night when Jungkook decided to share his whole life story with you.

That's not the text that matters right now. The second text is the one that really catches your eye. The number isn't saved, but you don't have to be a genius to know that it's one of his hookups.

xx - xxx [10:32pm]: i had a lot of fun tonight. same time tomorrow ??

He slept with someone. He had sex with some girl literally right before coming over.

Your stomach drops. It shouldn't—not when you've known him for almost a year and you know him to be this way—but it does anyway. It drops because he said he cancelled plans to be with you, but it turns out you're just leftovers.

And now he's here, laughing with you, acting like you're such good company, when in reality you were the afterthought once again. The backup plan. The safe, comfortable option when he's done with whatever girl came before.

You clear your throat. "Your, uhm...your phone buzzed."

"Oh?" he mutters lazily, not even reaching for it. "Probably Jin. He's obsessed with me," he jokes.

You look back at the laptop screen before he can see your face. Your voice is neutral when you murmur, "You should probably respond. Maybe it's important."

"Nah," he shrugs. "I'm here. I'm hanging out with you."

You nod, forcing a smile.

Something inside you clicks—a silent, sharp realisation. This is who Jungkook is. This is who Jungkook will always be. He's funny, and charming, and a little bit addictive, if you're being completely honest.

But Jungkook will never be yours.

He will never be the perfect man for you. He will never be your one percent. So, you bury the tiny, blooming crush before it can grow roots, and you decide firmly, painfully, that a friend is all he'll ever be to you.

And you're sure you can live with that.

Ten years later...

If someone had told you back in university that the chaotic intruder you maced with Chanel perfume would become your favourite person, you would've recommended they seek help urgently.

And yet, ten years later, here you are.

Somehow, despite Jungkook's questionable life choices, endless line of women, and the fact that he once tried to microwave ramen without water, the two of you grew into something solid. Something constant. Something quietly threaded into every part of your adult life.

You grew up together.

Late-night study sessions turned into late-night grocery runs. His hangovers turned into your "you have to stop being so irresponsible" lectures. Your heartbreaks turned into his "give me his address" threats. You were there to celebrate with him when he landed his first high-paying corporate job and he was there to support you when you were grieving your dad's passing.

You became inseparable. A matched set. A pair of platonic soulmates. And in the past ten years, your life took a path younger you would've fainted over.

Sure, you graduated with your law degree and your family was proud, your grandmother bragged to her knitting group, and you spent several months pretending you were totally thrilled to be entering a profession that slowly devoured human souls.

But the truth? You hated it. The corporate offices. The endless contracts. The panic attacks you had in bathroom stalls pretending everything was fine. Law was stable and respectable, but it sucked the life out of you.

Your dream had always smelled like sugar, butter, and rising dough, so one day, with the determination your professors once called "excessive," you quit your job, emptied your savings, fought with your mom for a full year about your life choices, and opened the bakery you always wanted.

Honey & Hearth Bakery; your pride and joy, your entire heart with an overpriced oven attached. The tiny cake shop that eventually grew into a beloved neighbourhood spot with warm lighting, mismatched mugs, cozy booths, and the smell of fresh bread always lingering in the air.

And Jungkook? Well, he painted the walls baby-pink with you at 1am and drilled shelves with no prior experience. He showed up to your grand opening with an extravagant flower bouquet, three balloons that were far too big and dramatic for a bakery opening, and a promise to always support you and your happiness.

He's been your most loyal customer ever since.

Which brings you to now.

The bell above the front door jingles at 8 on a Thursday morning and you don't have to look up to know who it is.

"Morning, superstar," Jungkook calls out, his voice warm and annoyingly bright for a man who has a meeting to attend in an hour. Working in the corporate world isn't the most thrilling profession in life, but he earns the big bucks and he looks hot wearing a suit, and that's enough for him.

You grin without turning around, already whipping up his coffee. "You're late."

"It's 8," he scoffs, winking at a random woman that walks past him.

"Your usual time is 7:20."

"Sorry. Morning sex happened," he sighs, sliding onto his usual stool at the front counter. "That girl from the bar stayed the night and don't get me wrong, she's hot, but I had to explain the whole 'no overstaying your welcome' rule."

"Is that a part of your 'no back-to-back sex' rule?"

"Yes, exactly," he sighs.

"Isn't that basically the same thing as your 'no more than once a week' rule?"

"No, the 'no more than once a week' rule specifically only works from Monday to Friday."

You scoff. "Oh, so theoretically you could sleep with someone on Sunday night and it wouldn't break the rule if you slept with them again on Monday morning?"

"Now you're getting it," he nods.

You finally glance over your shoulder, listening to him go on a long tangent about his recent sexual endeavours. He's completely different from the mischievous boy who crawled into your bed a decade ago…yet somehow exactly the same. Older now, bigger, broader, jaw sharper, hair perfectly styled. Still stupidly handsome in that infuriating, effortless way.

"Pick one for me," he grins, looking over at the pastry case.

That little tradition certainly didn't end in university. In fact, it's become an every-morning thing. He comes in before work and insists you surprise him with a new pastry to try. Apparently it keeps him on his toes, which he believes is very important in life.

You lean against the counter, your arms crossed. "Hmm. What's your vibe today?"

"I don't know," he sighs, pretending to think. "Handsome. Dashing. Maybe a little mysterious."

"Delusional," you chuckle.

"See? This is why this works," he smiles. "You keep me humble."

"What about a slice of apple and cherry crumble?"

"Nah, I had that one last week," he shakes his head.

"Lemon butter cream cup maybe?"

"Not really feeling a cream cup today," he shrugs.

"Hmmm..." You scan the display of desserts, pursing your lips. "Pistachio croissant?"

"___, come on. You're losing your touch," he teases.

"Okay, okay, uhmmm..." You scan the display once more, picking a popular new item on the menu. "Okay, today you're getting the honeycomb and lavender custard tart."

He lights up instantly, like a puppy being offered a treat. "Yes. Excellent choice. I knew you'd pick that."

"You didn't know anything," you scoff, plating it for him.

"I had a feeling."

"You always have a feeling."

"And it's always right," he grins.

The bell rings at the front door and you quickly turn your attention to the cash register to serve one of your regular customers, Mrs. Park—an elderly woman who always makes pleasant conversation and compares you to her granddaughter. She's incredibly nice and always compliments you on the frilly dresses you wear.

"What will it be today, Mrs. Park?" you smile sweetly.

"My usual, dear," she chuckles warmly. "One of those lovely chocolate eclairs of yours. My daughter tells me I should stop eating them so much because of my blood sugar but what she doesn't know won't hurt her."

You chuckle, wrapping one up for her in a little pastel-pink box, taking her cash with a polite bow of your head. "My lips are sealed," you wink.

She laughs and takes the box before walking off with a little wave of her wrinkled hand.

That brings you back to the man waiting for his breakfast.

"Here," you murmur, sliding the plate and mug of coffee toward him. "Eat and try not to break anything. You already broke two mugs last month and I'm seriously going to start charging you for them."

He takes a big bite of the mini tart and groans in delight. "God, marry me."

"You literally just told me about how you were balls deep in some girl from the bar," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "Besides, you fake-propose to me every morning."

"And I mean it every morning."

You snort. "Please. You'd never."

He leans an elbow on the counter. "Only because you'd divorce me for eating in bed and getting crumbs on the sheets," he sighs, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Correct," you nod, wiping down the counter. "I have standards."

He sets down his mug and straightens up, getting to what he's been meaning to discuss this morning. "So, you busy this Saturday?"

You shrug, mentally checking your schedule. "Not that I know of. Why?"

"Because I need you."

You pause. "You do?"

"It's an invitation actually."

"Okay…" you murmur sceptically, narrowing your eyes at him. "To what?"

"My father's engagement party. Shocker."

Your rag pauses mid-swipe across the counter. "Which one?"

"Engagement or father?" he grins.

"Both."

"Engagement number ten. Father number one."

You blink. "Ten?"

"Ten," he repeats, like it physically pains him. "She's twenty-three, gorgeous, has a skincare routine that could bankrupt nations. I think she was in diapers when my dad got married the third time."

You gape. "Wait, who's the one that sold protein powder on Instagram?"

"That was number eight." He takes another sip of his coffee. "This one does yoga retreats in Bali and says things like 'alignment is a mindset'. Ridiculous, I know. And she only wears bags that are made from real baby alligator, allegedly."

"That's disgusting and inhumane," you grimace. "So...why do you need me?"

"Because," he groans, "he's having some fancy dinner-slash-engagement party and he wants me there, and I am not suffering through that circus alone. And my dad likes you. And you make me look balanced and emotionally stable."

"That's a lot of responsibility for one woman," you tease.

He shrugs. "You used to handle lawsuits for fun."

"Yeah but I don't do law anymore," you deadpan.

"You still look like you could send someone to jail," he grins, taking another bite of his dessert. "Anyway, you know how these things go. Everyone's going to ask why I'm still single, and I'll end up getting irritated because my dad's fiancée—who's younger than me—insists on calling me 'sweetie'. I need backup. Please come, ___. I'll owe you forever."

You laugh softly, leaning across the counter. "You already owe me forever, Jeon."

"Yeah, but this time I'll actually admit it," Jungkook mumbles, meeting your eyes with that boyish half-smile that hasn't changed in a decade.

"Fine. I'll go," you sigh, tossing the rag into the sink.

Jungkook beams, and you pretend your stomach doesn't flip.

"You're amazing," he grins and claps once, pushing off the counter with a mouth full of custard tart. "I'll pick you up at seven on Saturday. Wear something fancy. And also maybe emotionally prepare yourself."

"For what?" You chuckle.

He grimaces. "Stepmom Number Ten is…a handful."

You chuckle. "Aren't they always?"

He points at you as he backs toward the door. "Exactly why you're coming with me."

The bell jingles again as he leaves, and your day continues with familiar customers while he rushes through the morning traffic.

Jungkook's father's estate is something you would never be able to afford even if you opened ten more bakeries. Calling it a house would be like calling the Titanic a canoe. There are fountains—yes, plural. There is a driveway long enough to train for a marathon. There's valet parking and a floral arch made of white roses that look like they cost more than your entire bakery.

And there are people. A lot of people. Champagne clinks in the air, soft jazz plays somewhere in the distance, and laughter rolls in every direction.

You exhale, adjusting the strap on your dress. "I always feel very commoner-in-the-palace when I'm here."

Jungkook tucks your hand into the crook of his arm, pulling you closer as he leans in, looking dapper in his black tux. "Relax. You're one of the only sane people here. That automatically makes you royalty."

"Does it?"

"Yes," he smiles confidently. "And when my father inevitably lets me inherit this place, which I'll force him to do, then I'll make you queen of the fountains."

You snort. "I don't want to be queen of the fountains."

"Too late. You've been coronated." He taps your forehead with his finger. "Boop."

You roll your eyes, but your chest warms. He always does that; makes you feel like you belong wherever he is.

Inside, the party is in full swing. There are waiters weaving between people, guests mingling in glitter and silk, the future bride squealing in a voice that sounds like it's powered by helium and Mr. Jeon himself proudly showing off the engagement ring on her finger that could double as a murder weapon. There's even a towering cake on display, five tiers of gold-trimmed extravagance that you can't wait to recreate in your free time.

Jungkook grabs two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and hands you one, taking a big gulp.

The moment his father spots the two of you, his entire face lights up.

"There's my favourite duo!" Jeon Jaehyun sweeps you both into a hug—more you than Jungkook. Jungkook gets a pat on the back like a border collie. You get an affectionate double cheek kiss and a squeeze.

"Mr. Jeon," you greet with a polite bow and a soft smile. You've always liked him. He makes questionable choices when it comes to women, but he's nice and he always treats you like you're a part of the family. It's also clear where Jungkook gets his good looks from, not that you ever look for too long or else he'd make you Wife Number Eleven.

"You look stunning tonight, sweetheart," he beams. "I tell you, if I were thirty years younger—"

"You'd still be making terrible decisions, dad," Jungkook cuts in, unamused.

Jaehyun clicks his tongue. "I'll have you know, son, that marriage is an unpredictable thing."

You glance at the fiancée across the room, who is taking a selfie with the champagne tower, not noticing that she's flashing half the guests.

"Unpredictable, huh?" you echo with a soft smile. Sure.

The fiancée, Seulgi—with a gorgeous face, waist-length extensions and breasts that defy gravity—bounces over.

"Kookieee," she sings. Her voice is airy, like her brain has never had to carry anything heavier than a single thought.

"Kookie?" you whisper.

He grimaces. "Don't."

"Oh my gosh, is this your girlfriend?" she asks, looking you up and down like you're a lost child she found at the mall. "I didn't know my future stepson has a special lady!"

"This is ___," he sighs. "My best friend. Strictly platonic."

Seulgi nods, smiling like she understands exactly none of those words, before turning her attention to her future husband. "Love-muffin," she coos, kissing Jungkook's father on the cheek. "The guests are asking when we're cutting the cake."

Jungkook leans toward you, whispering, "My dad's nickname for her is Sugarpuss."

You almost choke on your champagne. "No."

"Yes," he grins sarcastically.

His father pats her waist affectionately, grabbing your attention. "Isn't she wonderful?"

She smiles. "I got my nails done for today."

She wiggles her fingers in front of your face. They're pink and sparkly and probably cost more than your monthly grocery bill.

You smile, nodding. "Very pretty."

"Thank you!" she squeals. "I got them done at—oh look, champagne!" She wanders away mid-sentence.

Jungkook closes his eyes, groaning. "My latest stepmother, ladies and gentlemen."

Jaehyun gives you both an apologetic smile. "Listen, she's...youthful. Nothing wrong with that."

"She probably can't even spell 'youthful', dad," Jungkook deadpans.

Before Jaehyun can respond, another round of shrieking laughter erupts from Seulgi's direction. Jaehyun sighs deeply, chuckling.

You squeeze his arm, a soft smile settling on your face. "Congratulations. I really hope you're happy, Mr. Jeon."

He softens at that, looking between you and Jungkook. "With people like the two of you around? Hard not to be."

Jungkook, knowing how much of a sap you are, drags you away before you can tear up, but that doesn't stop you from clutching your chest like your heart might physically burst right through it.

The buffet tables are the size of actual battle stations. You and Jungkook each grab cake slices and slip outside, where fairy lights glow over small round tables. You sit at one, kicking off your heels with a relieved sigh.

"Vanilla for you," Jungkook says, sliding your plate over. "Chocolate for me."

"And we share," you remind him.

"We always share."

You scoop a bite of chocolate from his plate. He steals some vanilla from yours. It's instinctual.

While you eat, you glance out at the dance floor. Couples are slow dancing under the lights, chins tucked against shoulders, fingers intertwined, faces soft with something that makes your chest ache a little.

"I love that," you murmur softly.

Jungkook follows your gaze. "What? Dancing?"

"No," you scoff, taking a small bite of the vanilla cake. "The...closeness. The comfort. You know, two people who actually like being around each other."

He snorts, stuffing his mouth with cake. "Boring."

"You literally treat dating like a casual sport," you mutter, rolling your eyes. "You can't even do something as simple as cuddling."

"I could cuddle if I really wanted to," he mumbles defensively, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Jungkook, you once pushed a girl off your chest because she said your heartbeat sounded like a lullaby."

He points his fork at you. "Okay, but after I pushed her off of me, I played her an actual lullaby on Spotify, so..."

You laugh so loudly someone glances over at your table.

He leans back in his chair, studying you. "You should be more spontaneous. You fall in love too quickly and you assume every boyfriend is the one. You ever think maybe you'd have more fun if you didn't plan out every part of your life?"

"I'm not planning," you argue, eating a forkful of the chocolate cake. "I just...I like security and stability in life."

"Or," he counters, "you're waiting for this perfect man who doesn't exist."

You shrug, absentmindedly poking the cake with your fork. "I'm not looking for perfect; I'm looking for someone who sees a future with me, not a guy who 'goes with the flow' because he doesn't know how to commit. Someone I can build a life with."

He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you. "One; that's kinda delusional. Two; you're twenty-eight, you still have time for all that later in life."

"Not according to my mom. She believes I should have been married and had babies by now."

"That's insane," he scoffs. "I'm thirty and I'm perfectly fine the way I am."

"We're very different people with very opposing views on relationships, Jungkook," you murmur gently. "And besides, I do kinda agree with her to a certain extent. I want to build something soon and not waste time dating men who only want a weekend. I'll die alone if I don't get a move on."

He softens, almost imperceptibly. "You don't have to rush. It'll happen with the right person when it's meant to be."

You nod down at your plate, dragging your fork through some frosting. "Yeah. I guess."

"Besides, do you want to get married just for the sake of being married? Look at my father who's on his tenth marriage and soon, his tenth divorce."

"Don't be so negative," you murmur with a faint smile. "Maybe this one will be his person."

"My mom was supposed to be his person," he grumbles, picking at the vanilla cake. "This one is just another mistake to add to the list."

"Jungkook," you smile. "Even if you know it's a mistake but it's not your place to intervene, you simply say, 'I'm happy you're happy' and move along."

"Yeah, yeah," he scoffs, bringing his fork up to his lips. "You're always right. I hate that."

You chuckle, taking another bite of his slice of cake. The moment settles between you, and you take it as an opportunity to share something with him that's been on your mind lately.

"Speaking of being spontaneous…"

"Oh no," he teases. "That tone is never good."

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. "No, it's not anything crazy, it's just...I've kinda been thinking about going to London for the summer."

His fork freezes halfway to his mouth, his eyes growing double its size. "London?"

"Mhm. For a short pastry course," you explain. "Three months at this prestigious culinary institute. It's kinda a dream opportunity."

Jungkook is silent, his fork gently clinking against the plate as he sets it down.

"When were you gonna tell me?" he asks softly. He's not upset, just very caught off guard.

"Just now," you shrug. "I was on the fence about it for a while."

"Wow," he swallows thickly. "Three months?"

You nod.

He forces a small smile, the kind of smile he uses when he doesn't like something but refuses to ruin things for you. It's a smile that tells you he doesn't know how to live without you for that long, but he'll pretend like he's totally fine.

"That's…wow, that's amazing, ___."

"Yeah." You pick at your cake some more. "But I don't know. It's expensive and I'd be away from the bakery for months, and I've never been out of the country alone before, and—"

"Hey," he smiles, softly nudging your knee under the table. "You can do it."

"I don't know," you mumble. "It feels like…a big jump."

"You like big jumps."

"No, you like big jumps. I like stable ground, a clear path and preferably a railing."

He grins. "I'll install a railing in London."

You glare at him but your laughter slips out effortlessly.

His smile softens even more. "Seriously. If you want it, go for it. The bakery will survive. The other staff can run it. And you should do things for yourself for once. You're always taking care of everyone else."

You open your mouth to argue, then shut it when you realise you don't have an argument. You hate that he's not wrong.

"I'll miss home," you mutter quietly.

"Home will always be here, ___, it isn't going anywhere," he shrugs. "Seoul will always be your home. Three months in London won't magically change that."

You want to tell him that you'll miss him as well, but saying that you'll miss home is close enough. It's one in the same anyway.

"And," he adds, "if you get lost, I'll fly over and find you."

You roll your eyes. "Right, because you're definitely responsible enough for that."

"Hey, I'd bring a GPS."

You chuckle, leaning back in your chair as warm air settles around you, the fairy lights flickering overhead and Jungkook licking frosting off his fork like it's nothing.

"You think I'll do well?"

"Of course," he smiles, nudging your shoulder. "It's you. You're gonna shine. And I'll visit, or we'll video call...or I'll just break into the institute and steal you back."

You laugh, but your chest tightens. He's trying so hard to be happy for you. You can tell.

"You sure you'll survive without me?"

He scoffs dramatically. "If anything, I'll thrive. I'll become stronger, faster, a new man."

"Right," you chuckle. "You'll last three days before you start texting me pictures of pastries and asking which one to buy."

"I give it two," he admits in defeat.

You laugh, the last of the tension easing as the music swells in the distance. Your face slowly melts into a tender smile, your eyes softening ever so gently. It all feels so warm and intimate, and strangely bittersweet.

"Thank you for always supporting me," you murmur quietly.

"Always," he smiles before feeding you a piece of cake on his fork.

You're mid-bite into your cake when Jungkook's entire face suddenly drains of colour.

"Oh no," he whispers.

You pause, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What?"

He doesn't answer in words. Instead, he subtly tilts his head toward the patio doors.

You follow his gaze. A woman in a tight pencil skirt and glasses, hair in a too-tight bun, is clutching a binder to her chest like it's a bible and she's about to testify. Her eyes scan the place with an intensity that could cut steel.

"Uhm…who is that?" you whisper.

"One of my dad's senior analysts." He swallows, setting down his fork. "Her name's Yuri."

"She looks...friendly," you tease.

"She made a blog about me," he hisses.

Your eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

"A blog. It's called 'All Things Jungkook'. Can you believe that?"

You snicker, covering your mouth so you don't get cake everywhere. "You're kidding."

"I wish."

You laugh too loudly and Jungkook shushes you frantically before it can catch Yuri's attention.

"She wrote an entire essay analysing my facial structure," he whispers. "Like, paragraphs. There were diagrams."

You bite your bottom lip to keep from cackling, your face contorting with amusement. "Diagrams?"

"She compared my jawline to Renaissance sculptures," he mutters miserably. "Sculptures, ___."

You wheeze.

"At least she doesn't think my nose is too big or my arms are too scrawny," he adds under his breath, pouting.

You stop laughing, your smile fading.

"Who said that?"

He stares at you.

"You did," he scoffs. "Back in university."

You gasp. "I did not say that!"

"You did," he nods solemnly. "You also said my top lip is too thin."

You slap a hand over your mouth, horrified and amused all at once. "Okay, to be fair, I was an extremely critical eighteen-year-old who was drowning in law textbooks, so I didn't really have a nice thing to say about anyone."

He looks in Yuri's direction, who is still scanning the crowd like a Terminator. "She's gonna see me. She's gonna corner me and ask if I read her four-page analysis about my eyebrows."

You're already laughing again.

"___," he begs, grabbing your wrist. "Dance with me."

"Wait, what?"

"Please," he hisses. "If I'm on the dance floor with someone, she won't approach me."

You arch a brow. "You want me to publicly claim you as occupied?"

"Yes."

You chuckle faintly but stand anyway. "You so owe me."

The music has shifted to something smooth and slow—a romantic melody playing that makes older couples sway like they're reliving their youth. Jungkook places a hand lightly on your waist as you join the crowd. It's familiar but warmer than usual. Or maybe it's the champagne going to your head.

You rest your left hand on his shoulder and your right hand in his palm as you both begin to sway, your faces a lot closer together than they usually are.

"Okay," you smile, "which part of your face did she analyse the hardest?"

"My jaw," he mutters. "Apparently it has a 'mathematically perfect slope', or something like that."

You smile, letting him sway you to the music. "Well, she's not wrong."

He does a double take, staring at you like you said something completely crazy.

"What?" you chuckle.

"What did you just say?" he asks, leaning in closer.

"I said she's not wrong," you shrug.

He squints at you. "You used to call me a pretentious dick."

"That was also true."

He shakes his head. "You're unbelievable."

You grin, then hesitate just a fraction, but he notices.

"What is it?" he asks softly.

You shouldn't say it. You really shouldn't say it, but the music is soft, and the lights are warm, and you're pressed just a bit too close to a man you trust more than anyone in the world, so you blurt it out before you can stop yourself.

"I always thought you were...cute. You know, back in the day. I might've...had a little crush on you..."

His entire body goes still, his eyes growing wide.

"You what?"

"It was a teeny tiny...stupid crush," you clarify. "Very small and insignificant. Microscopic, actually."

Jungkook continues to stare at you, his lips parting in disbelief. "You're kidding."

"I'm not."

"You..." he scoffs, smiling. "You had a crush on me?"

"Don't say it like that," you chuckle, growing flustered.

"No, I'm just..." He searches your face, bewildered and—although he tries to hide it—quite pleased. "I thought you hated me in university."

"Oh, please. If I hated you, I wouldn't have wasted my time insulting you."

He laughs, loud and delighted.

"So, all those insults were, what? You flirting?"

You sigh, rolling your eyes. "Calm down, Jeon."

"You secretly pined for me," he grins smugly, gently twirling you around until you're facing him again.

"Pined? Relax. It lasted, like, two weeks."

"Mhm, sure," he teases. "I bet you were doodling my name in all your notebooks and imagining what our children would look like."

You give him a deadpan stare. "Don't push it. That ship sailed a long time ago."

His smile falters just enough for you to notice if you're really paying attention, but he recovers quickly, tugging you a little closer as the music swells.

"Right, of course," he mumbles softly, looking past you while you sway to the music.

You clear your throat, feeling desperate to redirect the conversation before the air gets heavy.

"So…London," you murmur softly.

He hums, twirling you around once more before pulling you in close. "London."

"I think it'll be good for me," you admit. "A break. Something new."

He studies you—the bright excitement in your eyes, the uncertainty underneath, the hope, and something flashes in his expression that you don't catch, something soft and affectionate.

"Well," he smiles, his voice quieter than before, "I guess I'll have to see you off at the airport, huh?"

You smile, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

He closes his eyes, savouring the moment, his voice coming out just a tad louder than a whisper. "Fuck, I'm gonna miss you."

You roll your eyes, feeling a warmth bloom deep within your ribs. "You're a sap like me now."

He smirks, the earlier tension slipping away. "Don't tell anyone."

"Your secret's safe with me."

He dips you playfully, the two of you laughing, brushing shoulders, standing closer than friends should—close enough that the air between you buzzes with something you both feel.

Outside the dance floor, Yuri is still circling like a shark, but Jungkook doesn't look her way once. Not when he's looking at you.

Incheon Airport buzzes with summer chaos; children dragging suitcases bigger than their bodies, couples taking teary selfies, businessmen speed-walking like their lives depend on it. In the middle of it all, you stand with your luggage, passport, and a rapidly beating heart.

Jungkook is beside you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

"So…" he mumbles, rocking back on his heels, "I guess this is it."

You nod, clutching the handle of your suitcase. "Three months."

"Three months," he echoes.

There's a brief moment where the airport noise fades and it's just you and him and ten years of friendship sitting between you.

He reaches out and flicks a piece of fluff from your sweater, even though you're ninety percent sure there never was any fluff to begin with. "You'll text me when you land?"

"I'll text you as soon as I get WiFi," you nod.

"And you'll video call me?"

"Only if you don't answer while you're at the gym and make me look at your sweaty forehead again."

"That was one time," he chuckles.

You grin. He grins back, but his fades first.

"Go be brilliant, okay?" he murmurs softly. "London's waiting for you."

Your chest warms. "I'll miss you."

Something flickers in his eyes but he blinks fast before you can question it.

"Yeah," he sighs. "Me too."

You smile, lightly punching his arm. "I love you, idiot."

He rolls his eyes, his lips twitching at the corners. "Yeah, yeah, I love you too. Now go."

When you finally walk toward the gate, you don't turn around, but Jungkook stays in place, watching until you disappear. When he finally walks out of the airport, he tells himself the heaviness in his chest is pride, not anything else.

Definitely not. It couldn't be.

—

London greets you with fresh summer air, the faint smell of rain, and immediate sensory overload. The taxis are louder, the buildings older, and everyone talks like they're narrating a BBC documentary.

And you feel more alive than ever.

Your first day at the culinary institute feels like stepping into a whole new world. The kitchens gleam like they've been polished a thousand times. The finest plates await your creations. The ovens are fancier than anything you could ever dream of using.

You learn laminated dough, the perfect method for chocolate tempering, advanced patisserie techniques, all things you used to watch on YouTube while telling yourself you'd perfect someday.

Now 'someday' is here and it's better than you anticipated.

You snap pictures of everything—your flaky pastries, your fancy meringues, your messy apron—and send each and every one of them to Jungkook, even if he responds hours later because of the time difference or his busy schedule.

Between classes, you make the most of your London summer. You buy dresses and blouses that make you feel like a character in a Bridget Jones movie, you carry around flowers wrapped in brown paper that will sit in the middle of the coffee table in your hotel room, you sip tea at cute cafés and buy souvenirs for Jungkook every chance you get.

A vintage Beatles t-shirt.

A Big Ben keychain.

A tiny corgi plush.

Your classmates take you in immediately and within your first month, your nights are filled with dinners at pubs where everything is fried, rooftop wine with the funny Brazilian girl from your pastry group and late-night tube rides where you and the others fall asleep leaning on each other. You make memories that will last a lifetime, and at one point, you don't even think about everything waiting for you back in Seoul.

It's a quiet Saturday afternoon when you find yourself wandering through the sculpture gallery of the Victoria and Albert Museum. There's a hush in the air, as if the marble statues are asleep and everyone else is just trying not to disturb them.

You stop in front of Canova's "Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss."

It's breathtaking. It's delicate and romantic and heartbreakingly intimate, like stone brought to life. Cupid leans over Psyche, gently cradling her as if she might shatter. You've seen it in pictures before, but seeing it in person makes it that much better.

You step closer, completely mesmerised, but a shutter clicks beside you, catching you off guard and pulling you from your daze.

There's a man standing next to you, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a dark cardigan and round glasses that slide slightly down his nose. His hair is dark and frames his face, and a film camera hangs from a strap around his neck. He's just taken a photo of the sculpture, and when he notices you looking, he offers a warm, slightly sheepish smile.

"Sorry," he murmurs in a low, honey-smooth voice, the British accent doing something tingly to your insides. "Didn't mean to interrupt your moment."

You smile politely. "You didn't, don't worry about it."

He turns to look at the sculpture again, tilting his head. "It's beautiful, isn't it? There's something timeless about it." He glances back at you. "Makes you believe that it's worth it to wait for a love like that."

Your eyebrows raise, feeling a bit taken aback by the rather romantic stranger.

He laughs softly. "Sorry. That was…dramatic."

"No," you shake your head, smiling wider. "It was really nice...and true."

"I guess that means I'm not being overly sentimental."

"Or we both are," you smile.

"Could be worse," he shrugs. "I'd rather be overly sentimental than chronically indifferent."

You let out a soft laugh. "That's a good line."

"Thank you, I read it in a book once," he smiles down at the ground, fidgeting with his camera.

You both turn back toward the statue, standing in comfortable silence for a beat, watching how the late afternoon light casts golden shadows on the white stone.

"I'm Kim Namjoon, by the way," he says after a moment, holding out a hand.

"___," you smile, shaking it.

"You're not from here, are you?"

You shake your head. "Seoul, South Korea."

His eyes light up. "Really? Me too...well, kinda. My parents are Korean but they met here in England while they were both studying at Oxford. They moved back to Korea after getting married. That's where I was born, but we moved back to England when I was about five. I haven't been back in a while."

You nod, your interest piqued. "And now you…take pictures of sculptures for a living?"

He chuckles. "Not exclusively. I'm a photographer, mostly travel and editorial, but I come here a lot on my days off. It grounds me."

"I get that," you murmur. "Bakeries do that for me."

He looks over at you, his eyebrows raising. "You're a baker?"

You nod. "I own a small bakery back in Seoul. It's kinda why I'm here, actually. I'm doing a summer course at a culinary institute nearby to brush up on my skills. I'm only here for three months."

"That's incredible." His smile is genuine, his eyes shining under the museum lights. "Honestly, I think bakers are like magicians. You turn flour and cocoa into happiness. It's very impressive."

You laugh, nodding along. "That's very nice of you to say, thank you."

"You're very welcome, Miss ___."

He looks back at the sculpture for a moment, then turns back to you, a little more tentative this time.

"I know this is a bit forward, but…do you perhaps have plans after this?"

You feel your heart pound harder, your head shaking almost too excitedly. "No, not really."

He smiles, clearly a little nervous, like he's not used to doing this. "Would you maybe want to grab a coffee with me? I could show you around London if you'd like. There's a place just down the road; very tiny and unassuming but the coffee's good and they have these absurdly large cinnamon buns that are to die for."

He's handsome, has an accent that makes your thighs clench, and he wants to take you to a café. You don't even have to think about it.

"I'd love to."

His face softens, looking like he didn't quite expect you to say yes.

You chat while you walk out together, side by side, stealing one last look at Cupid and Psyche, and somewhere deep in your chest, you wonder if he is a part of the fresh start you've been craving.

—

It all starts with a simple coffee date.

After the museum, you and Namjoon tuck yourselves into a quiet corner of a café near Hyde Park, where he stirs his cappuccino with one hand and nervously fidgets with the strap of his camera with the other. He asks thoughtful questions, listens like he genuinely cares and laughs with the cutest expression that makes your cheeks flush every single time. He walks you home that night—hands brushing, hearts pounding—and from there, it all blossoms at the speed of light.

Your second date is dinner at a tiny Italian restaurant where you end up talking for hours, sharing pasta and trading childhood stories. He shyly admits he once cried when his favourite bakery shut down, and you know then and there that he's your type of person.

On the third date, you sit beside the Thames at sunset, barely an inch between you, and when your head falls against his shoulder, neither of you move. Your first kiss happens in the rain after a trip to a vintage bookshop, hesitant at first—until it isn't. Until his hands are warm on your waist and yours are in his hair, time melting into the taste of his mouth.

You start to crave his presence, his voice, his intellect wrapped in a British accent and kind eyes.

One night, after too much wine and too many loaded glances, you kiss him breathlessly in his hallway and let him lead you to his bed. It's slow and sweet, and he makes you feel like the most beautiful woman he's ever laid his eyes upon. That happens quite often after the first time. You have sex in the shower, the backseat of his car, on the floor of your hotel room, and it's always better than the last.

By the start of August, Namjoon is a fixture in your London summer. He waits for you after class. He carries your shopping bags without a complaint. He reads books aloud when you can't sleep, chuckles at your terrible attempt at a British accent, and takes endless sneaky photos of you mid-laugh just because he loves the way you look when you're at your happiest. He even drives you out to the English countryside to have dinner with his parents.

Somewhere between the late-night talks and stolen kisses, you fall for him harder than you ever meant to. And the scariest part isn't how fast it happens…it's how disappointed you are that it's all temporary.

—

Namjoon unlocks the door to his flat, stepping inside with the same subtle confidence you've come to love. He holds the door open for you—always a gentleman, even when his fingers were just threaded through yours all the way home from the pub, even when his lips were pressed against your neck as you waited for your Uber, even when his voice had dropped into that low, breathy register that made your knees weak.

You step into the warmth of his space. It smells like him, which you've come to love as well. The lights are dim, a large bookshelf lines the wall, vinyl records stacked neatly near a player and a blooming houseplant stands tall in the corner.

He toes off his shoes and reaches for your jacket. "Here," he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek from behind.

You slip your jacket off your shoulders, your pulse jumping as he hangs it up with care. He rests his hands in his pants pockets, watching you as you turn to face him. His eyes flick over your lips, your neckline, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear like you're totally not still nervous around him.

"Wanna watch a movie?" he offers.

You shake your head, smiling.

He nods slowly and takes the hint, cupping your face in his large hands. The kiss that follows comes easily, mouths moving languidly, your fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt. You've kissed Namjoon a million times over the past three months—on couches, in doorways, on sidewalks lit by streetlights—but this time it feels far more gentle and intimate.

By the time he breaks away, you're breathing in shallow little waves.

"C'mon," he murmurs softly, taking your hand in his. He leads you down the hall, into his bedroom. It's minimalistic, very clean. There's no pretence, just him.

He doesn't pull you into bed. Not yet, at least.

He stands beside the low bookshelf near the window, arms folded loosely, watching you run a hand through your hair.

"Is this really just for three months?" he asks softly. "You being in London? You're really going back to Seoul?"

You sigh, realising you'd have to have this conversation eventually. "Yeah. I mean…that's always been the plan, Joon."

He nods slowly. He just needed to hear you confirm it. "Right. Just…three months."

You sit down on the edge of his bed, your hands resting in your lap. "I just...didn't think I'd actually…meet someone here. I just came to bake things and buy overpriced souvenirs for my best friend."

He smiles at that, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

You tilt your head, your eyebrows furrowing. "Why do you ask?"

Namjoon exhales and smiles. "I guess I've just been thinking about it a lot more than I expected to."

He walks toward you slowly, kneeling down so he's at eye level, his hands resting on your knees with the utmost tenderness.

"___, I know we've only known each other for a short while," he murmurs, keeping his voice steady. "But..."

You swallow thickly, sensing a shift in the air.

Namjoon pulls out a small velvet box from his pants pocket.

You freeze, completely at a loss for words. "Wait. Namjoon, is that...?"

He nods and opens it, his eyes moving from the little box to your face. Inside is a simple, vintage ring; an oval-cut diamond set in an antique band. It's timeless and stunning.

"Kim Namjoon, you're insane," you whisper, letting out a soft, breathless chuckle. "You actually bought a ring?"

He smiles up at you, shaking his head. "I didn't buy it."

Your head tilts in confusion.

"It was my grandmother's," he explains. "She wore it for over fifty years. My mum kept it after my granny passed…and last week...I asked her for it."

Your throat tightens, your eyes widening. "You…asked for it?"

He nods, glancing down at the ring. "I called her and told her that I'm serious about you. I told her that you make me feel like I'm a better version of myself just by existing next to me."

You press a hand to your mouth, feeling overwhelmed with a whole mixture of emotions.

"She told me I was a little nuts," he adds with a chuckle. "That no sane man proposes to someone he's only known for three months."

You laugh, nodding. "Your mom's smart."

"She is." His smile melts into something softer, more serious. "But I'm in love with you. And I don't want to wait."

There's a beat of silence, just the sound of your heartbeat roaring in your ears, the hustle and bustle of the city outside his window, and the impossible weight of the moment sitting in your chest.

"I know it's really fast," he says gently, "but when I look at you, it doesn't feel fast or crazy. It feels like I've been waiting for you my whole life without even knowing I was waiting."

You don't say anything right away.

This man wants to marry you. This man who instantly took a liking to you when he met you. This man who's intelligent and kind and effortlessly elegant. This man who just presented you with his grandmother's wedding ring like it was meant to be yours all along.

Namjoon watches your expression carefully, waiting patiently.

Then, cautiously, he smiles.

"Will you marry me?"

—

At first, it all just feels like a mild inconvenience for Jungkook.

You're in a different country, in a different time zone, and of course it's normal that your texts come through while he's asleep or his calls are missed because you're stuck in class. Days pass where your voices never reach each other, just fragments—missed calls, unread messages, half-finished voice notes.

At first, he tells himself it's normal, maybe even healthy. You're living your best life halfway across the world, and he refuses to be the needy friend who holds your back. Still, he finds himself reaching for his phone too often, typing things and deleting them, falling asleep with your chat left open like maybe, somehow, it will make you feel closer.

He goes out a lot in June.

He texts you at 2am after coming home from drinks with Jin and two girls he doesn't remember the names of. The text says, "Miss your dumb face," followed by a blurry selfie. You don't answer until seven hours later with a laughing emoji because you just finished rolling a million croissants and you're too tired to ask how his night went.

He smiles at his phone like an idiot every time your name pops up on his screen, but the more time passes, the more the silence starts to hurt.

In July, he hooks up with a girl he met at a rooftop restaurant. She's beautiful, super tall, wears a silk dress that shows off just enough to have him on edge. She calls him "handsome" and laughs at all the right moments. Her perfume is strong, her lip gloss sticky. He pulls her into his apartment and they undress in a haze of clumsy heat, getting straight to the point of the evening—sex.

Jungkook grunts and squeezes his eyes shut as he thrusts into her in missionary, his head spinning as he desperately tries to focus on the task at hand and not the text he sent you a few hours ago that still hasn't been answered.

When he opens his eyes again to kiss her, he's completely thrown off his game when it's not her face he sees contorting in pleasure—it's yours.

It's the familiar curve of your smile.

It's the sparkle in your eyes when the two of you slow danced at his father's engagement party.

It's the look of longing you had on your face when you said goodbye at the airport.

Jungkook stops moving, his hips halting mid-stroke. The girl moans something but he doesn't hear it, far too distracted by your eyes fluttering in his head. He closes his eyes once more, his breathing ragged, his heart hammering. Once he finally gets it together, he forces himself to finish but it just feels hollow now.

When August arrives, Jungkook decides to soldier on until you eventually get back to Seoul.

He meets up with a different woman on a random Monday afternoon—a friend of a friend. They get coffee, then lunch, then dinner a week later. She's cute and easy company. She asks about the meanings of all his tattoos, kisses slow and rides him fast.

She seems genuinely interested in him, so on their fourth hangout—which he insists on calling it instead of a date because he doesn't want her to get the idea that he's serious about her—he takes her to your bakery.

It's his safe place and it smells like you. It's comforting, and warm, and always welcoming. And maybe he takes her there because some part of him just misses home.

The display case is full of your signature work; dainty cupcakes decorated with edible flowers, fluffy cinnamon donuts rolled into perfect spheres, sticky toffee buns that always taste better each time he eats them.

Jungkook stares at the options, his hands in his pockets. "I can't decide what to get," he sighs, testing the waters. "Pick one for me."

She blinks, her pretty doe eyes filled with confusion. "Why?"

"I don't know, it's kinda fun," he smiles. "Just choose something for me."

She raises a brow, looking at the array of desserts. "Okay…a cookie."

He pauses, glancing at her. "No, like...be specific."

"Okay." She stares at the case, then smiles over at him. "A really big cookie?"

He smiles, but it's so fake it almost physically hurts. "Right. Sure."

She doesn't get it, of course she wouldn't. It's not about the dessert. It's so much more than that.

They end up leaving with one cookie for her and nothing but disappointment for him.

—

The days blur and the nights stretch endlessly.

He scrolls through your texts again and again, reading old ones just to be reminded of how funny you are. He reads the ones where you got into a debate about 'sex weather', in which you insisted that rainy weather is always the best time for sex, or rather "making love" as you put it, because you hate being sweaty while trying to be romantic. He listens to the voice note where you tried to explain a French baking term and got so flustered when you lost your train of thought that you ended it with, "Anyway, I'm a fraud, bye."

He plays that one three times, chuckling to himself in bed like a crazy person.

He wants to call you, to hear your voice and listen to you ramble about oven temperature settings and undercooked soufflé.

He wants to say...well, he doesn't really know what he wants to say. He just knows that no one else makes him feel whole the way you do.

That everyone else feels like a filler. Like static. Never you, though. You feel like home.

He tosses his phone aside and stares up at his bedroom ceiling, running a hand through his hair with a huff. It hits him gently, like a slow wave that unexpectedly knocks him off his feet and drowns him in an instant:

You're not just his best friend or the girl he jokingly flirts with out of habit. You're more than just someone who knows how he likes his coffee or which songs make him cry or why he hates sleeping in certain positions because it hurts his back.

You're it.

You're the one he'll always look for in a crowd of people, the one he still wants to talk to at the end of every stressful, shitty day. The one he hasn't stopped thinking about since the moment you walked through that departure gate—hell, since the moment he accidentally stumbled into your bed ten years ago.

And he doesn't know what the hell he's supposed to do with that.

The thud of the basketball echoes through the gym as Jungkook dribbles, sweat clinging to his skin, his heart pounding from exertion. Seokjin's guarding him—kinda lazily—and Wonwoo's near the free-throw line, his sleeves rolled up and jaw set with focus. Mingyu's off to the side, taking his sweet time sipping water and pretending like he doesn't play the most aggressively of all four of them.

Jungkook fakes left, cuts right, and lands the shot. It bounces once, then rolls in.

"Still got it," he grins, jogging back as Mingyu throws him a towel.

"You've got cardio," Wonwoo pants. "Not game."

"Don't need game when I'm playing against geriatrics," Jungkook shoots back.

"Hey!" Seokjin wipes his forehead. "I may be a father now, but I could still outrun you with one baby strapped to my chest and another in the oven."

"You're not even the one with the oven," Mingyu snorts.

"My point still stands," Seokjin shrugs.

They keep playing—passes, dodges, light-hearted trash talk—but somewhere between defence drills and free throws, Jungkook finds himself zoning out. He leans against the padded wall, bouncing the ball absentmindedly, his thoughts far from the gym.

Seokjin notices first.

"You good?" he asks, tossing his friend a water bottle.

Jungkook catches it, hesitates, then nods. "Yeah. Just thinking."

"That's suspicious," Mingyu scoffs. "When you think too much, you start texting your exes."

"No," Jungkook mutters quietly, shaking his head. "Not this time."

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, walking over. "What's going on?"

Jungkook rolls the ball along the floor with his foot, sighing. "I think I'm in love with ___."

There's a silence that stretches just a second too long, the guys all shooting each other a look.

Seokjin's eyebrows furrow, his hands resting on his hips. "Wait, what?"

Mingyu whistles, patting Jungkook on the back. "Holy shit. That's not what I was expecting."

Wonwoo just leans against the wall and crosses his arms, his expression unreadable.

Jungkook shifts, scratching the back of his neck. "I don't know. It just hit me all at once. I've been trying to date, distract myself. I took a girl to the bakery the other day and asked her to pick something for me like ___ always does…and she picked a fucking cookie. Just said 'a big one'," he snorts humourlessly. "Didn't even get the point."

"You do realize she's not ___, right?" Seokjin chuckles. "How would she know what you meant?"

"Exactly. That's my point," Jungkook groans. "No one's her, dude. I've been around her for ten years, and I think I convinced myself I'd always have time to figure it out, but now she's in London, living her dream, probably flirting with a bunch of British guys."

"Let's not spiral," Wonwoo mutters.

"I just…" Jungkook exhales sharply. "I don't want anyone else. I want her. And...I actually want to do something about it."

The guys pause before Seokjin grabs his shoulder, smiling. "Well, shit! That's called growing up."

"You're not wrong," Mingyu mutters, grabbing the ball to dribble again. "But don't ask me to relate. I'm good with casual sex and no one touching my closet space."

"You say that now," Seokjin scoffs. "Then one day you're holding a baby while your wife cries watching dog rescue videos and suddenly it's the best moment of your life."

"Wow," Wonwoo deadpans. "That got oddly specific."

Jungkook laughs quietly, glancing down at the floor. "I never thought I'd want that. Not the marriage thing or the kids. I thought I'd stay the way I was forever. Just…you know, vibing."

Seokjin smiles, fond and a little smug. "Now 'just vibing' feels kinda empty, huh?"

Jungkook nods.

"She's different," he murmurs softly. "She makes everything feel like it matters. Without her, everything feels off."

Mingyu makes a dramatic gagging noise. "Can we go back to basketball now? This sappy talk is giving me indigestion."

Seokjin chuckles, giving Jungkook a hard pat on the back. "Tell her when she gets back. Don't wait."

Jungkook nods, determination setting in as he jogs over to play another round.

He's not sure how you'll react to all this, but he's done running from his feelings. He's finally ready. He just hopes you are too.

—

Jungkook listens to your voicemail multiple times when he gets home from work Friday evening.

"Hey…I'm back in Seoul! I've missed you so much. Can we have dinner tonight around 7? I was thinking of going to our usual restaurant. I have so much to tell you. It feels like I've been gone forever. Let me know, okay? Okay, I love you, bye!"

Your voice is bubbly, laced with excitement. You sound like you dialed his number as soon as you got off the plane, the airport noise in the background a clear giveaway.

Jungkook doesn't waste a second. He showers, sprays himself with his most expensive cologne and pulls out a navy suit he usually reserves for weddings and important meetings. He doesn't usually go out of his way to look good for a woman because he's him—he doesn't have to try, but this is you and he wants to leave a lasting impression when he tells you his feelings. Tonight is different. It's significant, and he doesn't want to screw it up.

On his way to the restaurant, he stops at a street vendor and buys a bouquet of peonies—your favourite. He might not be the most conventionally romantic guy on the planet, but he knows you hate roses because you think they're cliché and typical. He knows that you prefer fish over red meat, and that you hate big gatherings because they make you anxious. He knows you better than anyone else on Earth, and he loves you.

The restaurant is buzzing when he walks in—dim lights, quiet chatter, the smell of red wine and garlic butter thick in the air. He spots you immediately, perched at the bar at the far end of the restaurant, laughing at something.

His breath catches at the sight of you.

You look like London. That's the only way he can describe it. You're glowing, your cheeks rosy, your lips stained red. It's different but still you, like something bloomed while he wasn't looking.

He starts walking toward you, a smile pulling at his lips.

But then he sees him.

A tall man standing beside you, dimples on full display like someone's paying him to smile that brightly. He leans in close, says something in your ear, and presses a quick kiss to your lips. It's all a bit too casual, too familiar.

It stops Jungkook in his tracks. When he starts walking again it's fast and panicked. So much so that he doesn't see the waiter passing by until it's too late.

"Sir, excuse m—"

There's a loud crash, a blur of limbs flying about as Jungkook collides into the poor guy carrying a full tray of glasses. Water, wine, forks, the tray itself, it all goes flying as both men go down in a heap right in the middle of the restaurant.

"Shit—!"

"Oh my goodness—Jungkook?!"

You're off your stool in a second, rushing over with wide eyes. The man beside you joins you just as quickly, crouching down to help both Jungkook and the waiter up.

Jungkook winces, pushing himself up to sit.

You're already reaching for him, pulling him up to his feet. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? You just...you slammed into that guy—"

"I'm fine," Jungkook mutters, straightening up, brushing water off his sleeves. He glances down at the scattered bouquet now lying halfway under the barstools.

You crouch to pick it up, glancing up at him.

"And you bought flowers?" you ask with a hopeful glint in your eyes.

Jungkook freezes, glancing at the flowers. He clears his throat, then grabs the bouquet and abruptly shoves it into the startled waiter's hands. "No. These are his."

The waiter is taken aback, and so are you.

Jungkook claps the poor guy on the back, offering him a fake smile. "Congratulations on your...anniversary or whatever."

You raise an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Mhm," Jungkook nods, his voice tight. "Just clumsy, I guess. Classic me."

You exchange a look with the man Jungkook is still unsure of, who offers your best friend a faint smile. The three of you start walking toward the table—your table, the one you and Jungkook always request when it's just the two of you.

Jungkook doesn't say anything. He sits across from you and watches as the other man pulls out your chair like he's done it a dozen times before, which makes Jungkook's jaw twitch.

And he waits.

Waits for you to explain.

Waits to figure out why he suddenly feels like the only person in the room who didn't get the memo.

You smile and gesture toward the man beside you, your face lighting up at you look at him, a look Jungkook hasn't seen on your face in a really long time.

"Jungkook, this is Kim Namjoon. Namjoon, this is Jeon Jungkook; my best friend I've been telling you all about."

Namjoon leans over with a warm smile and extends his hand to Jungkook. "It's really nice to finally meet you, Jungkook. I've heard so much about you from this lovely lady."

Jungkook forces a smile, reaches out, and shakes it. "Yeah. Nice to meet you too."

His voice sounds normal but his chest feels hollow.

"I've been trying to picture you this whole time," Namjoon continues in that British accent that makes Jungkook's bile rise in his throat. "___'s mentioned you in almost every story she's told me."

You laugh, your cheeks turning pink. "I might've overdone it."

"No," Namjoon murmurs softly, gazing at you like the rest of the world has vanished. "I loved it. Felt like I already knew him."

Jungkook looks down at the table, wishing he could gouge out his eyes with the silverware. "So…what's the deal with you two? You met in London?"

Your smile widens as you nod. "It was so random! I was at a museum, just minding my business, and I was standing in front of this gorgeous sculpture, and then Namjoon just appeared next to me with a camera."

Namjoon chuckles. "She was so focused on the piece, I wasn't even sure if I should say anything."

"But he did," you grin. "He struck up a conversation, and we ended up at a little café for cinnamon buns and coffee, which was amazing, by the way."

"You had cinnamon buns with a stranger?" Jungkook murmurs, trying to sound amused, not crushed.

You wave him off. "Oh please. It just felt so natural. And after that, we just kept seeing each other. Museum dates, dinners, exploring the city. We couldn't stay away from each other."

Namjoon affectionately rubs your back with his palm. "I couldn't help myself, she's irresistible."

Jungkook watches the gesture, taking note of how you lean into it like muscle memory. "Sounds like it all happened fast."

"It did," you admit, your smile softening. "But it felt so right."

He nods, staring at the breadbasket in the middle of the table, and wishes he could crawl into it and disappear.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asks, his voice quieter than before. "I mean…I know we missed a lot of calls but I would've wanted to hear about this."

You shift in your seat, your expression falling slightly. "I wanted to, I really did. But things just got so hectic. Classes ran late, we were always on the move, and then the time difference made everything harder. I drafted messages and forget to send them, and after a while, I figured…I'd tell you everything properly when I got back."

You look at him with so much honesty that it only hurts him more.

"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."

He nods, offering you a faint smile. "It's okay."

It's anything but okay, but he'll suck it up and bite his tongue for you.

Namjoon clears his throat, shifting forward. "I know it's probably a lot to take in all at once, but I wanted to tell you myself. I asked ___ to marry me."

Jungkook's eyes flick up to meet his, his face unreadable.

"And I said yes!" You smile and lift your left hand, showing him your ring. It glints under the restaurant lights, sitting delicately on your finger, mocking him.

Jungkook swallows thickly, a pleasant mask glued to his face. "Wow. It's…beautiful."

You beam. "Isn't it? It was Namjoon's grandmother's."

Namjoon takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. "I figured it could be lucky for us."

Jungkook lets out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh, glancing between you and Namjoon. "Yeah. Guess so."

He smiles at all the right moments, pretends like his chest isn't caving in, nods as if he's really listening when you tell him all about your summer with Namjoon, but all he feels is regret and bitterness that some other guy gets to take you home tonight instead of him.

You're in love. You're engaged. You're sitting across from him glowing like a woman who's found her forever. And Jungkook is just the best friend—the one who waited too long to be ready for you.

"So…" you begin, your voice light but a little nervous, glancing at Namjoon. "We've actually already started planning the wedding."

Jungkook looks startled, looking between you two. "Already?"

Namjoon nods, smiling. "We figured there's no reason to wait."

Jungkook's eyebrows furrow, looking back at you. "But…you just got back."

"I know," you murmur. "But we're getting married in England in a church Namjoon's dad helped build. It's near their home in the countryside. It's perfect, Jungkook."

"Mm, it's right across from the distillery," Namjoon nods.

Jungkook looks between the two of you, trying to process. "Distillery?"

"Yeah," you say, brightening. "Namjoon's parents own a whiskey distillery."

Of course they do. Of course his parents own a distillery and build churches and probably rescue injured animals in their free time.

"And the wedding is in a month," Namjoon adds.

Jungkook's eyebrows shoot up, his eyes practically popping out of their sockets. "A month?"

You nod, resting your head against Namjoon's shoulder. "We didn't wanna drag it out. It just makes sense, you know? Why wait when we're sure?"

He doesn't answer. He's too busy trying to remember how to breathe. And then, as if the conversation hasn't already taken a sledgehammer to his heart, you turn to him with a hopeful smile that just about finishes him.

"Anyway, I wanted to ask you something," you murmur. "I know it's sudden, and maybe kinda weird, but…Jungkook...would you be my maid of honor?"

His brain flatlines, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to find something to say that won't be totally offensive right now.

"I mean," you add quickly, laughing, "knowing our relationship, you'd probably want me to be your best man someday, right? So, it's only fair."

Namjoon laughs softly, clearly charmed by the idea. "I think it'd be perfect, actually. You two clearly have such a strong bond."

Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. Instead, he stands too fast, knocking his thigh into the edge of the table and spinning sideways just in time to collide for the second time that evening with the same poor waiter from earlier.

The tray clatters to the ground once again. The waiter lets out a yelp of disbelief, flat on his back. Jungkook stumbles, caught between horror and absolute emotional overload.

"Dude, are you serious?!" the waiter yells, throwing a dish towel at his chest.

Jungkook mumbles something that might be an apology, but you're already scrambling to help, wide-eyed and flustered.

"Again?! Jungkook, what is wrong with you tonight?"

Everything is wrong.

Everything has gone so terribly wrong.

—

It's a sunny Monday afternoon in the middle of Seoul and the park is alive with movement—joggers passing through, street vendors preparing fresh teokkbokki, and office workers on their lunch break scattered across benches in a sea of undone ties and styrofoam containers.

Jungkook is sitting on a bench with a hotdog in one hand and a death grip on his dignity in the other.

Seokjin takes a massive bite of his chilli dog, glances over at him, and swipes ketchup off his cheek with a napkin as he prepares to tackle the shipwreck sitting next to him.

"So…" Seokjin mumbles, his mouth full. "You gonna tell me why you've looked constipated since we sat down? I only have ten more minutes left of my break and my boss is already on my ass."

Jungkook stares down at his hotdog, his appetite barely there. "___ asked me to be her maid of honor."

There's a short pause before Seokjin chokes on a laugh, quickly covering his mouth to avoid spraying onions all over the bench. "I'm sorry, her what?!"

"Maid of honor."

Jin is full-on wheezing now. "God, I hope the dress makes your ass look good. You've been squatting for this moment your whole life."

Jungkook slumps further in his seat. "This isn't funny, Jin."

"It's hilarious, dude," Seokjin laughs.

"I'm dying, hyung. She gets back from London and all of a sudden she's getting married."

Seokjin finally reins in the laughter, wiping the corners of his eyes. "Okay, okay. Sorry. It's just...you gotta admit, that's a hell of a plot twist."

"I was going to confess," Jungkook mutters flatly, his voice low. "I showed up in a suit. With her favourite flowers. And then I walked in and watched her get kissed by her fiancé and knocked over a waiter in the process."

Seokjin winces. "Yikes."

"She's getting married at a church across from her new fiancé's family whiskey distillery, in a month." Jungkook groans and drops his head back against the bench. "She even showed me the ring. It was his grandmother's."

Seokjin lets out a soft whistle, nodding. "Yeah, that's a lot."

"I feel like I missed the entire movie and just showed up for the credits."

They sit in silence for a moment, birds chirping merrily around them like little assholes.

Then Seokjin finishes his hotdog, balls up the wrapper, and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. "Listen, it sucks, I'm not gonna lie. But this doesn't have to be the end."

Jungkook gives him a side glance. "You realise she's engaged."

"And you're the maid of honor." Seokjin grins. "Which means you're right there, centre stage. You're planning the whole thing, hearing every detail. You're literally the man behind the scenes."

"You make it sound like I'm in a heist movie."

"You are," Seokjin shrugs. "Except instead of robbing a bank, you're trying to steal a bride."

Jungkook snorts despite himself. "That's so dumb."

"Love is dumb, man," Seokjin scoffs. "I proposed to my wife in a Pikachu onesie, and now we have a kid who chews on HDMI cables. But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Jungkook stares at the sky, feeling unsure. "You really think I should stay close? Not back off?"

"I think," Seokjin says, "if you're really in love with her and not just having a meltdown because someone else got there first, then don't give up on this. You be her best friend. You support her. And if there's even the tiniest crack in her heart, she'll know you were there the whole time, waiting."

Jungkook lets that settle for a moment. He takes a slow bite of his hotdog, chewing thoughtfully. "Okay," he sighs. "But I'm not wearing a dress."

"I will pay you money to wear a dress," Seokjin laughs. "Like, real money. I want full lace. And cleavage."

Jungkook stuffs his mouth with the hotdog to avoid swearing at his friend, but when he leans back again, squinting up at the sky, the weight in his chest feels just a little bit lighter at the reminder that this isn't over yet.

When Jungkook arrives at your apartment Saturday morning, he's met with the familiar comfort of your sweet scent, frilly pillows scattered across the couch, and little trinkets decorating the shelves.

He's spent countless nights here—binging your favourite shows, eating endless amounts of cake as his way of helping you with new recipes, sitting patiently as you give him a faux fashion show of the millionth pair of shoes you bought—and yet this time is not like any of the rest. This time he's here to help you plan your wedding.

"You rang, future Mrs. Kim?" he calls out, kicking off his shoes in the entryway.

You pop your head out from the kitchen with a smile. "You're late, Jeon. You said you'd be here at 8. It's 10."

He takes off his leather jacket and hangs it on your coat rack, rolling his eyes. "You've been engaged for five minutes and you're already a bridezilla."

You scoff, making your way over to greet him with a hug.

He grins at the short embrace, pulling away to get a proper look at you. "Damn, your hair looks good today. Is that a new thing, or is it just the 'I'm-getting-married' glow?"

You roll your eyes, but your smile shows how flattered you are. "Such a suck-up."

"I'm your maid of honor," he says, smiling smugly. "Sucking up to you is literally my job now."

He walks into the living room and settles onto your couch. It feels normal but there's a certain nervous energy in the air today. It's officially the start of preparations for the wedding party, and he's not sure how ready he is for all that. But today isn't about him. It's your day, and he'll support you even if it slowly kills him.

"The bridesmaids are almost here," you murmur, sitting down with him, turning to face him.

"Do I know them?"

"Well, there's Mina," you smile, knowing how well they get along.

"Mina's great, I like Mina," he nods, scooting a bit closer to you.

"And Jeongyeon. You haven't met her yet but she's really chill, you'll love her."

"Okay, who else?" he asks, reaching out and absentmindedly twiddling a strand of your hair between his fingers.

"Uhm..." You sigh, preparing yourself for his reaction. "And Lisa."

His face falls, his fingers pausing in your hair. "Are you serious? She hates me."

"I had to, Jungkook. She's my cousin," you sigh. "And I mean, can you blame her? You had sex with her then ghosted her the next day."

"She almost broke my nose," he groans.

"It was an accident," you chuckle, rolling your eyes as he goes back to playing with your hair.

"She literally punched me in the face," he deadpans. "I told her it wasn't anything serious and she agreed. I can't help that she caught feelings for me."

You smile in amusement, shaking your head at how truly humble he is. "She's wanted to be my maid of honor since we were little, so she hates you even more now."

The doorbell rings right on cue.

You grin and rush over to get the door, welcoming them in. Jungkook isn't sure if the loud entrance is your bridesmaids greeting you at the door or a pack of hyenas cackling. He lets out a huff and stands up as they enter, plastering a smile on his face.

Mina hugs you first; your bakery manager and unofficial work wife. She's organised as ever, carrying a stack of bridal magazines that she's probably had since forever.

Then Jeongyeon, your friend from high school. She's less organised than Mina but equally as excited for you.

And finally…Lisa, your beloved cousin.

Jungkook fights the urge to roll his eyes when he sees her, forcing a smile to remain civil.

She freezes when she sees him, her eyes narrowing into slits.

You smile, choosing to ignore the tension between them for your own sanity. "Jungkook, you remember Lisa, right?"

Jungkook clears his throat, nodding as he sits back down on the couch. "Yeah. Of course. Hey."

Lisa offers a sweet, pointed smile that could kill him if she really wanted to. "Oh, trust me, I remember Jungkook."

The tension is very palpable.

Mina, sensing the shift, gives a diplomatic little nod and walks over to the couch. "Well, we should probably get started, hm?"

You clap your hands together, trying to regain control of the room. "Okay! So, thank you all for coming. Please, sit. I'll go get some snacks then we can start going over fittings, schedules, things like that."

"Can't wait," Jeongyeon smiles, getting comfortable on an armchair while you head to the kitchen.

"I already know this is going to be chaos," Mina chuckles, sitting next to Jungkook, watching as Lisa stabs him with her eyes.

"Some of us thrive in it," Lisa mutters. "Don't we, Jungkook?"

Jungkook scoffs, shooting her a pointed look. "Are we doing that already?"

"Doing what?" Lisa smiles, feigning innocence. "I just meant you're probably used to this; being around a lot of women, multitasking."

You return to the living room before they can start going at each other, carrying a tray of sandwiches and some iced tea before grabbing your wedding binder and sitting down with everyone else, getting right to business. You start listing off dates and logistics—dress fittings, the bridal shower, the family brunch the morning of the wedding—but the air is already charged. Jungkook asks too many questions, honestly, and Lisa's patience visibly deteriorates with every clueless comment.

"Wait, is the brunch before the church rehearsal thing?"

Mina shakes her head, jotting some things down in her planner. "No. The brunch is the morning of the wedding. We've been over this, Jungkook."

"Oh, right. Right."

Lisa laughs under her breath. "God help us."

Jungkook turns to her, raising a brow. "Got something to say?"

Lisa shrugs, taking a glass of iced tea from the coffee table. "Not really. Just wondering how someone who can't even follow a calendar is supposed to help plan a wedding."

"Lisa," you mutter, shooting her a look that says 'behave, please'.

"Well, I didn't know I was going to be graded on my maid-of-honor performance," Jungkook grumbles.

"Well, just fyi, I'd give you an F," she shoots back.

"Settle down, you two," you sigh, gently placing a hand on Jungkook's arm.

Jeongyeon smirks into her drink. Mina, smiling calmly, jumps in before the room ignites.

"Cut him some slack, Lisa. I'm sure he didn't grow up dreaming about tulle and seating charts."

"Yeah, no kidding," Jungkook mutters.

"Exactly," Mina smiles. "So, let's all just be cool."

Lisa takes a slow sip of her iced coffee and doesn't say anything else, but Jungkook catches the flicker in her eyes that says she should've been your maid of honor instead of the man who clearly doesn't know what he's doing.

Your phone rings on the coffee table, Namjoon's name lighting up the screen. "Sorry, I have to take this," you murmur shyly. "It's Joon."

Your bridesmaids all swoon at the mention of your future husband, and Jungkook has to resist the gag threatening to spill from his lips.

As soon as you excuse yourself to take the call in the next room, Lisa jumps into action.

"I've been a MOH six times before, so I'll organise everything that needs to be done, even though I'm not the MOH here," she mutters, crossing one leg over the other.

Jungkook's eyebrows furrow, clearly clueless. "What's a MOH?"

"M-O-H," Lisa mutters pointedly.

"It stands for maid of honor," Mina smiles over at Jungkook. "That's you."

"Oh, yeah, of course," he chuckles, ignoring the eye-roll from Lisa.

"Okay, so we've got the bridal shower coming up that Jungkook will plan, our bridesmaid hair and make up trials, shopping for ___'s trousseau," Mina lists off, reading from her planner in her lap.

"Trousseau?" Jungkook's eyes narrow, leaning over to peek at Mina's planner. "What is a trousseau?"

"It's lingerie for her wedding night," Lisa deadpans, looking fed up with his questions that she feels are completely unnecessary. "How do you expect to be a good MOH if you don't even know that?"

"Oh wow, look, she's actually talking to me," Jungkook quips.

"No, I'm not," Lisa mutters quickly.

"You just did."

"Oh, my bad, Jungkook," she smiles sarcastically. "Did I break one of your rules?"

"Okay, that's enough!" Mina whisper-yells. "Can you two stop and think about ___? She's happy with an amazing guy, so could we all please, for ___'s sake, just get along, put a smile on our faces and pretend like everything is perfect?!"

"Okay, fine," Jungkook mumbles, holding his hands up in surrender.

The tension in the room is thick, but you don't notice, too giddy after hearing that deep British voice tell you how excited he is to get home to you later. You return after the call with Namjoon, turning your attention back to the ladies—who seem perfectly fine after Mina's little pep talk, all of them smiling brightly.

"Okay, I'm back," you grin, getting comfortable. "So, while we're all over there, we'll be staying at the Kims' holiday home."

Lisa's brow arches, her interest piqued. "Holiday home?"

"Yeah," you murmur while flipping through your binder. "Namjoon's family has this gorgeous house out in the countryside. I swear it's like something out of a Jane Austen novel. It's got over enough guest rooms for everyone. The garden even has an actual maze."

Jungkook blinks. He opens his mouth, closes it, then clenches his jaw in silence.

Of course Namjoon's family has a spare country mansion lying around. Why wouldn't they? Probably stocked with limited-edition wines and antique candleholders. Maybe even a butler named Charles who plays the violin at breakfast.

He forces a tight smile. "Wow. A holiday home. That's nice."

Lisa snorts. "Bit of a step up from your one-bedroom apartment, huh?"

Jungkook slowly looks over at her, smirking. "You'd know. You've been in my bedroom."

You sigh, taking a big gulp of your iced tea. Jeongyeon's eyebrows hit her hairline, finding this all too amusing.

Lisa gives him a razor-sharp glance, crossing her eyes over her chest. "Yeah. Once. Unfortunately."

Mina cuts in with perfect timing, like she's trained for this. "I think this is all amazing, ___. I mean, talk about a dream wedding."

Jeongyeon nods. "Seriously. And Namjoon seems so thoughtful. You guys make a really sweet couple."

You smile bashfully, your cheeks heating up. "I think so too. It all feels like it was meant to be, you know?"

Lisa hums. "Mhm. Must be nice to be that in love."

Jungkook's lips press into a thin line as he stares at the coffee table, remaining silent.

When you flip through wedding magazines with Mina, gushing about colour swatches and invitation templates, he finds himself tuning you out, not because he doesn't care, but because he cares too much.

Wedding planning has his iced tea tasting more like acid than anything else.

due to the 1k block limit, you can read the rest of the story HERE

[chwrrybby]

── Boyfriend Headcanons ⋮ Joon

domestic boyfriend!Namjoon when he’s on tour :(

김남준 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw | idol!namjoon • domestic boyfriend!namjoon • fluff • comfort • clingy joon • long distance during tours • lots of physical affection • late night calls • lowercase intended

┈ [ ✉️ ] Hi angels !! domestic boyfriend!joonie was requested by @gottafightwhentheysaybehave !! Your wish is my command my love !! Namjoon has actually been like doing things to me lately - all these clips of him in a tanktop and sweating has me... feeling things. But any-whom !! I hope you all like and enjoy this !! Happy reading !!

before tour boyfriend!namjoon :(

— gets thoughtful before tours instead of emotional about it. suddenly he’s spending more time beside you in comfortable silence, like he’s trying to soak in the feeling of home before leaving again

— leaves little reminders of himself around the apartment without realizing it. books stacked beside the bed. hoodies over chairs. half-finished notes in his handwriting tucked into random places :(

— the type to stand in the kitchen late at night talking to you about absolutely everything before he leaves. music, life, fears, dumb observations, future plans. conversations with him always somehow feel endless

— buys you books before tour starts because “you’ll think of me when you read this part”

— definitely writes things in the margins too :( underlined sentences that reminded him of you or tiny “this is us” notes beside paragraphs

— starts sleeping closer to you before leaving. one arm heavy across your waist while he reads until he falls asleep halfway through the page

— acts composed the morning he leaves but keeps pausing before walking out the door like his body physically doesn’t want to go yet

during tour boyfriend!namjoon :(

— sends you long paragraphs at random hours because something reminded him of you and suddenly he has a lot to say

— the type to send pictures of ordinary things instead of glamorous tour stuff. a museum he visited. rainy sidewalks. coffee cups. trees he passed during walks :(

— facetimes you while sitting on hotel floors surrounded by his open laptop, unfinished lyrics, and clothes he still hasn’t unpacked properly

— likes hearing about your day in detail. not just “it was good.” he wants the small parts too. what you ate. what annoyed you. what made you laugh

— sometimes goes quiet after concerts because the adrenaline crash makes him miss home harder than usual

— admits he misses sleeping beside you more than he expected :( says hotel rooms always feel too cold and unfamiliar no matter how nice they are 

— sends voice notes while walking alone at night coming from the gym after schedules. low sleepy voice mixed with city sounds in the background

— keeps one of your sweaters draped over hotel chairs during tours because it makes unfamiliar rooms feel a little softer somehow

— when he can’t sleep he rereads old conversations between you two instead of texting because he knows you’re probably asleep

after tour boyfriend!namjoon :)

— coming home with him feels grounding :) like the entire apartment relaxes the second he walks back into it

— stands in the doorway for a second after getting home just looking around quietly before smiling to himself like “okay. i’m back”

— absolutely the type to pull you into the kitchen while he makes coffee in the morning just so he can stand there talking to you sleepily while sunlight comes through the windows

— domestic routines become sacred to him after tour :) museum dates. grocery shopping together. sitting on opposite ends of the couch reading while your feet touch

— gets soft seeing all your little habits again. the way you organize things. the mugs you always use. hearing you moving around in the mornings

— spends the first few nights back tangled up beside you talking until late because there’s too much he wanted to tell you in person

— honestly looks happiest doing the most boring things with you :) game nights, watering plants together, sitting quietly while music plays from the tv in the apartment

— after tour he loves you in an even steadier way. calmer. deeper. like every time he comes home to you he remembers what parts of life actually matter most

Perm taglist : @kimmynammy @celliez @alphabetically-deranged @m4aimm @raceme2hell @bo-rimmy @mustanggbabyy @divakoo (comment or ask to be added)

© All rights reserved @chwrrybby 2026.

[saltedcaramelcupcakes]

Break Her Bed, Not Her Heart | KNJ

Summary: Breaking up with Kim Namjoon should've been the end. The problem was… He never accepted the breakup. "In my dictionary, we're not broken up." Status: One-shot | Between Collisions Series Pairing: Idol!Namjoon x Reader Word Count: 8.8k~ Genre: Idol!AU, Angst, Fluff Rated: PG Tags: Ex-Boyfriend?Namjoon, Secret, Drama, Slice of Life Posting Date: July 2, 2026 SCC: Ko-fi ☕️ ・ Taglist 📝

That night, your apartment felt far too quiet.

Not because there was no sound beyond the window or because the rain that had been falling since the afternoon continued to slowly soak the balcony, but because for the first time in years, your phone had truly stopped being the thing you constantly waited for. It had been one month since your relationship ended. Thirty strange days, because breaking up with Kim Namjoon didn't feel anything like the movies filled with tears, shouting, or doors being slammed shut. None of that happened. There was only a brief conversation in the middle of the night when you finally admitted that you were tired.

Tired of waiting.

Tired of understanding.

Tired of always being the one who said, "I know you're busy."

At that moment, Namjoon stayed silent for a long while before answering in such a calm voice that it only made your chest ache even more.

"If that's what you need right now... I'll respect it."

There was no plea for you to stay. No "don't leave." There wasn't even an attempt to convince you that everything would get better.

He simply accepted it.

Ironically, that acceptance hurt far more than if he had begged you to stay.

From that night on, the two of you truly stopped contacting each other.

You went back to work as usual. Waking up early, going to the office, coming home late, occasionally having dinner with coworkers, watching a series before bed, then repeating the same routine the next day. Little by little, your life returned to normal—or at least, that's what you kept telling yourself every time thoughts of Namjoon appeared uninvited whenever you looked at a bookshelf, a warm cup of coffee, or heard the songs the two of you used to listen to in the car.

You learned how to live without waiting for his notifications.

Learned not to open the news app just to check which country he was in.

Learned to stop calculating time zones every night.

And the hardest part...

Learning to accept that maybe your relationship really was over.

So when your phone vibrated at around eight that evening with the name that hadn't appeared on your screen for the past month, your entire body froze.

Namjoon.

Your heart was pounding far too fast before you even opened his message.

Namjoon: Are you free tomorrow night?

You stared at the message for a long moment.

Then another one appeared.

Namjoon: Eomma wants us to have dinner. Her birthday is next week. She wants everyone together before I start my schedule again.

Your brows immediately furrowed.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for almost a full minute before you slowly typed.

You: Joon... We already broke up.

You deleted it.

Then typed again.

You: Have you not told your mom yet?

Message sent.

Not even five seconds later.

The read receipt appeared.

Then the chat bubble moved again.

Namjoon: No.

Just one word.

You let out a slow breath.

Of course.

Of course he hadn't told her.

You had already started typing another reply when another notification appeared.

Namjoon: Because we never broke up.

You stopped breathing for a few seconds.

Your eyes reread the sentence over and over again, hoping you had somehow misunderstood it.

But no. The words remained exactly the same.

You: What?

Your reply was sent almost immediately. Namjoon answered even faster.

Namjoon: I never considered us broken up. I was just giving you time.

Your brows knitted together even tighter.

You: Namjoon, I literally told you we were over..

Namjoon: I remember. I remember you crying when you said it. I remember you saying you were tired. But you never said you stopped loving me.

Your chest suddenly felt tight.

Your fingers began typing faster.

You: Don't twist my words, Namjoon. I'm tired of this relationship.

Another reply came.

Namjoon: No. You're tired of my schedule. That's different.

You bit your lower lip.

Angry. Irritated. Frustrated.

You: It's the same thing.

A few seconds passed without a reply.

Then...

Namjoon: It's not. I already knew this phase would come. I knew that one day you'd feel lonely. I knew you'd get angry because I kept leaving. I knew you'd say you wanted to give up. That's why I didn't stop you back then.

You read every sentence slowly.

For some reason, your irritation only grew stronger.

You: So you did it on purpose? You stayed silent on purpose? You let me leave on purpose?

Namjoon's reply appeared almost instantly.

Namjoon: I let you get all of your exhaustion out. Because if I'd stopped you... You would've only felt even more suffocated. I know you. Once your emotions settle... You would've come back.

You immediately started typing a long reply.

You: Don't act like you know everythi—

Before you could even finish the message.

A new notification came in.

Namjoon: Open the door.

Your brows furrowed.

Namjoon: I'm outside.

Your heart felt as though it had dropped to the floor. Slowly, you turned toward the apartment door.

Silence. There wasn't a single sound. Maybe he was joking. Maybe he just wanted to make you panic. But the moment that thought crossed your mind...

Knock.

Knock.

Two soft knocks came from the other side of the door.

Not loud. Not rushed.

A knock that was so familiar. The same knock he always used so he wouldn't startle you. Your entire body turned cold.

Before you even realized it, your feet were already carrying you toward the door.

Through the peephole, you saw a tall man wearing a black hoodie, a cap, and a mask that concealed most of his face. His shoulders looked broader than you remembered, perhaps because for the past month, you'd only seen him through the occasional concert photos that appeared on social media. A large suitcase stood beside his feet, while his other hand rested inside his jacket pocket as though he had just stepped out of the car without even going home first.

He really had come back from tour.

And somehow… He came straight here.

You opened the door only a few inches.

"Just for a minute."

Your voice came out much quieter than you intended.

Namjoon looked at you through the narrow gap in the door. His brown eyes looked far more exhausted than they had a month ago. There were faint dark circles beneath them that even the apartment hallway lighting couldn't hide. Yet his gaze remained the same. Too calm. Too certain.

"Can I come in?"

"No."

"Okay."

His answer came so easily that it caught you slightly off guard.

He didn't insist. He didn't push the door. He didn't raise his voice. He simply stood there.

"You've lost weight."

"I'm fine."

"I know."

"But you've still lost weight."

You let out a long sigh.

"What are you doing here?"

"I..."

"We already broke up."

"I already answered that."

His tone remained flat.

Calm.

As though he were simply stating a fact that, in his mind, wasn't open for debate.

"We didn't break up."

Your patience was beginning to wear thin.

"Namjoon!"

For the first time that night, your voice rose.

"Are you even listening? I told you we're over!"

The hallway fell silent again. Namjoon looked at you for a few moments. Then he gave a small nod.

"I heard you."

"And?"

"I don't agree."

You blinked. "...What?"

"I don't agree."

He said it again. Just that simply. As though breaking up was a decision that required both parties' consent, and he had chosen not to sign anything.

"A relationship isn't a one-sided contract."

"You can't—"

"I can."

Namjoon cut you off for the first time. His voice was still low. Still gentle. Yet there was something beneath that tone that slowly made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"You have every right to be angry."

"You have every right to be disappointed."

"You have every right to hate my schedule."

"You have every right to cry."

"You have every right to ignore me for a month."

"But don't ever say I stopped loving you."

Your chest rose and fell faster.

"I never said that."

"Exactly."

Namjoon's eyes never left yours for even a second.

"That's why I'm here."

Silence settled between the two of you once more.

He let out a quiet breath before continuing, his voice sounding rougher this time.

"I know I was wrong."

"I was too busy."

"I left you to sleep alone too many times."

"I made you wait for calls that never came too many times."

"I know."

"But don't punish me by leaving."

"I can fix this."

You lowered your head. Tears began filling your eyes again without permission.

"I'm tired..."

Your voice was barely audible.

"I know."

"I'm tired of waiting."

"I know."

"I'm tired of always being the one who understands."

"I know."

Every answer he gave chipped away at your defenses even further. But it was his next sentence that made you freeze completely.

"Then now it's my turn to be the one who understands you."

Namjoon took one step closer. He still didn't touch you. He still kept his distance. But he was close enough for you to catch the scent of the cologne that had always lingered on his hugs.

"Come have dinner with Eomma tomorrow."

"Joon..."

"That wasn't a request."

His gaze changed.  It was still gentle. But now there was something much deeper, darker, and harder to read. Not anger, but a conviction so absolute that it was almost frightening. As though he'd intentionally given you space for the past month, but never because he intended to lose you. In his mind, losing you had never even been a possibility.

"I've been away from you for far too long."

A faint smile appeared on his lips. A smile that, somehow, didn't comfort anyone.

"One month is enough."

"I'm not going to make the same mistake again."

"You can stay angry for as long as you want."

"You can complain."

"You can cry."

"You can hit me if that'll make you feel better."

"But leave?"

He slowly shook his head.

"No."

His eyes remained fixed on yours.

"Don't make a habit of telling me we're breaking up."

Because for the first time since the two of you had been together, you saw a side of Kim Namjoon that he had always managed to hide behind his calm way of speaking. Not a man who had lost control, but someone who had already made up his mind and wasn't going to change that decision no matter what happened. He would give you room to be angry, time to cry, even the freedom to ignore him for as long as you needed. But the one thing he would never allow was for you to truly walk out of his life.

"I already told you..."

His voice was barely above a whisper.

"...we never broke up."

"And we never will."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Namjoon didn't stay long that night.

After the conversation that left your chest feeling even tighter, his phone vibrated several more times. He only glanced at the screen briefly before letting out a quiet sigh, as though his own body was reminding him that the time he had was never truly his to begin with. There was a flight in a few hours, meetings to attend, filming schedules to keep, and who knew how many dozens of people waiting for him somewhere else. But before all of that, he still chose to stand in front of your apartment door.

"I have to go."

You didn't answer.

Your gaze remained fixed on the floor, avoiding his eyes that hadn't truly left you since earlier. There were so many things you wanted to say, but all of them felt pointless because every sentence you spoke was met with the same unwavering certainty. In his mind, your relationship was still intact. While in yours, it had already ended a month ago.

Namjoon gave a small nod, as though he understood your silence.

"Okay."

He didn't force the conversation to continue.

He didn't try to hug you. He didn't reach for your hand.

He simply took one step closer until only a few inches remained between the two of you. Then, without asking for permission or giving any warning, he lowered his head slightly and gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. The kiss was brief, so light it almost felt like nothing more than a soft breath, yet it was enough to make your entire body stiffen for several seconds.

"Get enough sleep."

His voice was low.

"Don't work overtime."

"You look exhausted."

You remained silent. You didn't reply. You didn't move.

Namjoon only smiled faintly at your stubbornness. It wasn't the smile of victory or mockery, but the smile of someone who had known you for far too long. He knew that when you chose silence, it didn't mean you weren't listening. Quite the opposite. You were trying with everything you had not to give in.

"See you tomorrow."

He turned around, pulling his black suitcase as he walked down the apartment hallway.

You didn't close the door until he had completely disappeared around the elevator corner.

That night, you couldn't sleep well.

The lingering warmth of the kiss on your forehead occupied your thoughts far longer than you wanted to admit. You kept convincing yourself that it didn't mean anything, that Namjoon had always been like that. Too calm. Too patient. Too certain. And it was that certainty that irritated you the most, as though your decision meant absolutely nothing to him.

The next morning, just as you were sitting in the office pantry, sipping coffee that had already begun to turn cold, your phone vibrated again.

Namjoon: Seven o'clock. I'll pick you up.

Just two sentences.

No question.

No "Can I?"

No "If you're free."

As though everything had already been decided.

You let out a long sigh before sending a short reply.

You: I can't.

The three dots appeared almost instantly.

Namjoon: Why?

Your fingers paused for a moment.

You: I have work.

Even though you knew perfectly well your schedule was completely empty that night.

A few seconds passed. There was no reply. You assumed the conversation was over.

Until around five in the afternoon, your apartment doorbell rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

You didn't even need to look through the peephole to know who it was.

With sluggish steps, you opened the door. Sure enough, Namjoon was standing there, wearing a simple white T-shirt beneath a light black blazer. His hair was neatly styled, his face still carried traces of exhaustion from too little sleep, yet he still looked far too put together for someone who had just finished a packed schedule. In one hand was a small paper bag from his mother's favorite bakery.

The moment he saw you, he simply smiled.

"I told you I couldn't."

"You lied."

His answer was completely flat.

You let out another long sigh.

"Namjoon..."

"If you really had work, your laptop would've already been on."

Your eyes immediately shifted toward the living room table. Your laptop was still closed.

"And you haven't showered yet."

You rubbed your temple.

"What are you doing here?"

"Picking you up."

"I already said I'm not going."

"I heard you."

"And?"

"Come inside."

He said it while taking off his shoes himself, as though this apartment was still exactly the same as it had been a few months ago.

"Namjoon."

"Come on."

He looked back at you.

"Go take a shower."

You stared at him in disbelief.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"I said I'm not coming."

"I know."

"Then why are you forcing me?"

Namjoon walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water without looking even slightly awkward. His movements were so natural, as though an entire month of never setting foot in your apartment hadn't erased his familiarity with every corner of this place. He took a slow sip before looking at you again.

"Because Eomma is waiting."

That sentence immediately made you fall silent. Namjoon knew. He truly knew.

Out of everyone in the world, the one person you could never bring yourself to disappoint was his mother.

She had always welcomed you like her own daughter. She would send you food whenever you were sick, call just to ask whether work had been treating you well, and had even secretly sent you vitamins once after Namjoon told her you'd been working overtime far too often.

You clenched your jaw.

"That's unfair."

"I know."

"You did that on purpose."

"Yeah."

Namjoon nodded without the slightest hint of guilt.

"You knew I could never say no to your mom."

You let out a quiet scoff.

"Manipulative."

"Yeah."

"Annoying."

"Yeah."

"But you're still going to take a shower."

His answer was so calm that it made you want to throw a pillow straight at his face.

Twenty minutes later, you finally stepped out of your bedroom wearing a simple outfit. Namjoon, who had been sitting on the sofa reading a book the whole time, immediately looked up. His gaze lingered on you for a few seconds before the corner of his lips slowly lifted.

"Beautiful."

You immediately looked away.

"Don't start."

"Okay."

He stood up and picked up your bag that had been lying on the table.

"Let's go."

The drive to the restaurant was filled with silence.

Namjoon didn't force you to talk. Every now and then, he would simply glance at you from behind the steering wheel, making sure your seatbelt was fastened properly or that the air conditioner wasn't too cold. The little gestures that once felt so ordinary now only made it harder for you to decide whether you should keep holding on to your anger.

By the time you arrived at the restaurant, the private dining room door was already open.

"Oh, you're finally here."

That warm voice greeted the two of you immediately.

Namjoon's mother was the first to stand, wearing the same warm smile as the last time you had seen her. Beside her sat Namjoon's father, smiling kindly as he closed the menu, while Namjoon's younger sister immediately waved the moment she saw you.

"You've lost weight."

His mother immediately took both of your hands.

"You've been working too much, haven't you?"

You could only offer an awkward smile.

"Yes, Eommoni."

"Then make sure you eat a lot tonight."

She didn't seem to know anything at all.

Or maybe...

She had simply never been told.

Namjoon pulled out the chair beside him before you even had the chance to choose your own seat.

"Sit here."

You hesitated for a moment. But Eomma's gentle gaze eventually made you give in.

Throughout dinner, Namjoon acted exactly as he always had. When the waiter placed down a bowl of soup that was still too hot, he instinctively slid it farther away from you.

"Careful."

A few moments later, he gently tucked the loose strands of hair that kept falling across your face behind your ear.

"Here."

The movement was so subtle that only the two of you noticed.

When you accidentally choked because you drank too quickly, his hand gently rubbed your back.

"Slow down."

Everything felt so natural. So familiar. As though the word "breakup" had never been spoken a month ago. Every now and then, his mother smiled as she watched the two of you.

"I'm so happy you both could make it."

You lowered your gaze.

Your chest felt heavier and heavier. Not because of Namjoon, but because the woman sitting in front of you looked genuinely happy. And you simply couldn't bring yourself to be the one who ruined that smile tonight.

After dinner ended and Namjoon's family headed home first, the two of you drove back toward your apartment.

Once again, the car was filled with silence.

The lights of Seoul reflected one after another across the window as a light drizzle began to dampen the streets. Namjoon drove with one hand while the other occasionally tapped softly against the steering wheel in rhythm with the song quietly playing on the radio. Neither of you spoke until the car came to a stop in front of your apartment building.

You unfastened your seatbelt first.

Before getting out, you finally gathered the courage.

"Joon."

"Hm?"

"This..."

You kept your eyes fixed straight ahead.

"...can't happen again."

Namjoon didn't answer immediately.

"We already broke up."

Your voice came out much softer than before.

"I only came tonight because of your mom."

"Not because we're back together."

Silence.

A few seconds passed before Namjoon turned off the engine completely.

He turned his body toward you. His gaze was exactly the same as it had been the night before. Calm, warm, and somehow so unwavering that it was impossible to shake.

"That's fine."

You frowned.

"That's fine?"

"However long you need."

He spoke quietly.

"Another month."

"Two months."

"A year."

"I'll wait."

You closed your eyes for a moment.

"Namjoon..."

"I'll wait until you're no longer exhausted."

"I'll wait until your anger fades."

"I'll wait until your disappointment slowly disappears."

A faint smile appeared on his lips.

"Not because I'm stubborn."

"Then why?"

"Because I never planned a life without you."

Those words made it impossible for you to turn and look at him.

"You can keep saying we're broken up."

He continued, his voice so quiet.

"You can say it a hundred times."

"You can say it every single day."

"But my answer will always be the same."

He looked at you without the slightest hesitation.

"In my dictionary..."

"...we're not broken up."

"And we never will be."

For some reason, for the first time since all of this began, it no longer felt like you were arguing with someone. It felt more like standing before a wall that couldn't be broken—not because it was hard, but because it had been built from a conviction far too deep to be shaken. Namjoon wasn't trying to force you to love him again. In his mind, that love had never truly left. All he saw was someone who had become exhausted and chosen to step away just to catch her breath. And as long as your breath found its way back to him someday, he believed there wasn't a single reason to say goodbye.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The days after dinner with Namjoon's family fell into almost the same pattern.

Every morning, there was always a message from him. Sometimes it was just a good morning text, sometimes a photo of the sky from whichever city he happened to be in, sometimes simply a reminder not to forget breakfast. Never long. Never demanding. And you, with a stubbornness that was beginning to exhaust even yourself, always replied with the bare minimum. One word. Two words. Sometimes just a sticker. Sometimes nothing more than a reaction to his message. Yet strangely enough, Namjoon never complained even once.

As though no matter how brief your reply was, he still considered it a small victory.

Because at least...

You were still replying.

That afternoon, after a meeting that seemed never-ending, you came home completely drained. Your shoulders ached from carrying your laptop all day, your mind was filled with work revisions, and all you wanted was to take a shower and go to bed early. The elevator finally stopped on your floor. You slowly walked toward your apartment door, searching for your keys inside your bag while letting out a long sigh.

But your steps came to an immediate halt. A pair of shoes you knew far too well had already been neatly placed in front of your door.

You closed your eyes.

"...Oh my God."

Only then did you remember. You had never changed the PIN to your apartment's smart lock. Not because you meant to.

You just...

Hadn't gotten around to it. Or maybe...

You hadn't truly had the heart to.

The moment the door opened, the aroma of warm food immediately filled your senses. The scent of seaweed soup mixed with roasted chicken and freshly steamed rice spread throughout the living room. The apartment lights glowed warmly, the television played nothing but soft instrumental music at low volume, and on the dining table sat two neatly arranged plates with cutlery already set.

Namjoon stepped out of the kitchen, still wearing the gray apron he used to wear whenever he cooked in your apartment.

"Oh."

He smiled faintly.

"You're home."

You stood there frozen for several seconds.

Then all you could do was let out another long sigh.

"Joon..."

"I bought dinner."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"You probably haven't eaten."

"I could've ordered something myself."

"I know."

It was always the same answer.

Always calm. Always leaving you with no reason left to stay angry.

Without thinking, he took your work bag from your shoulder and hung it by the door, just as he had always done before. There was nothing excessive about his movements. No attempt to touch you more than necessary. He didn't even try to hug you. All he did was help, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Go take a shower first."

"I'll heat up the food."

You stared at him for a few seconds.

"Why..."

Namjoon looked back at you.

"Hm?"

"Why are you still like this?"

He only gave a small shrug.

"Because I miss coming home."

The sentence was simple. Yet somehow, it made your chest tighten all over again.

After changing into more comfortable clothes, the two of you ate together in an atmosphere far calmer than it had been over the past few days. Every now and then, Namjoon told you stories about the last city he had visited on tour, about a museum he had managed to visit during a two-hour break, about the book he had been reading on the plane. He never forced you to join the conversation. Even when all you did was nod or answer briefly, he continued talking in the same warm tone.

After dinner, you automatically carried the dishes into the kitchen.

The moment you turned on the faucet, Namjoon was already standing beside you. Without being asked. Without saying a word.

He picked up a dry towel and began drying the dishes one by one, just like the routine the two of you had shared for years.

You washed. He dried.

You rinsed. He put everything away.

Nothing had changed. And somehow, that only made you even more confused.

You let out another sigh. Then another. And another.

Namjoon heard every single one of them. Of course he did. But he didn't say a word.

He simply continued what he was doing, occasionally glancing at you from the corner of his eye. He looked far more exhausted than usual. The lack of sleep was no longer something he could hide, and even his shoulders seemed heavier than before. The tour wasn't over yet. His schedule was still packed. His body was clearly begging for rest.

Yet every time he had even a little free time...

He chose to come here.

To the apartment that, in your mind, was no longer his home.

Once the kitchen was clean again, the two of you moved into the living room. Rain fell softly beyond the window. You sat at one end of the sofa. Namjoon sat not too close, giving you space. Just as he had been doing lately.

"I'm tired."

You finally broke the silence.

"I know."

"It's not just about your schedule."

Namjoon nodded.

"I know."

"It's not just about waiting."

He nodded again.

"I know."

"You always know."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"Yeah."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

You looked at him in annoyance.

"You're not even going to defend yourself?"

Namjoon slowly shook his head.

"What's the point?"

"Because I'm the one who brought you to this point."

You lowered your gaze.

"And then?"

"Then I listen."

"And after that?"

"And after that..."

He paused for a moment.

"...I stay right here."

Your eyes slowly met his.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me right away."

"I'm not asking for everything to go back to normal tomorrow."

"But I'm not going to leave you alone to go through this."

Silence settled between the two of you once again. Only the sound of rain could be heard outside.

You didn't even realize when your eyes had started to fill with tears. Maybe because you were exhausted from holding up the walls you had built yourself. Maybe because the man sitting in front of you still chose to stay, even when every reply you gave him consisted of nothing more than one or two words. You knew you weren't easy to deal with, yet he had never once used that as an excuse to answer your pain with anger.

Namjoon watched you for a few moments.

Then he slowly raised one hand.

"May I?"

You didn't answer.

He gently tucked a few loose strands of hair behind your ear, moving so carefully as though he was afraid of pushing you even farther away. His fingertips lingered against your cheek for a few seconds before slowly falling away. There was no force in his touch. Only the gentleness that had always been both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness whenever it came to you.

"You're beautiful."

He whispered.

"Even when you're angry."

You looked at him for a long time.

Then, without realizing it, the distance between you slowly disappeared. Namjoon didn't move first. He let you decide.

When your breaths were already mingling together, you finally closed the remaining distance yourself. The first kiss was slow, filled with the uncertainty that had consumed both of your hearts over the past month. There were no words, only longing that was quietly finding its way home. Namjoon kissed you back with careful restraint, as though he feared that one move too sudden would make you pull away again.

When the two of you finally wrapped each other in an embrace, every emotion you had been holding back slowly began to melt away. There were no more arguments that night. There were only two people who were equally exhausted, equally homesick, and who had quietly realized that home was still something they found in each other. The night continued in warm silence, and when the two of you finally lay down in bed, Namjoon simply pulled you into his arms like he always used to, letting your head rest comfortably against his chest.

The room fell quiet. Only the soft rhythm of Namjoon's heartbeat echoed in your ears.

His strong arms wrapped securely around you, firm yet gentle, as though he wanted to make sure you knew he was there without having to say it over and over again. Every now and then, his fingers slowly stroked your back with the same familiar rhythm that had always managed to calm you whenever your thoughts became too overwhelming.

After several minutes, Namjoon finally spoke.

"If you're still angry..."

He gently kissed the top of your head.

"...then stay angry."

You didn't answer.

"I can wait."

Silence.

"A week."

"A month."

"Even longer than that."

His arms tightened around you just a little more.

"I'll go through it."

"I'm not going anywhere."

He took a slow breath before continuing in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I only want one thing."

"What?"

You finally asked softly. Namjoon smiled faintly.

"If one day you get tired again..."

"...don't leave."

"Just come home."

Because to him, a broken heart could still be mended together. The one thing he could never accept was letting the person he loved most continue believing she had to carry all of that exhaustion alone.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

That morning began like the few mornings before it.

You woke up first, while Namjoon was still asleep beside you with one arm unconsciously wrapped around your waist. The bedroom curtains weren't fully open yet. The morning sunlight had only just begun slipping through the narrow gap between them, filling the room with a warm golden glow. For a moment, everything felt like it used to. As though the past month had never happened, as though neither of you had ever hurt the other, and as though waking up beside each other was still a simple part of your everyday life.

But the moment your memories settled back into place, your chest tightened again. The two of you hadn't truly resolved anything.

Last night there wasn't an answer.

Last night was only a pause.

Carefully, you lifted Namjoon's arm off your waist so you wouldn't wake him. The moment your feet touched the floor, his husky voice came from behind you.

"Where are you going?"

You stopped.

"The kitchen."

"Hm."

There was no objection. No request for you to come back to bed. Just a quiet murmur before he closed his eyes again. An hour later, the aroma of coffee filled the apartment.

Namjoon had already showered and changed. A freshly ironed white shirt fit neatly around his frame, while his hair, still slightly damp, made him look younger than usual. Two cups of coffee and a few slices of toast he'd thrown together sat on the dining table. The sight felt so familiar that you almost forgot only a few days ago you had been insisting your relationship was over.

"I have to go."

He said while checking his watch.

"I've got practice."

You gave a small nod.

"Okay."

Your reply was still short. Still flat. Still keeping your distance. Namjoon only smiled faintly.

He finished his coffee, washed his own cup, then picked up the bag he'd left beside the sofa the night before. Before leaving, just as he had done over the past few days, he turned to look at you for a moment.

"I'll text you later."

"Okay."

There were no extra words. No smile. No lingering gaze.

The apartment door finally closed softly. And for the first time since he had returned from tour… You noticed his shoulders sink ever so slightly as he walked toward the elevator. The rest of the day went as usual. Namjoon sent you a photo from the practice room.

You replied, "Good luck."

He sent you a photo of his lunch.

You replied, "Okay."

He asked if you'd eaten.

"I have."

That was it. Nothing more.

That night, after his entire schedule was over, Namjoon sat alone inside the van taking him back home. His manager had already fallen asleep in the front seat. The streets of Seoul shimmered with lights reflecting across the windows, while his phone still displayed your chat.

Your last reply.

"I have."

One word. He reread it nearly ten times. Then he locked his screen. A few minutes later, he unlocked it again. Read it again. Not because he didn't understand the message. But because he was trying to convince himself that one word was still better than no reply at all.

The following afternoon, his schedule ended earlier than expected. Without giving it a second thought, he headed back to your apartment. This time, he wasn't carrying food. He wasn't carrying flowers. He wasn't carrying anything except a backpack that looked much heavier than usual.

You opened the door after hearing the PIN.

The moment you saw him standing there, you let out a quiet sigh.

"Come in."

You said shortly. Namjoon smiled faintly.

"Thank you."

There wasn't much conversation that afternoon. You worked on your laptop at the dining table. Namjoon sat on the sofa reading a book.

Every now and then, he made you tea. Every now and then, he asked if the air conditioner was too cold. Every now and then, he quietly placed snacks beside you without interrupting your work.

The apartment remained quiet. But little by little, that silence began to feel heavy.

As the night grew later, you finally closed your laptop. The moment you looked up, you truly noticed Namjoon's face.

His eyes were red. Not because he had been crying. Because he hadn't been sleeping.

The exhaustion on his face was far more obvious than it had been a few days ago. His complexion looked slightly pale, and several times he rubbed the back of his neck as though his muscles had been overworked for far too long. For the first time, you realized that you had been so busy holding on to your anger that you'd forgotten to notice the condition of the person sitting in front of you.

"Tired?"

You asked softly.

Namjoon nodded.

"Yeah."

"You could go home."

"Yeah."

"Then why are you still here?"

He stayed quiet for a few seconds. His gaze fell to the floor. Then he smiled faintly.

"I am home."

That answer left you speechless.

Namjoon slowly rubbed his face.

"I know you're still angry."

"Yeah."

"I know you're still disappointed."

"Yeah."

"I also know..."

He paused for a moment, as though choosing the right words.

"...that lately, I'm starting to get tired too."

You immediately lifted your head. That was the first time. The very first time since all of this began, Namjoon admitted he was tired.

Not tired because of the tour. Not tired because of work. But… Because of everything.

"I'm tired of waking up every morning thinking..."

He let out a quiet laugh.

"...how many words you'll reply with today."

You fell silent.

"I'm tired of finishing a concert..."

"...then automatically opening our chat."

"Even though I already know your answer will probably just be 'yeah' or 'okay.'"

He didn't sound angry. That was exactly what made your chest hurt even more.

"I'm tired of sitting on an eight-hour flight..."

"...while the only thing on my mind is getting here as quickly as possible."

"Because to me..."

He looked at you.

"...my home is here."

Your eyes began to fill with tears.

"But every time I get here..."

His smile faded just a little.

"...I have to pretend I'm not sad when you're still pushing me away."

Silence.

The living room was completely quiet. Namjoon wasn't crying. He wasn't raising his voice. He wasn't blaming you. He simply sat there in front of you, his shoulders looking heavier than you had ever seen before.

"I don't regret waiting."

He said quietly.

"I'll keep waiting."

"That won't change."

"But..."

He let out a long breath.

"...can I..."

His sentence hung in the air for several seconds.

"...at least get a sign from you once in a while that I'm still allowed to hope?"

The tears you'd been holding back finally fell.

One drop. Then another.

Namjoon didn't move from where he was. He didn't immediately pull you into his arms.

He simply sat there quietly, allowing you to feel every emotion the two of you had been keeping buried for so long. For the first time, you realized that his patience didn't mean he wasn't hurting. He had simply chosen to carry everything by himself so you wouldn't feel guilty. Behind all of his calmness was someone who also came home exhausted every single night—and the only place he had ever wanted to come home to was you.

As your tears continued falling harder, Namjoon finally rose slowly to his feet. He walked over and stopped right in front of you before hesitantly lifting one hand.

"Can I hug you?"

The question was so simple. So careful. It wasn't the question of someone trying to force their way in.

It was the question of someone still asking for permission to come home to the place he had always considered his home.

This time… For the first time after spending an entire month holding up those walls… You gave a small nod.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The hug lasted much longer than either of you realized.

Namjoon didn't say a word. His arms simply stayed wrapped warmly around you while his hand slowly stroked your back in an unhurried rhythm, gentle enough that your sobs gradually faded on their own. He never tried to stop your tears. He simply let you sit on his lap and cry until you had nothing left to hold in, just as he had always done whenever you were overwhelmed by your emotions.

Several minutes later, you were the first to pull away.

Your eyes were still swollen. The tip of your nose had turned red. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at him for very long.

"I..."

Your voice was barely audible.

"...I'm sorry."

Namjoon only tilted his head slightly.

"Hm?"

"I was mean."

You let out a small laugh between the sniffles that hadn't completely disappeared.

"Really mean."

He remained silent, letting you finish everything you wanted to say.

"I know you're tired."

"You travel all over the world."

"Your schedule never stops."

"You must barely get any sleep."

Your tears began falling again.

"And every time you came home..."

You bit your lower lip.

"...all you got was me being cold to you."

Silence.

"I kept replying with short texts."

"I ignored you."

"I kept saying we were broken up."

Your voice grew quieter.

"Even though..."

You wiped your own cheek.

"...I know you didn't deserve to be treated like that."

Namjoon still didn't interrupt.

His gaze remained gentle. Still full of patience. As though he had come that night with the sole purpose of listening to you.

"I'm sorry..."

The words finally came out with a trembling breath.

"I'm really sorry."

For several seconds, the room fell silent again.

You waited for his response. Maybe advice. Maybe something wise. Or maybe... he would finally admit that you'd gone too far. But instead, Namjoon let out a quiet sigh before leaning back against the sofa.

"Okay."

You blinked.

"...Okay?"

"Yeah."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

You immediately frowned.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

You stared at him in disbelief.

"Joon."

"Hm?"

"Why aren't you mad?"

Namjoon thought for a few seconds.

"Because..."

He genuinely looked as though he was considering his answer carefully.

"...I'm calculating."

"Calculating what?"

"A debt."

You became even more confused.

"A debt?"

"Yeah."

Namjoon nodded firmly.

"You owe me."

Your eyebrows shot up.

"Huh?"

"Yeah."

"Owe you what?"

Namjoon put on an overly serious expression that immediately made you suspicious.

"One month."

"Yeah?"

"One whole month."

"Yeah."

"You kept sending short replies."

"..."

"Almost all of them."

"..."

"There's a penalty for that."

You stared at him for a few seconds.

Then, without realizing it, you let out a quiet laugh.

"A penalty?"

"Yeah."

"Says who?"

"Me."

"How convenient."

"Yeah."

He nodded without feeling even the slightest bit guilty.

You could only shake your head.

"So what's the penalty?"

Namjoon leaned forward slightly. His expression was still far too serious for someone saying something so ridiculous.

"One short reply..."

He held up one finger.

"...equals one kiss."

Your eyes widened immediately.

"What?"

"The rules are simple."

He started counting on his fingers.

"'Yeah.'"

"One."

"'Okay.'"

"Two."

"'Hm.'"

"Three."

"'Already.'"

"Four."

You lightly smacked his arm.

"Hey!"

Namjoon simply chuckled.

"That's only the first day."

"Kim Namjoon!"

"I haven't even counted the stickers yet."

You tried to hold back your laughter as you hit his shoulder again.

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm serious."

"You're not."

"I am."

"There's no way you actually counted."

"I did."

"No way."

Namjoon picked up his phone. Then he opened your chat. Scrolled. Scrolled again. Then showed you the screen.

"Look."

In his notes app, there really was a list.

Short Reply Project Yeah Okay Hm Later Already Sure Total: 47

Your eyes widened.

"...Joon."

"Hm?"

"You actually counted?"

"Yeah."

"You..."

You covered your face while laughing. "...you're insane."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I know."

Your laughter finally filled the living room for the first time in weeks.

Namjoon watched you as you finally laughed again. His expression immediately softened.

"That..."

He said quietly. "...is much better."

"What is?"

"Your laugh."

"I like that much more."

Your laughter slowly faded. The heaviness that had been sitting in your chest finally began to feel a little lighter.

"So..."

You glanced at the absurd list on his phone. "...forty-seven kisses?"

"Yeah."

"Not happening."

"You can pay in installments."

You immediately slapped your forehead.

"Oh my God."

"Zero percent interest."

"Kim Namjoon..."

"You don't even need a down payment."

You couldn't hold back your laughter anymore.

"Who taught you to say things like that?"

"Yoo—"

He immediately cut himself off. "...never mind."

You narrowed your eyes.

"Yoongi, wasn't it?"

Namjoon pretended to cough.

"I didn't say anything."

You laughed even harder. The awkwardness that had filled the apartment for so long finally shattered completely.

Watching you laugh like that, Namjoon slowly shifted a little closer. Not too close. Just enough for your knees to almost touch.

"So..."

He opened the note again. "First installment?"

You immediately shook your head.

"No."

"Half?"

"No."

"A discount?"

"No."

"Today's special promotion."

"Kim Namjoon."

"Hm?"

"You're so annoying."

"I know."

"Very."

"Yeah."

"But..."

You tried to hide the smile that kept finding its way onto your face.

"...thank you."

"For what?"

"For being patient."

Namjoon looked at you for a long moment. His smile gradually became softer.

"Always."

That single word made the room fall silent once again. Without thinking too much, you slowly reached out and gently grabbed the collar of his T-shirt.

Namjoon froze.

"...Huh?"

"Stay still."

You said softly.

"Huh?"

You gently pulled him a little closer.

"I'm making a payment."

Namjoon's eyes immediately widened.

"You're serious?"

"Hm."

"This is the first installment?"

"Yeah."

His smile instantly spread across his face like a little kid who had just been handed a birthday present.

"Can I smile first?"

You couldn't help but laugh.

"Why?"

"Because I honestly didn't expect such a cooperative debtor."

"Joon!"

"Okay, okay."

He raised both hands in surrender, though the grin on his face was impossible to hide.

You slowly shook your head at his antics. Then, your face growing warmer by the second, you leaned in and gave him a brief kiss. A very brief one. Only a few seconds.

But just as you were about to pull away, Namjoon whispered with a triumphant smile.

"So..."

"Hm?"

"That means..."

"...your remaining debt is only forty-six kisses."

You stared at him for a few seconds. Then grabbed one of the sofa cushions and lightly smacked his shoulder.

"You!"

Namjoon's laughter echoed throughout the entire apartment. And for the first time after a month filled with nothing but pain, the apartment finally sounded like home again—a place where tears were slowly replaced by laughter, and where two people who loved each other were finally beginning to find their way back home, one small step at a time.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The night grew later, yet neither of you had any intention of leaving the sofa.

The living room lights had been deliberately dimmed, leaving only the warm glow of the standing lamp in the corner of the room. The rain outside had completely stopped, making the apartment feel even more peaceful. You were still sitting comfortably on Namjoon's lap while he absentmindedly played with the sleeve of your sweater, a small habit that always appeared whenever his mind finally began to settle.

"Still don't want to get down?"

Namjoon asked with a smile. You pretended to think.

"Hm..."

"I think I'm pretty comfortable."

"Good."

"Then you don't have to get down."

You immediately let out a small laugh.

"How convenient."

"Yeah."

"This is my favorite seat."

He gently patted his own thigh.

"Seat?"

"Reserved just for you."

You shook your head, amused. "You're unbelievable."

Namjoon chuckled softly. His laughter sounded much freer than it had over the past few days, as though the weight that had been resting on his shoulders was finally beginning to lift little by little. Seeing you laugh like this again turned out to be far more effective than eight hours of sleep or a week-long vacation. He didn't even realize that his smile hadn't truly disappeared once since then.

"Can I be selfish?" He suddenly asked.

"Why are you asking first?"

"Because I'm trying to be the perfect boyfriend now."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Since when?"

"Since I almost lost you."

That answer slowly softened your smile.

Namjoon gently brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers.

"I just want this for a little while."

"Like what?"

"Being close."

"That's all?"

"Yeah."

"If possible..."

He hugged you a little tighter.

"...for a long time."

You didn't answer.

Instead, you slowly rested your head against his shoulder. You could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat right beside your ear. It felt strange—so calming, so familiar—that it was hard to believe the two of you had really spent an entire month without being this close.

Namjoon gently kissed the top of your head.

Then your temple.

Then your cheek.

Every kiss was slow, filled with patience, as though he was trying to make up for the time the two of you had lost. When his face moved closer toward the side of your neck to place another light kiss there, you instinctively flinched.

"Hey!"

Namjoon immediately stopped.

"Hm?"

You giggled as you leaned away slightly.

"Wait..."

"What?"

You gently rubbed the side of your neck.

"That tickles."

"Tickles?"

"Yeah."

Namjoon looked genuinely confused.

"I was being gentle."

"It's not that."

You looked at his face more closely.

Only now did you really notice the line of his jaw.

A faint shadow of facial hair had begun growing around his chin and jawline. It wasn't messy, but it was enough for you to feel it brushing against your skin just now. His face also looked a little duller than usual, as though the skincare routine he used to do every night before bed had truly been forgotten.

You let out a small laugh.

"Joon..."

"Hm?"

"You haven't shaved, have you?"

Namjoon automatically touched his own chin.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Why 'yeah'?"

He smiled sheepishly.

"I haven't had the time."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"And your skincare too?"

"Hm..."

He scratched the back of his neck.

"...sometimes I fall asleep."

You immediately shook your head.

"No wonder."

"What?"

"You look exhausted."

Namjoon laughed quietly.

"I am exhausted."

You gently ran your fingertips along his jaw.

"You always used to look so neat."

"Yeah."

"And now?"

Namjoon shrugged.

"I haven't really had any motivation."

"Why?"

He looked at you for a few seconds. Then answered with a completely serious expression.

"Besides..."

"...there wasn't anyone I wanted to kiss."

You immediately fell silent.

A few seconds later, your cheeks slowly began to warm.

"Joon..."

"What?"

"Don't say things like that."

"But it's true."

He let out a quiet laugh.

"What's the point of shaving..."

"...when the person who makes me want to look nice again was mad at me?"

You covered your face. "Oh my God..."

"What?"

"You're so annoying when you're being romantic."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I know."

You shook your head, laughing quietly. His hand found yours again, gently wrapping around it.

"I promise." You suddenly said.

Namjoon tilted his head. "Promise what?"

"Tomorrow."

"Hm?"

"We're shaving."

"We?"

"Yeah."

"You."

"And I'll supervise."

Namjoon's eyes immediately lit up.

"So..."

A mischievous grin spread across his face.

"...does that mean I can come over again tomorrow?"

You pretended to let out a long sigh.

"Hm..."

"We'll see."

"Huh."

"If you do your skincare."

"Okay."

"Get enough sleep."

"Okay."

"And don't skip your meals."

"Okay."

"Can you do that?"

Namjoon nodded repeatedly like a little kid.

"I can."

"As long as..."

"As long as what?"

He gently rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

"...after that, I get to lie down with you again."

You looked at his face, so sincere and so incredibly endearing at the same time. Behind all the packed schedules, concerts, interviews, and endless traveling, the simplest happiness he wanted was nothing more than this—sitting on the sofa in your apartment, joking about the stubble growing along his jaw, and spending the night together without having to say goodbye too soon.

In the end, you gave a small nod.

"Deal."

His smile immediately widened.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"But..."

You gently pinched his cheek.

"...tomorrow you have to be handsome again."

Namjoon laughed freely before, without thinking, resting his forehead against yours.

"If you're the one telling me to..."

He whispered softly.

"...I'll gladly become the most diligent guy in the world when it comes to shaving."

You giggled as you shook your head, then without realizing it rested your head against his shoulder once more. That night was filled with little conversations that didn't really matter, laughter that came effortlessly, and a silence that finally felt comfortable again—just like a home that had once been lost, then slowly found once more together.

Author Notes: These are actually drabble from my ongoing series, so they’re still connected to the main storyline I’ve been working on. You can check out the full series (Between Collisions). If you liked this story, please leave a comment, I’d love to read your thoughts 🥰💬. Your thoughts honestly mean a lot and keep me motivated to continue writing. And feel free to reblog/share so more people can enjoy it too 🌸✨

Taglist: @fellbetween @nmjwoon @rpwprpwprpwprw @goawaysha @mikrokookiex @yukina0521 @naomi_xxi @singingjk @3lectraheart @btsaremyy @biaswreckeedbybts @futuristicenemychaos @gaslysainz @joekerryshair @traumaanatomy @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @stillillies @amoamor42 @thedelulusafespace @mar-lo-pap @celliez @coc0nutss @thatsrayllensworld @madzzz0797 @dustyinkpages @urmotherlvr @katie-tibo @ooopssssu @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @jarofer @chomzy @azxher @deadpoolssidewhore @bbygurllt

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that had me going feral

hi guys, here's a part 2 to my favorite jjk fics on tumblr! note that many of these fics contain 18+ content. you are responsible for the content you consume! as always, if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, please take a moment to send some love to the authors! part 1 | other bts members

➺ cold nights & blurred lines - by @awrkive

summary: jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

➺ night crawlers - by @alphabetboyluvr

summary: jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

➺ this is how you fall in love - by @jeonqkooks

summary: after years of drinking and clubbing most days of the week and leaving every gig with a different girl on his arm, jungkook feels what it’s like to want someone with his entire being.

➺ the dilf installments - by @mercurygguk

summary: this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

➺ ultimatum - by @parkmuse

summary: your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed).

➺ a hero's journey - by @hansolmates

summary: jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story

➺ tempest - by @kooktrash

summary: you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect.

➺ by its cover - by @gimmesumsuga

summary: the one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.

➺ slow dancing - by @yoonia

summary: when your countdown appeared on your wrist right in the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

➺ e s p r e s s o - by @joonberriess

➺ hold me closer - by @ahundredtimesover

summary: when you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up… Not if your brother can help it, though.

[back2bluesidex]

BTS Scenario - They Are More Physically Affectionate Towards Their Girl Best Friend Than You

Pairing: Boyfriend OT7 X Girlfriend Reader (individual storyline)

Theme: OT7 Scenario, angst.

Word count: 6.2k+

Summary:

In which they are more physically affectionate towards their girl best friend than you.

Warning: Angst, mentions of sex.

Minors Do Not Interact!

Masterlist | Patreon

A/N: A few things to know - 1. The relationships are new, 2. The reader leaves after getting hurt. 3. in some cases she does confront the boys before leaving, but in most cases she leaves quietly.

P.S: Ginger is a cat.

Sequel: They See Another Guy Being Touchy With You.

Kim Namjoon

If you were a poet, you would write sonnets about Kim Namjoon’s beauty. 

The sharp cuts of his eyes, the arch of his lips, and that unfathomable depth of his dimple has set your heart on fire almost a year ago, and you are burning still. 

Your hand does that weird little thing where you seek for his touch, even if just a brush of his fingertips, as you blindly pat down on his knees underneath the table. 

The cacophony of the table is too much for your brain to process, too new to comprehend, too alien to relate and hence, you are looking for an anchor that can ground you, bind you to the jetty and let you from floating too far away.  

You don’t find his hand, what you find is his knee instead, so you pat down on it. Namjoon was previously talking to his best friend, who is sitting on the other side. Now, upon receiving your sos signal, turns towards you and looks at you with confusion playing in his eyes. 

He quirks and eyebrow as if asking ‘what’s wrong’, you only smile. There’s nothing wrong after all, you are just craving his touch. 

Your hand reaches for his again, this time above the table and places itself on top of his. His eyes get bigger scandalously. As if you should have not done this, not before all these people you hardly even know. This is your turn to be confused. Why is he behaving like he is married and you are his mistress? 

“What?” you mouth at him. 

“All these people…” he gestures with his eyes. A smile cracks on your face at how shy he is getting. You can understand the source of his coyness. This is the first time he is introducing you to his friends and it is natural for both of you and him to be a bit awkward. 

“But they know I am your girlfriend.” you shrug, reaching for his hand again, but just then he removes his limb from the place. 

“Not now, okay? Later.” he gives you a tight-lipped smile. Something in you twists painfully, you push yourself out of the feeling before it can reflect on your face. 

Nodding mostly to yourself you train your focus on the table again. Most of the people are talking among themselves. Namjoon, too, is having an all-consuming conversation with his best friend Sonyeon. 

“But I really need to lose some fat. Look at my double chin, it looks like a frog’s vocal sac.” you hear her voice crystal clear. Leaning a bit on your chair, you find her giving your boyfriend puppy eyes. 

Namjoon giggles, which is not very common, at least not with you. And then you see something that propels you to do a double take. 

Namjoon brings both of his hands to cup her cheeks lovingly, “but you are so cute.” he says in a baby voice, shaking her face side to side and then squishing her cheeks to make her pout. 

You freeze at spot. For a moment you wonder if it's the alcohol that’s making you see things, but no. The scene is a bit too vivid to be stemmed from your alcohol induced imagination. 

Both of them break into a chuckle as Namjoon retrieves his hands from her face and places his right hand on top of her hair, patting on her head. “I hope you know you are beautiful just the way you are.” he affirms. 

A dull pain sets on your chest. If this is how he treats his best friend then why not you? What is wrong with being touchy with you in public? 

Wait. Now that you think back - Namjoon has not been very physically affectionate with you in this ten month old relationship. Apart from holding hands and occasionally wrapping his arm around your shoulder - he doesn’t really initiate touch. Making out and having sex are completely different aspects, so you are not going to count that in. 

Not being able to watch the scene unfolding anymore, you look away. Even though stubborn tears try to spill out of your eyes, you try hard and blink them away. 

—

“What is it? You have been quiet since mid-dinner” Namjoon’s voice tells of his curiosity. He really has no clue as it seems. 

“Nothing.” your head is in a circus of questions and thoughts that you are overthinking about. You can not organize those no matter how hard you try. 

“Hey… tell me what’s up?” his hand reaches for yours as he tries to comfort you through his touch. It throws you off. 

Looking away from the window, you look down at his hand, which is resting on top of yours. 

“Is it more comfortable for you now because there’s no one to see us?” you ask, eyeing the driver very briefly. 

“What?” Namjoon asks, clearly having no clue. 

“You didn’t feel comfortable holding my hand before your friends, but you… you were acting all lovey-dovey with Sonyeon. Is it me? Do I make you feel uncomfortable?” risking a glance at him, you find Namjoon looking at you with blown out pupils.

“Is this why you are so quiet?” he launches his next question. You only shrug in reply. His sigh rings right beside your ear. “Y/N” your boyfriend starts, “I have known her since university. And we just met a year ago.” 

“And?” you really don’t get his point, “if time is the issue why are you dating me and not her?” 

Namjoon groans, taking his hand away from you, “you are being childish now, Y/N.” he accuses you coldly. 

“Am I? You have never cupped my face or patted my head like that. Am I really childish for asking for a bit of physical affection from my own boyfriend?” you can feel a migraine looming behind your eyes. You don’t like fighting, but it feels inevitable this time. 

“We have a healthy sexual relationship-” 

“It’s not about sex. You know that.” 

“Then I really don’t get it. I really don’t!” he rakes a hand through his hair and scoots further away from you. 

“Ajussi.” you call out to the driver, “can you please drop me off here?” 

“What do you think you are doing?” Namjoon protests, but you don’t pay him any attention. 

The driver, although hesitating, stops the car to let you out. 

“Let’s take a break from each other. I need to sort out my thoughts.” These are your last words to Namjoon, as you get out of the car and start walking as fast as possible. 

If you had a faint wish of him realizing something, it wanes when he doesn’t come running behind you. 

Kim Seokjin

You stare at Seokjin’s side profile as he plays whatever game that he is playing. 

Maybe you saved your country in your last life, that’s why you got to score someone as handsome and talented as Kim Seokjin. The relationship is very new, you are still learning about each other, but you are falling fast and hard. 

Seokjin is sweet, kind, absolutely funny, nice and most importantly, respects your choices and you as a human being. Anyone who gets to know him, is bound to fall for him. You are about to lean on the couch and place a chaste kiss on his lips, just when- 

“Seokjinnie, do you want some shrimp chips?” Danmi screams from the kitchen. Even her voice irritates you beyond imagination. 

Now, you are not one of those evil girlfriends who controls every aspect of their partner’s life. Neither you have anything against his friends nor do you limit who Seokjin can meet, who he can’t. But this one person is exclusively annoying to you and you wish you could pluck her out of your boyfriend’s life for as long as you are with him. 

“Yes please.” Seokjin screams back, he looks away from the screen very briefly to smile at her through the open space of the kitchen. 

He never looks away from the screen when he is gaming, not even when you have something important to talk about. A frown makes its way to your forehead, but before you can start the conversation, Danmi walks into the living room and drops herself right beside Seokjin, almost on his lap. 

You, sitting on the further side of the couch, don’t even get a speck of attention from any of them. 

“Thank you!” Seokjin adjusts himself on the couch. You sigh out of relief, at least your boyfriend has some basic human decency left. However, you thought too early because right on the next moment, Seokjin is scooting a bit down on the couch to let her put her head on his shoulder. 

You watch everything happening from the other side of the couch. You watch while wondering how can he be so comfortable with his girl best friend when he basically shoos you away whenever he is gaming? 

Is this something they have been doing for the better part of their lives? When you were not his girlfriend? That must be it. 

He looks so comfortable with the best friend’s head on his shoulder that it makes you a little jealous from within. You know your relationship is rather new and it will take him some time to be comfortable with you, but Seokjin is not shy during sex, and looking at him and his best friend now - he is not showing any sign of unease with casual touches either. Then why doesn't he cuddle the same way with you? 

Why doesn’t he behave as softly as he does with her? 

Crawling on the couch, you move closer to him, wrap a hand around his elbow and press your cheek on his bicep. 

When he doesn’t react the same way he always does, you smile to yourself. Is he changing? Or is it because Danmi is here? Whatever it is, it seems to be fine with him. 

You don’t even get to finish off your thought as Seokjin starts pulling his hand away from you. 

“Ah! It’s tough to control the console if you restrict my dominant hand like this.” he groans. Having no other choice you sit straight and look at him. He looks down at you, “sorry baby, but can you please move a bit?” he adds with a smile. 

You look at Danmi, seemingly asleep on Seokjin’s shoulder now, and then look back at him. 

“Sure. I am moving away.” you reply, scooting away from him and then standing up. 

You wait for him to resume gaming so that he is too engrossed to see what you are up to. Once he gets into the game again, you reach for your bag and start walking towards the door. 

If he really finds it easier to play with his best friend clinging to him, but your affection is a hindrance - then you better go out of the picture. 

It had only been six months after all. You are sure you can move on from him. No matter how much you started liking him within these few months, you can move on. 

You definitely can.

Min Yoongi

No one is perfect. 

Even the most intelligent ones lack in more ways than one. The most beautiful ones have their own flaws and hence, you never questioned Yoongi why he is so much against physical affection. 

This is just the way he is. He would look for your hands to hold when you two are walking through a crowded street. But when you two are home and you are starting to get all cozy with him, he would freeze on his spot as if you are an iron bar left under the snow for far too long. For the first few months, it bothered you. You thought he is not into you as much as you are into him. But as you slowly started to decode his persona, you realized that this is just who he is. The acceptance has made it easier for you to think less and respect his boundaries more. So, it doesn’t matter if he touches you a little less than you want him to - as long as you can see the affection in his eyes, it is fine, you are fine. 

The movie plays in the background, you are not paying even a speck of attention to it. All of your body is vibrating with want and need as your bicep is pressing against Yoongi. He is warm, he feels comfortable. The faint light from the television illuminates his profile, his glasses are sitting low on his nose, his lips look incredibly inviting. 

Pressing your cheek on his upper arm, you tip your face upwards. Yoongi, feeling your eager eyes, looks down at you. You make sure to look at his eyes for a few seconds before dropping your eyes down to his lips. 

Yoongi’s eyes follow suit. There’s a very faint smile on his lips as he starts leaning down. Just when his lips are about to meet yours the doorbell rings. Yoongi jerks out of the trance and turns his head to look at the door. 

“I will be back.” he adds before leaving the couch and walking towards the dash cam. You watch as he presses the camera button and as his eyes enlarge, spotting the person who is standing on the other side of the door. He almost runs the short distance between the dash and the door and opens the door without wasting a single second. 

You hoist your waist to take a look at the guest. You see her after her high pitched sob reaches your ears. 

“Yoongi!” screams Sooha, Yoongi’s best friend, whom you have met only a handful of times before. And the next thing you see, she is jumping on Yoongi’s arms. 

Your mouth opens when Yoongi not only accepts the hug but also holds her tighter than you have ever experienced with him. Although your vision is obscured from here, the way his hands are moving you can tell that he is rubbing circles on her back. 

Okay. That's fine. She is sobbing for whatever reason, trying to soothe her is the only most humane thing to do. Maybe you should try to do that too. 

Standing up from the couch, you start walking towards the door where your boyfriend and his best friend are standing. But before you can reach them, you see Yoongi pulling himself out of the embrace and placing both of his hands on her cheeks, wiping her tears away. 

“Hey hey hey, calm down okay? Tell me what happened?” he mutters in the softest voice you have ever heard him using. 

“G-Ginger…” Sooha hiccups, “G-ginger is no more.” she breaks into a loud sob. Yoongi pulls her in his embrace again, this time keeping one hand right on the back of her head and pats it lovingly. 

Suddenly you are reminded of the night you came crying to him pretty much similarly. It was a tough day at work, you made a silly mistake and your manager scolded you before the entire department. And Yoongi only held your hands while you sobbed uncontrollably. Neither did he hug you, nor did he talk to you in that voice. 

If he can do that to his best friend, why not you? 

They start walking inside the apartment without bothering about your existence. You watch them, you watch your boyfriend being softer, more lovey-dovey with someone else with moisture gathering in your eyes.

“Yoongi?” you tap on his shoulder as he and his best friend settles on the couch, he looks up at you with a bewildered expression.  

“Yeah?” His urgency is audible in his voice as the girl keeps sobbing in his arms. 

“I will leave. I think you two need some privacy.” your voice weavers as you say the words. Yoongi only nods, going back to calm his best friend down. As he doesn’t even attempt to stop you from leaving, even when the night was meant to be saved for you - you realize your worth. 

The relationship is new, you know you should not be too demanding right now. But action speaks louder than words. If you don’t really mean much to him, he shouldn’t mean much to you either. 

As you walk out of the door you decide to give him only as much he gives to you. If you are less important than his best friend to you, then he can’t be topping your priorities either.

Jung Hoseok 

Now if you tell people that you have only kissed twice and had a little bit of a foreplay only once in your three months of relationship, then they will only laugh at you. Given that you and your partner like to take things slow, you don’t mind. 

Not at least for most of the time. 

However, there are times like these when you watch him moving his body to the beat, in a way that demands everyone’s utmost attention. You watch him bending and flowing his body with the music, his shirt rides up and a silver of his skin catches your eyes for a moment. 

It does something to you - something similar to the obsession that Victorian men would have felt upon catching a woman's ankle. And in times like these, taking things slow feels like a crime - a crime that would kill you slowly. 

Maybe today you can take the first step? Maybe then Hoseok won’t hesitate? And maybe then you’ll get to touch him, hold him like the way you have been wanting for so long?

The music comes to an end, Hoseok straightens up and then bows. Everyone breaks into loud cheers and claps. You clap too. 

He smiles, as bright as a sun and starts strolling towards the corridor. You start following him because he definitely doesn’t know that you are here. 

You hold the studio door before it can close behind his back. Feeling the unusual force Hoseok looks back and another smile takes over his face. “Hey” he sing songs. 

“Hi” you close the door behind you. 

“I didn’t know you were here?” he pulls you into a loose hug, but it’s not enough. You want more of that body warmth. 

“I was watching you dance.” you confess, he strolls towards the couch and falls on it. 

“Really? Did you like my moves?” his voice gives out his exhaustion but he tries to be jolly regardless. 

You drop down beside him, a little closer than usual. 

“I loved your moves.” placing a chaste kiss on his lips, you wait for him to take it further. But he only smiles. God! Why is he being shy again? 

Taking things in your own hand, you hoist yourself up on your hands and try to press your lips on him. But hoseok places his hands on both of your shoulders and pushes you away. 

“I- uh- I am really tired right now, can we not… please?” he asks sheepishly. The rush of embarrassment is immediate. 

“Oh.. I am sorry.” you pull yourself back on the couch, “Can I hug you at least?” pushing down the ill feeling, you open your arms wide. He wouldn't say no to a hug, right? 

“I am kind of sweaty, and you know it’s really hot too?” he rejects you right away. And this time, it’s not embarrassment but a sharp pain that arrows through your heart. 

“Do you feel uncomfortable with me?” you ask even before you know what you are doing. Hoseok looks away, stares at the floor. 

“It’s been three months since we started seeing each other and we have only kissed. I want to take things further, Hoseok, but you don’t seem to be too interested.” The sting behind your eyes tells you of your fresh tears that might start rolling down your cheeks very soon. 

He sighs, “I don’t- I am not ready yet. I don’t feel fully comfortable with you, Y/N. I am sorry. I would appreciate it if you don’t force anything on me.” 

“Okay! Fine! I won’t even touch you anymore.” Anger comes before your tears can. You don’t want to cry before him so you rush out of the studio. 

—

“I am sorry.”  “I didn’t mean to hurt you:(“ 

The texts arrive on your phone sometimes around midnight. You have had some time to cool down and think things over. And now that you look at messages, you feel rather bad. 

Not everyone is the same after all. Just because your exes didn’t take time to push you into the bed, does not mean Hoseok has to be the same. 

He has actually been quite shy with you now that you think about it. He hardly ever initiates physical touch and maybe that's just who he is. Instead of rushing him into something he is not ready for yet, you should have respected his space. 

Turning the phone off, you go back to bed. Maybe you should act like you are still angry and then show up at his classes again to surprise him after work? 

Yeah! Right! That’s the best possible solution to apologize and make up. Closing your eyes with anticipation bubbling inside your chest, you fall asleep with a light of hope. 

—

You are standing right on the spot where you were standing yesterday. However, today Hoseok is not dancing, he is reviewing the stage formation or blueprint or something of that sort on his ipad. 

You are about to walk towards him and tap on his shoulder just when you hear a shrill, “Hobiiiiii”. It’s the voice of a woman and before you can look for her, you feel someone dash past you. She runs to Hoseok and jumps on his arms. Your boyfriend, instead of pushing her away the way he did to you yesterday. He wraps his hands around her waist and spins a full 360 degree.

Now as you finally see her face, you recognize her. She is Hoseok’s best friend, (who he talks a lot about), Iesul. This is the first time you are seeing her as she has been out on a world tour with her team for the past five months. 

You knew these two had a special bond, but you didn’t know it was something more precious than you can ever have with Hoseok.

You watch as he puts her down and then presses a kiss on the top of her head. 

Oh… so the problem was not who he is, but who you are. It’s only you with whom he can’t do all these for some reason.

Can the reason be that he doesn’t like you as much as he thought he did before starting to date you? Maybe… 

The more you watch them being all lovey-dovey before everyone, the darker it gets within you. He is so engrossed in being affectionate and touchy with his best friend that he doesn’t even see you standing here, watching him with tears in your eyes. 

Cool then. You will leave. 

Turning your heels you walk out of the building fast.

Not everyone is the same, but a relationship is all about accommodating each other. You haven’t found Hoseok doing the same for you even when you are trying your best to accommodate him. so, you are concluding that he is not the one for you. 

Taking your phone out of your pocket you open his text and start typing, 

“Let’s break up. I will leave the shoes that you gifted me last month at the reception tomorrow. I haven’t even taken the tag yet, so they are as new as the day you gave them to me. I appreciate the time you spent with me. But maybe we are not for each other.” “All the best for your life ahead, Hoseok.” “Take care. Good bye.” 

Pocketing your phone again, you start walking towards the bus stand. Glad it was over soon. Because if just three months hurt you like this, you have no idea what a longer relationship would do.

Park Jimin

Your hands start shaking as you watch the clip play on your phone. 

A sudden shock of pain sprouts and slices through your heart. The clip goes on, sounds of giggle and laughter spills through the small speakers of your phone. You watch your boyfriend laughing behind his hand as his best friend, a woman, tries to braid his hair into multiple small braids. Her fingers falter, she curses and Jimin doubles over laughing. His head sprawls on her lap and the scene stabs your heart in a painful blow. 

Now, you are not a toxic girlfriend who would have issues with her boyfriend’s best friend. But there’s a certain context behind the pain you are experiencing right now. 

Two days, just two days ago, you found yourself being captivated by your boyfriend’s mystic blonde locks. And you, despite your respect towards his personal boundaries, ran a hand through his hair while he was laying beside you on the couch. His reaction was something you never even considered thinking of. He jerked out of his comfortable sitting position and stared at you with an expression that you never perceived before. 

Being utterly shocked and confused you asked, “what happened?” 

He looked at you for some time more, before sighing and opening his mouth to give you the most ridiculous reply, “I don’t like my hair to be touched. I thought you knew that?” 

You didn’t. You really had no idea. “Sorry, I didn’t know.” 

“Now you do, right? So please…” he smiled a little. And you nodded. He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on your cheek and you immediately forgot the impact. 

However, now that you saw the story that he posted by himself without even hesitating about the fact that you would see the same, you realize that it’s you - it’s you who he doesn’t prefer to be touched by. 

Inhaling a long strip of oxygen, you grab your car keys and dash out of the apartment. If Jimin thinks he can get away with this without offering a reasonable explanation then he is very wrong. 

—

The door opens revealing Jimin on the same braids his best friends did on him. His eyes go wide as he spots you, but soon a smile replaces his surprise. 

“Hey, I didn’t know you would be visiting me.” He tries to hug you, but you move away. 

“I need to talk to you.” you see his best friend, Bitna, peeking at the door, “alone.” 

Jimin’s expressions dim, “come in first.” he moves away from the door and lets you in. Once you are in, your eyes go to his best friend, who grabs her bag and walks towards Jimin. 

“I will be leaving now, Jiminie, bye.” she hugs her, awfully tight, and he responds with just as much of urgency. 

You wait at the same spot as Jimin walks her to the door to see her off. “What is it, Y/N? You look serious.” he walks towards you with lazy steps while mouthing the words.  

“You told me you don’t like your hair to be touched.” With your heart thumping in your chest, you let him know, “and yet you posted that story of Bitna playing with your hair.” 

Jimin stills, his mouth opens a little ajar as he tries to form a reply, “is that why you are here? To confront me?” a scoff leaves his mouth. 

“Yes. That's why I am here. I am here to ask you if she can braid your hair, why did you push me away when I only touched it?” a tear escapes your eye and rolls down your cheek. 

“Y/N!” Jimin almost screams, “she is my best friend! I have known her since we both were in diapers. We grew up pulling each other’s hair. Of course she is special.” 

“Oh.. so she is special and I am just as ordinary as everyone else, huh? Is that what you are saying?” a few more drops of tears roll down your cheek. 

“You are twisting my words-” 

“You just said that and it's cool.” Wiping the wetness off of your face harshly, you continue, “if she is just that special to you, then go and be with her. You definitely don’t need me!” turning on your heels you run out of his apartment. 

Even when you hear him calling behind your back, you choose not to stop.

Kim Taehyung 

Having a social butterfly boyfriend means you get used to living with it. 

It has only been five months since you and Taehyung made things official, and just within this short span of time, you have gotten accustomed to his huge popularity among his friends, acquaintances and even people you knew before him. 

It never fails to amaze you, how easygoing he is, how easily likeable he is and still… still there’s this unfathomable distance that lies between you two, the unresolved tension that’s building a thick wall separating you from him. 

The closer you try to get to him, the further he pushes you away. Each time you try to take things to the next level - he bursts into a ball of coyness.

For the first few times you were shocked yourself. You didn’t know how to accept the fact that social butterfly Kim Taehyung is actually this shy behind the closed doors. However, as the same events keep repeating over and over again, you become convinced of the fact that he is just not ready yet and he will open up when it’s time. 

However, the inaccessible part of him has become the primary element that is building this great wall between you two. 

Today is his birthday, and today, you have decided to talk to him after the party is over. You are aware that the timing might not be right, but he would be in a good mood and you can approach him without the fear of making an already bad day worse. 

A cluster of giggles and loud cheers make their way to your ears as you approach the small lounge Taehyung has rented to celebrate his birthday. Pushing the door open you find him standing at the photozone. A few of his friends are clicking his pictures from every possible angle. 

A smile spreads on your lips as you take your careful steps towards your boyfriend. He hasn’t seen you yet, so you decide to wave your hand in order to get his attention. But just when you are about to raise your limb, someone else screams for his attention. 

“Taetae, take photos with me now!” It's Yuri, Taehyung’s best friend. They are, allegedly, inseparable. You have met her a few times and she has always been extremely kind and sweet towards you. However, the closeness she sports with your boyfriend bothers you a little. 

Even now you see her as she runs towards Taehyung and he wraps a hand around her waist, pulling her on his chest. They giggle as others click them like they are the hot-shot celebrity couple people are talking about these days. 

Taehyung’s eyes fall into yours briefly. He smiles and wiggles his fingers in a greeting before looking away and going back to his photo session with Yuri. 

Wow… just a gesture? That’s all you get while he keeps posing with her? Letting her touch him in a way he doesn’t allow you yet? 

Your heart starts to squeeze in an immense amount of pain as you very slowly realize the worth of your existence in his life. While a part of you understands that the relationship is too new to start demanding everything right away, another part of you berates you for being too blind. 

Five months might be short to start thinking of becoming serious, but long enough to be comfortable with your partner. If you can give him that access to you, why can’t he? 

Is it not because he just does not see you the way you see him? 

Maybe… maybe that’s what the case is. 

A drop of tear makes its way out of your eyes as you see him couching down on the floor and Yuri getting on his back. He poses with his best friend on his back and doesn’t even bother giving you another glance. 

And that’s enough. That’s enough for you to make a decision. 

Walking towards the nearest table, you put the gift on top of it and exit the lounge just as quietly as you entered. 

You want to see if Taehyung notices your absence at all, and if he does then when. You leave it up to him now. His actions will determine the future of this relationship. 

For you, it has ended the moment he chose his best friend over you. 

Jeon Jungkook

Falling in love with Jungkook is as easy as slipping down a snowy road wearing slippers. 

It didn’t take you much time to get swept away by that bunny smile and those starry eyes. And even before you knew it, your heart was beating twice as fast whenever Jungkook, so much so, looked your way.  

Thankfully, Jungkook’s feelings were very mutual, which led you to start dating just after a month of knowing each other through some mutual friends. You have been together for half a year now - taking things at a natural pace while falling in love at the speed of light. 

And the best thing about him? It’s his duality. He is a beast in bed but a shy little kid with big eyes when you two are just doing normal couple stuff. Currently you have your head laid on his shoulder as he pours the seasoning packet into the cup ramyeon. A sweet summer breeze blows, ruffling his hair a bit. Straightening up, you run a finger through his locks and being overwhelmed by this humongous attraction, you place your lips on his cheek in a kiss. 

Jungkook startles. His eyes go big as he turns his head to look at you as if you have committed a scandalous act. 

“What?” you giggle, totally enamoured by his cuteness. 

“We are in public.” he replies, still sporting the same expressions. 

“We are at han gang, Jungkook-ah. The people surrounding us are mostly couples.” 

“Yeah but still. We are still very new and I am not yet very comfortable with PDA.” he goes back to stirring the ramyeon. 

The drop in your mood is instant, but you know he is not totally wrong. A relationship can never be 50-50. One will be more emotional than the other, one will be giving more than the other and that is how it gets balanced. So, shoving the little hurt feeling under the rug, you smile at him, “But we will get there one day, right?” 

“Of course.” Jungkook prompts without even sparing you a glance. 

“Jungkookie! What are you doing here?” a female voice comes right from behind. You whip your head to look at the owner of the same and find an attractive woman with a familiar face. 

“Byeol-ie!!” Jungkook places the cup ramyeon on the ground and jumps to stand up, “I thought you were coming back next week?” 

Oh… this is Hanbyeol. Jungkook’s best friend whom you only saw in his social media posts. As you got to know from Jungkook, she was visiting her parents in the states for a few months. But now she is back and your boyfriend looks very happy with her return. 

“Yeah I was about to, but things came up at work.” she replies, eyes drifting towards you, “this is Y/N, right? OMG, I have been waiting to meet you.” she smiles brightly at you. 

“Hi.” You return the courtesy by giving her a genuine smile, “nice to meet you.” You look back at Jungkook only to find his eyes are trained at Hanbyeol. 

“We are having ramyeon, do you want some?” he invites her without your permission. 

“I should not eat carbs while running, but I am hungry, so lets just-” she sits down, Jungkook follows suit. 

“Here, eat from mine.” he offers her his own bowl as you watch everything with your heart dropping to your stomach. 

“Thanks jungkookie, I will give you a kissie in return.” Hanbyeol prompts while placing her lips on his cheek just like you did a few minutes before. But surprisingly enough, Jungkook does not flinch this time. He giggles, wraps a hand around her shoulder and pulls her closer to him. 

Your breath hitches as you realize how different his reactions were based on the person who is doing that to him. 

He pushed you away saying he doesn’t feel quite comfortable yet and on the other hand, he pulled his best friend even closer to him. And you don’t know how to process it, what to make out of it. 

“I’ll get to the washroom quickly.” Standing up, you inform your boyfriend. But don’t get more than a casual nod as he is too busy catching up with his best friend. 

As you slowly stroll towards the exit of the park, you realize certain things, certain people are better to let go because holding onto them only hurts more than it would in letting go. 

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[taevescence]

Behind The Idol | KNJ

Summary: A drabble of Joonie leaning on his girlfriend after the news about the Grammys became public ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ wc: 1.3k Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader A/N: I've been wanting to write something ever since yesterday's news, and I just couldn't resist lol. It's a little short, but I didn't really have much of a plot to work with :< anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Dividers | Masterlist | Taglist

The news had broken just a few hours earlier, right as you were finishing dinner, accompanied by nothing more than an old glass of liquor and a half-eaten meal. It had felt like a bucket of ice cold water dumped straight over your head, leaving every part of your body numb, unable to move.

It hadn't just come as a surprise to the media, the recording academy, or the fans, it had even caught you off guard, despite being his girlfriend for years. You had witnessed firsthand how hard they'd worked for that award, fighting their way into the biggest category, determined to win it, determined to break through every barrier the language had placed in front of them.

'BTS Withdraws from the Grammys.'

At first, you thought it was just another gossip site trying to stir up controversy. Then you saw their instagram stories. Your boyfriend's story, too, with that ridiculous photo he'd taken while filming the 2.0 music video. The caption, entirely in korean, carried one unmistakable message:

They refused to let the Academy box them in.

This time, the feeling was different, calmer... happier.

You couldn't even stop yourself from laughing out loud at the thought that they'd turned down the biggest music awards in the industry simply to make a statement.

And they'd done it in their fucking native language.

You moved faster than you ever had before, clearing the table, rushing to your bedroom to change into something better suited for the weather, clutching an old pair of sneakers in your hands, ready to run to the studio Namjoon had told you he'd be working at until late that night.

"Shit, my battery's almost dead," you muttered, grabbing your charger. There'd probably be an outlet somewhere in the building, you just hoped your phone lasted long enough to get there.

Your eyes stayed glued to the screen as you searched for the address on your map, trying to figure out which route to take. You were so absorbed in your own little world that you didn't hear the front door close just a few steps away, followed by the dull thud of shoes hitting the floor and footsteps making their way toward the bedroom.

"Hey."

Your fingers froze over the screen, and your head immediately lifted to find the owner of the voice.

It was strange, in a way, how you'd lived beside this man for years, yet he still managed to reveal new sides of himself every so often. Some better than others, but every single one of them belonged to the man you'd fallen in love with.

The man who still made your heart melt every time he smiled.

Only now, his shoulders were slumped, his smile held together by nothing more than politeness, and the sparkle that always lit up his eyes whenever he looked at you was gone.

A much rawer version of Kim Namjoon.

"I saw the news," was the first thing you managed to say, setting your things aside so you could give your boyfriend your full attention. You watched his hands clench and unclench at his sides, his breathing slow and deliberate.

"How are you feeling?"

"I... I'm okay, I guess," he answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside you, though he still couldn't bring himself to meet your eyes. "We've been talking about this for a while... but now that it's actually happened... it feels real, you know?"

You couldn't think of a response.

It was hard to find the right words for something you'd never experienced before. This wasn't like turning down a promotion at some office job. They'd just put themselves at odds with the academy, an institution that practically ruled the music industry, at least in the united states.

"Do you think... Do you think we did the right thing?"

Hearing his voice crack hurt far more than you wanted to admit.

Namjoon wasn't someone who cried easily. He always held himself together, counted to ten, breathed through it, gave himself time to sort out his emotions. Whenever that façade finally cracked, something inside you always broke too. How much had he been carrying these past few days? How long had he forced himself to stay strong in front of the members just to keep up the image of the dependable leader?

"Joonie..." you whispered, stepping in front of him and gently cupping his cheeks. There weren't any tears yet, but you could see them threatening to spill over. "I've never been prouder of you. Of all of you. Was this the smartest decision? Maybe not. Maybe you risked too much. But it was the decision you believed was right for your music... and that's enough."

"They'll probably ban us for life."

"They might." You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "But at least the whole world knows it was your decision, not theirs. Besides I'm pretty sure the public's going to love this."

"You really think so?"

He rested his forehead against your stomach, his hands sliding up to your hips to pull you a little closer. You took that as your cue to thread your fingers through his hair. His blond strands barely caught the dim bedroom light. They'd grown much longer since the tour had started, and somehow they suited him even better now.

"Honey," you murmured, "that was the most badass thing you've ever done. I'm willing to bet people are going to treat this announcement like an early christmas present or something."

"You're only saying that because you're my girlfriend."

"I'm saying it because, besides being the love of my life, you're one of the smartest and bravest people I've ever known." Gently, you tugged at his hair until he looked back up at you. This time, the dimples decorating his cheeks were genuine. The heaviness you'd seen when he'd walked through the door had finally disappeared. "None of you need that ugly little megaphone to prove you made the best album of the year."

"It's actually a gramophone."

"Same thing."

The two of you stared at each other for a moment before breaking into laughter. Not the loud, uncontrollable kind you'd share in a room full of friends after an evening spent eating and drinking together. It was quieter than that, the kind of laugh you exchange in secret with your best friend when no one else is watching. The kind that only exists in moments too intimate to share with anyone else.

"You're right," he whispered against your shirt, leaving a soft kiss just below your navel. "Who needs a fucking grammy when you've got the most beautiful woman in the world waiting for you at home?"

"Just beautiful?"

"I could spend the entire night listing every wonderful thing about you if you want."

You rolled your eyes at his cheesiness, though it didn't surprise you in the slightest when his hands slipped behind your knees, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap.

You gave him a moment to settle in, his palms wandering slowly over your thighs, your hips, your waist, while yours traced the lines of his chest, slid over his shoulders, and finally came to rest around his neck.

"Thank you, babe."

You smiled as the words left his lips, gently guiding his face toward yours before kissing him. It started softly, his lips barely moving against yours as his hands tightened around your waist.

Little by little, the kiss grew more frantic, clumsier, more desperate, interrupted every so often by smiles that neither of you could suppress, followed by quiet laughter and whispered I love yous shared against each other's lips.

At least for tonight, if only for a few hours, he'd be able to forget about the world outside those four walls, forget the consequences of that announcement. Forget everything except the one thing keeping him grounded through it all; you. The person who really loved the man behind the idol.

[acphengene]

ANYTHING

☾ pairing: Namjoon x reader

☾ genre: soulmate au, fluff, angst, anxiety, depression

☾ wordcount: 5.1k

☾ note: Damn, I think this might be the longest soulmate au I've ever made - but he is my first ult and your girl had a LOT she needed to be included. As always, please like, reblog, comment and follow if you like the story, and the taglist for this is open so just make a comment if you want me to add you to it

☾ reading order: Namjoon ☾ Hoseok ☾ Jimin ☾ Jin ☾ Taehyung ☾ Yoongi ☾ Jungkook ☾

When Namjoon turned 13 nothing showed up, nothing at all. There were no marks on his body, nor were there any thoughts in his head or pain in his body. And it wasn’t that he didn’t care, but his love had always been music, and the passion he had for that was more than enough to live a fulfilled life. 

So instead of seeing his life as if he was missing out, he instead shrugged and moved on. 

When he joined BigHit, when he met the boys and started living with them he realized just how much most of their lives revolved around their other halves and their marks, and for the first time he felt a ping of jealousy in his chest. 

The initial conversation they had about it explained both quirks and physical attributes that they all had. Jin was looking in every reflective surface to potentially catch a glimpse of his other half, Jimin was a mess once a month from pain, and Yoongi? The scar over his one eye was suddenly less gory. 

And when he told them that he didn’t have one, all they had done was stare at him with pity. As if he was missing out on this incredible thing. He had tried to explain it was a waste of time to miss something you had never had, and even though he knew he was right, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was missing out on something special. 

He didn’t mean to, but as time went on, he started to crave it, the promise of internal love, the promise of a future with someone, crave the one thing that he would never have. 

You had heard the stories from your parents and the adults around you, and the excitement up to your thirteenth birthday was so high that everyone feared it would not live up to your expectations. 

But when nothing came, and hadn’t showed up almost a year later, you had cursed the fates for not deeming you worthy of the one thing you had always dreamed about. 

You had mourned him, mourned the dreams and all that could’ve been, and then slowly moved on. But those that were closest to you could see it, there was a spark in your eyes that was gone, a lightness in your steps that had suddenly become heavy. 

Instead of dwelling on it too much, you dived head first into your work, your passion and those platonic soulmates you found along the way. 

And as they smiled and celebrated when they met their soulmates, you made sure to hide your tears of despair in the dark hours of the night. 

It was a slow Monday morning, and you managed to drag yourself out of bed into the pouring rain to get to work, completely leaving your umbrella behind in your apartment. You didn’t mind the rain, somehow it seemed to make everything slow. 

There was a beauty to it, how the droplets of water hit the pavement and pooled together, how they left the greenery in this otherwise grey city more vibrant than it had been just a few hours earlier. 

You turned your head towards the sky, hoping that it would wash away your sorrows, the loneliness, the depression that had taken root in your heart. 

Maybe all you needed was a forever rain. 

Namjoon was laying in his bed, slowly trying to rewind his mind and body after yet another tourstop, another city, another performance. 

There was this feeling in his chest, one of anxiety he had a difficult time placing, it felt almost foreign, like it wasn’t his. 

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, something he had learned helped whenever he needed a bit of grounding, and then he felt a drop of water hitting his face. 

His eyes shot open as he stared up at the ceiling. It fell down his face as a single tear, and when he tried to whisk it away, there was nothing there. 

He slowly sat up in his bed, and then a layer, a silk sheet of emotions, wrapped around his entire body. The feeling was familiar, like something he had always carried around with him, only this time it felt as if it had been magnified. 

The feelings crept in, the sadness and anxiety, the depression and hopelessness, and they were darker than anything he himself had experienced in a very long time. 

It was devastating the feeling of isolation he had inside of him, the feeling of not belonging to anyone. 

There was no doubt, this had to be you, this had to be his soulmate. So he cried silently over the fact that he had left you, that he had given up and just accepted life without you. Had you been able to feel it? His indifference towards you? 

Or had you just assumed, like he had, that those lingering feelings that came out of the blue were just anxiety or random bursts of happiness or sadness? 

Like always he dealt with his emotions by writing it all down, and as the sun started to rise outside of his window the songs he had composed were finished. 

The first songs he had written weren't songs of love and happiness, but an acknowledgement of the pain he had caused you, that he saw the pain there, that he felt it, and that he from this moment on would help you carry it. 

The week following your rainy Monday was different, very different. It was filled with hope, excitement and nerves. It was weird because there was not anything exciting going on in your life, everything was exactly like it had always been. 

Until one afternoon; you had stretched your body, warmed your joints and were now on pointe in front of the mirror as you ran through your routine in your head. 

People were talking, exchanging words of encouragement or just straight out gossiping about something, and then a slow piano started playing somewhere in the room, accompanied by the sound of rain, and your entire world stopped. 

You felt chills running through your body as every hair stood up. A woman ran towards the sound and quickly turned it off, you made a mental note of asking her what the song was when the day was over. 

“Any luck yet?” Yoongi popped his head into Namjoon’s room. He had very impromptu dropped a mixtape in the middle of touring, surprising everyone, his members especially. 

Then he had told them all that he in fact had a mark, he just hadn’t been aware of it which had led to loud cheers and hugs, even a few happy tears from Jimin. After that they had made sure to check in on him every now and then. 

He shook his head with a somewhat sad smile. “No, not yet. So I guess it’s safe to say that she’s not army” 

His older brother nodded with tight lips. “I’m sure she’ll find it” 

The leader only shrugged. “I doubt it. At the end of the day it was a long shot” 

Namjoon stood up and grabbed his phone from the table, flipping it open and then zoning out completely. 

“What if she feels me, what if she has just chosen to ignore it, ignore me, as revenge for not feeling her all these years?” 

Yoongi slowly walked into the room. “You’ve wanted this for longer than you’ve dared to admit, haven't you?” He laid a hand on his leader's shoulder, it was a touch of both support and comfort. 

All he got in return was a small nod. 

“I’ve met very few people in my life that have been as in touch with their emotions as you. You’ve always known how to express yourself, known how to listen to what you’ve felt and rationalized those feelings, hell you’ve even acted on them when that was what was needed. I’m sure that she is similar to that, for some reason your mark just hasn't really shown up before now. That has nothing to do with you, and I’m sure as soon as she feels it, she will be as grateful as you are” 

He didn’t say it often but Namjoon had always valued the way Yoongi always knew exactly what to say, at the exact time that the people around him needed it the most. 

“Thank you hyung” 

All he got was a smile return, and he quickly followed the scarred rapper out of the room to join him and his members for dinner. 

You had gotten the song name, and were now seated in your apartment alone with your hand hovering over the play button. 

“Why am I nervous? It’s just a song” you whispered to no one. 

Your cat made a small noise in acknowledgement, and came to you, gently laying down in your lap as she started to purr, almost instantly calming your nervous system. 

Then you pressed the screen and the sound of both raindroplets and the sound of a piano slowly played, and then a voice started rapping. 

The voice was raspy but at the same time it felt like it had been dipped in honey. It spoke to your soul in a way no music previously had. One song led you to the next and before you knew it you had listened to the entire mixtape. 

You opened your computer and found the translations, and then you cried. It was as if the artist had taken everything you had ever felt, and managed to put it not only into words, but notes as well, as if he could feel your emotions.  

It was beauty and it was art, and you were hooked and absolutely ready to dive head first into this artist's discography. 

The search for the translation had led to a deep dive into the artist and the second he appeared on your screen your heart stopped and for the first time in your life you felt the pull. 

A pull that up until this moment had only ever been described to you. It was a need and a want all at the same time, as if you were both seen and saw him for exactly who you were. 

“Kim Namjoon” you whispered, and as if it was all it would take, for you to speak his name you felt a silk sheet cover your body, and emotions that weren’t your own washed over you like a tidal wave. 

For the first time in a very long time, the tears that now fell from your eyes were of happiness. 

And as beautiful as this moment was, it left a lingering fear. Because how the hell do you get the attention of your soulmate, when he’s in the biggest band on the planet? 

They had been walking around on stage, when he felt you. It was stronger than the days leading up to it, it was a feeling of pure joy, relief and love that rushed over him. 

He had stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes as he flung his hands around his own body, as if you were there with him. Almost as if he just hugged himself and your emotions tightly enough you would be able to feel him. 

Jimin was the first to notice that their leader was no longer with them, and when he looked his way, his eyes disappeared into well-known crescent moons. 

He gave Hoseok a small nudge which led to a squeal and the attention of the remaining members was suddenly on the mess of a man that stood a few meters from them all. 

Jin ran up to him first and wrapped his large hand around his friend's neck which forced his eyes open. 

“I think she found the song” 

It was all he was able to say before the relief and happiness washed over him, all the while his brothers celebrated around him. 

He wellowed in it, soaked every drop of happiness into the very depth of his soul, and despite not quite knowing how this mark of yours worked, he did his best to send every bit of joy he felt, down through that bond that now bound the two of you together. 

You had felt him instantly, which had only made your heart swell even more, and after a long night, a few bottles of wine while you updated your girls on the events that were your soulmate, you had all come up with a plan. 

It still felt weird. Your soulmate. You still had to pinch yourself whenever you felt his emotions, scared that this was all a dream you just couldn’t wake up from. 

The days had turned into weeks, and after having danced so hard your feet almost bled, you were finally ready, ready to leave a trail of breadcrumbs out for him to find. 

You took one last look at yourself before you gave a nod to one of your best friends and as soon as the music started, you danced to the tunes written to you by your soulmate. 

The following days your social media pages exploded, you had uploaded your dance covers on every app you could think of. Hopeful that one of them would make his way to him, and that he would feel the same pull towards you, as you had felt the second you had laid eyes on him. 

Army had been your biggest support through all of this, they had complimented the way you had interpreted Namjoon’s mixtape by sharing it, posting reactions to them, and most importantly tagged every member more than a thousand times in every post. 

Now all you could do was wait. 

Hoseok had been casually scrolling through his Tiktok when he had gotten a dm from a dance friend of his with a link to a series of dance covers by a ballerina, to the song written by his younger brother. 

He had watched them all, over and over again. Studied your movements almost as much as he has studied your expressions. Because there was a dancer who understood in her very soul what the songs were about. 

The second he had felt confident enough, that this was in fact what he thought it was, he had slid into your dm’s with a message as simple, yet significant as: I think I know someone who would love to meet you. 

It was the worst possible timing, they were all slowly getting used to the new city, the new stadium. They were all getting ready for the show that very night, but he didn’t really care much about any of it, because this was more important. 

He found Namjoon sitting in the beauty room, scrolling on his phone as he ignored the chaos around him. 

Namjoon had told them time and time again the past few days that you were feeling nervous as well as excited. 

From what he didn’t know, all he knew was that whatever made you feel this way, would work out, and Hoseok felt a sense of pride having been the one to discover it. 

He gave the wide shouldered man a gentle tap on his arm to get his attention, and as Namjoon looked his way he gently gave him the phone with a subtle little smile. 

Namjoon himself had done his best to scour the internet from any sign of you, but so far he had come up empty handed. 

The second he had gotten Hoseok’s phone in his hand, he had stopped breathing. Because right there on his screen was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. 

You were elegant, beautiful incarnate, with a subtle hint of both happiness and nervousness written on your face and in your movements, and there was no doubt that you were his. 

He slowly stood from his chair as he scrolled through his entire mixtape, interpreted by your movements and very own form of art. He had never felt more special, nor more proud than in this exact moment. 

When he finished he swallowed once. 

“Where is she?” he said with a lump in his throat. 

Hoseok shrugged once as he peeled his phone out of his brother's hand. “I don’t know yet, but I’ve written her a message” 

Namjoon pulled out his own phone and with shaking hands tried to open the app to hopefully get in contact with you himself. 

A small ping was heard from the sunshine man's phone, and as he turned it towards Namjoon, a small message there read: ‘I think you do’ followed by a phone number. 

With shaking hands Namjoon dialed the number, and the other end of it picked up before it even managed to ring once. 

He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. For 7 seconds, he just stood there as you heard you breath on the other end, as he felt how nervous and excited you were at the same time. 

“Where are you?” He managed to say, swallowing once more to hopefully buy himself some time to think of something a little more original to say. 

A subtle laugh was heard on the other end. “Hi Namjoon” 

He smiled then, wider than he ever had. His dimples were on full display, as his cheeks started to hurt, all the while his heart swelled. 

“Hi baby” he said as the people around him broke out in cheers. The cameras had been turned on and all turned his way, when that had happened he didn’t know, and he didn’t really care, all that mattered right here and now was you. 

He felt the flutters of your heart all the while calmness and pure joy enveloped him in that now well known silk, that he knew as your emotions. 

“Well to answer your question, I’m actually in the same place as you are… Not in the stadium of course, but the city”

He removed the phone a little from his face as he screamed silently. This was perfect. 

“How soon can you get here?” He asked, he knew it was a long shot, but he had to try. 

You laughed and he was certain he had died and gone to heaven right then and there. “I’m pretty sure your concert is sold out” 

He chuckled. “That’s not what I asked” he said back in the most lovingly teasing voice he could. 

He could feel his heartbeat pick up as he awaited your answer. 

“I’m currently at work, but if you have the time, maybe we could figure out how to meet tomorrow?” you said, he could almost feel how you bit your lip in anticipation, oh and how he hated he wasn’t there to see it. 

“Send me the address, I’m coming to get you” 

It was a long shot, he knew that, but he didn’t really care. 

All he heard was that musically laugh, one he knew would be the inspiration for songs to come. 

“Don’t you have more important things to do right about now?” 

He looked at his members, his brothers, and how they all gave him encouraging nods. 

“No, you are the most important thing” 

You were silent for a few seconds. “Okay, I’ll send you the address" 

“Stay where you are, I’m on my way” 

He didn’t want to hang up, if he could he would’ve climbed through his phone and out to you on the other side, unfortunately that wasn’t happening. So instead he hung up, pulled his members into a group hug with the promise that he would be back before the concert started. 

Then he turned on his heel and sprinted towards the exit. 

You were sitting in the lobby at your work, silently bouncing your leg as you felt your heart almost beat out of your chest. In record time you had managed to shower, and make yourself presentable. 

It wasn’t that you had been a complete lost cause, but you wanted him to find you captivating and beautiful. Luckily the women around you had come to your aid, and now your eyes were fixated on the door. 

Like you, Namjoon was completely unable to sit still in the car that was taking him to you. He was constantly fiddling with his clothes, his hair, his phone. All the while his eyes were fixated on the world that passed by around him. 

When he finally arrived at his destination, he took a deep breath before opening the door. His mask was on, no need to give the entire world the possibility of watching this. It was something he wanted to be as private as possible. 

He saw you before you had noticed him. The way you kept twisting your rings, the way your legs bounced, the nerves and excitement that roamed through you. 

It made him lose his breath. 

The second he felt that need, that bond almost snapping into place, the second he felt love run through himself, he saw your eyes snap up from your hands. 

He walked through the doors as you slowly stood up from the chair. 

The two of you were going slow, almost as if you were afraid that the other one would disappear if you walked too fast. 

He towered over you as you stood in front of him. The photos you had seen of him didn’t do him justice. He was huge. Both in hide and in width. 

He slowly peeled off his mask and revealed that dimpled smile of his, as his eyes almost disappeared. 

You had no idea why, but that was all it took for you to throw yourself into his arms. You didn’t know if it was the sheer strength of him, or if he had been able to predict your move, but he didn’t even sway. 

Instead he just flung his arms around you, gently picking you up off the ground as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. 

When he finally set you down on the ground again, your hands came to caress his cheeks, gently poking those dimples with your thumbs, earning you a laugh. 

“Hello there” you said, as you gently brushed away his tears, all the while you did your best to not let your own fall. 

He leaned down and rested his forehead against yours, all the while his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

The two of you just stood there like that for a few minutes, before he finally pulled himself together, flung an arm around your shoulders, grabbed your bag and slowly walked out of the lobby with you by his side. 

It was this quiet dominance, authority that made your entire spine shiver in anticipation of what else he would be able to do. Especially when the two of you were alone. 

Namjoon laughed. “Baby, pull your head out of the gutter or I will devour you on the backseat of my car” 

You pulled away from him and looked at him with shocked eyes. He just chuckled in response. “I can literally feel your emotions” he bend down and whispered, “that includes lust” 

The blood rushed to your cheeks as you blushed, turning both your cheeks and ears as red as a tomato. 

“Oh my god, I didn’t even think of that” you responded as you hid your face in his shirt. 

“Trust me, I don’t mind it at all, but how about we wait with that part until we’re alone” 

You felt it then, the need and lust he too felt. You pushed him gently. “Stop that” 

He chuckled once more before kissing the top of your head. “Anything for you baby” 

You had arrived at the concert, and he had introduced you to his six brothers all while beaming as if he was the sun itself. 

They had all welcomed you with hugs, questions and overall excitement. Excitement that was so contagious you soon were bussing with it. 

Namjoon made sure to always have your hand in his, an arm flung around your shoulders, or having you leaning against his chest as he gently rested his chin on the top of your head. 

And despite the chaos of dancers, stylists and mua’s, he managed to make it all feel like the safest place you had ever been. 

He had made sure you got a seat where you could see him at all time, and he had made sure his front was towards you every second. 

It was nerve wrecking for him to be on stage. He so hoped that you would feel pride and awe in what he did, in what he loved. Luckily it was only that and deep love and respect he felt through your shared bond the entire concert. 

All those feelings made him give it a little extra, an effort that was definitely appreciated by army as well as you. 

The ride from the venue and back to his hotel wasn’t the longest, and the feeling of having him close was even more amazing than anything you had ever dreamt of. 

The two of you were quiet, not really wanting to speak before you were alone, there was so much that needed to be said, so much he needed to apologize for. 

You could feel the nerves and the guilt eating away at him, but you also knew that just because you were able to know exactly what he was feeling, didn’t mean that he was ready to talk to you about it yet, so instead you waited. 

“It’s cozy” you said as you entered his room, looked around on his exploded suitcase and all the little things that were scattered throughout the room. 

You sat down on the bed and sent a smile his way, hoping it would make him open up. 

He sighed once before leaning his head back, looking into the ceiling. “I’m so sorry,” he said. 

You perked up at that, sitting a little straighter than you had a second ago. 

He ran his hands through his hair before finally looking at you. “I’m so sorry I didn’t feel you before, I’m so sorry it took me this long to notice you were out there. I’m sorry that I’ve put you through so much anxiety, so many nights spent alone thinking I would never come” 

You saw how the tears welled in his eyes, how they threatened to fall any second. 

Instead of saying anything you just reached out for him, and he followed instantly, sitting down on his knees before you on the floor. His arms flung around your waist as you gently ran your hands through his hair as he cried, gently scratching his scalp with your nails. 

You sat like that for a few minutes, until his breathing steadied. The you pulled him away from your chest and rested your hands on his cheeks, once again caressing those dimple of his. 

“It takes two people to share a bond, and I didn’t notice you either, sure you might’ve been busier, but I should’ve been there for you as well, as support on stressful days, as a cheerleader in the back of your head, always cheering you on. We have a lot of catching up to do, both of us, but we also have a life to make it right” 

He smiled, and you returned it before pulling him closer, gently rubbing your nose against his. 

His eyes changed them, from loving and adoring to dominant and almost dragon-like, they got dark and the need he felt for you flushed over you was like a tidal wave. 

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, teasing you by drawing circles into your hips with his thumbs.

You swallowed once before you nodded. He didn’t hesitate, not even a second. Instead he quickly closed the distance between the two. 

His lips was soft, gentle as if he was savoring something sweet, slowly taking his time to feel every emotion, feeling and taste. 

The emotions were overwhelming, so much that the two of you needed to take a break. He slowly climbed over you, gently helping you scoot back onto the bed. He gave you a small peck as he smiled. 

“I love that I can actually feel how I make you feel” He said as he gently nippled on your bottom lip. 

The lust slowly crept over him, he pulled away once more with a raised brow. “Oh? You like that huh?” 

“You could do anything to me Namjoon, and I would love it” 

He closed his eyes and hid his head in the crook of your neck. “Say my name again” he almost whispered. 

The kind command made you smile and a giggle threatened to spill past your lips but you held it back as you whispered his name into his ear. 

“Fuck, you’ll be the death of me” he said as you saw how his pupils had completely taken over his eyes, somehow making them even more deadly than they already were. 

He gently let one of his hands from your ankle up to your thigh, before he flung it around his own waist, the sheer weight of it pulled him closer to you. 

“The question now is baby” he kissed right below your ear. “If-” a kiss a little lower down your neck, and he kept that going with every word he said. “- you’ll. Let. Me. Devour. You?” 

He felt your need and your want for him, before you pulled him away from your neck and kissed him passionately, slowly letting go, letting yourself indulge in this with him. 

The two of you had been rolling around in the sheets for hours upon hours, only taking small breaks to catch your breaths before starting once again. 

You were curled around his side, your head resting on his giant chest. 

“I think this is my new favorite pillow” he laughed loudly before kissing your somewhat sweaty brow. 

“Good, because I would definitely want you to sleep in my arms as often as possible” 

You turned to look at him, he gently started running a hand up and down your spine, gently caressing the skin beneath his fingertips. 

“It feels like a dream, being here with you” 

You saw how his eyes shone with both sadness and adoration. He sat up and kissed you tenderly. “I promise you it’s not. I promise that I’m here, that I’ll always be here. I promise that I’ll never leave” 

One of his hands rested against your cheek and you leaned into it. 

“Let’s make a deal, every now and then I’ll give you a small pinch, to remind you that this is real, that we are real?” 

“You would do that for me?” 

He smiled gently. “Anything for you baby” 

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