#pls excuse any errors in grammar

[t3ddyd0ll]

y'all i wanna get to know my followers so!! pls feel free to send asks abt urself or ur fave things!! i want to see!

[ilwonuu]

𖥔 ͙ࣳ hate the club. k. mingyu

this fic is inspired by this song so pls listen to it <333

“tired of going out, scared ill run into you”

“damn you know i hate the club, but i came cuz i know you’d show up”

summary 𖡼 your friend group goes out every friday. you never feeling up to joining them. you always find an excuse not to come. but now you’re sitting at home with nothing to do. so why not drink a little and hangout with your friends at the club?? what could go wrong? seeing your ex could definitely happen..

warnings- ex to lovers!!, alcohol consumption, smut with semi plot. switch!mingyu, switch!reader, oral sex f.receiving, fingering, riding, pet names- baby,princess,unprotected sex(don’t do it), creampie, multiple orgasms, lmk if i missed anything pls<3

authors note- i read over this like once so if theres any spelling or grammar errors pls let me know!!! i hope u guys love this i loved writing it!!!!

you feel bored with no company tonight. not loving the presence of nothing of your apartment and stuff animals as you usually do. sending seungkwan a quick text telling him you’ll be joining him, seokmin, and chan tonight. getting a sassy text back as usual

kwannie😓- what the fuck. girl don’t play????

kwannie😓- u better not be lying because seokmin and chan are actually gonna be the death of me.

kwannie😓- be ready at 9 ok.

you- im not kidding hoe and yes i am already ready ish???

kwannie😓- ok ill be there at 9 😘😘😘

you smile to yourself continuing to get ready. checking to see if you have a good amount of time to finish your hair. happy to see you have enough time with it only being 8:15.

finishing everything you need to do finally making your way outside after getting a text from seungkwan saying that they have arrived. walking to his car somewhat nervous about what the night has in store for you. you never know you could meet someone? or see someone you absolutely hate.

getting into the car immediately being greeted by your best friends. “y/n!!!! i feel like im seeing a ghost you never fucking leave your house” chan says laughing causing you to send him a glare. “shush be happy im here for once okay”

“no seriously i thought my eyes were deceiving me when i read your text” seungkwan says quickly starting to head to the club they always go to. “ok guys thats enough let her live she doesn’t have to come out with us every time.” seokmin says giving you a slight smile.

“thank you seokmin. the only one who appreciates me” “okay but yes of course she doesn’t have to come out everytime. but she doesn’t come out anytimes!!! this is her first time in like 10 years” chan says laughing with seungkwan as he also finds chans joke hilarious. causing them both to receive a glare.

“very funny chan!!! i will get out of the car and walk back home.” you say looking at him threatening him playfully. “you’re dramatic” kwan says finally pulling into the parking lot of the club.

“im also very nervous to be here.” “if we see anyone we don’t like it’ll be fine y/n we don’t have to interact or anything” chan says knowing exactly who you were thinking of getting out of the car having the rest of you follow his lead into the club.

“yea you’re right..” you say slowly walking behind them into the loud crowd of people dancing. “ok first things first drinks!!!!” seungkwan yells dragging you all to the bar. chan seokmin order vodka shots happily, quickly running to dance in the crowd of people. “can we just get two shots of tequila each?” seungkwan asks for the both of you. smiling at the bartender when his drinks are set in front of you two. “okay lets drink these then lets dance!!!” seungkwan smiles at you quickly taking his shots now waiting for you to do the same.

you nervously take the shots making a grossed out face after downing it with a sip of water. seungkwan pulling you towards the crowd as soon as you were ready shortly finding seokmin and chan. “how do you guys get drunk so fast?” you laugh at seokmin and chan completely lost in the song dancing dramatically. “they are fucking lightweights” seungkwan says causing you both to laugh at them.

“i fucking wish. i only feel a little tipsy” you say scanning around the club with your eyes. “do you want to get more drinks or wait a bit then??” seungkwan asks while pulling you close to dance with him. “nah we can wait” you say over the loud music.

you are really trying to have a good time but this isnt really your thing. you were hoping that the drinks would losen your nerves up a little bit but you were so wrong. now you are dancing completely soberly with seungkwan. trying not to ruin your best friends night. “im gonna go to the bathroom real fast kwannie” you whisper to him before disappearing to find the bathroom. you quickly use the bathroom heading back over to the bar to get a couple more shots. “fuck why did i do this to myself” you say under your breath quickly downing the shots without water this time. feeling a little better making your way back into the crowd searching for any of the three boys you arrived with.

pushing through the crowd trying to find them. you accidentally push someone a little to hard quickly going to apologize. “i am s-so sorry.” you say realizing exactly who you bumped into having them turn and look down at you. “jesus you push fucking h-“ mingyu immediately freezes after seeing you. “fuck y/n? what are you doing here?”

“well this is a public place and a club so i would assume we’re here for the same reason.” you say sarcastically while trying to push past him. “well what are you doing by yourself?” he asks concerned stopping your movements. “where is seungkwan?” he looks around the club quickly scanning seeing if he sees anyone who looks like the boy. “well actually im not sure so if you’ll excuse me i will be continuing to look for my friends.” you say finally trying to push past him again.

“wait just let me help you look for them. it’s kinda depressing being here alone.” he says once again finally letting you push past him to continue looking. he follows behind you slowly. “so uh how have you been?” you scoff stopping to look at him. “are you serious right now? i really would rather not pretend to like you right now okay? just help me find seungkwan and then you can go back to whatever you were doing.”

you say sighing going back to looking for you friends. mingyu doesn’t say another word and just follows you quietly. “why don’t you call him?” he suggests. “i left my phone in seungkwans car like the bright fucking person i am.” you say getting more annoyed as the situation goes on.

“shit you wanna use my phone then? i still have his number from you know..” he says nervously handing you his phone after clicking on seungkwans contact. “y-yea thanks” you take his phone letting the memories wash over you. you patiently wait as the phone starts to ring and shortly someone picks up. “seungkwan??? where did you fucking go??” you are now getting more uncomfortable with the fact that you lost all of them in the span of 10 mins. “um what the fuck mingyu you sound like y/n also why the hell are you calling me?” seungkwan slurs over the phone questioning you. “seungkwan ur drunk. also this is fucking y/n im using mingyus phone dumbass!!” your voice sounding annoyed more now. “girl what? why are you using his phone? are you guys…? um back together?” he asks loud enough for both you and mingyu to hear.

you sigh looking at mingyus eyes go wide at what he just heard. “s-seungkwan can you just fucking tell me where you went? you know what fuck it im just gonna get an uber home okay im tired.” you say slightly tearing up at the stressful situation. “we just went to the bar upstairs y/n. are you sure you wanna leave already we’ve only been here for like an hour.”

seungkwan asks through the phone sensing that something is wrong. “do you want me to send seokmin with you? he said he will come with you.” he offers. “kwannie its fine ill just order it off mingyu’s phone. will you just drop off my phone tmr? i left it in your car.” you say finally after ending the call after hearing his okay.

“mingyu do you mind if i use your phone to order a uber?” you turn to mingyu hoping he will say yes. “yes of course y/n. but you don’t need to do that. cheol said he was here to pick up me and shua but im guessing shua is with some girl so cheol can just drop you off.” he says smiling at you. “okay um let me make sure i have my keys and fuck i don’t they are also in seungkwans car.” you say realizing as you feel your pockets. “wanna just stay at my place tonight?” he blurts out quickly. “mingyu- i- what?” now your confused, tired, and annoyed. “just come sleep at my place. its not that weird y/n. what’s the chance seungkwan is gonna come unlock his car rn? come on i’ll drop you off in the morning i swear.” “its not weird to you? we haven’t spoke in like a year.”

this was not a great idea. you and mingyu ended on somewhat bad terms. he wasn’t willing to commit to you. he ended up treated you like shit because of it. you know this has nothing to do with what he asked but it’s obviously on your mind. you are now confused, tired, annoyed, and overwhelmed.

“y/n i kinda need a answer now. cheol is outside.” he says snapping you out of your thoughts and back into reality. “u-uh okay yea lets go” you say immediately regretting it. mingyu smiles grabbing your hand making the way out of the club to cheols car. quickly getting into the back seat.

“whats up mingyu. hey y/n. y/n????? oh shit hi” he says now realizing that is is actually you. “hello cheol nice to see you” you say softly laughing. “yea you too. um are you guys back together?” he asks out of the blue. “nope!!” you quickly say hoping he doesn’t ask anymore questions. “just drive cheol.” mingyu says and mentally thank him because cheol didn’t ask anymore questions driving silently. you two make it to mingyu’s house after a 10 minute car drive. “ah fucking finally these heels are literally the worst” you say walking into his house kicking them off as you go. “you can borrow some clothes. i think i even have your old pjs in my room.” he says taking off his shoes as well. “im surprised you even still have those.” you say making your way to his room. the memories coming back as you seen his room looks the same way it did when you guys were together. you grab the pajamas making your way to his bathroom quickly changing heading back into his living room. “you want to take my bed? i can sleep out on the couch.” he says throwing a pillow and blanket onto the couch. “no mingyu its fine i can take the couch. you can have your bed.” you say laughing at him slightly going to sit on the couch. “or you can sleep in my bed with me.” mingyu says looking at you cautiously. now leaving you pressured at what he is offering right now. “mingyu. what are you doing? you know that isn’t a good idea. we aren’t together anymore.” you say laying down getting comfortable. “i know we aren’t. but fuck y/n have you not been thinking about us at all? or anything that we had. i miss it. i miss you.”

you look at him with a blank expression. what the fuck do you say? of course you think about him and your relationship. more than you should. “mingyu i do okay. i never stopped really but im not in the mood to get hurt again okay.” “i fucking promise you i will never treat you the same way i did okay?” he moves to sit next to you on the couch moving to grab your hands. “let me make it up to you? let me show you i can be there for you. i want to be the boyfriend you deserve. will you just give me a chance?” you think for a couple seconds.

he seems genuine. you did miss him a lot. a chance doesn’t hurt right? “okay mingyu. i will sleep with you in your bed okay. but i swear if you do anything like how you did before the break-“ he kisses you softly shutting you up. “i promise.” he says holding his pinky up

you wrap your pinky around his smiling as he lifts you and carries you to his room. softly throwing you onto his bed and climbing next to you. “you don’t know how much i missed you. i thought i was never gonna see you again.”

“yep that was the plan until i saw you at the club.” you state not wanting to lie to him. “well im so glad i saw you.” you smile at him. “can i make it up to you? ill make you feel so good y/n if you let me please.” hes already begging and you guys haven’t even done anything but a kiss.

he was always like this. he would immediately get needy after one small touch. mingyu was definitely a fucking switch. most of the time he loved being in control and seeing you beg for him. but everyone knew mingyu always leaned towards the subby side. he will listen to your requests always. if you’re happy he’s happy.

you nod softly at him watching him quickly shift between your legs pull down your shorts and underwear in one swift movement. kissing up your thighs slowly making your breath hitch under his touch. “fuck you’re so wet and i haven’t even touched you baby.” slowly moving his fingers up your slit inserting a finger in. his fingers immediately hit your g-spot causing you to already squirm until his firm touch.

“fuck you’re so tight. i can barely move my finger babe.” watching you closely as he inserts a second and third finger quickly watching as you get wetter from his touch. “g-gyu please more i need more.” you beg him hoping to add something extra to get you closer to your high.

“shh baby let me take my time i promise you’ll get everything you need okay?” he says sweetly pulling his fingers out of you with the noise of your squelch filling the room. “you hear yourself baby? you’re making a mess on my bed already hm?” he coos at you shifting so that his head is in between your legs. gently grabbing your thighs to spread your legs. “i bet you taste as sweet as i remember hm? could eat you for fucking days.” he immediately dives into eating your pussy. licking your slit as he slides one of his fingers back inside you.

“g-gyu oh my god.” eyes rolled back having your back arched as he absolutely devours you roughly sucking your clit fucking his finger into you quicker. looking up at you through his eyelashes not stopping his movements. not even to praise you. he is too pussy drunk and doesn’t want to stop anytime soon. grabbing a hold of his hair pulling on it when his finger hits that spot again making you go crazy. “m-mingyu i’m gonna cum please don’t stop.” and he doesn’t he sucks on your clit harder keeping up his pace with his finger. you come all over his tongue and his fingers. fucked out completely as you watch mingyu lick up your cum and hum.

“you taste so sweet princess. fucking delicious baby.” he smiles at you again moving up to kiss your lips. tasting yourself on his lips.

“what do you want baby? i will give you anything you want.” pulling his shirt over his head looking at you waiting for your answer. “can i ride you? g-gyu please i need you so bad.” he nods quickly. “m’course you can” he moves so he’s sitting up against the headboard of the bed. watching as you move onto his lap.

you have never seen mingyu take his pants off quicker. immediately pulling his dick out pulling your face closer to peck your lips. smiling into the kiss lining up his dick with your entrance slowly sinking down onto him.

mingyu is always more subby with this position immediately begging and pleading for your touch. “f-fuck y/n please move i need it so bad please baby.” he begs you trying not to fuck his hips into you.

you slowly rock your hips into his moaning at the feeling holding onto his shoulders for support. “you’re so tight im gonna cum so quick. i-i’m fuck i’m sorry” grabbing ahold of your hips to move you quicker on him. “i’m so close baby fuck.” he says feeling you bouncing on his dick now trying to chase your own high. “m-me too.” he groans lowly feeling his dick twitch inside of you. “f-fuck can i cum inside or where do you want it?” “inside p-please.” he doesn’t have to be told twice immediately cumming inside of you throwing his head back lost in the intense pleasure

you don’t stop bouncing on him. “babe i’m so sensitive fuck.” he says to you still fucked out holding onto you.

you nod. “i know baby but please you can last a little longer right? for me right? my good boy.” you try to turn him on with your words knowing it will go straight to his dick. he moans at your words pulling you into a quick kiss. “y-yes i’m so good for you.”

you smile at him quickening your movements now really needing his shoulder for support as you feel yourself coming. “f-fuckkk look at you c-creaming on my cock oh shit im gonna cum again.” you feel his cum shoot immediately into you. moaning at the feeling riding out both of your highs.

slowly climbing off of his lap laying next to him. “i missed you so fucking much.” he says pulling you under the covers with him kissing your forehead. “i missed you too but i don’t miss how you think i just want to lay here feeling your cum leak out of me.” you say playfully shifting to show him the puddle that is now under your crotch.

“its fine baby we can shower in the morning. plus what if we fuck again. you’ll just be full of my cum again.” he says with a straight face. you roll your eyes burying your face into his neck.

“i guess we’ll have to explain to seungkwan and cheol why we told them we weren’t back together…” you think out loud before falling asleep in your boyfriends arms.

[icanhearcolors]

Close Encounter

Summary: A conversation between my Tav and Astarion inspired me to write a short one-shot (I lied it's a series) reader insert about what I think would happen if they met before they were taken by the mind flayers

pt 2 | pt 3

This is pretty much my first attempt at reader insert so be nice to me pls ;-;

Lemme know if I made any grammar or spelling errors

Word count: 2.9k

---------------

“I’ll take the most you can give me of whatever has the most alcohol in it” 

You announce, slapping some gold coins down on the scuffed wooden bar. The barkeep who probably hasn’t had any business for the past hour startles out of his daydream and glances at you in surprise. He’s a dwarf, with a braided beard and kind eyes, and if it weren’t for the creaky wooden step stool he climbs up on to take orders he would barely be able to see over the bar top.

“Bit early in the night for that wouldn’t you say?” He asks as he climbs a ladder to retrieve a glass from the shelf above his head. You glance out the window as the last few rays of the setting sun color the night a deep reddish purple before it fades into a comforting black. 

You slide another gold coin across the bar. The barkeep smiles,

“Perfect time for some chultun fireswill if I say so myself miss.” He winks, slides the hefty glass full of orange liquid your way, and swipes up the coins before turning to another customer making their way into the tavern. You hold the glass up to your nose and sniff its contents. The fumes coming off the heavily spiced spirit has your nose burning and your eyes watering- perfect. 

You tap the glass on the counter and knock it back. You manage to get a few swallows in before your brain catches up to you and the fireswill burns a searing path from your throat into your stomach, settling there and warming you from the inside out. You slam the glass down and cover your mouth with your hand, trying and failing to hold in a fit of coughs. 

“Easy now.”

A cold hand lands on your shoulder, cooling your heated skin, and you turn, bleary eyed, unprepared for what you find.

He’s an elf, a very very pale elf- but not sickly pale. He just looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in a century or two. His hair catches your eye, a shocking shade of pure white that makes his skin seem tan in comparison. It’s shorter than most elves keep their hair, and it curls in every direction, framing his face beautifully. Once you recover from your initial dazed attraction to him you attempt to level him with your meanest glare that you hope says piss off. He raises his hands in playful surrender and smiles disarmingly at you.

“Rough day?” He asks in a drawling voice. You take him in. He’s wearing a clean white shirt under a set of padded leather armor, and spotless black leather boots. He looks every bit a spoiled noble that has never seen a day of work in his life, but his hands are calloused, and his eyes look haunted. Speaking of his eyes, they’re quite an alluring shade of red. What an odd color for an elf-

His eyes narrow perceptively, as if he’s reading your thoughts as they flit across your face. He turns away, gesturing at your drink and turning your gaze away from his unique appearance.

“Most Baldurians don’t even touch that stuff until well past midnight, are we celebrating or forgetting?”

You turn your body away from the charming elf and stare into the last few sips of your drink. 

“We aren’t doing anything. I’m here to drink, not to talk.”

“Forgetting it is then. Excellent.”

From the corner of his eye you see him grin roguishly, the flash of his white teeth sending a curious spark of adrenaline through your system. Before you can discern why you suddenly went from warm and buzzed to fight or flight, he turns away, tossing a blue coin purse onto the bar and calling for the barkeep, allowing the alcohol to calm your frazzled nerves once more.

“Excuse me Lydon, I’d like to buy our grumpy friend here a drink that won’t burn a hole through her stomach,” He leans over the bar and drops his voice to a low murmur as if he were sharing a secret, “got anything good for me?” he practically purrs.

The dwarf, Lydon, flushes a deep red and grins coyly at the mysterious patron, “Maybe. But I don’t have enough for everyone Astarion, what if someone comes asking me how she got the good stuff and all I’m willing to sell them is stale ale and swill?”

Astarion’s answering grin is downright lethal. 

“It’ll be our little secret,” He winks. “I’ll take it to my grave.”

Lydon blushes even darker if that were possible and mumbles something about having a type before trodding off toward the old wooden door behind the bar. You’d never related to anything more. Astarion turns toward you and raises an expectant eyebrow.

“Waiting for a thank you?” You ask, wrestling with the instinct ingrained in you to be polite. Your tendency to people please is what landed you in this run down tavern in the first place. You don’t know this elf, and you don’t owe him anything.

“Well I wouldn’t say no to a little gratitude darling- especially not from you” his eyes trace a path from the top of your head to your scuffed leather boots and back up again, stopping at the blush on your cheeks, he smirks, and meets your eyes again. He steps closer to bump your shoulder with his teasingly, and stays there, close enough that your arm brushes his.

“But no my dear, I’m not waiting for a thank you. I’m waiting for a story.” 

“Oh yeah? Keep waiting.” You growl, and he tosses his head back, a genuine laugh bursting out of him. The sound of it is contagious, and you fight the urge to grin yourself. You nearly manage it, save for a slight twitch of your lips that he of course notices.

He tsks, shaking his head at you “I saw that. No use hiding that smile from me, love. The damage is already done.” 

You glare, this time with much less hostility. 

“Who are you? I’m morose and drunk on purpose, elf, and I will not let you wrestle me from it.”

“My name is Astarion” he says with a wink and a mock bow before he leans in, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, “and I’ll wager you’ll let me do a lot worse than that before the end of the night.”

Your breath catches, your pulse picks up, and you’re about to lose yourself in those strange eyes of his when a loud creeeeeaaak and a crash causes both of you to leap away from one another. The dwarven barkeep’s old step stool seems to have finally given in. He lay sprawled on the floor behind the bar, his foot caught in between the split wood.

“GODS DAMMIT” He howls, kicking off the stool. He sighs and hobbles up to you and your new… companion. You can see nothing but his angry eyes and the flushed red tips of his ears as he pours your drink and reaches up to hand it to you. When you grab for it he pulls it out of your grasp and stares at you with a threat in his eyes.

“You didn’t see that.” He snarls at both of you.

“See what?” Astarion feigns ignorance, looking around the room dramatically for whatever the dwarf could possibly be talking about. The barkeep rolls his eyes and hands the drink to you before limping off to find a chair to stand on.

You breathe slowly through your nose.

In.

Out.

In.

You will not laugh.

You have self control.

You take one glance at the pinched “I’m trying not to laugh” look on Astarions face, one that probably mirrors your own, and you explode in a fit of giggles so intense they make your stomach ache.

Astarion can’t hold it in either and slaps the table in his silent gasping laughter, the two of you making quite a scene, but somehow you really don’t care. 

You wipe tears from your eyes and sigh once your laughing fit subsides, your sour mood a distant memory despite your best efforts to cling to it.

“How dare you,” You whine half-heartedly. “I was so committed to my bad mood and you had to go and ruin it.”

Astarion’s eyebrows lower in confused amusement.

“Awww you poor sad little thing. I’d apologize, really I would, but unfortunately for you I’m not sorry.”

You take a swig of the drink he bought for you. It tastes of cherry and currant, and you have never had something so delicious from such a tiny little tavern.

“You should be” you murmur, hanging your head, the humor fading as you’re reminded of why you’re here in the first place.

Astarion notices your shift in demeanor and reaches down, lifting your chin with a cool finger and bringing your gaze to his.

“About that story,” He smiles encouragingly, and you give in.

The alcohol must really be getting to you now, there was no other explanation for the warm, safe feeling that hummed under your skin. Astarion was sweet, and attractive. His attention felt good, and before you could even make the decision to trust him you were already talking. You told him how you were a magistrate in the lower city, complained how the court system was broken and corrupt, and how the judge only appoints magistrates that unthinkingly obey his preferences, never allowing them to make their own judgements. You had tried for months to get on his good side but you think all you did was obliterate any meager scrap of respect he did have for you, and now every interaction you have with him he barks orders at you like you’re his dog and then dismisses you. You were thinking of finding a new profession altogether, but the lower city was plagued with crime, good people died every day because of it, and you had the power to help at least a little if only your boss wasn’t such an asshole. To your embarrassment you began to tear up as you finished your story.

Astarion for his part never interrupts you. He listens with rapt attention to your woeful tale, an indiscernible look on his handsome face. You try to turn your head away as a tear escapes your eye but his grip on your chin tightens, forcing you to stay right where you are. He wipes it away with his other hand and stares at you for a moment, seemingly deciding something.

He reaches up and drags a hand through his hair, releases a held breath, and plucks the glass from your hand, drinking what was left of its contents in two gulps. He brings the glass back down to the counter, a drop of the crimson wine dripping down his chin. The image gives you an odd feeling, like you’re missing a revelation that is only just out of your grasp. He glances behind you, and you turn and follow his gaze to another rather pale looking elf, this one with darker hair but similarly colored eyes watching the two of you with rapt attention. Goosebumps rise on your skin and that fight or flight instinct is back in full force. Your heart begins to pound against your chest, understanding the danger that you’re in even if you do not. 

“Smart girl” Astarion murmurs, and you whip back around to face him.

He wipes his face with his sleeve and grabs you by the hand, pulling you off the bar stool.

“W-what are you-” He places a hand on your lower back and begins deftly guiding you through the raucous crowd of drunk Baldurians. One stumbling wizard in the crowd pats his pockets down and cries,

“Has anyone seen my coin purse? It’s blue!”

“Walk faster” Astarion says into your ear, his warm breath whispering across your neck. You do as he says.

After what feels like a lifetime of dodging drunk elbows and slipping through temporary openings in the crowd you reach the exit, and Astarion rushes you soberingly into the cold night air. 

“You stole that guy's money didn’t you?” You accuse.

He doesn’t even have the decency to deny it,

“What are you going to do darling? Arrest me?” is his reply.

He doesn’t slow down for a single second, ushering you into a dark alley near the tavern.

“Astarion what are we doing? You can’t just wander into abandoned alleyways at night! This is how people get kidnapped.”

His startled gaze clashes with yours in the dim light for a moment before he laughs. Not an amused genuine laugh, but a pained, choked sound that claws its way out of his throat involuntarily. He runs a hand through his hair once again and then turns away from you, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“It is indeed, darling,” He whispers so quietly you have to lean towards him to hear it. 

“You have no idea.”

You don’t have time to react, the alcohol slowing your reflexes, before his hand is around your throat and your back is against the brick wall of whatever building is behind you. You reach up and grab his wrist, eyes widening in panic. For a flash you see in your mind your body lying asphyxiated in the revealing light of morning, another victim to the merciless city of Baldur’s gate, and you prepare to fight like hell, when Astarion lunges for you and…

Kisses you?

Your brain short circuits, all thoughts drifting away with the sensation of Astarion’s mouth on yours. His hand around your throat gentles, his long fingers drifting over your skin until they press into your pulse point, feeling your racing heartbeat. 

You fist his shirt sleeve in your hand. Maybe it's because you’re smashed, maybe it’s because you can’t remember the last time someone kissed you, maybe it’s because you know no one that’s ever kissed you has been as good at it as this man- whatever the reason may be, you kiss him back. 

He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, stepping closer until his body is pressed against yours. You reach up to do what you’ve been dying to do since you first saw him and feel the soft strands of his hair.

He leans into your touch and it emboldens you to kiss him deeper, your tongue scraping against something… sharp?

He gasps and pulls back, just a few inches, staring into your eyes. He seems to be searching for something, almost desperately.

You stare back, equal parts terrified of and enraptured by this beautiful stranger.

Finally, he drops his hand from your neck and steps back, the cold air assaulting you once more as you crash back down to reality. You gaze at Astarion, confusion written all over your features.

“I can’t do this” He laughs. It sounds just as pained as the last one.

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t bring you to him”

His head snaps up to the sky, studying the stars.

“I still have time to find another. Petras saw me with you, he’ll tell Cazador if I come back with someone else. But I can lie. I can say you knew what I was, escaped before I could lure you back. Maybe he won't question it. I’d spend a few weeks in the kennels but it could be worse. I can’t tell him I changed my mind, I can’t spend another year in that tomb.” He’s rambling now, not to you but to himself. 

He rubs his face in his hands and takes another stumbling step back.

“Go” Is all he says.

“Go? Go where?” You mumble, feeling cold and strangely a little hurt by his retreat into the shadows.

You don’t have dark vision, in the dim torch light much of his face is now hidden from you, but his eerily red eyes seem to glow like a cat’s now in the dark. The sight fills you with dread. Pieces begin to connect, the hundreds of unsolved missing person cases, the handful of eyewitness accounts claiming they saw the missing leave with someone. The descriptions varied, but a few details remained constant. The unknown person was always charming, flirtatious even, they tried to get their victims intoxicated in some way, and they always had a pallid complexion, red eyes, and sharp canines. Sifting sluggishly through your muddled memories you can even recall a couple of accounts of victims leaving taverns on the arm of a white haired pale elven man.

Astarion was a vampire.

“Go back to the courts,” He begins, “and never apologize to Judge Eruien. Stand up to him when he’s being an ass, he’ll never respect you otherwise. Go back home and lock your doors safely behind you. Never invite anyone in unless you trust them implicitly. Go back to your life in the sun, make Baldur’s gate a little better just by being in it, and if you ever-” He leans toward you, his face inches from yours once more. Now that you know what to look for, you catch glimpses of his uncomfortably long canines with every word that he speaks. 

“See anyone with eyes like mine again… run.”

With that he steps back into the shadows. They seem to swallow him whole, and you do run, a small voice in the back of your mind reminding you that you never told Astarion the name of that judge you were lamenting about.

In the years that follow you take his advice, and your work life drastically improves. Enough so that you feel comfortable asking the old elven judge about his former magistrates, a tear dripping down your cheek as he tells you what he can recall about a white haired elf with golden eyes and a promising future that was ripped away when he was murdered almost two centuries ago by a gang of Gur that didn’t appreciate his final ruling.

A month later you wake up in a nautiloid.

[scarawiki]

idk how this app works help

scaramouche x gn!reader , idk the word count 😬

first one shot ever prbly ooc scara i'm not sure how to write him very well :( most of it is rly self indulgent for comfort im going thru it i fear lawl. not beta read either i almost never write pls be nice 🤕🙏🙏 excuse any grammar or spelling errors

cw: mentions of poor eating habits due to depression & anxiety , mental health stuff , yada yada nothing super explicit

divider creds: @rookthornesartistry

You laid still in your bed that you shared with your partner Scaramouche, while he was out and about finding ingredients for dinner.

Since he left, you were once again alone with your thoughts. Constantly ruminating on the past and picking apart everything. Your mind had kept screaming at you, and you couldn't calm it regardless of what you tried. You were left feeling even more hopeless than before.

Scaramouche had picked up on your "odd" behaviors lately, but you simply brushed it off and just told him,

"I'm probably coming down with something. The weather is changing, don't worry about it too much."

You didn't want to burden him with your silly problems, right? Knowing his past, you didn't want to add more to the mix. You were sure you could deal with it on your own.

Following that afternoon, you sobbed. You were so dizzy and your head was pounding, wishing the world had swallowed you whole already. You felt that Scaramouche deserved someone better than your pathetic self. You didn't understand why you couldn't just feel happy. Why was it so hard? Why can't you get out of bed? Why can't you wake up in the mornings?

You heard the front door opening, and you quickly wiped away your remaining tears that rolled down your face, and tried to get comfortable again. Your whole body ached and you just wanted it all to end.

"(Y/N)? I'm home. I managed to find a few things for later tonight. I had to bargain a lot though, food is getting expensive these days."

Scaramouche called out from the living room, setting down everything on the counter. After no answer, he became curious and knocked on the bedroom door.

"Hey? Don't tell me you're still asleep, it's almost 6 PM."

He let out a small sigh after more silence followed, and then opened the door. He saw you were burrowed under the blankets, and came to sit down on the edge of the bed. He pulled the covers back to reveal your tear-stained face, and a wave of concern came over him.

Scaramouche was never particularly good at comforting others, or feelings in general. He was never shown gentleness and compassion in his 500 years of living, before he met you.

"Who did it?"

Scaramouche asked, immediately jumping to the conclusion that someone had caused you harm to hurt this badly.

"No one," you managed to whisper out. "It's really nothing. Don't waste your time on me."

He was slightly taken aback by your dismissive behavior, but decided to pry further. Scaramouche wouldn't know how to deal with himself if anything ever happened to you.

"Okay... well, you haven't been eating, and last time I checked, you aren't a puppet. You've been sleeping in until dinner time for the past few days. Out with it."

He sounded demanding, but soon mentally scolded himself for his tone with you when he saw the vulnerability in your expression.

"I just don't know what to do anymore... I feel so scared and exhausted all the time, I can hardly wake up in the mornings, and food doesn't bring me joy anymore. I can't even remember the last time I felt okay. I didn't want to bother you because I didn't think it was that bad, to be honest. I'm sorry for keeping it from you, Scaramouche. I swear it has nothing to do with you."

Your vision blurred as you spoke, and you could feel your throat closing up. You didn't know how much more you could handle of this constant misery.

Scaramouche stayed silent for a few moments, taking in everything you had told him. You had always seemed so bubbly and excited around him, and when he saw you completely falling apart in front of him for the first time, he felt confused.

"...How long has this been really going on?"

He inquired, and his eyes had a softer look in them.

"A few years, it comes and goes but it doesn't seem like it'll ever get better. I'm tired of suffering, Scaramouche. I want to enjoy life again and look forward to the future. Instead, I dread the next days to come."

You responded, avoiding eye contact and fidgeted with your hands. When Scaramouche took notice of this, he gently grabbed your hands and set them in his lap.

"I'll be blunt, I'm still figuring how these whole "emotions" work. But, I do see that you aren't yourself right now. Yes, you can be a little irritating at times, but I wouldn't be with you if I didn't... love you."

Scaramouche felt hesitant to say those last words, but at the same time it felt right. He then continues,

"It would be pointless to be in a relationship with someone if you weren't upfront with them, but I can see how you might have felt like a bother. I promise that you will never be a burden to me, and I hope you know that I would rather die than ever lay a finger on you, or hurt you any other way. You're one of the first few people to show me how to love and broke through my tough exterior. You never left me during my hard times, and I'm sure as hell not leaving you."

Scaramouche took a deep breath, and looked down at his lap to give your hands a slight squeeze.

"I will do everything in my power to help you feel better. I want to see to see you happy. I want to see that smile on your face again. But, you have to work with me, alright?"

He looks back up and lifts one of his hands to gently grab your chin to face him.

You reluctantly look into his eyes, and slowly nod.

"Okay, I'll try... Thank you."

You replied slowly, drained of any remaining energy you had left. Scaramouche leaned down to remove some of your hair out of the way, and placed a delicate kiss on your forehead. He came back up and caressed your cheek, and sighed softly.

"I'm not letting you suffer alone. Ever."

[boraslus]

Melon x reader

¿Platonic?

A/N: Another Idea! I think of [Name] would like to annoy Melon (In his teacher part) when there's nothing much to do in the class and everyone is doing their own stuff while he do works. So what [Name] do is get his phone and take a picture or videos of [Name] itself, the class and Melon.

BUT [Name] accidentally leaking informations of students for Melon to take advantage.

A/N: If you noticed an incorrect grammar or confusion, pls comment and correct my grammar or mispelled words! I'll appreciate it!

Minor Warning:

Hc of Melon and [Name] had a good relationship

Something a bit off

Bad English

Let's act this is modern with teachers works in front of the class with their laptop

Interrupting Melon

Major Warning:

mentions of accidental Information leaks

Melon having an access to turn some students into a meal

Murder thoughts

3:20 pm

Everything seems a bit boring and bland, the class is a bit nosy as always while the other animals doing their own works — whether they're doing phones, homeworks, advanced review, gossiping to another and all that common stuff.

Your history mentor, Melon — is surprisingly calm about what's happening. The 1 hour discussion already have done and since he have 30 minutes left, before he dismissed the class he just sat there on his desk doing paperwork on laptop — Computing grades and checking if there are any errors.

While gazing on his phone beside his desk and some students are already outside of the class whether it's a group excusing to go to the bathroom, but they're just out there to grab some snacks and sharts. Which Melon really didn't mind since today, he's in a pretty chill mood despite his instincts might act on later.

Without hesitation you come in your way to get his attention, as always he's adorable when both of his eyes were closed or lightly squinted and with that mask he wore.

"Hey there our favorite History Prof. Can I see my grades now-" You interrupt.

"Wha- no, you can't. Also, privacy space please." Melon scolded you.

Acting like a responsible teacher and gave you that side eye look before he turns back to his work. As his clawed fingers tapped on the keys as he softly sighs, asking you.

"What do you want this time?" He huffs, as the hybrid Gazelle almost opened his eyes to roll it.

"Your phone." You answered honestly. "please, yes im polite I say the magic words all the time heh." You joked about it as you stood there.

That pretty pissed Melon off, if you were alone with him he won't be hesitating to smash you with his laptop and won't patch you up with medical kit.

"Goodluck trying to unlock the passcode on that, and don't you try to beg for me to open so you'd play games with it." Melon gave you a side eye threatening look before his eyes focused on his laptop again.

"You betcha." You snickered and snatched his phone.

Quickly opening the camera to take pictures of the busy class. Some students were thinking how are you this comfortable around the teacher or you were just that crazy. Before You took pictures of yourself and making lots of expression a lot on his cam.

"If my phone got it's storage full, I won't hesitate to drop kick you out of here." Melon commented.

You didn't mind and everyone thinks you're insane since it's unusual for a student to be that comfortable to their mentor. You keep playing around the phone and even interviewed some students how is their day, you have your first victims. Legoshi and Haru.

You basically just asked of how are they doing, what's make their hobbies interesting and mostly what are they passionate about.

"for some reason, I studied Rabbit Ecology to be wary of Haru." Legoshi said to you.

He talks more about how he can manage his both time and being part of the drama club.

Time goes by, almost everyone in the class you interviewed using Melon's phone until the battery runs out. Ohno.

"[Name]! Give me back my phone!" Melon demanded, it seems he have finished.

"Everyone attention here, I'll be now teaching the Societal Hypocrisy." Melon said to them seriously still maintaining his eyes squinted to not draw any attention of him being a hybrid.

"After this lesson, you guys going to have a short quiz and blame it on [Name]." Melon huffs and started the lesson.

Few animals glaring unto your way but that's just them being immature. You sighed and gave up his phone and just listen your way to the lesson.

"[Name], sit right in front."

5:55 pm

Everyonelse left the classroom now with a sour mood and so you do. After his yappity yap of lecturing you of not touching his phone ever again, though Melon is still on the faculty.

Swiping at whatever shit you did to his phone, it amused him but at the same time just realized how you're actually putting others to danger unintentionally. A dark thoughts of which student will be a good dinner either for him or the black market after those interviews you've hosted.

He worked on uploading it on Beast G-Drive to save those videos and photos to treassure — which made him smiled and sighs to himself of a long day with new memories.

[gggukniverse]

not tired | jjk

title: not tired

pairing: jungkook x female reader

rating/genre: fluff and smut, established relationship au

summary: jungkook helps you sleep on a stressful night.

warnings: anxiety (pretty detailed description of an anxiety attack so pls read carefully), a lot of praising, oral (f. receiving), jungkook is really really sweet.

wordcount: 2.1k

note: okay hiii this is the first story i write here, pls be nice !! also english is not my first language so please excuse any grammar error. i hope you like the story !!!! <3

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this is ridiculous. you've been studying all day non-stop even though jungkook got mad at you for not resting and yet you're feeling as awake as ever. you can see it's already 3am on the digital clock on the nightstand and you don't feel not even a little bit of tiredness in your body.

you can hear jungkook's soft snores against your neck, his arm lazily thrown over your waist and his leg tangled with yours. he's obviously sleeping, he fell asleep almost as soon as you both got into bed, but it's been like 5 hours and you're still staring at the dark ceiling not knowing what to do to be able to fall asleep.

it's not the first time you have trouble falling asleep, but usually you didn't have any problem when jungkook was not working outside the city and could be with you. you know it's because of the stress you've been going through these past few weeks over your finals, you can literally feel the tension in your body, you can't relax because tomorrow you have the last exam of your last year of college.

oh my god, the last exam is tomorrow and you can't sleep. you'll need to feel awake tomorrow for everything to go well and you can't seem to rest. you're gonna fail, the exam is gonna go terribly because you can't sleep.

you suddenly start feeling out of breath, you need air. you need to breathe. walking towards the window seems like the best option now so, as much as you love having your boyfriend curled up to your side, you need to push him away. you start to do it as gently as you can, pulling his arm away from your body as your own arms start to shake with the anxiety building up in your body.

but he notices. his body twitches and he's suddenly opening his eyes, tilting his head a little to look at you.

god, you woke him up. he was resting for tomorrow. he also has a busy schedule tomorrow, that's why you both went to bed early tonight. now his sleep has been interrupted because of you. it's your fault.

you can literally feel your throat closing up, you can't take in any air. you can't breath and your whole body starts to feel numb.

"baby?" jungkook rasps, moving to stand on one elbow so he can see you better through the dark. the little light coming from the window lets you see his worried expression. "baby are you okay?" his eyes are barely open. he must be so tired.

your mouth opens for you to try and tell him you can't breath but your voice doesn't come out. you can't talk and you're starting to feel dizzy with the struggle of trying to breathe. the best you can do is reach for his arm with your hand.

you can see the realization in his face. it's just like a switch turns on inside his brain. jungkook quickly sits up and holds you by your arms to sit you up on the bed right in front of him.

"hey, look at me baby." his voice is calm but you can feel how he's trying is best not to freak out because he knows that's the last thing he should do when you're having an anxiety attack. "breathe with me, okay?" his hands are placed on your arms, softly caressing your skin. "just like how i do it." he takes in a big breath, his shoulders lifting up a little to emphasize the action.

you do your best to follow him but a sob escapes your throat when you can't take a breath because you're hiperventilating.

"slowly baby, you don't need to rush it." jungkook says as soon as he sees you struggling and you nod, closing your eyes for two seconds before looking at him again. "breathe with me." he takes another breath again and exhales, you start to follow, little by little. "so good baby, you're doing so good." he nods with a smile that already makes you feel so much better than breathing. "i'm here, okay? look at me and breathe." he takes a big breath again and you follow, your lungs starting to feel better and your body relaxing again.

when you close your eyes you can feel tears that you didn't even know you had rolling down your cheeks, but jungkook's fingers are quickly wiping them away.

"are you feeling better?" he asks and gives you as much time as you need to steady your breathing before opening your eyes and looking at him again. you nod but it's not enough for him. "words."

"yes." you finally say and he smiles, sighing in relief. "thank you.. so much, really."

"what happened?" he mutters and you suddenly feel so bad because he truly looks tired.

"i- i couldn't sleep, and i have to rest before the exam tomorrow, i'm gonna fail and-" as soon as you start rambling jungkook grabs you by your arms again and shakes you a little.

"baby breathe, okay?" his voice is so soft. you nod and take a few more deep breaths before speaking again, slowly this time.

"i've been trying to sleep for hours but i can't, i can't relax and i need to rest for tomorrow.."

"why didn't you wake me up before?" he pouts a little and you lower your face in embarrassment.

"because i didn't want to bother you, you shouldn't be awake right now." you mutter.

"hey, no no no.. don't worry about me." jungkook quickly replies and slides his hands down your arms to hold your hands. "what can i do for you to get sleepy?" he asks and you shrug.

"i don't know." your voice breaks and you try to play it off since your head is down and jungkook wouldn't be able to see the tears in your eyes. but he knows.

"come here." he lets go of your hands to open his arms.

a little smile appears on your face and you move to straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his neck while he wraps his around your body, keeping you close.

"you're stressed, aren't you?" he mutters and you swallow, closing your eyes and trying not to start crying. "i know.. it's okay baby, you're doing so good." one of his hands starts rubbing your back up and down. "close your eyes."

"they're closed." your voice comes out shaky so he hugs you even tighter.

"do you want me to sing to you?" he says and leaves a sweet kiss on your neck.

"mhm." you nod.

"okay." you can hear his smile on his face and slowly starts to rock back and forth to calm you down.

as soon as he starts singing you can recognize the song. it's one of the songs he wrote for you a while ago. he sounds really tired but you find it impressing how he can still sound so good. his hands keep rubbing your back slowly, actually calming you down.

but by the time he finishes the song you're still awake.

"baby?" he whispers.

"still awake." you mutter and hear him sigh. "koo, you should sleep." your hand goes to his hair, tangling your fingers with it.

"not until you fall asleep." he hums and you chuckle a little.

"you almost fell asleep three times singing.

"i'm okay." the boy insists and you roll your eyes. "c'mon, lay down." he flips you two around to lay you down on the bed.

"what are you-" the words die on your throat when he suddenly puts his lips on yours.

he kisses you really slowly and your whole body relaxes once again, your legs going to wrap around his waist but he quickly pushes them down again, which earns a whine in protest from you.

"stay still." jungkook whispers as his kisses start going down to your neck.

"koo." a little moan escapes your mouth when he sucks a hickey on your neck.

"pretty." he mutters and goes up to your ear. "can i make you feel good, baby?" you shiver when you feel his breath against your ear. "just with my mouth, you only need to lay there." the little bite in your earlobe makes it for you.

you nod and immediately buck your hips up, making jungkook giggle. he helps you getting rid of your pajama shorts along with your panties and lifts your shirt just enough to place little kisses all over your stomach as he positions himself between your legs.

"so pretty.." he repeats and you put your hand on his hair, pushing it away from his face to be able to look at him while he bends one of your legs a little and puts it over his shoulder, starting to leave kisses on your inner thigh too. "close your eyes baby."

with a sigh you let your head fall back on the pillow and close your eyes.

"breathe, okay?" jungkook reminds you again before leaving another kiss on your inner thigh and you hum in response, taking a deep breath and letting it go.

although your breath hitches when you feel his fingers teasing your entrance, only when he starts running them through your folds you notice how embarrassingly wet you are.

"koo please." you whimper and hear a little chuckle from him.

"shhh.. stay quiet." the order only makes you feel hotter.

but you're definitely not quiet when you feel his tongue on you. a loud moan slips through your lips and you tug at his hair unvoluntarily.

"so sweet.." he hums and you tug even harder, but he wraps his hand around your wrist and squeezes. "relax baby." he says and gives your folds a wet kiss.

"sorry.." you whimper as you relax your hand.

"it's okay, you're so good for me."

the praise makes you melt and you let your body fall limp on the bed, trying not to twitch everytime he gives a suck to your clit.

he's slow, really slow to show you that he's doing this so you can relax. your body feelss numb by this point. he knows what he's doing, he knows better than anyone else how sleepy you get after an orgasm.

each time you moan he also hums in response, making the vibrations push you closer to the edge, and each time you buck your hips up he pushes them against the mattress again.

"koo.." a whine escapes your lips when you feel a finger prodding your entrance as his tongue circles your clit.

"can i?"

he said only mouth before but you can't say no when his finger starts being swallowed inside you so you just hum with a nod, whining when he easily slips another finger. you know you're still stretched from the morning before. yes, jungkook likes morning sex.

"fuck..." you sigh when he starts slowly moving his fingers in and out. "mhh.. so good.

the chuckle he lets out makes you clench around his fingers, he takes the opportunity to curl them inside and you cry out his name as your legs twitch from the pleasure.

"there?" he asks as he curls his fingers the same way again, the tips brushing against your sweet spot.

"yes." you moan and bite your lip to try to hide embarrasing sounds.

"like that, baby?" he keeps moving his fingers in the perfect way and gives your clit a little suck right after asking.

"koo.. fuck." your back arches inevitably and your hand tugs at his hair again. "don't stop... please..."

he doesn't stop, he keeps doing exactly what you need and soon after you're clenching around his fingers with a loud moan and trembling legs.

"so good." jungkook praises as he lets you ride your orgasm on his fingers and kisses your clit one last time. "such a good girl."

"koo..." you try to catch your breath and reach out to him with your hand. "come here." you beg and he's quickly hovering on top of you again.

"how are you feeling baby?" he asks and gives you a sweet kiss. you don't care that he tastes like you, you lick his lower lip.

"mhh... tired." you giggle against his lips and he smiles.

"good."

"i feel a little sticky, though." you mutter, making him chuckle.

"wait a second," he gives your lips a last peck. "i'll be back." he gets up from the bed and quickly walks out of the room.

but you don't remember him coming back. you've already fallen asleep.

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A/N: aaaaaahhhh i hope u liked this little story !!! feel free to tell me your thoughts, it would be nice to see a little feedback, it would help me get motivated to keep writing <3 thank u so much for reading. have a nice day 💕

[whovianofmidgard]

Seven Sentence Someday

Thank you @dreamingthroughthenoise for the tag! This is something I'm working on for a silmkinkmeme prompt, so have a Glorfindel returning from the war with Angmar. (Pls excuse any grammar errors that slipped thru)

Glorfindel by sheer muscle memory pressed back against Erestor's lips, his mouth numb and unfeeling, the passion of his heart lacking, refusing to ignite. Distantly Glorfindel recognised that something was wrong with him, but the disconnect between himself and the world did not let him feel anything else other than cold fatigue.

Parting from the kiss, not even able to taste the sweetness of Erestor lingering on his tongue, he tried to shape his lips into his recently adopted fake smiles.

Erestor's shrewed eyes narrowed instantly. They bore sharply into Glorfindel's dimmed gaze and his fëa reached out inspecting their marriage bond, inspecting Glorfindel, searching.

Erestor's mind felt warm against the chill of the Black Breath shrouding his soul, and like a moth to a flame he leaned into Erestor's spiritual embrace. He hadn't felt so cold since the crossing of the Helcaraxe.

"I see," Erestor said, eyes softening in understanding. 

No pressure tags @chthonion @polutrope @thecoolblackwaves @melestasflight and anyone else who would like to do this

[uyuforu]

Hey. I would like to participate in ur exchange.

Here’s ur exchange- (how will ur fs confess their love for u?)

The card r showing me that your fs will confess their love for u in the most romantic and thoughtful way. I getting that they won't just say but they will also show u their love with sweet gestures before they make a confession. Liek they will start preparing u for the confession at least some time before they make an official verbal confession to u. So they don’t catch u off guard and i m getting that u would know that the confession is coming. I m getting that they would prepare u by giving handwritten notes, a song that reminds them of you, or a little gift that will remind u both of a memory that u shared together. Not related to this question but I m seeing they will see a solid future with you. I m seeing the verbal confession happening in an intimate setting like a candle light dinner that they arranged for u, or they might ask u to go somewhere with them perhaps a stroll through a park or a beach. And I m seeing that as u r walking (ur fs seems to be nervous 👀🥹) they will pull u to them for a kiss u first all of a sudden (it’s more to calm themselves bc they r scared of ur reaction) but than they will take ur hand and will say something so romantic that ur heart will skip a beat. U two will be content after the confession is made. (Pls excuse any grammar or spelling errors😭)

Here’s my charts-

My Natal, my Juno, and groom pc - in order

GAME IS CLOSED. Thank you for participating to the game. Here is your reading. Also thank you for the reading! It was super cute!

જ⁀➴ Can meet FS at work, or in a serious environment. Can be love at first sight. Can meet FS in beautiful environment, with beautiful sights? Can meet during a wedding. Can meet because of love, or on dating app. Can meet in court, law or something related to justice. Can meet in museums, or something related to art, fashion, and make up perhaps.

જ⁀➴ FS could be very intense, intense sights, deep eyes, dark eyes and hair, very good looking.

જ⁀➴ FS could have a lot of money or will have a lot of money at some point in their life.

જ⁀➴ FS could have hard time to speak up for themselves. They could also have a very low voice. They could not be good at expressing themselves, and perhaps prefer to listen than to speak.

જ⁀➴ FS can be better at writing thoughts than speaking it. They could be very artistic too when it comes to writing.

જ⁀➴ Could write poetry or be good at writing love letters.

જ⁀➴ FS could have had some problems with some family members, perhaps more their father. They could also be the black sheep of their family, or having hard times with feeling different from them.

જ⁀➴ FS is introvert, can be shy too. FS can also be intimidating.

જ⁀➴ FS can love art, and can also be very creative! They could daydream a lot and have a lot of imagination.

જ⁀➴ FS can be popular, and have a good reputation. People love to hang out with them.

જ⁀➴ FS can have some health issues, but it could have been sudden. Not something from genetics.

જ⁀➴ FS can also be quite calm and good at managing emotions. But FS could also think money makes them feel better.

જ⁀➴ Could have the impression they are happier with money, money makes happiness.

જ⁀➴ FS did higher studies and took that very seriously.

જ⁀➴ FS can be a foreigner, but perhaps didn't travel much in their life.

જ⁀➴ FS can be very secretive about love, and they can actually be quite s3xual... like loving to show love this way.

જ⁀➴ FS can love learning languages, and can also speak more than 2 languages.

જ⁀➴ FS will perhaps be very successful in their career, or is already, they can also become a boss at some point.

જ⁀➴ FS is naturally lucky in their life, and they could also be religious. They can also be spiritual. At least, are divinely protected. Even if they are not aware of it.

Potential placements of FS:

𝜗𝜚 Gemini/ 3h

𝜗𝜚 Sagittarius/ 9H

𝜗𝜚 Leo/ 5H

𝜗𝜚 Capricorn/ 10H

𝜗𝜚 Scorpio/ 8H

𝜗𝜚 Cancer/ 4H

𝜗𝜚 Taurus/ 2H

𝜗𝜚 Virgo/ 6H

𝜗𝜚 Aries/ 1H

𝜗𝜚 Venus or Mars Rising

𝜗𝜚 Venus or Mars in 1H

𝜗𝜚 Fire or Earth Moon

If you enjoyed the reading you can post a review about it or tell me what you think. Have a nice day!

Thank you for reading!

back to index ; ask ; request ; rules

[mystiquecolor00ffff]

Long post ahead!! (pls excuse my grammar T___T )

"A Trimester Odyssey: My Freshman Year As A Dance Major"

I had no idea what I was about to experience.

All I could remember was that a surge of excitement and anticipation was all I felt when I received an email that read, "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to the De La Salle-College of Saint Benilde."

Anticipating the joy of returning to dance after a 4-year break, little did I know that beyond the grace and beauty of the dance floor, a landscape of mental challenges awaited, ready to test the limits of my passion and determination. My freshman year unfolded as a transformative odyssey through the stages of adaptation, self-doubt, and realization. Each trimester was a chapter of growth, a dance of challenges and triumphs that sculpted not only my technical prowess but also my understanding of the artistry within.

My first term was a dance of its own as I grappled with the nuances of transitioning from contemporary dance to the vibrant world of hip-hop. Hip-hop demanded a complete shift in my dance vocabulary; as a dancer accustomed to the graceful lines of ballet, fluidity of movements and emotional storytelling of contemporary, embracing the syncopated rhythms and high-energy attitude of hip-hop was so foreign to my body—a feat that tested my physicality and my artistic versatility.

To make matters even more challenging, I found myself learning to dance within the confines of my room due to the shift to online learning. Dealing with an unreliable internet connection, persistent lags, and the unpredictable backdrop of construction noises made it nearly impossible to maintain focus and establish a clear boundary between my living space and workspace.

Amidst the turmoil, my struggle with adapting to hip-hop was not merely a phase of mastering new steps; it entailed a mental shift, a willingness to unlearn the rigidity of classical training and to embody the free spirit essence of hip-hop. It was a journey marked by trial and error, as I learned to surrender to the unfamiliarity and embrace discomfort. It proved to be a constant work in progress, involving vigilant observation and learning from my fellow dancers, as well as creating tools to help me adapt in each class.

I continuously navigated my way through until the onset of the second term, eagerly anticipating the moment when we would finally set foot in the dance studio. I believed everything was fine as we finally returned to dancing in the studio, but everything started to feel like a blur into my everyday routine. I often experienced a sense of exhaustion without any apparent reason, lacking enthusiasm as I approached the studio everyday. I reached a point where I had exhausted all my tools, and even the "fuck it!" tool failed to help me. The weight of concern about potentially losing my motivation loomed over my thoughts, yet upon witnessing my seniors' dance thesis production, it became clear how much I longed for the thrill of performing on stage again. The repetitiveness of doing the usual combinations inside the familiar studio, left me drained. My body yearned to dance not solely within those studio walls, but also under the spotlight of the stage.

The third term unfolded like a battleground. I would say this term took a significant toll on my mental health, bringing about the most stress and pressure I have ever faced. Surrounded by fellow amazing dancers with unique styles and backgrounds, I couldn't help but feel small. Revealing vulnerability through dance triggered a range of anxieties, as I feared my artistic expression might be overshadowed or overlooked in the crowd of diverse talents. The internal impulse to compare myself to my peers, coupled with my tendency to overthink, was like a relentless choreographer who choreographed its own narrative in my mind. Every pirouette and leaps was accompanied by a mental chorus that echoed in my mind:

"Am I good enough?"

"Do I belong here?"

"Dancer ba talaga ako?"

I frequently dissociated from everything by the sheer weight of pressure. The fear of not measuring up to my peers or the impossibly high standards I set for myself became a constant companion, each dance class pushed me to persistently correct and scrutinize even the tiniest mistakes I made. The need for perfection felt like I was being greedy, this was because I dreaded the potential disappointment of my ballet teachers, who always kept their eyes on me. The desire to meet the expectations of my teachers, peers, and even myself manifested as an internal monologue that often stifled my spirit. I had to constantly shake my head to wake myself up at every breaking point that almost made me lose my "spark." If it weren't for my hip-hop coach, who was the first to recognize this, I would not have regained my passion—the sole reason as to why I even took this course.

Those nonsensical "what ifs" that I was overthinking amounted to nothing, because I received nothing but overwhelmingly positive feedback from my ballet teacher. I'd be lying if I said it didn't boost my confidence, because for once, I finally received praise—which is rare—and such encouraging words that brought me to tears. Gradually, I realized that the biggest critic I faced was often myself. I finally allowed myself to breathe and let go of the baggage that had been weighing on my shoulders. Eventually accepted that I had to embrace my flaw as a dancer, because after all, there's no such thing as perfect dancers.

Things were looking up as I also had the chance to collaborate with students from other courses for our first live performance. I felt that surge of excitement again; the thrill I had been patiently waiting for had finally come my way. It felt as though my silent screams had reached the heights and were heard. I found a reason to wake up early with a cheerful mood and a sense of motivation. Entering the studio without dragging myself out of slump was no longer a struggle; the new environment and faces to work with was a fresh boost of energy, both overwhelming and exhilarating.

Despite the 8:30am call time and hours of rehearsals that led to physical exhaustion and sickness, I'm grateful that this opportunity to collaborate became a gateway to meeting new people. I crossed paths with wonderful beings who blossomed into unexpected friendships (S/O to Will, Erica, and Pia! If you're reading this, I love you all so much 🥺🌼). I'm happy that I was able to share a part of my artistry with fellow talented artists who appreciated what I brought on stage, despite of the mental challenges I went through.

Returning to the stage felt like returning home; it wasn't foreign but rather like reuniting with an old friend. Stepping onto the stage again didn't make me nervous, even with 300 audience members watching my every move; instead, it was overshadowed by joy and a sense of self-fulfillment. That was the moment I knew I had made the right decision, I chose the right path that "felt right."

If I could travel back in time, I would hug my freshman self who experienced numerous breakdowns. Looking back now, I would laugh at how innocent I appeared during those moments when I struggled to execute the choreography. I had to keep reminding myself that there is always room for improvement, there will always be good and bad days, and I'm progressing at a different pace than everyone else. The late-night practice sessions that pushed me beyond my comfort zone, the encouraging words from my teachers who saw potential in me, and the applause from an audience that appreciated my artistry—they were reminders that my dedication and hard work were paying off, and that pursuing my passion was truly worthwhile.

I'm still in the process of learning and will likely continue to do so because learning doesn't stop at a certain age. In the end, my freshman year was not just about dance; it was about navigating the complexities of life, learning to believe in myself, and finding the motivation to pursue my dreams.

[the-chattering-tower]

I don’t know if dragon therapy is even a thing anymore, haven’t seen a post about it in a little while, but if it is, may I please ask for some?

Anyone you wanna show and/or talk about would be wonderful, though if you’d like guidelines, I always love seeing tundras, and dragons who generally feel warm/soft/comforting would be much appreciated right now. Or dragons involved in however your clan respectfully handles their dead and memorials, I’d love to learn about that

[imagine-zen]

Could I request a headcannon of the RFA+Saeran+V getting caught under the mistletoe with MC. Maybe they get a little flustered when MC kisses them or maybe they initiate it (it's up to you) ps I love your writing!

Right, I lovethis, but I have absolutely no idea how mistletoe lives in the wild, so, ifthere are any factual inaccuracies what am I say, there’s 100% some pls letthem slide and don’t yell at me, I’m sensitive and just wanna write cuteromance

Also some ofthese might not be 100% REAL mistletoe but like, mistletoe shaped, hope that’sokay :)

Jumin

The two ofyou are throwing a holiday party at Jumin’s condo

It’s a smallparty, just RFA members and close friends

You’re havinga fun time, but still, you’re running around keeping track of food and how theguests are

You take amoment in the kitchen, eating some food, sipping some wine

You’re notstressed, but it’s nice to step back and just breathe, watch your guests enjoythemselves

You feelJumin approach you from behind, his warmth a comfort

Leaning back againsthim, you feel one of his arms stretch up and around you

You glance upand see a small, dark green sprig, adorned with soft white berries

“Mistletoe?”You ask, tilting your head back to smile at him

“Tis theseason” He hummed, a soft smile spread across his face

His handtugged on your hip gently and you turned around to face him, leaning up to kisshim

Your lipshave barely met before you hear Zen fake gagging

You chuckleas Jumin pulls you closer, starting to argue with the actor

Zen

You’rejogging with him one winter morning

The sun’sstill rising, its rays glinting off of the thin coatings of ice along branches

There’s alight layer of snow across the ground, though the path the two of you arerunning on is clear already from even earlier morning joggers

Zen suggestsa pause at an upcoming sitting spot along the trail

It’suntouched in the brisk air, snow lining blades of grass, a bench topped withsnow

You pull yourwater bottle out of backpack, enjoying the quiet beauty of the woods thatmorning, your cheeks stinging and your nose warm

“It’s gorgeousout this morning,” You comment, turning to look at Zen

“Everymorning with you is gorgeous,” He says while stepping closer to you

He smiles,tucking a strand of hair that had come loose from your ponytail behind yourear. “Wanna know why I suggested we pause here?”

Your cheeksare red for more than your run or the chilled air. “Why?”

He leans hisface in, pausing centimeters from your face as his eyes dart up above you

Turning yourhead slightly, you see a bushel of thin, green leaves poking out from beneath asnow coat

You have timeto identify the plant before Zen tilts your chin up and your mind is occupiedby the feeling of his lips against yours

Yoosung

“So, what doyou think?” You ask, glancing at him

He squints,thinking. “I think,” He nods his head subtly, raising his hand to point. “Yeah,let’s go with this one.”

You grin,picking up the fuchsia plant from the garden store’s shelf

“What’s next?”He asks, leaning against your shoulder to get a glimpse of the “to-get” listyou wrote up together last night

“Let’s see,we’ve gotten a good amount of flowering plants, wanna check out some herbs orfruits?”

“Soundsperfect.”

While walkingpast the row of herbs lined up, thinking about which ones you and Yoosung usemost in cooking, you pause, recognizing the bundles of freshly cut branches beingdisplayed above the potted herbs

You grin,grabbing a cutting of mistletoe and going over to Yoosung on the other side ofthe cart

You tap hisshoulder, pressing a kiss to his lips as he turns

His face goesflush and he goes to adjust his glasses. “Wh-what was that for?”

You wave themistletoe as an answer. “Found some mistletoe, I had to.”

He breaks outinto a grin. “Don’t you have to be underneath the mistletoe to- you know?”

“Ah,” youglance at the plant then back to Yoosung, raising your arm to hold themistletoe over your heads. “You’re right, I guess we’ll have to try again,” Humming,you lean close to him once more

Jaehee

You’rehumming along to the radio, the kitchen lit with a warm glow from the lightsabove and out in the main room of the café

Jaehee comesback in, tying an apron around her waste

You laugh, “I’mjust about to finish up, you don’t need an apron.”

“It’s bettersafe than sorry,” She responds, flashing you a smile as she steps closer

She inhales throughher nose, the air full of sweetness

“They smelldelicious, right?” You say

“Hopefullythey’ll taste just as good,” She responds, flicking on the oven light andbending down to look at the cookies

“Your recipesare always amazing, don’t worry so much.”

The two ofyou continue chatting, you crack open the oven every minute or so to check onthe cookies before deciding they’re done and pulling them out to cool

“Oh!” Jaeheeexclaims, “You shaped them!”

“Yeah, I thoughtit’d be good; you know, ginger cookies during the winter, might as well have atheme, right?”

Jaehee nods,smiling as she looks at the mistletoe shaped cookies. “It’s a perfect idea”

“I have aneven better one,” You announce, picking up one by the edges and blowing on itbefore holding it out to Jaehee.

She leansforward, her face flushed ever so slightly, and takes a careful bite

She nods,chewing, and you can see her thinking of ways to improve on her recipe already

You leanforward, kissing her cheek softly

Her eyeswiden as she looks at you, and you decide she’s never looked more beautiful,with gentle golden light falling on her face and hair, a few crumbs on the cornerof her mouth, her eyes full of you

“Goodcookies?” You ask, leaning back a bit

She nods,trying – unsuccessfully – to hide the smile spreading across her face

Seven

The doorbellchimes and you lean back to glance at the door monitor

Mail man.

You grin,jumping out of your chair and navigating past the security to the entrance, signingfor the package and running back inside

You open thesmall package as soon as you shut the door, glancing around to make sure Seven hasn’tmoved

Holding thegift behind your back, you make your way into Seven’s computer room

His back istowards you, computer alert noises coming from one screen, game notificationsfrom another, some kind of radio can be heard faintly from the earbud danglingfrom its partner in Seven’s ear

“What came inthe mail?” He asks, the clack of his keyboard barely audible through the restof the sounds

“Oh, there’ssomething for,” You answer, walking up behind him

You lean overhis back, keeping the object behind your back for now

He tilts hishead back, smiling up at you. “Oh? What is it?”

You grin, movingthe small plushie you bought up and over your head

The plushiewas a mistletoe sprig, but the berries were little cat heads

“A kiss,” Youhum, moving to kiss him

Upside downkisses are always awkward, but worth it

Saeran

You’re on awalk together during a fall afternoon

For someonewith so much information, he knew little about plants

You, on theother hand, had been a plant lover since you were small

So, the twoof you like to take walks, Saeran will point out different plants and you tellhim about them

It’s a funtest for you, getting to practice what you know, and he likes listening to you

At this point,there’s not many plants that you haven’t talked about – well, not that many alongthis path

The walks arestill good though, you talk and get to be alone together

The two ofyou are passing some woods, his hand keeping yours warm

The coldearthy smell of fall surrounding you

You’relooking up at the sky and the trees next to the path when your eyes light upand you tug on Saeran’s hand

“Oh! See thatbundle of leaves along the branch there?” You ask, pointing towards the plant

Saeran nods,looking at you in confusion

“Well, it’scalled mistletoe, have you heard of it?”

He nods again.“It can help with arthritis, right?”

You blink,having forgotten that. “Yeah, yeah that’s true! I forgot that, good job.”

He smiles,glancing down. “Well, if you weren’t thinking that, what were you going to say?”

“Right~ Yousee, there’s a tradition around mistletoe,” you start, tugging him closer to beingunder the mistletoe. “It’s supposed to represent love, so, when underneath anymistletoe, two people are supposed to kiss.”

As soon as youfinish your sentence, his eyes go wide and he glances up, then back to you. Hiseyebrows lower. “Really?”

You nod,miming an “x” on your chest. “Cross my heart.”

He seems tobe having trouble deciding if he was nervous or suspicious. “I mean – you saythat, and have just walked us underneath this plant…”

“Uh huh,” Yousay, stepping closer and leaning towards him slowly

His face wasstarting to match his ginger hair

“Are – isthis, do you want –?” He stammers, eyes now darting up and down

“If you wantto,” You hum, lowering your gaze to his lips

He gulps,staring at you before yanking you close and presses his lips to your, eyessquinted shut

You’re startledby his sudden movement but smile into the kiss, sliding your arms around himand holding him close

You’ve neverseen him this red before, and you can’t but chuckle, kissing his check

The two ofyou continue your walk, both smiling, your hands holding each other tightly

V

You frown, pickingthrough the bin full of props

“I don’t know,”You call out to V, who’s standing a few meters away at the photo stage fussingwith the set. “If you want a dappled shadow like that, I still think getting anactual branch and leaves would work best.”

He smiles atyou over his shoulder. “I’m sure you’re right, but I’d like distinct shadowsthat the faux plants make.”

Nodding, youplunge deeper, exclaiming as you find something that might work. “How aboutthis?” You ask, heading back over and waving the prop over your head

“Perfect!” Hesaid, taking the fake plant from you as you get to him

He hums, examiningthe mistletoe before eyeing with a soft smile. “This is good for more thanphotos, you know?”

“Oh? How so?”You ask, leaning against him as he wraps a hand around your waist

“Like this,”

You giggle asV pulls away from the kiss, his face suddenly nervous and shy

You placeyour hands on the sides of his face, pushing his glasses up to the top of hishead. “You’re right, that has many uses.” You hummed before pulling him back

[temilyrights]

it’s 1 am...i just posted a fic and now i should very much go to bed. i don’t even know if i’m making sense i’m so tired it’s unreal

[raplinesmoon]

Doom Boy (KNJ x F!Reader)

pairing: Namjoon x reader (also featuring hyung line) genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, mafia au, 18+ summary: Namjoon was a doom boy - he’d spent his entire life running from the ghosts of his past, keeping you and your son safe from the monsters that lurked on the city streets. He should have known that one day they’d catch up to him.

warnings: the mafia, attempted attack, drinking, mentions injury, mentions of past ab*se, brief mention of illicit subtances and money laundering, minor character deaths, choking, a great escape, Namjoon being an art hoe, smut warnings: sexting, dirty talk, brief daddy kink moment, explicit sexual content, soft dom!Namjoon, oral (f receiving), riding (it’s Namjoon duh), wrap it before you tap it pls

word count: 14.2k

a/n: happy Joon day (i hope i make the deadline) oh gosh, I don’t even know what this is like this was just supposed be some angsty yearning but it turned into this whole story bc Namjoon is the loml. i highkey think this is a huge mess and like cried outlining it bc i was feeling so many emotions, but it’s the first piece of writing in a month that i haven’t trashed completely (rip Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook fics that shall never see the light of day). i really, really hope you like it! pls also excuse any grammar errors, i’ll go back and fix them soon!

Thank you to Ryen @kithtaehyung for the gorgeous banner!!

listen to the playlist!

By all accounts, it was a typical Friday. The sun blazed down on the pavement, rivulets of sweat making their way down Namjoon’s back on his commute home from the office. Shuddering, he loosens his tie, eager to let the shackles of his mundane office job fall away from his being. Combing a hand through the strands of his hair, he thinks that maybe he should get a haircut next week, but ultimately decides against it when he imagines your face in his mind, lips pursed in a pout and eyes shimmering with the glimmer of unshed tears.

I love your hair like this, he can hear you whisper breathlessly, his mind flitting back to the memory of your fingers tugging at the strands nearly a month ago, daring him to pull you into another kiss after what had already been an endless night tangled up in the sheets, making the most of the precious time Hyun had at his jobumo’s house. He’d never been able to deny you a single thing, not since the moment your hand had shyly slipped into his on the walk back from your college library, the comfortable silence between you two soon blossoming into a life he’d never dared to dream of for himself.

His steps become quicker as he grows more restless, pushing through the endless hordes of city-goers around him, the tall skyscrapers casting a grim shadow above the streets below. He’s suffocated by the heat as soon as he makes his way into the subway, descending multiple flights of stairs until he sees freedom within his reach, signified by the screeching of wheels against the railway track.

Stepping into the air-conditioned compartment, Namjoon lets himself breathe, shrugging the strap of his satchel back against his shoulders, his eyes surveying the crowded train compartment. The train comes to a halt at the next station, the doors hissing to let the next group of commuters in, and he pales when he sees the ghost of a reflection in the glass — someone he hadn’t seen for years.

For a moment, he thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him, the tall broad, shoulders and dark ebony hair of a man his height disappearing as soon as the train starts again, but Namjoon remains deeply unsettled, the acrid memories of his past coming back to haunt him the most in moments like this. Moments where he didn’t have you, or Hyun, to remind him that with everything he’d left behind, he’d gained something exponentially more wonderful and precious.

His phone pings, snapping him out of his daze, and he looks down at it, a notification from you lighting up his screen. A smile makes its way onto his face, the tension seeping from his veins when he swipes on it.

Only to go slack-jawed a moment later. Namjoon looks around, making sure no one can see the bright light of his screen, before bringing the phone up closer, his mouth gaping at the picture you’d chosen to send him.

You hadn’t changed yet, the silky dress you’d picked out and shown him last night lying in a heap next to you on the bed, your body clad in the most provocative mix of lace and cut-outs, beyond anything his wicked mind could have conjured up.

Come home, you said. I can’t wait much longer.

Namjoon looks up as the train comes to another pause, a faint smirk making its way onto his face when he notes that it’s now time for him to get off.

Date night could finally begin.

Under the dim lights of L’Etalage, you babble on excitedly about the latest gossip from the work week - two of your coworkers were potentially flirting with one another; another one would finally take their sour attitude with them and quit, your supervisor just learned he was having a baby. Your heart grows ten sizes when you think about how you’d gone through those same life changing moments years ago, falling in love with Namjoon, the intelligent, outgoing man who’d sat behind you in one of your science classes, and how now, you were happier than you’d ever been. Life was perfect with him by your side.

You talk, and Namjoon just listens, enraptured by the sound of your voice, his lips twitching into a small smile when he sees your eyes twinkle like stars under the candleglow.

“Namjoon?” You interrupt his thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, baby?” He smirks back, and you falter, flushing when you remember the text you’d sent him earlier.

There hadn’t been enough time to do anything about it, of course. Namjoon had barely pinned you to the wall, his hot breath fanning over your neck, before the phone rang, an excited Hyun up from his nap, babbling on FaceTime to his appa about all the fun toys his halmeoni had given him. You’d sheepishly excused yourself to go change into your outfit, leaving a frustrated Namjoon behind.

“This meal cost $200, Namjoon,” you raise an eyebrow. “We’re not about to leave right before I get my matchamisu.”

You jut out your bottom lip in a pout, and Namjoon laughs. The only thing you liked more than sex was sugar, and he couldn’t blame you. The matchamisu was delicious. Still, he couldn’t resist toying with you after the tease you’d given him earlier.

“Who says we have to leave?” He folds his arms, watching you bite your lip at the way his muscles strain against his dress shirt. “The bathrooms here are pretty nice from what I remember.”

Your lips part in an “O”, eyes dilating to pools of black, only for the waitress to choose that exact opportune moment to swing by, placing the matchamisu and two spoons on the table in front of you.

“Please enjoy,” she flutters her eyelashes, speaking only to Namjoon, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your husband was an attractive man, but he was also oblivious to the way other women flirted with him. He acknowledges her presence for a split second to give a polite nod, before his hand is reaching for yours across the table. His fingers fit perfectly into yours, the twin bands adorning your hands glinting brightly enough to send a message.

You shouldn’t feel smug when she walks away with a scowl, but part of you feels giddy.

Namjoon presses his lips to your knuckles, his dimples making an appearance as he grins while watching you dig in, moaning in delight when the sweet, creamy dessert hits your tongue. 

“I thought you were only supposed to make those sounds for me,” he quips, yelping when you smack lightly him on the arm, lifting his hands up in surrender. 

You return your attention to the plate in front of you, but Namjoon’s sharp, intent gaze has already done its damage, surveying you hungrily, a pool forming between your thighs. Watching as he excuses himself to the bathroom, you realize you both needed to get out of here.

And fast.

Washing his hands in the sink, Namjoon feels sparks erupt across his skin, anxious to get you home and have his way with you while the night was still young. You played off his salacious flirting, but he could see the way it affected you, your breath coming out in heavy pants, skin glistening with sweat.

He makes his way to open the door, only for it to swing open right before he can reach for the handle, his shoulder bumping into another one. Namjoon reaches for the shorter man before he can topple over, but freezes when he sees the face looking up at him, the blood in his veins turning to ice.

“Yoongi-hyung,” he manages to rasp after many moments of silence, unable to fathom the sight in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

Namjoon’s head begins to spin, and he feels like he’s floating, suspended in the air and watching the scene unfold before him, face-to-face with a man he thought he’d never see again, a man he chose to never see again, when he’d left the life he’d had before you behind.

“Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi’s arms reach out in an embrace, and Namjoon dodges it coldly, watching his hyung’s smile falter, cat-like eyes surveying his tense figure. “It’s been a long time.”

“I’m going to ask you this again,” Namjoon spits through clenched teeth. “Why are you here?”

His thoughts immediately flit to you, sitting out there alone, and he realizes you both need to leave now. Namjoon had been running from the ghosts of his past for as long as he’d known you, swearing to himself to protect you from the danger that lurked underneath the paved city streets. And now it had found him again.

“She’s waiting for you out there?” Yoongi asks, and Namjoon resists the urge to say something he knows he’ll regret later. So he knew who you were. He shouldn’t have expected any different, and he silently prays that Hyun’s been left out of their reconnaissance. 

“Seokjin-hyung saw you today,” Yoongi continues, and Namjoon freezes again. So his mind hadn’t been playing tricks on him. He’d recognize Kim Seokjin’s broad shoulders and lithe body frame anywhere, remembering how it’d felt when they used to train together, tackling each other into hard concrete until one of them admitted defeat.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon abandons the honorific, and watches Yoongi’s face flicker in disappointment, before settling back into the stern, unfeeling mask he always seemed to have on. “You have to go.”

The older man opens his mouth to protest, but Namjoon pushes him aside, barely making it a few steps before he hears Yoongi call out to him.

“You can’t hide from who you are forever, Namjoon-ah,” he warns. “You and I both know that sooner or later, everything goes to shit.”

Resting your head on Namjoon’s shoulder, the two of you forgo a taxi home, walking hand in hand on the road, the pale moonlight casting everything in a soft glow. You lift your head gently to gaze at Namjoon, frowning at the way his nostrils flare and his brows seem etched in a permanent furrow. He’d been tense ever since he’d returned from the bathroom, and you wondered if he was upset with you for rebuffing him earlier.

“Joonie,” you whisper, turning his face to yours. The two of you come to a stop on a secluded street, and Namjoon’s face softens at the use of your favorite nickname for him. To everyone else, he was always Kim Namjoon, the prodigy from the south side of town, always crushed under the weight of expectations that weren’t his own. He’d hated the way his name sounded growing up, hollow and business-like to his ears, devoid of any affection or tenderness. 

But to you, he was Joonie, the name you’d randomly come up with one late night studying, the two of you drunk on a caffeine high and laughing deliriously about anything and everything but the exam you had tomorrow.  He’d fallen just a little bit in love with you that night, the way your smile shone brighter than the incandescent, artificial lighting of the library. It’d stripped him bare, piercing through the walls he’d built for decades, and Namjoon felt something with you he’d never felt before. He felt human.

“Talk to me please, what’s wrong?” Your eyes bore into his, searching for answers.

Answers that Namjoon could never give you if he wanted to keep his family safe. The lies felt like a stab to the heart every time he let one escape, but overtime, the wounds had begun to scar, leaving ugly marks in their wake. And it hurt a little less to keep the truth from you every time.

“We need a bigger house,” he says, stroking your temple with his thumb. It wasn’t wrong. “It’s about time we gave Hyun another sibling, don’t you think?”

The tension melts from your shoulders, and you flick him in the forehead.

“You idiot! I thought something was bothering you, like a life-and-death situation, and you’re just horny!”

“You caught me,” he wraps his arms around you, leaning to whisper in your ear. “Are you still wearing that little number you sent me earlier?”

“Who said I’m wearing anything underneath?” It comes out in a breathy moan, and you feel Namjoon go stiff beside you. “Now take me home.”

Namjoon doesn’t move, frozen in place, looking beyond you to a cluster of trees, his eyes becoming dark.

“___, hold onto me,” he chokes, his voice breaking, and you feel a chill run down your spine. “And whatever you do, don’t look anywhere but straight ahead.”

Namjoon’s hand comes to grab your wrist in a death grip, and you feel your hand go limp from the circulation being cut off. Your heartbeat speeds up instantly, blood pounding in your ears.

“Joonie? What’s going on?” A single tear escapes, running down your face, and Namjoon’s heart shatters down the middle. The fear in your eyes was something he’d told himself he never wanted to see, and he darkly wonders if running into Yoongi earlier had been an omen of what was to come.

You can’t see it, your eyes untrained, but Namjoon knows that the two of you are being watched. He can make out the faint figure of a human silhouette through the trees, and the gleam of something silver. And probably sharp. 

He had to get you out of here. 

“Listen to me, when I count to three, you have to run. Run as fast as you can, and don’t look back. Go to your parents’ house and find Hyun. You all need to leave the city now.”

“Namjoon, please,” you sob, and your wail echoes into the empty street. “What is happening?”

“____, that’s an order,” he says sternly, his face grim, and you cower in his presence. He’s shifted from your soft, loving husband into something far more menacing, his eyes narrowing in thinly veiled fury. “NOW GO!”

His voice snaps at you, and you break, turning from him and running as fast as your legs can go. Rounding the corner, you pause, peeking around just in time to see an unknown man in blank lunge at your husband, a silent scream lodged in your throat when you see the gleam of a knife in his hand. 

You don’t stay long enough to see what unfolds, terror striking your heart and goosebumps erupting across your skin as the wind howls, the quiet streets eventually giving way to busy intersections, until you’re at a bus stop.

Heaving, you crumple over, sobs wracking your entire body as you wait for the bus to come, to take you away from the horrors of what had started out as the most normal night.  

When it does come, you lean your head against the window, watching the city lights flicker outside, and a painful realization sets in one that leaves you completely numb.

Namjoon had never told you that he’d find you later, that everything would be okay. You should have stayed with him, should have protected him like he protected you and Hyun. But you’d let fear win, and now you’d lost him.

Namjoon shoves the man off of him, blood pouring from the stab wound he’d inflicted on his thigh. He wouldn’t be out for long. He’d been quick, but Namjoon was quicker. He’d been waiting for this moment for years, his instincts still as sharp as ever, honed from years of looking in the shadows, wondering if his demons would ever catch up to him.

But now you’d been caught in the crossfire - the way the blood escaped your face when he’d told you to run burned in the back of his brain. You were scared, and he knows for a fact it wasn’t just because of the unknown assailant. You were scared of him, finally witnessing the monster that Namjoon harbored deep inside.

Chest heaving, he catches his breath, tasting the bitter tang of salt before he even knows he’s crying, curses flying from his lips. He doesn’t know how long he sits there and sobs, shivering in the cold, but he hopes you’d listened to him, and that you and Hyun were far, far away from this hellhole. Neither of you deserved to rot with him.

He doesn’t hear the footsteps approach until someone is directly in front of him, their eyes taking in the sight of the unconscious man and the bloodstains all over Namjoon’s white shirt.

“Namjoon-ah? Shit, what happened? Where’s ___?”

Hoseok. The universe hated him, he was sure of it. Namjoon looks up, Hoseok’s worried face staring down at him, and relaxes when he doesn’t see a hint of anger. He wasn’t sure what to expect when they ran into each other again. Hoseok had been the one who took his leaving the worst; the loss of the only friend he’d had his age cutting deeply into him. 

I fucking hate you, the last text had said.

“I was running patrol on the area when I heard one of Ahn’s men had been spotted in our neighbourhood. I came as fast as I could.”

“Is he dead?” Hoseok’s boot prods at the man, who looks barely conscious. Namjoon musters enough strength to shake his head, still unable to say anything, when he sees Hoseok’s gaze shift to the knife beside him.

“Let’s go,” he offers Namjoon a hand. “Whoever they were, they knew you’d be here tonight. It’s not safe.”

Namjoon falters for a moment, unable to accept Hoseok’s offer of help. If he did this, he knew Hoseok would take him back to the compound, back to everything he tried so hard to leave behind. And away from you. He feels like he’s in limbo, watching the road ahead split into two paths.

Hoseok says nothing when Namjoon rises and accepts his hand, giving a silent nod of acknowledgement before the two of them head off into the night.

“Mama,” Hyun sobs into your shoulder. “Where Appa go?”

His tiny fists ball into your shirt, and you do your best to bounce him up and down, keeping your own tears at bay. It’d been three days since you lost track of Namjoon, and in those three days, there hadn’t been a single text, call, or sign that he was okay. That he was still alive.

After picking up Hyun from your parents’ house, tearfully telling them the whole story, the two of you had returned home last night. In the back of your mind, you knew you were going against the last thing Namjoon had told you when he ordered you to leave the city, but you had to be here. He’d find his way back to you. He had to.

Every few hours were like this - Hyun would suddenly remember Namjoon and his tiny whimpers and sobs made you consider if it was finally time to stop waiting and call the police. Yet every time you dialed the number, something made you reconsider. The last look on Namjoon’s face remained burned into your memory, the shadows casting half his face in darkness when he asked you to run.

Your husband was a simple man. He left for work at 7:05am every day, and came back around 5:43pm. You knew he had excess money to spare, but you never asked him where it went, his only splurge being on an expensive bike he liked to ride on weekends. Date nights were mostly full of ramyeon and sushi on the couch at home, the fancy dinner a couple of nights ago a rare occurrence for you both. Which is why you were deeply unsettled by what had happened. 

It was almost as though Namjoon knew trouble was waiting for you that night, as if he’d been anticipating things to blow up in his face, The way he’d been so prepared — his calm, collected demeanor through it all made you shudder. Like he’d had experience dealing with it before. And that was what gave you pause.

Namjoon never really spoke about his life growing up – he was an only child, and while he was sociable in college, he mostly kept to himself. That didn’t stop you from wanting to get to know more about him, his brown eyes glimmering with the depth of the man he hid from everyone else. Everything had been a whirlwind after, falling into bed just as easily as you’d fallen for him, eloping right after you’d both graduated, with Hyun coming soon after. 

He’d never gone into detail about his family to you — only that his parents weren’t around, and you could see the pain in his eyes when he went slack-jawed and silent, eyes misty with unshed tears. That was when you’d decided that Namjoon didn’t need his family - he had the two of you right there, and that was enough.

But whatever happened that night changed everything. You shivered thinking about how you ran so easily when he told you to, how you didn’t want to stay to see who came out on top - Namjoon or the other man. You had a feeling the answer would twist your stomach into more knots than it already had.

Putting Hyun to nap on the couch, you decide to make a cup of tea to clear your head. And that’s when the doorbell rings.

Namjoon stares up at the ugly brown ceiling of his childhood bedroom. He’d begged his father to paint it to complement the green walls, yearning for a taste of the outdoors that he never got to see living in the compound, with its cold concrete floors and stark white walls. In retaliation, Namjoon’s father had smashed one of his plant pots, screaming about how Namjoon needed to get his head out of the ground and finally start taking responsibility of his duties as the leader’s son.

So Namjoon had done what any 16 year would do. He’d corralled a snickering Seokjin, a skeptical Yoongi, and a spirited Hoseok and taken his father’s car for a joyride to snag a few cans of spray paint.

The uneven paint job stares back at him, and he smiles at the memory of the four of them running out of the hardware store, whooping in delight. Not a hair looked out of place, the room the exact same way Namjoon had left it seven years ago. And yet everything was different.

Stretching, he looks at the pots on the windowsill, each plant a former paragon of pride for him. Evidence that he, Kim Namjoon, was nothing like the slimy crooks he’d grown up around. He respected life enough not to turn it into a living hell for others. Fingering the withered leaves now, he remarks at how big a fool he’d been to think so.

“I tried my best to water them,” Hoseok appears behind him, setting down a glass of water. “But you were always better at the outdoor shit than I was.”

He feels the bed creak next to him, and it’s silent between them for a few moments.

“Hobi,” Namjoon croaks, and he feels Hoseok stiffen at the use of his nickname. “I’m sorry.”

Hoseok’s lips purse into a straight line, giving no indication that he accepts Namjoon’s apology. But he had to say it anyway.

“I sent Yoongi-hyung and Seokjin-hyung to check on her,” he says softly, and Namjoon’s heart sinks with guilt because he hadn’t been thinking about you, or where you were right now. All he hoped was that you were safe.

“You fucking bastard,” Hoseok chuckles, a tear slipping out. “You got married and you didn’t even tell us. I was supposed to be your best man.”

He’s unsure how much Hoseok knows about you, or even Hyun, but the bitter regret in the other man’s voice tells him that he wasn’t the only one with wounds who’d been festering for longer than they should’ve.

Namjoon knows he owes an explanation to him, to all of them, but tonight, he’s tired. The moonlight filters in through the windows, casting an eerie glow over the room, and he can’t help but feel that everything’s about to change.

“____?” The man outside the door has eyes that gleam like a cat’s, piercing through the darkness as he surveys the home you share with Namjoon. Behind him, a taller man, his face covered by the shadows, looms, and a chill runs down your spine. Hyun was still sleeping peacefully on the couch.

“It’s about Namjoon.” The other man’s voice is gruff, his impatient sigh echoing into the night, and you watch his eyes widen as the door swings open.

“Who are you?” you ask through gritted teeth. “How do you know my husband?”

They step inside, their dark suits casting a shadowy gloom over what was once your bright and cheery home. Hyun naps away, and you become ever more aware of every tiny breath he takes when you see their eyes flicker to him, a surprised look on both of their faces. 

“He’s yours?” The taller man asks, and you hate the way he looks at your son, a stone mask over his perfect features.

“Let’s talk in the kitchen, please,” you beckon them over, not liking the way they continue to study him.

Stepping into the space, it feels more cramped than you’re used to, Namjoon usually preferring to keep out of it lest he set the house on fire with his lack of cooking prowess. Thinking about him had you experiencing a pang of guilt.

“My name is Yoongi,” the cat-eyed man mumbles, and then gestures to his partner. “This is Seokjin.”

The other man, Seokjin, looks at you curiously, and you don’t like the way his eyes bore into you, as if he’s trying to convince you to unveil your darkest secrets with one glance.

“We were Namjoon’s friends,” Yoongi says calmly, which seems to set Seokjin off.

“We’re his fucking family, Yoongs,” he spits out.

You feel dizzy – Namjoon had never mentioned these strange men to you. As far as you knew, he didn’t have any siblings or cousins he was close to. Who were they, and what did they want with him?

“Is he safe?” You have a million other questions, but this feels like the most important one.

Yoongi gives you a nod, and you feel the tension seep from your body, only for your heart to stop at his next words.

“But he’s not coming back. Look, it’s not our place to tell you about Namjoon, and it pains me because you deserve answers that you’ll never get. But you have to listen to him and leave. It’s not safe for you or your family here anymore.”

Head spinning, you resist the urge to crash into the side of the dining table as you stumble, catching yourself quickly enough to take a seat. 

“What do you mean? Where’s Namjoon? Why can’t I talk to him?”

“Listen,” Seokjin hisses, cornering you. “If you know what’s good for you and the kid, you’ll listen to us. We may fuck with a lot of nasty things, things that would make your toes curl, but there’s enough psychos out there on the streets who won’t hesitate to fuck over a woman and her child. We’re trying to give you an out.” 

Yoongi looks you over, and you see his eyes flash with sadness at the tears that fill your own.

“Namjoon isn’t who you thought he was. I know it’s hard, but you need to listen to us. You’re young, you have your whole life ahead of you. You can still have a happy life, meet someone new, fall in love again.”

You feel delirious. 

“You’re lying. Namjoon is my husband. No one knows him better than I do. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He literally rides bikes with Hyun and they pick flowers together, for god’s sake!”

You don’t know why you feel the need to defend the accusations against him. The fact that they were telling you this at all meant that your husband had caught you in his web of lies, that all the years you’d spent by each other’s side were a farce.

“Yoongi, let’s go,” Seokjin says darkly. “We’ve done what we needed to do.”

Turning to you, he spares Hyun one last glance before crossing the threshold.

“I hope we never have to see each other again ___. For your sake.”

“You have a son,” Seokjin says monotonously as Namjoon pads sleepily to the breakfast table, freezing in his tracks when he hears him mention Hyun.

He’d been too tired to think about anything last night, knocking out as soon as he hit the pillow, seeking reprieve from the mess of thoughts in his mind that wondered how he was going to get out of this. And back to you.

Sipping his coffee, Seokjin starts at him sharply, Yoongi looking past him at the paint chipping on the wall, and Hoseok’s mouth parted in surprise.

“For fuck’s sake, Namjoon, what else are you hiding from us? I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Hoseok’s voice rises, ignoring Yoongi’s warning to keep it down. 

“Kim doesn’t know he’s here,” Yoongi seethes, and Namjoon pauses. They hadn’t told his father?

Looking at Yoongi, he knows he can always count on him to be the voice of reason, to work through the hundreds of questions Namjoon has.

“Are they safe?” The most important thing.

Yoongi nods his affirmation. “For now.”

Looking at the three men, men who he’s known for most of his life, Namjoon finally lets himself feel the anger that’s been building inside of him. Everything had been fine, he’d been happy. Why’d they have to fuck it all up?

“Then do you mind telling me what the fuck I’m doing here?”

“Should’ve left his ungrateful ass on the streets, Hobi,” Seokjin quips. “Ahn’s man would’ve taken care of him when he came to.”

At the mention of Ahn again, Namjoon looks at Yoongi curiously. “I thought we had a deal with the Ahns. Why were they roaming around our territory, looking for trouble?”

Yoongi pushes the chair towards him, beckoning him to join them at the table. Namjoon takes the seat uncertainly, pleading with them to finally answer his queries.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

. . .

Your father is dying. Seokjin’s words have been echoing ceaslessly in the back of Namjoon’s mind, ever since he uttered them an hour ago. We need you.

The news brings Namjoon more relief than he’d cared to admit. Kim Yonghyun had never been much of a father to him anyway. His own mother had known better than he did, vanishing when Namjoon was twelve, never to be heard from again. She was still out there somewhere, hopefully where Yonghyun couldn’t find her.

Looking out the window, he looks out onto the courtyard of the compound, the bars on his window reminding him that this was the same prison he’d run away from years ago. Even if his room was still pristine and untouched, like it was waiting for him to come back. Even if Hoseok had still brewed him a cup of his favorite espresso after Namjoon had coldly refused to talk further about Hyun.

His own son was named after the monster who created him, and Namjoon wonders if he’d ever truly been able to let his past go. Or if it’d always remained, a black stain hiding under the disguise he’d created for himself, the false life he’d built. The one that was now about to come crumbling down.

He’s driven our organization to shit, Hoseok had said. Starting careless disputes with the other families, engaging in pointless violence. We need a better leader, a stronger one.

They needed him to finally step up to onto the pedestal they’d created for him, to accept his legacy with open arms. If you���d asked him seven years ago, Namjoon would have vehemently refused, convinced that there was a better life for him out there, one where he could live freely and be a normal kid who went to college, who fell in love, who got married and bought a house. Now, he wasn’t sure if those had been dreams or delusions.

He needed to talk to you.

It’s not even a day later when you hear the distinctive clink of Namjoon’s keys at the door, Hyun babbling at the table. 

The soft thud of his shoes at the entryway feels like the loudest sound you’ve ever heard, heavier than the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. 

“APPA!” Hyun screeches with joy, his chubby arms reaching out for Namjoon’s longer ones. 

“Hyunnie,” Namjoon’s eyes crinkle in adoration, lifting him up out of the high chair swinging him around. Hyun’s delighted giggles echo, Namjoon’s soft chuckles accompanying them, and for a moment, it feels like everything is back to normal. But it isn’t. 

You don’t lift your eyes to look up at Namjoon, and he notices. Pressing a kiss to Hyun’s hair, he sets him down.

“Hyunnie, go play with your toys. Appa needs to talk to Mama for a few minutes.”

“Hyunnie miss you Appa. Pleez don’t leave again.” And with that he waddles off, leaving the air heavy in between you both. 

Namjoon takes a seat next to you at the table, watching the way your throat bobs like you’re trying not to cry, and he feels tears of his own spring forth. 

“___,” he reaches for your hand, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb, and that’s when you explode into quiet sobs, praying that Hyun can’t hear you from the other room.

Namjoon’s arms wrap around you in an instant, stroking your back until the sobs subside, urging you to take deep breaths, and finally you’re ready. 

You reach behind you to grab for something, and Namjoon pales when you push a folder with a stack of papers his way, his worst nightmare coming true. 

“No,” Namjoon protests, refusing to open the folder. “Absolutely not. Why are you doing this?”

“You lied to me Namjoon,” you declare firmly, doing your best to overcome the wobble in your voice. “Or is that even your real name?”

All the blood rushes out from Namjoon’s face at your accusation, wondering what you found out, what you knew now, and he aches with the regret that he never got to tell you himself. 

He’d been thinking about this moment for years, about what he’d do if this ever happened, and despite the thousands of theorized and calculated ways he’d settled on going about his explanation, he chokes back a sob. A needy, desperate feeling overcomes him, one that tells him that this isn’t it, that this can’t be the end.

“What are you saying ___? Are you calling me a liar? Look at me.”

He lifts your face up to his, searching your eyes for a spark of emotion, anything that would convince him you didn’t mean what you said, but all he finds are hollow pools of emptiness.

“I’m still Namjoon. I’m your husband, I’m Hyun’s father. This, this is all real. What we have is real. I’m begging you, please, please don’t throw it away like this.”

You take a moment to respond, knowing that what you have to say will be the end of this, will probably drive a stake through the spectacle that had been your marriage, and you feel less guilty when you remember that he did this first. That while all you’d ever been was honest, loving him with everything you had, he’d kept secrets from you. He’d put you and Hyun in danger.

“Is it drugs, then?” Namjoon recoils, feeling his stomach drop. “Or do you fuck with people’s money instead, putting them in helpless situations just for a couple hundred dollars you need to survive? I always used to wonder, why it felt like even though I was your wife, I never knew you properly. Never knew anything about your past. I thought it was because you had some kind of unresolved trauma. But that’s bullshit. You’ve been the one traumatizing people for years. You and the rest of your friends.”

You knew who he was, the legacy he came from. He doesn’t even need to ask how you found out. You’d always been the smartest woman he’d every known, putting together the most complex mathematical formulas. All you needed was a hint. Yoongi and Seokjin had fed it right to you.

“This isn’t fair,” he chokes out. “You don’t know anything about the other side of things, ___. You can’t even imagine what I’ve had to go through, why I’ve had to do what I do. I did it for you!”

“Stop saying that!” you cry out. “Stop it, please. If you really wanted to protect me, if you really wanted to protect Hyun, you would have left. You wouldn’t have brought this darkness into our home. Do you know what could happen to him, Namjoon? He’s only three years old!”

At your outburst, Hyun comes running into the kitchen, his face falling when he sees his Mama’s eyes red with tears. 

“Mama,” he reaches out for you, and you pull him onto your lap, holding him in a death grip, because you’re afraid of what will happen to him if you let go.

“Mama, no crying peez, Appa came back,” he wipes a tear from your face, and Namjoon’s heart breaks into two. Hyun didn’t know that it was his fault. You gently stroke his dark hair, whispering in his ear to go up to his room and change, and that you’ll come by for a bedtime story soon. You say nothing when Hyun asks for Namjoon to come up too, and Namjoon knows tonight will be his last night ever spent in his home.

When Hyun leaves, he reaches back out for you, but you slap his arm away.

“___, please, there’s no need to overreact. I can explain everything, just please, please don’t push me away. I need you.”

The last sentence comes out in the form of a sob, and Namjoon wishes more than anything that you’d hold him right now, that you’d stay by his side while things fell apart around him.

“Do you know what the worst part of this is, Namjoon? I’ve been staring at my phone for days, trying to summon up the courage to say something, to call the police, to ruin you. But I can’t. Because there’ll always be some sick, twisted part of me that loves you. But I don’t want you to lie anymore. I want you to leave.”

Namjoon’s shoulders slump in defeat, and his voice shakes.

“Is there nothing I can say to convince you to fix this?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Namjoon accepts. “I’ll go.”

You don’t say a word to him as he pads out of the kitchen, slipping his coat over his shoulders and tying his shoes. He wonders if he should stop in and say goodbye to Hyun, but decides against him. His son would hate him eventually for what he did, and if Namjoon had learned anything from running away from home, a clean break was best. He hopes that the two of you can live peacefully now, no longer burdened by the demons he’s had to shoulder.

As he slips out the door, he hears your voice, so quiet that he’s almost not convinced it’s real.

“Thank you.”

Hoseok is awake when Namjoon returns, red-eyed and aching, drunk off one too many glasses of whiskey. He says nothing at first when Namjoon collapses onto the seat across of him, but eventually he can’t hold back.

“The old man wants to talk to you in the morning.” 

It feels like another punch to Namjoon’s gut, having to face his father after losing you. He feels like a laughingstock, hearing his father’s mocking words in the back of his mind, calling him weak, sentimental, a fool.

For the first time in his life, Namjoon agrees with him. When he was a boy, he’d dreamt of a life away from the city’s underbelly, one that wasn’t governed by the shackles of duty and tradition. His mother leaving had only fueled his desire to seek an out. Because Namjoon didn’t want to commit himself to a life of lies, violence, and deceit. 

He knew that Yoongi, Hoseok, and Seokjin operated outside of the frame and that the work they did was illegal. To them, the Kims had always been about being the shining paragon of the city’s scum. Their deals with the cops to keep trouble off the streets had worked for decades, but now it seemed like just like Namjoon’s own life, his father’s empire was collapsing. He knew Yonghyun was growing senile with his old age, and Namjoon shivers when he thinks of how bad things had gotten for them to come looking for him again.

As he ponders, Hoseok studies him curiously, remarking that the Namjoon that sat before him now looked nothing like his clumsy childhood friend who’d always raved about poetry and or school. Namjoon had always been the best of them, a bright star amongst a sea of dark mercenaries. But now, he looked completely worn, ready to submit to a fate he’d never wanted.

“Do you really hate us that much, Namjoon-ah?” Hoseok asks quietly, and Namjoon gulps, unable to answer him. His head was pounding. 

Hoseok knew Namjoon had snuck out to see you, and for the first time, he realizes how little he actually knows the man who he used to call his best friend. He assumed at first that is was some kind of magic pussy that kept Namjoon in a chokehold for so long, but seeing him now, he can’t help but think it’s something deeper.

Hoseok had never really known love growing up. He couldn’t even say he loved the fiancée his parents had chosen for him. But he had an inkling that love was what destroyed Namjoon’s life, what turned him into the shell of a man sitting before him.

He’d do anything to get his old friend back.

“Hyunnie, please let go of Mama, please,” you beg your screaming son, snot and spit soaking the side of your blazer as he balls his tiny fists into the fabric, refusing to go with the daycare teacher. 

He hadn’t understood Namjoon’s departure at first, asking you every day if he was coming home, if he’d been working too much. You didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth, so you lied, saying Namjoon was away on a trip. He’d believed you for a while, but Hyun was as smart as Namjoon.

Now, he realized his father wasn’t coming back, and it only meant he clung on tighter to you. It broke your heart that Hyun thought you’d ever leave him. You wondered if he’d hate you should he ever find out you sent Namjoon away. 

Summoning up the urge to peel Hyun off of you, you press a dozen kisses to his tear-stained cheeks, his tiny sniffles sending pangs of guilt through you. The daycare teacher smiles sympathetically at you, before luring Hyun away with a book, and you muster a tiny grin at his somewhat excited face. He was Namjoon’s son, through and through.

The thought of Namjoon sends a jolt of pain across your temples, and you resist the urge to cry in public, knowing you had a sea of tears stored. You thought you knew what you were doing, ending things between you two, but you’d never imagined how impossibly hard it would be doing everything alone. 

Namjoon had been your partner in every way. He’d shouldered every burden with you equally, and celebrated every happiness. To have it all stop so suddenly felt more overwhelming than you could put into words.

It felt like your life had come to standstill, the man you’d left behind taunting you, while the future remained dark and murky. You’d do your best for Hyun, of course, but you didn’t know if you’d every truly be able to recover.

You’re young, you have your whole life ahead of you. You can still have a happy life, meet someone new, fall in love again.

Yoongi’s words echo in the back of your mind, and you want to tell him just how wrong he was, but the sight of someone leaning against your car stops you.

Your shocked face stares into Namjoon’s dark eyes, and you feel the ground slip out from underneath you. Namjoon’s arms are out before you can even topple over, catching you. He looks taller, his hair longer, wearing what looks like an expensive designer suit, the fabric more fine than anything you’ve seen before.

He looks at you with concern, studying for any signs that you’re sick, or hurt. When he’s satisfied with your overall condition, he finally speaks.

“I’m not going to take up too much of your time, I swear. I have some things to do after this.”

You wonder what things he’s referring to, and decide you don’t want to know. 

“I just,” he starts, but pauses mid-way, shoulders slumping. “I just wanted to see you again. And Hyun. I’m sorry ___.”

You give a subtle nod, but no indication that you have any sympathy for him, and turn to leave. Before you can get into the car, he spins you towards him again.

“My real name is Kim Namjoon. Not Kang. I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but my father’s name is Kim Yonghyun. You don’t have to say anything, or respond, but you deserve to know.”

And then he lets you go.

Tucking a sleeping Hyun into bed, you sit down on the couch, the bright glare of your laptop hurting your eyes. Opening Google, you type in Kim Yonghyun, and your mouth gapes in shock. 

The articles about the Kim family go back for decades. They’re not just a lowlife gang, they’re an entire organization. Yonghyun was their current leader, and Namjoon was his son. Heir to a criminal legacy. Your gut twists as you click more articles, names popping up that were familiar to you - Lee, Ahn, Song. These people owned over half the city. They were everywhere, infiltrating your daily life. And you’d fallen in love with one of them. Suddenly, parts of Namjoon’s past begin to click for you. The way he’d been so desparate to have a normal college experience, dragging you out to a bar with him. The way he’d put his entire soul into doing well at his classes, interviewing for jobs. You’d always told him to slow down, that the two of you had many years to figure it out, but for Namjoon, figuring it out was difference between life and death. 

You wonder if your kind, gentle husband who loved books and stopped for tiny animals on the side of the road had ever killed a man.

Slamming your laptop shut, you curl up in the blankets of the couch, hoping that tonight Namjoon wouldn’t chose to visit you in your dreams again.

Namjoon frowns, looking over the stack of files that Seokjin had unceremoniously dumped on his desk. Unbelievable. His father had him reading through twenty years’ worth of documents on the organization, everything from the code of honour to the accounts. The old man didn’t trust him.

His glasses slide down his nose, and he rubs at his temples. Disappearing without a trace hadn’t been his finest move.

“This look suits you,” Seokjin snickers from across the table, and Namjoon scowls. “You look like a proper godfather.”

“Shut it,” Namjoon grumbles, and Seokjin’s smile only grows wider.

“Only like being called daddy, huh?” he quips, and Namjoon’s ears go red. Fuck Seokjin and his merciless teasing.

“Oh my god, don’t tell me—” Seokjin looks at him with wide eyes, and Namjoon holds up a hand to cut him off.

“One more word, hyung, and you’ll wish you kept your stupidly perfect mouth shut.”

“So,” Seokjin ignores him completely, spinning around in his office chair. “What’s the grand plan, Godfather Kim? You gonna take over for Yonghyun or what?” 

Namjoon doesn’t respond, and Seokjin leans over the table.

“Is it really that bad, Namjoon? Our org is more well-run than most of the other lowlifes on the streets. You have everything here - unlimited respect, unlimited bitches, unlimited money.”

“There’s more to life than bitches and money, hyung.” And Seokjin rolls his eyes.

“God, you and Yoongi are the exact same. You get married and turn into huge simps. So, tell me about her.”

Namjoon looks up, prepared to tell Seokjin that he’s not in the mood for his jokes, but the look in the older man’s eyes is sincere, like he genuinely wants to know.

“___ is,” Namjoon begins. “She’s everything to me. Before I met her, I didn’t know one person could change your entire life. After I ran away, I wondered if I made the right decision, about whether leaving this all behind was worth it. But she, she made it worth it. She and Hyun are the best things that have ever happened to me.” 

Namjoon closes the file, rising abruptly. Running into you had been an impulsive decision, and he hadn’t fully prepared himself for the rush of emotions he felt seeing you again. Your hair still smelt like the jasmine shampoo you used, the bags under your eyes darker and your clothes a little rumpled, but his body still responded in the same way it had when you’d shyly kissed him when he dropped you off after a study date so many years ago. And he felt guilty.

“Namjoon-ah, I’m sorry.” Seokjin’s words make him turn sharply. “We didn’t want to drag them into this, I swear.”

“What do I do hyung?” Namjoon holds back a sob. “I lost her.”

“You’re a smart guy, Namjoon-ah. You’ll figure things out. You always have.”

The knock on the door startles you awake, and you nearly fall out of bed looking at the time on the alarm clock. 12:03am. Quietly slipping into your house shoes, you check on Hyun, afraid something had happened to your baby. A deep sigh of relief escapes when you see him nestled in his crib, sleeping peacefully with one fist curled up into a tiny ball.

Padding down the stairs, you look at the various pictures on the wall - photos of you and Namjoon and Hyun throughout the years. Your graduation photos, your engagement photos, your wedding, Hyun’s first birthday. Memories that had been destroyed in the blink of an eye. The crushing realization hits you that you aren’t sure if you’ll be able to keep this house anymore. What’s worse is that you realize you may not want to either. 

You peek through the doorhole, paling when you see Namjoon on the other end, and you’re sure he knows you’re currently behind the door. Throwing the door open, you take in his disheveled appearance, suit rumpled and hair sticking up in every direction, Yoongi right behind him.

“I–, I’m sorry,” he stutters. “I just wanted to see Hyun. Five minutes, that’s all.”

“He’s asleep,” you clarify, wanting him to leave as quickly as possible. “Now is not a good time.”

“Please,” he begs, his eyes misting, and you move without thinking, stepping aside to let him in.

Behind him, Yoongi follows, back in your home for the second time in as many months, and you watch his eyes flicker to the various portraits that line the walls and sit on top of the tables.

Namjoon climbs up the stairs, and you don’t know why you decide to follow along, intruding on the private moment as he disappears into Hyun’s nursery.

“Hyunnie,” his low voice echoes into the emptiness of the room. “How are you buddy? You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you.”

The heaviness in Namjoon’s voice makes it clear to you that he’s crying, and your arms itch to wrap around him, to comfort him. He wasn’t a terrible father.

Namjoon stares at the cot for a few moments longer, never making a move to reach for Hyun, and then he turns and makes his way out, stopping in the hallway.

“Thank you—”

“Do you want a cup of tea?” you blurt out. 

Nodding silently, Namjoon follows you down to the kitchen, Yoongi appearing shocked that he doesn’t seem to be heading straight for the door.

“Both of you sit, please. I’ll make some tea.”

You get to work, pots and pans clattering as you swear under your breath, trying to keep the volume down so you don’t disturb Hyun.

Yoongi’s sharp eyes peer across the table at Namjoon, and he nods, subtly willing Namjoon to break the not so awkward silence.

“My father, I mean, I, uh-, I have some money set aside for Hyun’s college fund.”

Yoongi’s neutral stare turns into daggers, and Namjoon grows even more flustered.

“I don’t want to take your money.” You set the tea mugs on the table, pulling up a chair, the only sound the be heard the occasional slurp of the hot beverage.

“___, is there nothing I can do to make this work? I want to fix this.”

His plea surprises even Yoongi, who turns to look at your reaction. You remain frozen, mouth agape, before firmly nodding your head.

“I can’t trust you Namjoon. You lied to them, you lied to me for so many years. That doesn’t just go away.”

“I know. It won’t go away, but it doesn’t have to. But maybe we can put these pieces back together, use them to build a stronger foundation. Like kintsugi.”

The mention of the golden seams fills you with a warmth you didn’t think was possible to feel again. You look down at the mug you’d picked out, and a small smile graces your face when you see that it’s the one he repaired for you in the same way right after you’d dropped it during your first week in the house.

The conversation suddenly feels too suffocating, to intimate for your weary-eyed self in the dead of the night. There was a lot the two of you had to work through, things that could take years to properly unpack. Could you condemn yourself to that nightmare? Could you subject Hyun to the pain of two parents who had a hard time being in the same room? You weren’t sure it was worth it. But you also knew that Namjoon would keep turning up, using Hyun as an excuse or blaming a coincidence, just so he could convince you again. 

“We should get some sleep,” you put the mug down, your soft steps echoing as you walk out, leaving the two men alone, but not before you hear Yoongi’s hushed voice.

“College fund? Really?” 

The recoil of the shot rings in Namjoon’s ears as he watches the bullet whiz through the air, missing the target completely and lodging itself into the wall. He lets out a heavy sigh, the empty weapon falling from his hands.

“Great job, Namjoon-hyung. You were so close! You’ll definitely make it next time.” The doe-eyed boy next to him bounces with pent-up energy, patting him on the back. Jeon Jungkook was every bit the son that Yonghyun deserved. He, along with new recruits to the Kim clan, his cousin Taehyung and Park Jimin, were the sons that Yonghyun always deserved. Never missing a mark. Never fucking up a mission. Never running away from anything. Namjoon doesn’t have the heart to tell Jungkook he missed on purpose. Not because he sucked, but because he was a coward. The pressure from his father had been mounting for him to finally prove himself worthy of the Kim lineage, and to send him out on a mission. Namjoon had accepted with reservations in his heart - no longer sure where his life was taking him.

The good news was you started to let him visit Hyun, Namjoon slipping through the door at the middle of the night to stroke his son’s hair. He could feel your eyes watching him from the nursery door, but you never came inside. 

He thinks back to his last visit a few days ago.

He’d been brave enough to press a kiss to Hyun’s chubby face, his cheeks puffing out as he stirred slightly, which was Namjoon’s cue to back away. Until he heard it.

Come back Appa, the tiny voice whimpered, and Namjoon had never walked faster out of Hyun’s room, tears clinging to his lashes until he bumped into your frozen figure outside. Your cheeks were wet with tears too, and Namjoon didn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around you, sobbing into your shoulder, the two of you staying like that longer than he could count.

When you finally separated, a choked whimper escaped you, like you wanted to say something, but instead, you turned on your heel, sprinting towards what was once your shared bedroom. The soft thud of the door slamming shut had been the end of that.

“Jeon, can I steal him for a second?” Yoongi comes up behind him, clapping Namjoon on the back. He’s not alone. His wife, who Namjoon had known well throughout their childhood, is behind him, the two of them looking at him with a mischevious glint in their eyes.

“You’ll never believe who we ran into just now,” Yoongi’s wife laughs, and Namjoon tilts his head in confusion.

She launches into an animated discussion about how she’d seen ___ and Hyun while touring a a daycare for Hana, Yoongi’s daughter.

“She’s wonderful Namjoon, why haven’t you ever introduced us?” Namjoon looks to Yoongi for support, but the other man just smirks, placing a reassuring hand on his wife’s back.

“Don’t worry dear, I have a feeling we’ll see Namjoon and ____ together sooner than we’ll think,” reaching for his phone.

Namjoon’s own phone pings with the notification of a text, and he looks down to see that Yoongi has sent him a discreet picture of ____ and Hyun, smiling happily as they talked to his wife, and he breathes a sigh of relief. The way you talked to them with ease puts a small glimmer of hope in his chest, that maybe with time, with convincing, you could be okay with this. Okay with him. And that the three of you could be happy again.

He’d keep fighting for you both. He had to.

Shivering, you shake tiny droplets from your hair as you step inside, the stark, white walls of the gallery as uninviting as the outside climate. You chatter your teeth and rub your arms in an attempt to warm up. Hyun was at daycare, and part of you felt guilty for leaving him there when you knew you didn’t have any work meetings today, but you needed time alone. To think. 

The receptionist greets you with a warm smile, excitedly telling you all about their latest exhibit, and you smile and nod politely, eager to get away from her chipper presence, and to bask in your own gloom. You could have done anything else today - caught up on paperwork, tackled the massive pile of laundry that sat in your room, had a treat-yourself session at the mall, but something compelled you to come and see the new gallery that had opened in the city. Sighing, you realize it’s probably because Namjoon would have loved it, and you missed seeing the way his eyes twinkled when he saw a piece he liked, standing behind you and sending goosebumps all along your arm when he whispered the meaning into your ear.

Half the time, the comments would quickly stray away from the art, and turn to the way he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you at home, to tear your clothes off, to have you screaming under him while he made you forget your own name. Another shiver hits you, but this time, it’s not from the cold. 

Shoes clacking, you step into the open space, the paintings arranged neatly along the wall, and you pick one to study.

The interlocking lines and the bold geometric patterns kept you busy, your eyes flitting from corner to corner, head swimming with thoughts about the tricks the painting seemed to be playing. They looked like they went on forever, creating a grid, or a map, that careened off the canvas, trailing off into infinity. It made you feel even more lonely, a mere speck in this huge world, full of so many things you were unaware of. 

“It’s called Nucleus,” a voice calls out from behind you. One that you knew all too well. You turn to see Namjoon, his hair equally soaked and heavy coat dripping onto the floor. You should have known he’d be interested in the exhibit. It wasn’t like mafia bosses existed outside the realm of humanity.

You want to back away as he comes closer, but remain frozen in place.

“The lines and patterns are supposed to draw your eyes to every corner, make you study the entire painting, but it’s a trick of course. All that really matters is how they come together in the center, creating a focal point of attention. A nucleus. An omphalos. A heart.”

You look up at him, sucking in a sharp breath, and you want to be alone, somewhere private, somewhere he couldn’t see you break down from all the pain, all the hurt that you’d put the two of yourselves through.

Namjoon senses you’re about to leave before you do, and he already slips an arm around your waist, stopping you in your tracks.

“It’s raining. Let me drop you home.”

Gulping, you nod your agreement, his hand never leaving it’s place on your waist as the two of you step out into the deluge.

. . . 

Rain always scared you. You hated how dark it made everything seem, the eerie shadows it would cast through the blinds of your home, the loud crackle of thunder that would wake Hyun up with a sob. 

Namjoon, on the other hand, loved the rain. It reminded him that the world wasn’t monolithic, that it was ever-changing. It helped him realize that he didn’t have to be forced into a role he didn’t want to play, that while it poured outside, new life could be born and could blossom.

The two of you come to a pause outside the doorstep, Namjoon’s eyes mirroring the storm outside, full of uncertainty. You were sure you were the same, the two of you mirroring each other, but no longer having the same nucleus to pivot around.

Namjoon holds his breath, wanting a few more moments with you to remember, before fate would inevitably set you on your separate ways again. He can smell the dew collecting on the grass, but there’s also the fragrance of your shampoo, and he observes the way the droplets collect on the tip of your nose, before dropping down to wet your lips.

You surge forward, seeking his lips, and Namjoon stumbles for a brief second, before his arm comes up to wrap around you, meeting you halfway. You feel dizzy, clinging onto his warmth like it’s an anchor, keeping you from floating away from this moment.

The solid wood behind you falls away when Namjoon wrestles with the doorknob, the two of you slipping and sliding into the entryway, Namjoon’s tongue becoming more insistent, and a low whine escapes from the back of your throat.

The two of you part, soaked and trembling, and Namjoon rests his forehead to yours. You can feel his hot breath fan against your cheeks, now flushed from the cold, and you realize your fists are still balled into the heavy material of his jacket. 

Heat rises in your chest, and you feel like a livewire, tingling at the mere thought of having Namjoon so close to you again. You knew this was a bad idea, that it would complicate everything, but you didn’t have it in you to care, heart skipping a beat when Namjoon pulls you back in, seeking your lips once more.

The coat falls to the floor in no time at all, and you can’t stop your hands from roaming everywhere, Namjoon’s damp shirt doing nothing to hide the body you knew so well, the one you’d probably never forget.

His thumbs slip underneath the hem of your shirt, tracing circles into the top of your hips, you whine even louder.

Moments later, the scratchy sheets of the bed meet your back, Namjoon setting you down softly, reaching over his head to take off his soaked clothes. Sighing, you reach for his hands, the warm fingertips slipping through your cold ones easily, and pull him towards you, limbs tangling together in desperation. Your skirt slips up to your waist, exposing your soaked panties, and Namjoon’s hands settle on your thighs, gripping them hard enough to leave marks, and dips his head down to leave soft kisses on your core.

“Say it,” he begs. “Say you want me.”

“I n-need you, Joon, need to feel you, fuck–” 

You moan when he pushes the fabric to the side, flicking his tongue against your folds, and your hands reach for his hair, tugging at the strands while he groans underneath.

“Fuck, I missed the way you taste, always so good for me,” he groans, slipping a finger in to circle around your clit, and you writhe against him, unable to take the teasing. 

“Does my pretty girl want me to fuck her?” He groans into your pussy, arms flexing to keep you spread out underneath him, and you babble incoherently, unable to put your desire into words. All you knew was that you never wanted this moment to end.

When you feel yourself teetering on the brink, body flushing with anticipation, it all stops. Panting, you look at Namjoon, his dark eyes surveying you hungrily, and a shiver makes its way down your spine.

“Ride me, baby,” he orders.

Peeling the rest of your wet clothes off, you watch Namjoon settle into the pillows, like he never left at all, and it makes your heart lurch. His hand reaches for yours when you climb back over him, hips straddling his thighs, and he presses it to his chest, right above where his heart beats, hissing when he slips into you.

You rock against him slowly, gently, your heavy breathing the only sound amidst the backdrop of rain, and his hands reach for you, roaming over every bit of your body, light touches that drive you wild. Leaning back, you anchor yourself on the sheets, allowing him to roll his hips upward, the two of you moving in tandem.

“Mine,” he sighs, cupping your ass. “All mine.”

“Yours,” you echo, walls clenching around him when he began to slowly rub circles on your clit, tears stinging your eyes.

His other hand reaches for your neck, pulling you in to wipe the tears away with the pad of his thumb, his eyes never leaving yours as you fall apart around him, Namjoon’s thrusts speeding up as he groans into your shoulder, your arms drawing circles into his back as he spills inside of you.

Lifting you off of him, his arms reach around your body to press you against him, his lips ghosting your forehead, and you feel a wet trail of tears on his cheeks as the words spill out, and he tells you everything.

Tells you about growing up with a father who belittled and abused him for being weak, about his mother who left when he was a teen, about Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok, his friends who he feels like he’d abandoned. He tells you that he’s not sure what the right thing is anymore, not sure who needs him more – the city or his family, and how he feels so fucking lost all the time. He rambles until his voice becomes thick with fatigue, slowly eventually to the deep breaths you’d come to know beside you for yours, and you wrap his arms tighter around you. 

When you wake up in the morning, he’s gone.

Namjoon’s head pounds with guilt as he follows his father into the car, the tinted windows obscuring his plight from the world around him. Behind him, Yoongi and Hoseok look on with sharp eyes, guns belted into their holsters, preparing themselves for the imminent shitshow that was about to arise.

The problem was, it had already begun the moment Namjoon kissed you last night. His mind runs through the countless memories he’d stored from that night, from your soft lips to the sharp cries of pleasure that he’d wrought from you, and decides that he’s even more fucked now.

Looking at his phone, his thumb hovers over the text you’d sent him, one that was definitely borne from anger at seeing an empty bed when you woke up.

I’m leaving with Hyun in a week. Please don’t come and see us again.

Sighing, he decides to focus on the car moving to quell his nausea, to keep back the bile that rises in his throat. He had to hold it together in front of Yonghyun. If he messed this up now, he’d have nothing left.

. . .

Taking the receipt from the bank teller, you survey the amount of money withdrawn, praying it’s enough for you to start somewhere new with Hyun, your heart breaking at the thought of finally leaving Namjoon for good. You’re one foot out the door when you hear a voice behind you.

“___? Is that you?” Turning, you’re met with the handsome face of Kim Seokjin, looking grim-faced in a black suit.

Ignoring him, you keep walking. You wanted nothing to do with him, nothing to do with Namjoon anymore. 

“___, please, please wait,” he stops you with a hand on your arm, beckoning you to sit with him. The two of you make your way to a secluded bench in a park, and Seokjin stares at you, before sighing in defeat, realizing you weren’t going to talk.

“Yonghyun is taking Namjoon to make a deal with the Lees today,” he looks out at the people strolling by. “It’s a test for him – if Namjoon does well, he’ll become the leader. These types of things usually go one of two ways - either we handle it, or becomes a bloodbath.”

“Good for him,” you grit through your teeth, ignoring the way your heart does a flip. “It seems like that’s what he wanted all along.”

“I’m not here to talk to you about Namjoon,” he says somberly. “Whatever happened is between him and you, it’s not my place to interfere.”

“Look,” you say with a clipped voice, “Can we cut this bullshit? What do you want Seokjin? You can’t convince me to go back to him.”

“I’m here to tell you about me,” he says, his eyes trained to the ground. “About my story.”

“What makes you think I want to hear anything about you?” you say, instantly regretting how rude it sounded.

“You probably don’t, but I always do this. Whenever I have this random feeling like everything might go to shit, I find the most random person I can think of, and tell them about Kim Seokjin. It makes me feel like less of a petty criminal, and more of a human, like someone people would want to remember. Sometimes it’s the ahjumma who runs a fruit stand, or the ahjusshi on his way to work. Sometimes it’s a bored kid. Today, I just happened to find you.”

He offers you a sip of his coffee, and you politely decline.

“I guess I should start at the beginning,” he chuckles. “I’ve known Namjoon since before he could walk. My father was his right hand man, but my parents were killed when I was young. Namjoon’s family took me in, and soon enough Yoongi and Hoseok joined our little circle. We were the best of friends’ thick as thieves, and for a while we were happy, but then Namjoon’s mother left.”

Your mind flits back to Namjoon’s hurried conversation in bed, babbling about how his mother had enough, about how she had to go.

“Namjoon was nothing like his father. He was everything like her, and the moment he saw that Yonghyun had pushed her away, had turned her into an unhappy shell, he grew restless. I always knew he’d leave us one day, that he’d try to carve out his own path.”

“Yoongi and Hoseok were bitterly upset, they couldn’t believe him. I couldn’t either. I mean, what kind of dork runs away from a multi-million dollar empire for a college education?”

You laugh hollowly at his joke, and he musters a small smile.

“It must have been about two weeks after he left. Or maybe it was a month. I’m not sure anymore. When you’re as old as I am, the days all start to blend together.”

“You don’t look a day past thirty,” you quip, and he snickers.

“It started with a girl,” he sighs. “Most things do. Contrary to what you think, even members of the mafia need our old wake me up call, and I stepped into a random coffee shop, and there she was. I flirted with her like an idiot, cracked my silly jokes, and it felt different from all the pointless hook-ups I had, from all the missions I’d spent with a gun strapped to my back chasing money. We started seeing each other.”

You look past him out onto the park, guilt permeating your body at his words. Was this how Namjoon had felt when he met you? Were you really worth leaving behind everything to him.

“A month later, she was dead. Shot outside the coffee shop after locking up one night. All because they knew she was associated with me. All because I was selfish, and only thought of myself. That’s when I realized there was no way out for any of us, except Namjoon.”

Shuddering, you think back to the years Namjoon spent shrouding the dark side of himself from the world outside, how difficult it must have been to carry this black mark on his back for so long.

“I fucking hated everything in that moment. I hated my family, I hated my friends, I hated this life, I hated her. But most of all, I hated myself for being a walking target on the backs of those I cared about the most. I couldn’t console her family, her co-workers, I couldn’t do anything. They all would have seen me as the monster who caused her death. All I could fucking do was go back to doing what I had always done.”

He rises suddenly, telling you that he has to go soon, but that he needs to finish, that there’s something you need to hear.

“There was one night, where I was wandering around, recklessly drunk, probably in a park like this. I felt like doing something stupid – maybe killing someone, maybe shouting into the void. And I saw him. Namjoon. With you.”

You freeze. You and Namjoon had gone to the park hundreds of times, sometimes walking through it at night, other times riding your bike through the day. A chill runs down your spine when it hits you how close the two of you had come to meeting, Namjoon’s two worlds colliding.

“I wasn’t spying on you, I’m not an asshole. But you guys were being all cutesy and shit, and it finally struck me that he was in love. He hadn’t run away out of some misguided sense of fear, or superiority. He just wanted to live a normal life, one that was full of happiness. I never told anyone I saw you two because I knew it’d blow up in his face. And mine too. But I guess it did anyway, huh?”

Tapping his foot anxiously, his hands begin to shake as he grows restless.

“I gotta go. But even if you don’t take Namjoon back, and I’m not telling you that you have to, I’m telling you there was something there worth fighting for. Namjoon’s not a stupid man, he knows how to set priorities, and he chose you. And Hyun. That has to mean something.”

He turns on his heels, and you feel your head throb, eyes misting with tears.

“Seokjin!” you call out to him, and he turns, looking at you curiously. Smiling at him, you let a tear trickle down your face. “In another world, do you think we could’ve been friends? All of us?”

He smirks, crossing his arms.

“Maybe. But we’ll never know, will we?”

And with that he walks away.

Sweat trickles down Namjoon’s back as Yonghyun’s face grows redder, his screams becoming shriller. He can tell the Lees aren’t amused with his proposition to buy up more of their territory. His heart thuds in his ears, and he looks down the line to Yoongi, Hoseok, and Seokjin, who’d joined them recently. They all remain stone-faced, like they’d been through this before.

“Kim Yonghyun, you bought from us years ago and promised you’d double our investments,” Mr. Lee says calmly, and Namjoon fears him. “Instead, you’ve driven our businesses into the ground. Our partnership isn’t working anymore, we see no reason not to forfeit it.”

Every one of the Kims tenses around him, their shoulders slumping in defeat, mournful at the ruination of their empire. Namjoon, on the other hand, sighs in relief. This was it, he could finally be free from everything tying him down, he could make it right with you.

“You can take the boy,” Yonghyun says, nodding towards his son, and Namjoon’s blood runs cold. “Marry him off to one of your daughters. He’s of no use to us anyway.”

“NO!” Namjoon interrupts him, and Yonghyun cackles at his panicked face, his withered arm reaching for Namjoon, offering him up to the Lees.

Namjoon squirms in his father’s tight grip, the Lees looking on in horror, and Yonghyun groans.

“God, shut up, you stupid boy!” he howls. “I’m sick of you.”

And his arms close around Namjoon’s neck.

Namjoon’s lungs burn as he squeezes, the blood rushing out of his head, and the sounds around him become muffled, his father’s screams of delight the only thing he can hear as his vision becomes spotty.

Until a shot rings out,, followed by another and Namjoon feels his father slump forward, choking on blood as the two of them thud to the ground.

“Namjoon-ah,” Hoseok screams. “Are you with us, shit, shit, shit! Yoongi, help me, goddamnit.”

Together, the two of them pry Yonghyun off of him, and Namjoon regains enough clarity to see Kim Seokjin in front of him, smoke coming from the end of his pistol while he clutches his chest, the white of his shirt seeped in blood. Seokjin gives him a nod, and turns to leave, his footsteps echoing on the concrete stairs.

“We need to get you to a hospital, fuck,” Hoseok sobs, clutching Namjoon for dear life, and they carry him out. 

Stirring, Namjoon rubs his eyes sleepily, the beep of a heart monitor and the IV attached to his arm telling him he’s in the hospital. Blinking, he focuses enough to figure out he’s alone, the only other person in the room the nurse who charts down his vitals.

“Are you feeling better, dear?” the kind voice asks, and Namjoon’s heart drops to his stomach. He’d know that voice anywhere.

“Eomma?” he croaks, turning to look at a face he hasn’t seen in years. She looks the exact same as the day she left.

“Namjoon-ah?” she whispers, her eyes looking him up and down like she can’t believe it. “Is it really you?”

She lets out a sob, coming to hug him, and he winces when she presses into his body.

“Oh I’m sorry, I forgot your arm was sprained,” she blubbers, and he doesn’t say anything, surveying her.

“You were here this whole time?” he says, voice breaking. “Why didn’t you come back to us? Why didn’t you find me?”

“Because I never wanted to see you like this, Namjoon-ah. I was afraid, and I was scared. I left because I knew what your father was capable of. He made it his personal mission to turn the lives around him into a living hell, to the point where people didn’t even want to live anymore. I didn’t want to one day cradle your lifeless body in my hands, either because he’d had enough or because you’d had enough.”

Namjoons eyes fill with tears at seeing his mother, the only other woman in his life who’d shown him what it was like to chose himself, to chose happiness. Everything that he’d been through, everything he’d had with you, had been by her example.

“I kept tabs on you, though, I’d always look in the charts of nearby hospitals, looking for your name. It was a sign of relief every time I didn’t see it.”

“Will you stay with me, Eomma?” Namjoon asks, and she smiles sadly.

“Namjoon, I can’t—, if your father ever got word of me, he’d—”

“He’s dead,” Namjoon declares. “Seokjin killed him.”

His mother’s eyes widen in surprise, a tear leaking from them, and she collapses into sobs, shaking at his bedside. Her body is so withered, frail from so many years of abuse, and Namjoon holds her in his arms, whispering reassurances into her ear.

“You’re safe, Eomma. We both are.”

Namjoon looks nervously at Yoongi and Hoseok, their nods encouraging him to go on, and he straightens the tie his mother had picked out. Making his way up the path to your door again, he prays that you and Hyun haven’t left yet. 

The door opens before he can even knock, Hyun’s tiny figure looking up at him with wide eyes, and Namjoon resists the urge to sob at how much he’d grown up in the past couple of months. 

“Hyunnie?” you call out to him, sounding exhausted. “Who’s at the door?”

When Hyun doesn’t answer, you decide to come check, only to find him wrapped in Namjoon’s arms, your son sobbing into his father’s shoulder. You freeze when you see his arm in a sling.

“Never gonna leave you again, bud,” he says, muffled into Hyun’s tiny shoulder.

“Namjoon? Why are you here? What’s going on? The Kims—”

“There are no Kims, ___. Not anymore. It’s over.”

You throw yourself against him, sobs wracking your body.

“I missed you, god I missed you so much, I was gonna go insane.”

Taking your hand in his, you look up at him, lifting them to press a kiss to his knuckles, and he smiles at you.

“Don’t leave me again, okay? Whatever you need to say you can it. I promise I’ll listen, and we can work through it.”

Gesturing for Hyun to come join you, he wraps you both in a tight hug, savoring it, until you lean close and whisper in his ears.

“You’re our nucleus, Namjoon.”

Namjoon realizes he’d never really been weak at all. Not like Yonghyun had seen him. And now, as the autumn leaves crackled on the lawn, and Hyun ran excitedly outside, jumping through them with Yoongi and Hoseok, he realized that there may come a time in his life where he’d have to choose again. And for all the times he could have committed himself to a life of doom, times that sought to tempt him with his worst nightmares, he’d come out of it choosing you every time. 

Epilogue - 3 months later

“What do you mean he’s gone?” you look at Namjoon brows, furrowed in worry. Across the kitchen, Namjoon paces back and forth, feet clacking against the tile, as he resists the urge to rip his hair out.

In the distance, you can hear Hyun giggle, his halmeoni chasing him around the living room, and your eyes crinkle in a smile.

“Jungkook told me they haven’t been able to get a hold of him. Yoongi and Hoseok are up the wall.”

Rising from your seat, you try to calm your fretting husband, pressing a peck to his lips. You pout, and he sighs in resignation, knowing that it isn’t his problem to worry about. His hands come up to rest on your stomach, running over the tiny, firm bump that had brought forth new change into his life just two weeks ago.

“He’ll be fine, Namjoon,” you reassure him. “I know he will.”

“How?” Namjoon croaks out with worry, and you can’t blame him for his freakout.

“He’s Kim Seokjin, duh,” you deadpan, and Namjoon chuckles at your expression. “Now, stop this worrying, okay? I was promised matchamisu tonight, and I’m holding you to that.”

Accepting your hand, he lets you lead the way. Time for another date night.

a/n pt. 2: thank you for joining me on this crazy ride! for reference, the artist Namjoon and OC are talking about is Lee Seung Jio, and his series called Nucleus. As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

[taeraeszn]

im v hao deprived☹️ sooo i was wondering if you would be able to write a zhang hao fluffy fic😭? i was thinking smthin like idolxidolreader or idolxtraineereader stuff like that but it could rlly be ab anything you want js yk fluff:)) tysm!!

enchanted to meet you - zhang hao

characters: idol!zhang hao x gn!idolreader

description: after you two meet during an interview at a music show, you couldn't help but notice the boy standing in the centre of his group.

genre: fluff

word count: 954

warnings: may include some spelling/grammar errors but i don't think there is any but pls lmk if there is!!!!

a/n: hi anon! i decided to use what you suggested, hopefully your okay with that and how i wrote the story :) and honestly just writing this i'm getting more and more excited for their actual debut hehe <3

also i had so much fun writing this especially the interview part lol. this is the first time i've ever finished writing someone in one sitting!! i was so into this <3

being an idol was something you always wanted to become after seeing celebrities on tv sing and dance. you were luckily to be accepted as a trainee in a company and trained for a good 2 years before officially making your debut as the lead vocalist. you were very loved by your fans for being both talented and having a warm personality.

right after you debuted, your first music show appearance would be on music bank. your group was one of two groups chosen to be interviewed by the mc's eunchae and chaemin. needless to say that you were thrilled.

when your group members were all done getting ready with their styling, you were then escorted to the room where your interview was going to be held. that is where you met zerobaseone, the group who was joining you for that particular interview.

one of the boys signalled for the other members to be prepared to introduce themselves. "1, 2...d1, be the one! hello, we are zerobaseone!" they all exclaimed then bowed afterwards.

your group followed by your own introduction and the moment you looked up from bowing, you made eye contact with the guy standing in the centre. you had no idea what his name was or who he even was but you felt your heart start beating.

"we recently debuted with the album youth in the shade, we hope you have lots of interest in it!" the boy in the centre said. you nodded and thanked them as they handed their album to you that was signed.

your manager took the album aside and you did the same exchange with them by handing them your debut album. that's when you were called for the interview and you all stood there, excited but nervous at being able to promote your group on tv.

as they counted down from ten, the interview began and eunchae began speaking. "chaemin! did you hear? there's two new groups in town who are making a big splash in the hot month of july!"

chaemin then nodded, "of course! their hot debut is definitely a hit, let's meet them! welcome, zerobaseone and (group name)!"

once again your group introduced themselves to the viewers and zerobaseone did the same. the cheers you both received were such a indescribable feeling, seeing all the fans with banners and lightsticks really made it seem like your dream came true.

afterwards the interview went excellent! your leader took over most of the talking and you all made a great impression. but even throughout the interview, you couldn't stop thinking of the boy standing in the centre. he shined so bright even with his other eight members surrounding him.

your group headed back to your waiting room and you were the last member trailing behind everyone. but just as you were about to head in, you felt a presence linger behind you.

"um, excuse me?" you turned to see that boy you noticed from earlier behind you. his face looked so...perfect. like everything was sculpted to perfection. his downwards smile when you noticed him made your cheeks heat up. keep your calm (name)!

"oh! hello!" you bowed. he did the same and did the honours of introducing himself first, "my name is zhang hao! i'm the centre of zerobaseone. i just wanted to say that i really liked your debut song." oh so that's what his name was, zhang hao. it sounds pretty just like him.

"oh wow, thank you! my name is (name). i watched your debut as well and i was very impressed!"

he then shyly looked to his other member standing behind him before turning back to you, "is it okay if we can shoot a tiktok video together?" was this really happening?! the cute centre boy of his group asked you to film a tiktok with him?! you couldn't say no and followed him to the iconic pair of staircases that nearly every idol danced in front of for collabs at music bank.

"are you ready?" he smiled, his other member from before was filming it for him and before you knew it, the music began. you became fully immersed into the song as if it was your own debut and put your effort into making your cover good.

when the music finished, you once again bowed to him but it wasn't until that you were about to return to your waiting room that zhang hao stopped you once again.

"yes?" you asked. he seemed flustered but took his phone out and opened the contact app, "um, i want to get to know you better and get close. can we exchange numbers?"

his other member began chuckling to himself as zhang hao sent him a glare but retained his focus to you, once again showing his downward smile.

at first you were worried about the stacked july comeback lineup but now you were so thankful that you got to debut in the same month as him.

"of course! here, i'll put my name and number." he handed you his phone and you did exactly that.

"your name is (name)?" he said while staring at the contact, you nodded, "that's me!"

"thank you! i hope we can keep in touch!" he said while waving goodbye and heading back to his waiting room with his member who was filming the tiktok.

"me too! have a good day!" you responded. you went the opposite way and just then you heard his other member say something to him.

"hyung has a crush~" they said, zhang hao playfully nudged their shoulder.

"stop it!" you couldn't help but giggle. now you just had to wait for him to message you first, hopefully this encounter turns into more.

[l1nghuarchive]

Can I pls get fluff hcs for vtuber/streamer elysia with fem! reader?

TYSM FOR REQUESTING!! I love honkai reqs and i love elysia too 😻 pls excuse any spelling or grammar errors :')

Pairings : streamer!Elysia x fem!reader

Type : hcs

Warnings : n/a

MISS PINK ELF.

• Modern!streamer! Elysia who is known worldwide by a lot of fans, with both her looks and personality it is no wonder how many people have a little internet crush on her. Of course unlike her fans, you didn't really have an internet crush since you were dating her after all!

• Modern!streamer! Elysia who likes to gush over you on her stream whenever she gets the chance, saying how you are the best girlfriend she ever had and how she didn't regret meeting you as well as saying how your small habits are so cute!

"Oho~! You know this character really reminds me of Y/n, they like to leave their favourite food for last just like her~!"

• Modern!streamer! Elysia who rants so much about you even her fans could remember details about you that she shared! Though with how much elysia speaks of you, her fans really wanted a face reveal of you!!

• Modern!streamer! Elysia who doesn't want you to be forced to do anything you wish not to do and only asks for your consent to show your face online to her fans, though hesitant to do it at first you told her you didn't mind. (she loves how you're so courageous since there are ton of trolls online)

• Modern!streamer! Elysia who after showing your face, her fans loved you! Immediately starting to do edits with you and your girlfriend on the stream where they asked questions about you! Some even decided to draw little fanart of you <3

• Modern!streamer! Elysia who had already told her friends that she was dating you but they had to keep it a secret, which they all complied with Kalpas being grumpy of how he couldn't brag he knew one of Elysia's secrets

• Modern!streamer! Elysia who loves doing q&a streams with you and some gaming streams as well.

• Modern!streamer! Elysia who loves cuddling you after streams, she doesn't mind being big or small spoon as long as she knows you're there with her.

• Modern!streamer! Elysia who likes to hold hands before you fall asleep to have the reassurence that your there with her and you can meet in your dreams.

Reblogs, likes and follows are always appreciated! Read my rules before requesting! Tysm for reading <3

[scaratastic]

xiao × reader , tw ; none , slight angst (?)

unspoken feelings.

the moonlight illuminates your skin,

as I could feel the love that I have for you sinking in.

xiao was unable to say no to your requests , like usual , when you asked him if it was okay for him to accompany you watch the night sky together from the balcony of the Inn. the night sky was beautiful , the moon shining so brightly as the soft glimmers of the stars adores the lonely and dark sky. the only thing that you weren't aware of , was that instead of admiring the moon or stars , he was admiring you.

the feelings were so strong,

that sometimes I can't help but feel like it's wrong.

he never stopped staring at you as you made small talks and complimented on the magnificent view of the sky tonight. you were so perfect to him , so precious , so pretty. it felt too good to be true to even breathe the same air as you. his lips was now forming into a small but soft smile as he stared at you with so much love for you but it sooned faded when his mind started to think of something.

how is it possible for someone so lowly and disgusting as me,

to earn your affection and love just for free ?

his mind began to show slides of just how terrible he is. he was heartless and a ruthless killer. how could he even have the audacity to dream of having something so delicate and gentle as you ? his heart ached as his thoughts raced. he thought that it was impossible for him to even fall in love with someone. yet here he is , so deeply in love with you but he was reluctant about it. was he even worthy of your attention ?

there's nothing i can do but dream,

falling deeper and deeper that I felt like I wanted to scream.

he had never expect his feelings to be so intense that he felt like shouting and telling the whole world about how much he loved you. how much of a sweetheart you were. but of course , he could do nothing but merely daydream of it. it saddened him , but he knew that it was for the best.

perhaps I should end it all,

hide my feeling and stand all tall.

he tried to pushed the feelings away , but he couldn't. he oh so desperately tried , but failed miserably within a blink of an eye.

making sure no one knows,

and let none of my feelings show.

and just like usual , he put up the cold and tough facade. making sure that no one can see right through him , especially you. he was genuinely scared of your reaction if you were to find out about this. will you hate him ? will you leave him for good ?

now here I am again,

admiring you from afar like back then.

he was afraid of the possibility of losing you , so he kept his feelings to himself. even if it pained him so much. all he could do was imagine a few scenarios where you two were together. snuggling into each other's arms while sharing sweet kisses on a very lovely evening. oh how he longed to be with you.

how I hope you knew just how much I liked you,

maybe there's a chance for you to love me too ?

he silently stared at you , the calm and cold breeze of the night gently caressed your skin. when you noticed that he has gone quiet , you looked at him and realised that he was staring at you. you stared at him back , as his mind began to race yet again.

...

will she..

actually love me too ?

( I'm writing this at 2 am pls excuse any grammar / wording error plspls )