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#tho at the rate they are going its going to be 3 years before i see lamorak agn
gandreida · 4 months
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Wanting to upgrade my computer so I can more reliably play games w/ friends is a feasible goal which is awesome ‘cause for the last few years my main goal has been “don’t kill yourself” so having this as a goal shows improvement in that I actually want something other than to simply not die by my own hand
#also it gives me incentive to go to work#I was sick this week so I missed like 3 days of work as a result of me trying to avoid giving myself asthma#but as luck would have it I made the conscious effort to go to work every day last week#not to mention this was a really fast sick span#it only lasted from Friday-Most Tuesday#outside the bread coughs and liquids down the wrong holes i’ve been doing swell#so swell that I feel comfortable going in to work tomorrow#my position right now tho worries me#I’m not sure how long I can be a pick-off as it hurts my shoulder but I think if I were to stretch more diligintely before work I could#potentially avoid it#but regardless it just sucks in general to have be like this ‘cause loading hurts my knees and those just hurt regardless#plus I got a bigass hill I have to climb after work every night and that doesn’t do me any favors#and on top of that if I don’t climb it fast it measn getting home like 30 minutes later half the time#and I’m not fond of waiting for the bus that late at night#especially since a couple of weeks ago I had a dude harassing me#like I have to walk down side streets that are largely unlit to sit and wait at a bus stop that no one really goes to like ??#I just need to buy a few things for the computer namely RAM and a 1TB internal SSD#that’s pretty cheapo in comparison to the rest of the computer#hell the RAM isn’t even necessary tbh that’s why I’m going for the SSD first#A 2TB SSD would be better tho like it could fully replace my 9 y/o 2TB HDD that’s Very Much So At The End Of Its Life#truly tho I need a car#but it’s hard to save for a car when I have so much debt to pay every month#I think I can actually start saving for one like mext year tho ‘cause at the rate I’m going by feb next year I could be cleared of all#personal debts#then I can save up like $120 a month guarunteed rather than trying and failing to save even like $50 or somethin#I could actually help people too#I could be comfortable and help people w/o throwing myself under the bus financially#that’s what I really want
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plsleafmelon · 6 months
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gachapin frenzy ended in one pull w ANOTHER of shalems weapon wow !!!! why do u give me so many :"))) mukky frenzy ended in thirty with a drang ball.... this banner sucks ass
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guinevereslancelot · 7 months
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just ordered some suspiciously cheap plants <3
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oddinary4bts · 10 months
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Emotions of the Soul | knj
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☆summary: when Namjoon reappears in your life after thirteen years of absence, you find yourself unsure of what he means to you, and of what you mean to him. Anxiety reigns over you, but will it be enough to drag you away from Kim Namjoon?
☆pairing: Kim Namjoon x artist female reader
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)
☆genre: childhood/teenage lovers to strangers to lovers, idol!au, smut, angst, fluff
☆warnings: alcohol, anxiety, a reference to the reader in Now We Reign if you guys can catch it, cursing, stupid teenage threats of m*rder, an appearance from the reader in Forever, pet names, paparazzi, imposter syndrome, an ugly teenage breakup flashback, explicit content: mentions of blindfolding, switch!Namjoon, big dick!Namjoon, switch!reader, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, dirty talking?, balls fondling, face riding, breast play, fingering, protected sex, praise, hair pulling (ish), ass slapping, tummy bulge (? lmao), choking, cumshot, cum eating, unprotected sex, he calls OC a slut once or twice I think
☆word count: 36.3k
☆a/n: Oof I don't know why but writing this was so so hard?? I'm happy I finally managed to finish it tho! It delves into the subject of anxiety and its effects on people, so it's a little heavy, but I hope you'll still enjoy it <3 As always, thank you to @moonleeai​ for her incredible work as my beta reader! You’re the best <3
☆Read the other installments in the Life Goes On series here!
☆☆☆☆☆
The music in the gallery was loud. It probably fitted a club better than an art exhibit, the upbeat melody having more than one person dancing and nodding their head to it. The atmosphere was warm, stuffy, even though the front doors had been left open in the hopes of getting the fresh November air in. It failed majestically, and you were sweating in your too-tight dress by the refreshment table in a corner, watching over the crowd.
You had never seen so many people in your gallery before. Had never thought your art would attract that amount of people, but it seemed the art enthusiasts of Seoul had flocked to your gallery tonight, looking to experience the art of a new talent firsthand.
At least that was what the journalists were saying, even though you had been an artist since you were a middle schooler. Fingers always stained with ink, teachers scolding you for never paying attention…
Middle school had seen your love for art blossom the way azaleas blossom after a long winter. With bright petals, vivid with life, though your art had first been the colour of the darkest nights. It had taken you years before you had incorporated colours into it, and now you were proud to see the myriad of shades painted on your pieces.
You sighed, and you reckoned maybe the mask you were wearing was the reason why you felt so stuffy. But you weren’t going to risk being recognized – no, you liked enjoying your exhibits in the anonymity of an art enthusiast. Rare were those who knew who the artist actually was, and you felt like it was the best way to have actual feedback on your art.
No one coated their words with sugar when they spoke with just another art enthusiast. So tonight, you wore the mask of the artist, the one people knew you for. It preserved your identity but also allowed people to know who the artist was when they had to. Like tonight, considering that it was the opening of your newest exhibit, The Colours of Fall.
You ordered a glass of apple-flavoured soju mixed with beer, bowing your head in thanks at the employee behind the table when they offered it to you. When you turned back around, your eyes trailed to the wall of windows on one side of the room. Though some pieces were hung there, with spotlights behind the windows to create shadows into the pieces, you still were able to see the black Sedan that was parking outside.
Paparazzi outside started flashing their cameras as someone walked out, and all you could see from where you were was a mop of black hair. More than one celebrity was in attendance tonight, so you didn’t pay attention to the person arriving more than necessary, instead focusing on the exhibit once more.
It was going well. Far better than you had first imagined it would. You had already sold numerous pieces, and your brain was running a mile a minute with ideas of what you could replace them with.
Your mask only hid the top part of your face, so you easily took a sip of your drink, inadvertently bobbing your head to the music. It was good music, it really was, but you couldn’t wait for the actual playlist you had chosen to begin.
Which wasn’t going to be for a whole other hour, unfortunately. After you said your speech and the lights turned to red, orange, and the rich yellow of autumn leaves.
Your manager moved closer to you, and she offered you a wide smile. You nodded your head and watched as she ordered the same drink as you, before standing next to you.
“The celebrity scene is going crazy over your exhibit,” Na Sooah said. “Most of those invited showed up.”
“I still can’t believe you invited the whole celebrity scene,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “Most of them know nothing about art.”
Sooah laughed. “Not all of them! Kim Namjoon just arrived.”
Your throat went dry, and the hand clutching your glass tightened at the mention of Namjoon’s name. Kim Namjoon. Your childhood friend Kim Namjoon. Your first kiss, your first time… and a member of the most famous boy group in the world. More than that, Namjoon was a fellow art enthusiast.
Namjoon’s love for art started at the same time as yours. He had been enthralled by your drawings, believing that you had a gift that needed to be nurtured and protected. Like his love for music, though his comparisons most often made no sense. To you, that is.
Namjoon had been your first heartbreak, back when every emotion felt deeper than the ocean, when anger, pain, and sadness ran longer than eternity. Back when he hadn’t even joined Big Hit yet.
“Kim Namjoon,” you repeated, tasting his name in your mouth for the first time since that ugly October night when you had told him you hated him more than anything in this world, and he had left without even a single look back.
You had never spoken after that. You had never talked about him anymore either, not to your friends or family. And when you had begged your parents to change school, they had caved in, letting you attend the same school as your cousin Miyoung.
Miyoung had been your closest friend since then, until Sooah had come into your life to form a trio with you and your cousin when you had attended college in arts.
“Yeah, he’s created quite a commotion outside,” Sooah commented, and you remembered the mop of black hair.
Could that have been Namjoon?
“And when he RSVP’ed, he mentioned that he would like to have a talk with the artist, so I hope you’re ready,” Sooah added, teasingly.
You glared at her through your mask. “You couldn’t have told me before?”
“No.”
You rolled your eyes once more, not so playfully this time, taking another sip of your drink. “He’s Kim Namjoon, you could have let a girl prepare.”
At that, Sooah laughed out loud. “Got a little crush?”
“Quite the opposite,” you said through gritted teeth.
You hated Kim Namjoon.
You noticed him then. He was dressed simply, yet it was elegant, somehow. Or maybe it was the way he carried himself, with his large and tall frame, that made him elegant. Because you doubted a pair of jeans with a gray cardigan over a light blue polo was supposed to be this elegant. His long coat matched the colour of his cardigan almost to perfection, and he flashed dimples to the employee at the coat check as he took off the coat, revealing more of his large frame.
Needless to say, Kim Namjoon didn’t look like he could rip a log in two with his bare hands back when you had first known him. No, he had been a thin, gangly teen, with arms that seemed too long for his frame.
When he was rid of his coat, he moved to the side to let the man behind him give his coat away, and then the two of them started walking together.
You had no idea who the other man was, but from the looks of it, he was a friend, as Namjoon laughed along with him.
One of your hands moved to your face, gently grazing your mask to make sure it was still well-fitted. It was like one of those masks people wore at the Venice carnival. It matched the theme of your exhibit, with autumn leaves craftily molded into it. It was a piece of art in and of itself, like all the masks you wore as an artist.
He wouldn’t recognize you. You were positive he wasn’t going to be able to recognize you with just the lower part of your face on display, especially after so many years apart. Your voice had changed to – matured, aged, like your features, quite honestly.
After all, the last time Kim Namjoon had seen you, you had been a crying, yelling, angsty fifteen-year-old.
Sooah left you to a couple that was looking to buy one of the backlit art pieces, and you explained to them the process behind the creation of the art they had chosen, eyes once in a while flitting around to make sure Kim Namjoon wasn’t in your vicinity yet.
He wasn’t. He was perusing around the gallery, stopping to talk to other celebrities once in a while, and so far, you weren’t even sure he had looked your way. Which was a good thing, because that meant maybe you’d make it to your speech before he actually tried talking to you.
You could leave immediately after your speech, right?
“And what about the subject of autumn interested you so much?” the older man in front of you asked.
You blinked out of your reverie, offering him a practiced, easy smile. “If you had to choose, would you want to witness the beginning or the end?” you asked.
It was the catchphrase of your speech. Though people could argue that the year ended and began in the winter months, you had always seen a finality in the months of fall and had portrayed it in your art.
The man seemed taken aback by your question. He cocked his head to the side, before glancing at his wife. “The end carries weight,” the wife said pensively. “It carries age and wisdom.”
You offered her a polite nod. “Exactly. I find beauty in the end and chose to portray it with the months of autumn. When life seems to come to its end.”
“Fall is beautiful,” the man agreed. “But wouldn’t you argue the start holds more beauty? With all the possibilities that it carries.”
“A different kind of beauty. Which, maybe it’s going to inspire my next exhibit,” you teased, secretively, and the couple laughed.
You talked to them a little more, and it seemed life had salvation to offer you because Sooah was the one that came to you first, and not Kim Namjoon. You said goodbye to the couple, before following your manager to the spot where you were to say your speech. As usual, nerves wracked your whole body at the sight of the standing mic, and you had to resist not to bring your thumb to your mouth to nibble on the nail. It was a habit you had gotten rid of only recently, and you really didn’t want it to come back.
Especially not in front of a crowd such as this one, in which you knew Kim Namjoon was standing.
Sooah stopped in the crowd, pushing you forward gently, inciting you to walk the rest of the way yourself. Your heart beat out of your chest as if it was about to escape your ribcage, and you took a deep steadying breath before moving out of the crowd.
The music stopped, and the lights immediately dimmed, until all that was left was a single spotlight, which shone on you as you stopped next to the mic. Back turned to the crowd, eyes skimming over the biggest piece of your exhibit. Ilsan lay before you, draped in the colours of autumn.
You breathed in and out one last time, and then you turned, stepping in front of the mic.
“If you could choose,” you started, voice steadier than you expected it’d be. “Would you choose the end or the beginning?”
The couple you had been speaking to smiled wildly at your sentence, and you let the silence linger long enough for people to whisper their own answer. Music started with low traditional instruments replacing the upbeat melody from earlier.
“There is a form of beauty in the end. In knowing you’ve seen it all, and that rest is at your door,” you continued. “There’s beauty in looking back, in wisdom, and in the Colours of Autumn.” You paused, looking over the crowd. You noticed Namjoon standing at the back, listening politely. “My exhibition carries this: the end of the year, of the cycle of nature. The beauty of fall, of leaves and October nights and November rains.” You wondered if people could tell that your hand was slightly trembling, where it held the mic. “When the wind catches and leaves blow, it is time to look back. So tonight, I want you all to take a step back, to look back on your lives and ask yourselves, ‘Have I found the wisdom of The Colours of Autumn?’”
The spotlight turned off, and you walked away from the mic to the crowd. When you turned back to look at the piece of Ilsan, a projector came to life and the story you had prepared started.
You tuned it out: you had seen the shadow and light projections so many times already they had lost all sense to you. It often happened – if you stared at your art for too long, it lost all its meaning. So you usually didn’t look back on a piece right away. You waited for the end, for the concretization that came with your exhibits, and only then did you look back.
Except the lights and shadows. You had watched those fifteen times yesterday only to make sure that everything was perfect. And you were quite the perfectionist, you knew that they were.
While everyone was watching, you slowly made your way to the back of the crowd. You surprisingly still had your drink in your hands, and you took a careful sip as you finally slipped out of the big of the crowd. The drink was flat now, and you tried to head towards the refreshment table in order to rid yourself of it.
It seemed your calculations had been wrong, because Kim Namjoon stood in front of you, in all his tall glory.
All his infuriating glory, as dimples graced his cheeks at the sight of you. They stopped you in your tracks, and you gazed up at him, eyes connecting even through the dim lighting. His friend was standing next to him, and your eyes flitted to him once before looking at Namjoon again.
Namjoon nodded his head, politely, before taking a sip of the beer he was holding. You nodded back, and then you resumed moving, thoughts spiraling like leaves in the fall wind. You made it all the way to the small door that led to the stairs to your studio before you were stopped by a large hand on your elbow.
You knew who it was without having to turn around, and you would have cursed him for not watching the show had applauds not sounded, indicating that it was over anyway.
“Hi,” Namjoon politely said when you were finally facing his way. His hand had long returned to the pocket of his jeans, and he looked infinitely nonchalant, standing there in front of you. “Sorry for the intrusion, but your manager told me to be quick to speak to you at the end if I didn’t want to miss you.”
Sooah could go to hell.
You offered a polite chuckle, though to you, it sounded like you were choking on air. Because frankly, you felt like you were. “I do usually slip away in the night,” you answered. You glanced at the door, hating that your salvation had been so close yet so far. “You caught me right before I was to leave.”
When you faced Namjoon again, you noticed the confused look on his features. His brows were furrowed over his eyes, his lips were slightly parted, and he had tilted his head to the side in confusion. His eyes, slightly narrowed, made him look like some sort of dragon, and God were you well placed to know Namjoon could breathe fire if he wanted.
At least when he was a teen, he could.
“I’ve been trying to get in contact with you,” Namjoon admitted. “Your manager said to come here if I wanted a chance to talk to you.”
You cocked an eyebrow, though the mask hid it from view. What the hell could Namjoon want to speak to you about?
“I’ve noticed you portray Ilsan in your art a lot, and since I come from there, I wanted to know if I could buy a piece,” he added to your stunned silence.
“You didn’t have to talk to me to ask for that,” you said, and you glanced around at the employees on the floor that were in charge of the actual selling.
“I wanted to have the artist’s insight on which piece she’d believe would fit best for me,” he continued, and he seemed to realize then that this was weird. He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders a little. “Or maybe even have one made personally?”
Now, you remembered why you hated Kim Namjoon. “I do not take commissions,” you flatly replied. “If you wish to buy a piece, you can auction for one with one of my employees.”
“Sorry,” Namjoon quickly said. “I didn’t want to sound rude. Like at all. It’s just… there was this piece I really liked from your last exposition, Winds of the West? I couldn’t buy it in time.”
“I do not remake pieces.”
Silence followed your statement. Had he only then noticed how cold you were towards him?
“Right,” he eventually said. “How unfortunate. I think the person that bought it is here today. Might as well go talk to them.”
It was said like a joke, but you didn’t bite, remaining entirely stoic in front of him. Kim Namjoon didn’t seem to like it, as if he was used to people bending to his every wish, and he probably was.
“Might as well,” you agreed, hoping that it was going to make him leave.
It seemed it did the trick, because he looked over his shoulder, probably searching for the person in question. When his eyes settled back on you, he said, “Guess I’ll let you escape through the night.”
You pursed your lips, nodding once. And just because you wanted to preserve your artist image a little, even though you reckoned you had been rude to him, you said, “Good luck with getting the piece.”
At that, he lit up, and the dimples appeared.
You hated that after all these years, they still had an effect on you.
“Thank you, Maehwa,” he gently said.
Hearing him say your artist’s name had you freezing on the spot. You hoped he didn’t see the panic in your eyes, and the colours draining from the half of your face visible to people. He did furrow his eyebrows once more though, looking pensive, but you didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. Indeed, you quickly wished him good night, before turning around and stepping through the door.
Once you were in the cool darkness, back pressed against the door you’d just locked, you took another deep steadying breath, like the one you had taken before your speech.
Maehwa had been Namjoon’s nickname for you, all those years ago. Because back then, you had mostly been drawing flowers and had been attracted to the maehwas, the blooms of a plum. But maehwas were common and loved, and there was no way he could have connected the dots. He didn’t seem like he had, or else you were pretty sure he would have approached you in an entirely different fashion. Indeed, back then, he had told you he’d kill you if he ever saw you again, which, in your fifteen-year-old heart, had been quite the threat.
Once you were calmed, you walked down the stairs, breathing in a sigh of relief at the sight of your studio. Right now, it was pretty much empty, save for the painting you had started for Miyoung’s wedding next summer.
She wasn’t even engaged yet, but her boyfriend Doyoon had let you in on the secret since you were going to help with the proposal in a few weeks. You glanced at the painting, almost wishing to work on it a little just to get your mind off things. But it was late, and you’d rather be at home, with your cat Gabi.
Was it your fault if memories of Kim Namjoon swam in your head until late that night? You highly doubted so. And looking back, you couldn’t see any beauty in your ending. You, who preached that all endings held beauty. Had you just been too immature then? You thought perhaps you had been, but it didn’t really matter anymore though, did it? It couldn’t.
Why, then, were you unable to shake Kim Namjoon out of your thoughts, until troubled sleep found you in its embrace?
*****
                December was grand. With showers of fluffy snow that left a blanket on the world, and Miyoung’s engagement party. You painted, stained your fingers with blue and purple to match the colours of the winter landscape, and by the time January came, you had all but forgotten how Kim Namjoon had just reappeared one evening in late November.
Your studio was cool at this time of the year, and the windows at the top of the walls had iced with frost. You were wearing a thick sweater, with a pair of leggings you had long stained with paint, back when you were working on the fall Ilsan piece.
Indie music was playing in the background, a new artist that had been taking over Seoul and South Korea with her music. It was sad, but Miyoung had insisted that you listen to it, saying that the artist had been rookie of the year at MAMA last year. You had been supposed to accompany Miyoung to the singer’s stadium show too, but you had ended up being sick, and Sooah had gone in your stead.
The music was lonely, nostalgic, but the lyrics were powerful and inspiring. So you kept on painting, as the light of the rising sun slowly melted the frost on the window, though the corners clung to it like one clings to a lover just returned from war.
You hadn’t slept last night. Had stayed up working on your current piece, and exhaustion was slowly catching up to you, even though the inspiration hadn’t worn off yet. So you kept working, head tilting to the side whenever you finished a small part, waiting to know what the next step in the journey was.
You had a fist on your hip when Sooah and Miyoung both appeared at the top of the stairs leading to the basement, voices cheery and loud in the relative calmness of your studio.
“Please tell me you haven’t been up all night,” Miyoung scolded you, and your gaze slid to where she was walking down the stairs, hands holding up two coffees.
She handed one to you when she reached the basement floor. You took it gladly with the hand that was previously on your hip, shrugging your shoulders. “I was almost done.”
Both Sooah and Miyoung looked at the piece.
“Clearly,” Sooah sarcastically said.
Your eyes also slid back to your piece. You took a step back, and clearly, you were far from done. You had been working on the middle portion all night, but you still had only a vague drawing for the rest of the canvas. You sighed, putting down your brush.
“I meant I’m almost done with what I wanted to finish,” you specified.
Sooah nodded her head, before plopping down on the couch in one corner. Miyoung glanced once at her, before resuming her attention on you.
“Why did it take two months for me to know Kim Namjoon came to your exhibit?” she asked, with the most innocent voice.
Your mouth fell open. “What? It was all over the news.”
“You know I don’t watch the news!” Miyoung exclaimed. “Sooah mentioned it while we were getting coffee.”
“I-“
“And why did you never tell me you dated that guy when you were younger?” Sooah interjected, not letting you finish your sentence.
“Mimi!” you burst, and you jumped towards Miyoung, fully in the hopes of tackling her to the ground.
“The art!” Miyoung screamed as she escaped you. “Be careful with your art!”
You stopped in your tracks, electing to glare at her instead. “Why did you tell her? I was fifteen!”
“Still counts,” Miyoung replied, the innocent act still on.
But you wouldn’t be fooled. “It clearly doesn’t.” You turned your head towards Sooah, who watched with a giddy smile from where she sat. “Right? Who cares about a teenage ex?”
She laughed. “Clearly, you, if you get so worked up about it, what, thirteen years later?”
You frowned, shaking your head. Instead of replying, you took a long sip of your coffee, hoping it would give you something to reply to that.
“I don’t care,” you said when the sip was swallowed, and you couldn’t really wait anymore.
Sooah nodded, getting up from her spot on the couch to head in front of the painting you had been working on. You watched her go, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively.
“Well then,” she said once she was standing there, with her back turned to you. She smacked her lips once, the only way you knew she was up to no good. “You won’t care if I tell you he asked to film something in the gallery, and I said yes.”
You loved your friends. You really did. But sometimes you hated them too. Like right now, as your brain immediately started planning their murder.
“What the fuck?”
Sooah finally turned towards you, acting as if she didn’t just announce the worst news of your life to you. “Yeah. The pay is going to be worth it, and it’s going to give a lot of worldwide visibility to your art. It really is worth it.”
“But Kim Namjoon?” you complained. “Couldn’t you have chosen… I don’t know, some cool indie artist?”
“He’s a cool artist,” Sooah stated, shrugging her shoulders.
You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “Is he really?”
“His music is good,” Miyoung cut in innocently.
Your head snapped towards her. “You listen to his music?”
“Yeah, the album he released in December is good.”
And that was how you found yourself sleep-deprived, listening to a music album made by your teenage ex, as your manager explained to you the deeds of the project Namjoon was going to film in the gallery. Even though Sooah was one of your closest friends, you couldn’t really say no when she asked you to do job things. You trusted her entirely on her choices, had always did, but today you regretted it just a little bit.
Luckily enough for her, your exhaustion won over your will to fire her – or worse, to murder her – and you headed home when you finished listening to the album, repeating time and time again to you didn’t think Namjoon’s music was good.
It had led to Miyoung innocently mentioning that your breakup had been ugly, and really you had to get out of there before you committed the irreparable. It was only a few hours later, after a well-deserved nap, that you realized something.
Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery didn’t mean you had to be present, right?
*****
Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery actually meant that you were going to have to be present.
You had been too tired, that day with Sooah. Had entirely not assimilated that the project he was filming was a series of short episodes where he met up with various local artists, presenting their craft to the world. He had chosen you for the painting episode, even though you were quite convinced there were way better artists out there that he could have chosen from. You didn’t really have a say in this – what Sooah wanted, Sooah got.
Still, you were given a reprieve – the date chosen for shooting was still in a week, and so you took to arranging your gallery the way you believed would work best. And though you were pretty sure it was ready, some late Thursday afternoon you found yourself moving around some paintings, deciding to change the location of the Ilsan piece that had been the vehicle of the shadow and light projection you had shown at your exhibit in November.
You watched as two employees moved the piece where you had asked them to, fists on your hips, when bells rang, indicating that someone had walked in. You didn’t dare look behind you, instead giving directions to the employees as one of them carefully climbed the two first steps of a stepladder to hang the painting where it needed to be.
You surveyed them until the painting was safely hung, almost forgetting that someone had walked in. You only remembered when you felt a heavy gaze on your profile, and a silhouette appeared. You glanced their way then, and almost let out a startled scream that would have clearly made the windows explode.
Kim Namjoon offered you a tight-lipped smile.
“Are you Maehwa?” he asked.
You put a hand over your chest, trying to keep your heart from going into arrest. “You can’t just sneak on people like this,” you grumbled.
Then, the weirdest thing happened. He started smiling, wide, flashing his insufferable dimples, and his eyes lit up from within.
“It really is you.”
You gulped. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” You wanted to scold yourself for saying that, as if you wouldn’t know who Kim Namjoon was, even if he wasn’t your ex from so many years ago.
“Y/n, don’t play this game with me,” Namjoon said, teasingly. “I was pretty sure it was you in November, and now I have the proof.”
You scoffed. “What do you want?”
This time, his smile only allowed one dimple to appear, and you hated it even more. “Your manager told me that I could come over today to prepare for shooting. She said you were setting up the gallery.”
You would really need to fire Na Sooah, wouldn’t you?
You looked around, though it was pretty much ready. The filming crew was supposed to come at the beginning of next week to set up the spotlights and everything else they might need, as filming was only supposed to be Wednesday next week.
“Yeah,” you replied flatly. “What do you need to prepare?”
He tilted his head to the side. “We haven’t seen each other in years, and that’s how you speak to me? I remembered you to be a lot warmer.”
The nerves on this man…
“It’s been over ten years, I’ve changed.” You clenched your jaw once, before taking a deep, steadying breath. There were employees around, after all. “What do you need to prepare?”
He just smiled, mysteriously, before glancing around once. “Do you have an office somewhere around here?”
You looked up to the ceiling, rolling your eyes so far back you thought they were going to stick to the back of your head. “I have my studio downstairs,” you grumbled. “Follow me.”
He nodded, dimples flashing, and followed you as you made your way to the door through which you had escaped from him in November. Only this time, there was no escaping.
Namjoon’s heavy footsteps followed you down the stairs, and you braced yourself for the inevitable comments he was going to make about your studio. To your surprise, he remained silent, and you realized that he, too, had changed through the years.
No one remained quite like their fifteen-year-old self, didn’t they?
You moved towards the sitting area, vaguely motioning to an armchair. “Have a seat.”
You glanced over your shoulder, only to see Namjoon was looking at your current work-in-progress. It made you feel insecure, somehow, and you cleared your throat.
Namjoon’s gaze trailed to you. “Sorry.”
He walked towards you, and you felt small as he stopped right in front of you, still with that same infuriating, warm smile on his lips. “Your art has improved a lot through the years.”
You fled his gaze, motioning to the armchair again. “Do you want coffee? Or a tea?”
“Just water would be fine,” he replied, his smile falling for the first time since he had appeared in the gallery upstairs.
You nodded curtly, and as you headed towards the kitchen area of your studio, Namjoon got comfortable in the armchair. You brought back two glasses of water, mostly because you knew you were going to need something to hold to keep your nerves at bay. Namjoon accepted his with a slight bow of his head, and then you sat on the couch.
You exchanged a look, as you waited expectantly for him to say something. He remained silent, a pensive look on his features. It threw you off, as he had been the type to talk a lot back then.
“You’ve changed,” he stated out of the blue, and it made you cock an eyebrow.
“Obviously,” you drawled. “I would expect someone to change after thirteen years.”
Those stupid dimples appeared for half a heartbeat. “Yet you haven’t changed at all.” At your obstinate silence, Namjoon specified, “You’re still just as petty as I remember you to be.”
Your eyes widened. “Are you here to insult me or to prepare for shooting your show?”
He chuckled, a deep sound that had you busying yourself with a sip of water. He mirrored you, before saying, “I don’t mean to insult you at all”.
Should you call him out for his bullshit? Back then you would have, but you had grown up. So you remained silent once more, waiting for him to continue.
“It’s just weird to see you again,” he said, and he motioned towards you with the hand holding the glass. “You look… good.”
Not at all what you were expecting. It made you gulp, and you hated that your cheeks were burning. “It is weird, right?”
He nodded once, eyes trailing away from you to look down at his glass. “I’m happy your dreams worked out.”
Now, the pang in your heart was unwelcome. Kim Namjoon shouldn’t have the power to make you feel like this, not after all the years.
“I worked hard,” you replied carefully. “As you have, I presume.”
At that, he chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “I sure have.”
Another awkward silence and you glanced at him as he took a sip of water.
“So, what did you want to prepare?” you asked once you couldn’t stand the silence anymore.
“Oh,” he let out. He sat back in the armchair, looking way too at ease with his thighs slightly spread. “I wanted to give you the list of questions that I’m going to ask so that way you can prepare in advance,” he told you, offering you another one of those disarming, dimple-flashing smiles.
You cocked an eyebrow. “You couldn’t have shared them by email?”
Another chuckle of his had you looking away, focusing on your project.
“I could have. But I wanted to see if my inkling was right at the same time,” he explained. “Before the day of shooting, that is.”
You sighed, before looking back at him. His eyes were already on you, and it made you gulp once more.
Namjoon had gotten really intimidating, after all these years.
“Well, now you know,” you said. “Was there anything else you needed?”
He seemed surprised at the dismissal in your tone. “Not… really.” He wet his lips, watching you carefully. “I just thought it’d be great to catch up.” His gaze moved to your surroundings, before settling back on you. “To get to know how you managed to get such a nice studio and all that. I haven’t heard about you since we broke up.”
“Because I wanted it to be this way,” you replied. “And why do you have to say it like you didn’t believe I’d make it?”
“Wait, no,” he quickly said. “That’s not what I meant.”
You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes. “Of course not.”
He laughed. “Really? After all these years, you’re still mad at me?”
“You did tell me you wanted to kill me,” you reminded him in a grumble.
He seemed surprised. He frowned, and his head once again tilted to the side. “Did I?”
“You don’t remember?”
At that, you were the one to be surprised. It had been such a pivotal piece of your existence, back then, that you expected it to be marked into his brain the same way that it was in yours.
He shrugged. “Not particularly. I got super busy with being a trainee, and I just… I guess I forgot.”
“Oh,” you let out. The silence that followed was heavy, awkward, and you hoped it was enough for Namjoon to get the cue and leave.
Maybe he was still just as dumb and clueless as he had been then, because he said, “I was intense, wasn’t I?”
You pursed your lips. “Yeah.”
You held his eyes for a few seconds until your gaze dropped to your glass. You hated how you couldn’t look at him anymore, but gosh, he looked a lot better than he did then, and you had already found him attractive all those years ago.
“I…” he trailed off, nibbling at his bottom lip. “I was wondering if I could have your phone number, to send you the list of questions.”
“Uh…” You scratched the back of your neck, shrugging your shoulders. “You can send it to my manager, she’ll have it sent to me.”
If he was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. “I guess I’ll see you next week, then?”
You nodded once, before clenching your jaw. Because why did some stupid part of you not want him to leave right away?
“Did you eat? I was about to order fried chicken.”
He looked almost startled by your invitation. “I… have eaten, actually,” he replied truthfully, never one to lie. “But if you want company while you eat, I can always stay.”
You shook your head. “Nah, all good. I was just asking to be polite.”
He didn’t call you out on your bullshit, instead offering you a tight-lipped smile. “Then I guess I’ll see you next week.”
You walked him back upstairs, teeth nibbling at the inside of your lip as you tried to ignore the weight of the awkwardness between you. He wished you a good day, flashing those dimples of his, and he left, without once looking back.
You watched him as he climbed in a company car, and your gaze dropped to the ground as the car drove away, quickly disappearing from view.
What the hell had just happened?
*****
                Namjoon’s list of questions was good. Mostly, it was centered around what you used as an inspiration, which other artists did you look up to, and what kind of music you listened to while practicing your art, if you listened to any at all. There was also stuff about where you grew up, and how it might have affected your art.
Nothing too personal, yet the fact that the questions were from Namjoon felt incredibly personal, and your hands were clammy, heart beating out of your chest, by the time the day of shooting came. It didn’t help that there was some problem with the cameras, which was only solved a few hours after the shooting was first supposed to start.
This meant you spent the most awkward, long hours of your life in Namjoon’s company, barely even talking because, frankly, you had nothing to tell him. He seemed fine with the silence, or maybe he just sucked at small talk just as much as you, and he didn’t say anything, just sat there scrolling on his phone until the director came to get the two of you.
And when filming started, Namjoon started asking you his questions, and you tried not to be a blushing mess as you answered. Tried and succeeded, you liked to tell yourself, because you were used to being interviewed.
The fact that you were starting to be renowned in Seoul’s painting scene helped, clearly, because you made it through the introduction and first few questions without stuttering.
They were the easiest ones, after all.
“At what age did you start painting?” Namjoon asked as you sat on the little balcony outside of your gallery, looking over the Han River.
Your breath turned into a cloud as you exhaled, and you followed it with your eyes as it moved up towards the sky. “I started when I was seven. But at first, I only drew, and then started painting when I tried it for the first time in middle school and fell in love with the craft.”
Namjoon was there that day. Had ruined your painting when he had fallen next to it, feet getting tangled in the pots of paint. You had been furious, but you had also been two laughing messes by the time class had finished.
You had started dating half a year later, making the decision right outside of the art class, where it had all begun if you were honest.
“What do you like so much about painting?”
You met his gaze, not really knowing how to answer that question. You had been searching for what to reply for hours the day before, and all you had been able to come up with was, “It allows me to create, to evacuate emotions and to make something that is worth looking back at.”
You weren’t sure it was the answer he was looking for, but you still said it. He offered you a secretive smile, as if it made all the sense in the world to him.
You hoped the camera didn’t catch your eyes flicking to his lips, before getting stuck in the dimple on his cheek.
“I think that’s understandable,” he replied truthfully. “Creating music feels a little like that, at least for me.”
You pursed your lips, not really knowing what you could say to add to the conversation. Namjoon took it in stride, following with his next question.
And it went like that for the whole interview. At some point, you moved inside, with the aim of talking about certain art pieces of your choosing. Namjoon asked questions about your latest exposition, about what it was like compared to your first one, and frankly, you didn’t see the time go until the director cut the tape for the last time, telling Namjoon that it was closing time.
To your surprise, Namjoon had one last question for you.
“As we bring this interview to an end,” Namjoon said, eyes finding yours, “I have one last question for our artist.” He waited a few seconds, as if to give emphasis to his words, before adding, “Why did you choose the name Maehwa?”
You stared at him, he stared at you. You were pretty sure he could read the answer in your eyes, and you were pretty sure you didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt awkward, and this time you doubted the makeup they had put on your skin before filming could hide the blush on your cheeks.
“Uh,” you let out, coughing a little. “When I was younger, a friend of mine used to call me that. I liked the nickname, and I guess it stuck around?”
‘A friend of mine translated’ to him, to Namjoon, and you hoped he couldn’t tell just how much you were spiraling, like a leaf caught in the whirlpool of a leaking sink. Because you were caught in the current, feeling like you were stupid, to have held onto a stupid nickname that meant nothing, that never should have meant anything.
“It’s a pretty name,” Namjoon reflected.
His eyes were heavy on you because, of course, he knew that it was him. Of course, he remembered the days of youth where you had learned about love, by his side.
He had been there after all.
“Thank you,” you replied, a little breathlessly.
After that, Namjoon closed the interview, and when the cameras turned off, you let out a long, wavering sigh. It made him chuckle, as people buzzed around you to put everything away.
“Everything okay?”
You offered him a no-bullshit look. “You didn’t tell me about that last question.”
It sounded accusing, and frankly, you were accusing him. He recoiled, just a little, losing the small smile that was gracing his lips.
“I honestly thought it up during the interview,” he admitted. “I should have warned you.”
You clenched your jaw for a few seconds, before releasing yet another sigh. “It’s whatever. Why did you even want to know that?”
“Because I gave you that nickname…” he said, looking suddenly ashamed.
As if he was a child getting scolded for making a mistake. You didn’t like that look on him, even though he entirely deserved it, so you softened your expression before saying, “You did.”
He held your gaze, and the space between you filled with memories, with his laughter and the rain that early June night when you had kissed for the first time. It made you long for the warmth of his honey-toned skin, taking you by surprise.
Yes, you had once loved Kim Namjoon, but that had been thirteen years ago, when you were too young to actually know what love was.
“Do you…” you started, not knowing where you were headed.
Yet it was like he knew. “Do you want to get dinner with me sometime this week?” he asked, finishing your sentence.
You smiled, looking down as if that would hide the blush on your cheeks. “Only if you take me somewhere nice.”
“You deserve the best,” he said, nodding once. “I know just the place.”
You met his gaze again, and the smile grew like flowers under the sun. “Then yes, I’d like to grab dinner with you.”
At that, he offered you an award-winning smile, with the infuriating dimples creating indents in his cheeks. “For a moment, I was convinced you were going to refuse.”
The blush on your cheeks deepened as you asked, “Why?”
“You haven’t been…” he trailed off, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to the both of you, but most people were busy putting away the lights and mics from the set. “You haven’t been very warm,” he finished as his eyes settled back on you.
You nibbled at your lower lip, nodding curtly. “Right.” You held his gaze for a few seconds, and then you found you were too much of a coward, fleeing his dragon eyes to look at the tiles of the floor instead. “We didn’t part on exactly good terms, you know?”
“Yeah.” He took a step towards you, extending his hand in front of him as if expecting you to shake it. When he added, “I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s nice to meet you”, you understood that he was, in fact, waiting for you to shake it.
“What are you doing?” you asked, ignoring the hand.
He stubbornly kept it there. “Pretending that this is my first time meeting you,” he explained, even though it made little to no sense. When he saw the confused look on your face, he clarified, “So that way, we can pretend that the past never happened, and we can start again on better grounds.”
It made you giggle, a shy little sound that had you finally cave in, your small hand closing around his large one. “I already agreed to grab dinner with you, but…” you trailed off, finally meeting his gaze again. “Nice to meet you, Kim Namjoon. I’m Y/n.”
He held your hand for a second longer than necessary, before letting it go. Your fingers twitched as if wishing he had held on longer, and you hid it by hiding your arm behind your back.
“You come here often?” he asked, adding your name at the end. “I’ve never seen you around.”
You cocked an eyebrow, and you both burst out laughing at the same time.
“You’re bad at this,” you teased him. “We’re in my studio, of course, I come here often.”
He nodded. “Ah, I apologize. It’s my first time around, after all.”
You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him in the shoulder. It just made him laugh again, and there was something so familiar, so warm in his laugh that you turned wistful. He immediately noticed the shift in you, and his smile slowly died down to be replaced by a serious look.
“I’m serious,” he told you. “It’d be great to start on new grounds.”
“I know. I fully agree,” you said. “It’s just… who would have thought I’d accept to grab dinner with the first boy that broke my heart.”
He didn’t reply. Just turned a little apologetic, though you reckoned you had broken his heart too. You both had been young and dumb, there was no way to deny it. And it was strange indeed, that thirteen years later, you had met again. Both of you having changed, having grown until you weren’t sure you really recognized him.
Except for the dimples. The dimples were the same, a never-changing feature that you didn't doubt had stolen the heart of a million of his fans. It had stolen your heart back then after all.
“So,” he said after his manager told him that they were ready to leave, breaking the bubble of the little dimension you both had fallen in. “This time, I assume you’ll allow me to write down your number?”
You snorted, holding out your hand between the two of you, a little like he had done earlier though you were waiting for him to give you his phone. “Sure, I’ll put it in your phone.”
He pouted, looking like the child you had known all those years ago. “I lost my phone.”
“What?”
He repeated sheepishly. “I think I left it in the company car that dropped me off here.”
That was such a Namjoon thing to do you found your heart growing warm once again. “Okay then, I’ll write my number on a paper, and you text me when you find your phone. That works?”
The bright smile returned, and he nodded his head. “That works for me.”
You held his gaze for a few more seconds, before moving away to go get paper in your studio downstairs. When you came back up, he was still waiting, though this time his manager was next to him, looking somehow a little pressed. You felt bad, assuming that he was upset because you were making him wait, so you jogged to Namjoon.
“There you go,” you said, handing him over the paper. Your eyes glided to the manager, before returning to Namjoon. “Text me when you can.”
“I will,” he said.
It sounded like a promise, just as much as it sounded like a beginning.
*****
                “You are shitting me,” Miyoung said, eyes wide like flying saucers.
Cheeks burning, you avoided her insistent gaze. “No…”
“You’re grabbing dinner with Kim Namjoon?” she repeated, and the words sounded so foreign in her mouth that you winced a little.
“Huh,” you let out. “Yeah, seems like I am.”
She shook her head in disbelief, before chuckling lightly. “I can’t believe him. You’re supposed to hate him. You didn’t even want to listen to his music, and now you’re going out with him?” She paused to laugh again. “Sooah won’t believe this.”
“Come on,” you whined. “It’s nothing.”
“Shut up,” Miyoung said as she grabbed her phone. “I’m texting Sooah right now to let her know.”
You tried to steal your friend’s phone from her hands, but she darted away, out of your reach, long enough for the message to be sent. You were pretty sure your cheeks had gone purple now, and all you could do was fold your arms on your chest as you glared at Miyoung.
“It’s just dinner,” you pointed out. “Nothing to freak out about.”
Miyoung narrowed her gaze, eyeing you suspiciously. “Why are you even grabbing dinner with him? What are you hoping to achieve?” Her gaze widened before you could even speak. “Are you only going because he’s RM of BTS?”
You rolled your eyes, looking at the ceiling of your studio. Miyoung had come over when you had texted her about the dinner earlier, claiming that she needed to see for herself if you were just playing with her.
“No?” you said. “I don’t care that he’s RM. I accepted the offer because… I don’t know, at the end of the day, he’s a childhood friend.”
“A childhood friend? He was your first everything.”
Touché. Today, you felt weird whenever you remembered that he had taken your virginity, when you both were so young you shouldn’t even have been thinking about that. You had regretted it for years after – mostly because you had started hating him so bad, but also just because you had been so young. It felt wrong somehow.
“Whatever,” you mumbled. “I only told you because I don’t know how to date. I never really go on dates.”
She laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “Oh my God, it is a date, right?”
You felt yourself flush red, furiously, and your gaze fell to the floor. “I mean, I think so? Don’t you?”
“I thought it was just dinner with a childhood friend,” she mused, hands going behind her back as she rocked on her feet. She was teasing you, and you glared at her. “Alright, alright,” she let out after a few seconds of holding your gaze with a shit-eating smirk on her lips. “First, we’ll need to figure out what you need to wear.”
You nodded, nibbling at your lips. “He mentioned dinner at a restaurant.”
He had. Namjoon had texted you the night after the shoot, claiming that he had indeed forgotten his phone in the car. He had also sent you the link to a famous restaurant in Gangnam, one that you were pretty sure was way over your budget even though you were relatively well-off financially. He had told you he knew the owner, and that the restaurant had private rooms where you could eat without fearing for fans or paparazzi seeing you.
“So then you want to dress nicely,” Miyoung said, nodding once. “A nice pair of dress pants with a cute blouse would do. Or maybe that long black skirt you have that ends right over the knee? You could pair it with…”
“Y/n!” Sooah yelled from the top of the stairs, startling both you and Miyoung. “How dare you not tell me you’re getting dinner with a celebrity?”
Your gaze widened in fear as you watched your manager walking down the stairs, purpose filling her every move.
You were pretty sure the purpose was to murder you.
She pointed a finger at you in affront, her cheeks a little red from the anger. “This is manager business. You can’t just decide…”
“Cut it,” Miyoung interrupted. “You literally bet with me last week that it would happen.”
Sooah dropped the act, face cutting into a bright smile. “I sure did, and I won.” She held out a hand towards Miyoung, who begrudgingly took ten thousand won out of her wallet to put it in Miyoung’s hand. “Thank you,” your manager said. “Now, what’s the plan?”
“They’re getting dinner at a restaurant,” Miyoung declared before you could speak. “What’s the name again?”
You didn’t remember, so you grabbed your phone to look at your text conversation with Namjoon. “Huh…” you trailed off, scrolling up to when he had sent the menu. “Seasons of Seoul.”
Sooah’s mouth fell open. “The Seasons of Seoul? That’s one fancy-ass restaurant.”
You startled at the sound of the curse in Sooah’s voice, before bursting out laughing in time with your friends. “It is,” you said, voice lilting into a whine. “It’s definitely above my budget.”
“Namjoon seems like a gentleman,” Miyoung pointed out “I’m pretty sure he’ll pay.”
“For sure,” Sooah agreed. “When’s the date?”
You blushed, shrugging your shoulders. “We haven’t decided on a day yet.”
“Just tell me when and I’ll clear your schedule,” Sooah said. “I don’t care about any interviews when you can be going on a date with Kim Namjoon.”
You rolled your eyes, though a playful smiled teased the corners of your mouth. “You’ll be the first to know.”
“Yah, I believe I should be the first to know since I was helping you plan what to wear!” Miyoung interjected, which led to your two friends bickering, and then to them helping you out with what to wear. It was a little hard since you weren’t at home and couldn’t rummage through your walk-in closet. Since it was already running late, Sooah suggested heading over to yours, and that was how you found yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor of your living room, back against the couch, as you ate fried chicken and drank soju with your friends.
You were definitely a little buzzed by the time you finished eating, washing your hands at the kitchen sink before you aimed for your closet, where you started pulling out outfit after outfit.
You said no to all of your friends’ suggestions, mostly because it didn’t feel right. Sooah, growing annoyed, suggested to go shopping on the morrow, which made Miyoung jump in excitement, which in turn scared your cat Gabi away.
“Yes, please, please, please!” Miyoung exclaimed. “We haven’t gone in forever. It’ll be like when we were in college procrastinating studying.”
You laughed, brain swimming with alcohol. “As long as you don’t bring me to those fancy stores,” you said. “I hate when people talk to me while I’m shopping for clothes.”
Both your friends threw you no-bullshit looks.
“Come on,” Sooah let out. “Maybe we can even get you another nice outfit for the launch of your next exhibit.”
“I’ve barely even started working on it, it’s not going to be for another full year, at least,” you pointed out. “No need to shop for an outfit now.”
“Pleaseeee,” Miyoung begged. “It’s going to be fun. We can even go to that Samoyed café you like so much.”
The perspective of seeing the Samoyed puppies suddenly made a shopping trip all the more interesting. “Mmh,” you hummed. “I’ll consider it.”
“Bitch!” Miyoung burst, punching you in the shoulder hard enough to hurt. “We’re going tomorrow, just accept your destiny.”
You rolled your eyes as you massaged the spot she had hit, before finally nodding. “Alright, we’ll go. As long as you don’t make me spend my entire paycheck on clothes.”
“Your entire paycheck is like five times what I make so, shut it,” Miyoung pointed out.
“You did sell a piece for over 50 million won last week,” Sooah reminded you.
They had allied against you, hadn’t they?
“Right,” you let out.
“So you have nothing to say for your defense,” Miyoung said sternly, fists resting on her hips in mock authority. “We’re going tomorrow, and you’re coming with us. And,” she added, nodding forcefully, “And you will enjoy yourself.”
You laughed at how dumb she looked. “I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee anything.”
To your surprise, you actually enjoyed yourself the next day. Miyoung and Sooah were great company, had always been, and it really had been a long time since you had spent time together like this. The whole day was spent laughing and gossiping and just enjoying yourselves, and you did end up buying a lot more outfits than you probably needed. Which would be a problem when it came to what to choose for the date, but you didn’t really care.
It was late in the afternoon when your phone buzzed on the table of the Samoyed café, and you picked it up as Miyoung cooed at the fluffy dog she was playing with.
It was Namjoon, asking you if you would be willing to go out with him this Friday.
“Oh my God,” you let out, and you felt your cheeks burning as your outburst had attracted the attention of other clients of the café. “He texted me,” you whispered then for only your friends to hear.
Sooah yelped, clapping her hands. She looked so far from the fierce manager you knew her to be you burst out laughing, slightly shaking your head.
“What did he say?” she asked.
You didn’t answer for a time, letting suspense hang in the air between you and your friends. When Miyoung got up, clearly aiming to grab your phone out of your hands and read the text herself, you finally spoke. “Looks like you’re going to have to clear my schedule this Friday night.”
Sooah shrieked as Miyoung grinned wildly.
“Consider it done!”
*****
                You were anxious. Had been anxious all week, and it had shown up in the painting you were working on. It had turned into a hectic mess of colours, inching closer to a dark cloud than to anything else. It represented your mental state well, even though you tried to keep reminding yourself that it was just Namjoon. If there was such a thing as just Namjoon.
Gosh.
You sighed, looking at yourself in your standing mirror. You were wearing one of the designer outfits you had bought earlier this week, and the skirt hugged your frame well, enhancing your curves. You had curves, you were aware of it, but you weren’t sure they were supposed to look this good. Paired with the white blouse and black blazer, you looked like you were going on a date with a CEO, and not Kim Namjoon.
Though, nowadays it felt almost as if one was a synonym for the other.
You liked the fit, you really did, you were just afraid Namjoon would think you were overdoing yourself. But somehow, you felt really comfortable, ready to conquer the world if need be. Maybe just not Kim Namjoon.
But it was too late to back out of the date. Indeed, the doorbell rang, indicating that he was here, and you met your gaze in the mirror one last time before going to open the door.
Namjoon looked … incredible. With a pair of dark dress pants along with a pale cardigan over a yellow polo. Over that, he was wearing a long coat that looked way too expensive, yet still fit the look. It was more of an artist look than yours, and yet it suited him perfectly.
He was an artist, too, after all.
Most of all, he was holding a bouquet of pale flowers – rose and white and lilac – and he handed it to you as he took in the sight of you.
“You’re beautiful,” he complimented, and he flashed you a corner smile that had just one of his dimples appear.
Your cheeks burned as you nodded once. “You as well,” you said, grabbing the flowers. You hesitantly inhaled them, satisfied with the sweet floral scent that took over your nostrils. You glanced over your shoulder, before opening the door wider for him to come in. “You can come in, I’ll just go put these in water.”
He nodded, stepping in as you retreated into your home, searching for an appropriate vase for the bouquet. Once it was safely tucked in a vase with room temperature water, you moved back to where Namjoon was still waiting, right next to the door. You smiled, a little awkwardly, before putting on the high heels you had chosen for the date.
Namjoon patiently waited for you, and once you straightened, you put on your winter coat, grabbing your purse where you had left it on the table near the door.
“Ready?” Namjoon asked when your gaze finally met his.
You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yes. Let’s go.”
He smiled his dimple smile, and he opened the door for you. You walked outside, waiting until he had shut it behind him so you could lock it. The cold air hit you right in the face, and you hid your face in the flaps of your coat. To your luck, Namjoon had picked you up in a company car, considering he didn’t drive, and you climbed in first, quickly followed by him.
You sighed at the warmth in the car, and watched as Namjoon leaned forward to tell the driver the address, before sitting back comfortably next to you.
Conversation was somehow awkward at first, mostly because you struggled holding Namjoon’s gaze. In all truth, you reckoned the awkwardness stuck around until you got to the restaurant, and even still as you were led to the private room Namjoon had rented for you both.
He helped you out of your coat, ever so the gentleman, hanging it before taking off his own and putting it beside yours. You just stood for a time, not knowing what to do as you took in the elegance of the restaurant and the dim, private atmosphere that reigned.
You felt like you had stepped right into a palace and, frankly, you weren’t sure you belonged in such a place.
“Sit!” Namjoon quickly said as he noticed you were still standing. And then he rushed to pull the chair for you, making you chuckle embarrassingly.
“You don’t…” you trailed off as you caught a whiff of his cologne.
A dark, masculine smell that made your head a little dizzy. You couldn’t tell why you hadn’t smelled it before – maybe it was because of the coat. All that you knew was that the oaky smell wrapped around you comfortably, refusing to let you go.
“What?” he asked as he sat in front of you, offering you an encouraging smile.
You took a deep breath, chest moving up and down as you tried to regain your composure. When you felt like you could speak without embarrassing yourself further, you said, “Since when are you such a gentleman?”
That made him laugh, full of dimples again, and he slightly shook his head. “Wasn’t I a gentleman when we were dating all those years ago?”
Not at all. He had been an awkward teenager, and you both knew it. As such, you cocked an eyebrow, a teasing smile growing on your lips.
“Were you?”
He winced, chuckling again. “Not at all. But I grew out of it.”
He sure had. He barely held any resemblance to the boy you had once known, except for those damned dimples that were making it hard for you to focus. And now the cologne? You were done for.
“Bangtan changed you, didn’t it?”
He nodded pensively. “I think that, having to be the leader of all these kids? Yeah, it really made me mature faster than I thought possible.”
You furrowed your brows in question. “I don’t know a lot about Bangtan but… isn’t Seokjin older than you?”
Before he could answer, a pretty waitress walked in, pulling a cart with different wine bottles on it. She greeted you two, stopping next to the table before asking you what you wanted to drink. You glanced at Namjoon, who offered you an encouraging smile, as if saying, ‘I’ll have whatever you have’.
“This Cabernet is actually my favourite. So we’ll take this one, please,” you asked, and the waitress offered you a bright smile as she picked up the bottle.
You watched as she put it on the table, eyes trailing to Namjoon longingly. A fan – she was clearly a fan. Namjoon offered her a professional, practiced smile, and she flushed red as she grabbed a wine opener to uncork the bottle. She carefully opened it, before pouring you two a glass.
It was awkward, somehow. And it was only then that you noticed there was jazz music playing in the background. It felt odd that you hadn’t noticed it before – had the beats of your heart been too loud for you to hear it?
When the waitress finally left, offering Namjoon one last look over her shoulder, you cocked an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.
“What?” he asked.
“Does this happen often?”
He chuckled, fingers playing with his glass as he evaded your gaze. “More than you can imagine.” He met your gaze then, and you watched his features as they softened. “But you don’t have to worry about us being here getting out in the media. The owner of the restaurant is an old friend, and she assured that all of her staff can be trusted.”
It hadn’t even crossed your mind, but you weren’t surprised that he had thought of it.
“That’s more of a relief for you than it is for me,” you pointed out.
He nodded, a warm smile on his lips. “You have a reputation too! You’re an artist, just like me.”
That made you snort as you shook your head, eyes falling to your untouched glass of wine. “I don’t think I am in the same category as you, Kim Namjoon. I’m just a painter.”
“You’re much more than just a painter, Maehwa.”
Your throat went dry at the way he said the words, as if they held so much meaning they were heavier than the world. And you wouldn’t be surprised if they did – Kim Namjoon had always been a poet, after all.
“I’m not a member of the most popular K-pop band in the world, though,” you reminded him, and dimples answered you as he humbly smiled.
“Evidently not.”
A comfortable silence moved between you – the first of the evening, you reckoned – and your eyes once more fell to your wine glass. You picked up, spinning the wine to bring out the aromas of it.
“Want to taste?” you asked him, motioning to his own glass.
He picked it up, nodding his head. “Please. I’m surprised to know you have a favourite wine.”
“Trust me, it’s worth it.”
He chuckled, and you clinked your glasses together before taking a sip. You let the rich taste roll on your tongue, appreciating every milliliter of it until you swallowed, and even the aftertaste was good.
A really good wine, indeed. Way too expensive, in your opinion, but you had always liked expensive things. As your designer clothes could tell, and as your date across the table could tell, too.
Not that you were a snobby artist – you were far from it. But you had learned how to appreciate the good things in life long ago when you had first discovered art.
“I like it,” Namjoon commented as he put down the glass. “Nice choice.”
You smiled, relieved that he indeed liked your choice.
As wine flowed between the two of you, you found conversation with Kim Namjoon was a lot easier than you had initially expected. He put you at ease, like he did when you were younger. Together, you reminisced about middle school and high school, about that time he had spilled hot chocolate on his uniform and you had helped him clean up, which had brought you guys closer.
Until he had kissed you as you were doodling maehwas on his arm, and the rest was history.
“No, but,” he insisted, his cheeks turning a pale shade of pink as he closed his eyes in embarrassment. His dimples winked at you, and you looked at him as he collected his thoughts. “To be fair, I never planned to break it. It wasn’t even my fault.”
You cocked an eyebrow. “You were the one holding it,” you reminded him.
You were referencing a fragile plate your mom had offered Namjoon, from her collection of nice plates she usually only displayed during fancy events. Namjoon had broken it a whole hour after he had been gifted it, and to this day, you still couldn’t understand how he had broken it.
“You tickled me!” he burst out, narrowing his eyes at you. “It was entirely your fault.”
You playfully rolled your eyes, before chuckling lightly. “I barely even touched you.”
He glared at you, though it didn’t last, melting into a soft smile that had you looking down at the table.
Right at the same time, a lean girl walked in, clad in a chef’s outfit, holding up the food you and Namjoon had ordered earlier. She offered you a polite smile, and it turned nostalgic as she looked towards Namjoon.
Namjoon said her name, before turning to look at you. “This is the friend I told you about.”
She was beautiful, in an easy, elegant kind of way. Her shoulder-length hair swayed nicely when she walked, and you had half a thought that she probably should be wearing something to make sure no hair could get in the food. Then you figured she probably had taken it off to come here, and you only realized that she had spoken to you when both she and Namjoon settled their gaze on you.
“Nice to meet you too,” you replied, because you were 75% convinced that that was what she had said.
You were relieved when she smiled knowingly, eyes trailing back to Namjoon. They talked a little more, and it took you a moment before you understood that she was one of Namjoon’s friends’ ex. They continued speaking after that, as you listened politely, nodding whenever she looked your way to encourage her to continue.
She looked sad. Nostalgic. Whoever her ex was, you had the intuition that she still loved him.
“Have a good evening,” she told the two of you about a minute later, bowing.
You bowed your head back, as Namjoon wished her good evening, and then you watched her walk out of the room, hair prettily moving around her head.
“She’s Seokjin’s ex,” Namjoon let out pensively once she was out of earshot.
Your eyes widened, and you looked back towards him. “Your bandmate?”
He nodded. “They broke up a few years ago, during the pandemic,” he explained. “They were engaged.”
You weren’t sure Namjoon was supposed to tell you any of that. It sounded personal, and he seemed to get the cue as you remained silent, eyes falling to the steaming plate in front of you.
“Anyway,” he said, chuckling awkwardly. “Shall we eat?”
“Yes,” you immediately replied, a little too quickly.
It had both of you laugh, and the awkwardness lifted to be replaced by that same familiarity the evening had held until Seokjin’s ex had come in. It had you fall back in your nostalgic memories, as you ate the delicious food on your plate.
When you were done eating, Namjoon suggested dessert, and not really wanting the evening to end yet, you accepted. It led to you both drinking a little more, your inhibitions slurring as alcohol rushed through your bloodstream, making you feel young and alive.
The feeling lingered with your lively chatter, with the exchanged laughs and long looks. Sometimes, Namjoon’s eyes burned on you, and you found you were too afraid to hold his gaze, too afraid to let it mean anything. Whenever it happened, you looked down at your glass, and the tenth time that it happened, you found the glass to be empty.
No salvation for you there. Especially considering that dessert was eaten and long gone, and all that had been left was the bottle of wine.
“So,” Namjoon said as he, too, took in the sight of the empty glasses and bottle. “I…” He chuckled, ears turning pink as his dimples flashed on his cheeks. “Thank you for tonight.”
You couldn’t help your own blush as you replied, “I’m glad I said yes.”
He met your gaze, eyes darting to your lips once. When they settled back on your own gaze, you swallowed a sudden lump in your throat.
“We should…” he started, falling silent as he scraped his throat. “We should do this again.”
The lump dissolved into nothingness as you smiled, softly. “I would love to.”
“What about on Sunday? There’s this exhibit I’ve been meaning to visit, thought you might want to join?”
“You want to bring an artist to another artist’s exhibit?”
He seemed surprised at your question, as if it hadn’t even crossed his mind. And truth be told, you liked visiting your fellow artists. There was just something about a shared passion that made you feel calm, understood. As if, no matter the sorrows your life could hold, there would always be someone out there who understood. Someone who could share the burden, who’d offer you a helping hand in the form of art whenever you needed it.
So you quickly added, before Namjoon could say anything, “I’m kidding, yes, I’d love to accompany you.”
He looked so relieved something warm blossomed in your chest, and your cheeks burned.
“Well then,” he said, smiling that dimpled smile. “I should get you home, it’s getting late.”
The perspective of the date ending made your heart squeeze in your chest, for a reason you couldn’t quite understand. “Right,” you agreed.
It was all you said before you both got up, moving to retrieve your coats by the door. After that, you walked towards the outside world, and when Namjoon’s hand accidentally grazed yours – or perhaps it was on purpose – you hooked a finger around his pinky.
Looking up to him, you caught him looking down at you already. From so close, he towered over you, though there was nothing threatening with his height. It felt comforting, safe, as if you were under his protection.
By the warmth in his eyes, you knew you truly were.
You waited in the lobby for the car to come pick you up, Namjoon with his back turned to the people. Though no one looked your way, no one acknowledged your presence, and for a second, you wondered if you really were with a worldwide famous singer or if Namjoon was just a normal person.
Someone like you, someone who could revel in anonymity wherever he went.
“The car is here,” Namjoon told you as you were looking behind him, observing the patrons slowly exiting, laughing about a joke only they knew.
You smiled up at him, before letting him grab your hand properly this time as he led you outside. His large palm engulfed your small one, warmed it up, and your fingers were tingling by the time you reached the car door that Namjoon opened for you.
He really wasn’t a gentleman when you were younger. There was something oddly relieving to see him act in such a way now, showing you that he had grown since you were sixteen and too dumb to actually know what love was.
You settled in the car, reveling in the warm vehicle as Namjoon sat in the seat right next to you. And when the car jostled forward, you became all too aware of the place where Namjoon’s thigh rested against yours, and of where his arm pressed against yours.
You turned your head to look at him, admiring the soft glow on his features induced by the neon lights outside. He met your gaze, offered you a smile, and you felt yourself leaning forward. As if there was a pull between you, something that was inevitable. You had never been good at resisting, so you let yourself be pulled, let yourself find him.
He met you halfway, lips infinitely and surprisingly soft even with the cold January night out there. He sighed against you, shifting slightly so he could angle his head better, deepening the kiss.
And kiss you he did, with memories and yearning and nostalgia that had you part your lips when his tongue swiped at your bottom lip, only to meet it with yours. You remembered days of early art, of words whispered in the dead of night when nothing seemed like it could bring you apart, when you believed it was you and him against the rest of the world.
Your breakup flashed in your thoughts as he rested a hand on your thigh, carefully, but you pushed it away, refusing to let the memory stain this moment with him.
As much as the kiss was unexpected, bubbling out of neon lights on Namjoon’s soft features, it was also expected. As if fifteen-year-old you had expected to find him again, somewhere, even though you had fled to an entire other high school.
As if the story had just been put on hold then, to resume once the time was right. And as much as you usually were wary in your relationships, tonight felt right. It felt right in all the ways that mattered, in his arm on your thigh and the soft smile he offered you when he pulled away, reminding you that you weren’t alone in the car.
You chuckled, blushing deeply, and your hand landed on top of his on your thigh.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
You leaned into his touch, sighing dreamily. “I don’t know if it’s the wine,” you said, low enough to make sure only his ears could perceive your words, “but I really want to kiss you more.”
That made him laugh, and his hand fell away from your cheek. “Not here,” he said, head motioning to the driver. “You’ll have to wait until Sunday.”
You pursed your lips, thought about it for half a second before you said, “Do you want to sleep over tonight?”
His grip on your thigh slightly tightened, the only indication that your words had had an effect on him. “You’d like that?”
You parted your lips, tongue darting to wet them. “Yes.”
It was no wonder Namjoon ended up pinning you against your closed door as soon as you walked in, locking you between his strong arms as his lips ravished a hungry kiss on your mouth. You grabbed at the lapels of his coat, trying to pull him closer, right as he slipped one of his large hands to arch your back, pressing your front against him.
The second he left your lips to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw, you fought against his coat to rid him of the clothing. He sucked on your jaw as he helped you, and soon enough, the coat was abandoned on the floor, right as he pulled you in.
You kicked off your shoes, lips meeting again in a kiss that had your head spin, right as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He groaned when you bit on his bottom lip, and then picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He put you down on the decorative table near the door, and in an attempt to rid him of his shirt, you pushed a vase.
The sound that it made when it shattered on the floor startled both of you, and Namjoon looked down, eyes wide.
“Oh no,” he let out.
You caught his startled gaze, breathing raggedly. “Don’t worry, it was just a cheap vase.”
He looked down at the mess, nodding once. “I’ll buy you another one.”
And then he was finding your mouth again, sucking on your lower lip as he started to fight against your coat, trying to get you out of it. He shortly had to pull away, brows knitting together in concentration because, as much as he tried, the zipper of your coat wasn’t budging.
“Hold on,” you said, putting your hands above his.
Much gentler than him, you managed to unzip the coat, and he helped you slip out of it, throwing it towards his. His eyes dropped to your thighs, where your skirt had ridden up to reveal more skin, though you were wearing pantyhose. He ran his hand along your thighs, head hanging low. You watched him do so, watched his jet-black hair falling in his eyes until you couldn’t resist anymore, reaching between you to push it back.
The strands fell right back in front of his eyes, but it attracted his gaze. He looked at you through his hair, dragon eyes burning a hole through you, and you grabbed his cheeks to pull him into yet another heated kiss.
“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, and he subconsciously grinded against you, though the skirt and the fabric of his own pants kept you from feeling anything.
“You think we can make it to my room,” you whispered as he moved to your neck, kissing a hot kiss just below your ear.
“You’ll have to show me the way.”
You chuckled, gently pushing on his chest until he finally disconnected from your neck and took a step back. It allowed you to plop down from the table on which he had sat you, and you grabbed his hand, right as he dipped his head to kiss you again.
You kissed him back, moaning softly when his large hand cupped your ass, grabbing at the meat hard but not enough to hurt. It had even more heat pool at your core, liquid lava that was slowly making you unravel, and you needed more.
You pulled away from the kiss begrudgingly, mostly because you wanted to stay here, to be consumed with the passion Namjoon’s lips were carving against you.
You had to make it to your room before you went insane. So you pulled him behind you, not once looking back, or else you wouldn’t get there at all. Luckily enough, you held on strong, but the moment you crossed the threshold to your room, Namjoon pulled you against him, large hand resting on the base of your neck to keep you from moving away.
It took all of three seconds before your brain zeroed in on the spot where his hard dick was pressing against your back.
“Can you feel how much I want you?” he asked, voice low and husky, sending shivers all over your body.
You nodded, tilting your head to the side to give him access when he lowered his head. Too tall, he didn’t quite reach your neck, but his breath skimming over your skin made goosebumps erupt on you.
“I want you too,” you replied breathily.
You could hear a dangerous smirk in his voice when he said, “Take that skirt off”.
Something settled deep inside of you, making you into a puppet he could control. Stepping away from him, your hands went behind your back to unzip the skirt, and you let it fall to the floor. It pooled around your ankle, but when he stepped closer again, one hand squeezing the flesh of your ass, you found yourself unable to do anything.
“You should take off the pantyhose, too, before I rip them”, he added.
You didn’t doubt that Namjoon often miscalculated his strength. Even when he was just a gangly teenager, he already struggled with clumsiness. So you pulled the pantyhose down your legs, and you stepped out of the pile of clothing, waiting for him as he moved closer again.
This time, his hands slipped to your front, and he looked over your shoulder as he started undoing the buttons of your blouse, not even caring that you were still wearing the blazer. His breath skimmed on the side of your face as he did so, and your eyes fluttered closed as you focused on every brush of fabric against you while he worked his way down your blouse.
He pushed both the blouse and blazer off your shoulders when he was done, and they fell on the floor behind you. He didn’t seem to care as he wrapped his arm to your front, moving up until he grabbed your breasts through your bra, squeezing slightly.
“Get on the bed,” he commanded then, and still the good puppet you did, walking to the mattress and sitting down, eyes finally finding him again.
He didn’t say anything as he slowly undressed, pulling his cardigan off. It fell somewhere next to the pile of your clothing, and then he attacked the polo, taking it off in one swift motion that revealed the expanse of his wide chest.
His honey skin seemed to prettily gleam in the moonlight, where it was pulled taught over the big muscles of his chest. He looked sculpted in marble, big and buff, and you closed your thighs in reflex at the thought of his weight over you.
Needless to say, he didn’t look like that when he was a teenager at all. Adulthood looked good on him.
He unbuckled his belt next, taking his time as you just surveyed him. Even in the dim light from the full moon outside, you could see the bulge in his pants, and you salivated at the thought of wrapping your lips around him, of tasting him and making him feel good.
The belt fell with a thud to the ground, and your lips parted as he palmed himself, enhancing the size of his bulge. Your eyes widened slightly – he looked far bigger than you had initially thought he’d be, though you weren’t all that surprised with his large frame.
“Take off your bra,” he said next. “I want to see your breasts.”
You nodded, hands going to your back as you unclasped the bra. You slowly took it off, nipples perking when cold air hit them. You shivered once again as his eyes roamed over you, and even more so when he said, “Beautiful” as if you were a piece of art made for him to admire.
And with the way he was looking at you, you thought maybe, maybe you were.
He took a few steps towards you, and your eyes darted towards the lamp on your bedside table. Namjoon caught your motion, and he tutted lightly. “Not tonight,” he told you. “Tonight is about feeling, not about seeing.”
For some reason, you had expected him to be a lights-on kind of partner, but you weren’t mad about his will to stay in the dark. Because you knew all too well how much pleasure could course through your blood when your sense of sight was taken from you. As an artist, you relied on it far more than a lot of people – the loss of it made you weak, in a burning kind of way.
If you were honest, you enjoyed being blindfolded a lot, but you didn’t see yourself asking Namjoon to do it today. Lights off seemed the closest thing to it, so you didn’t argue with him as he used a knee to part your legs in an attempt to get closer to you.
He grabbed your chin, making you tilt your head back so he could catch your gaze. His eyes were dark, even in the silvery moonlight, and you gulped as he gently patted your cheek.
“You’re going to feel good for me, mmh?”
You nodded, entirely unable to use words right now. Mostly because you were but a puppet, and he the puppeteer. He smirked, satisfied, before unbuttoning his pants. Your eyes dropped, and you watched him do it expectantly, teeth gently digging into your bottom lip in apprehension.
The good kind, the one that made you burst into an explosion of flames.
“You think you can wrap your pretty lips around my dick?” he asked.
For a reason unknown, all you were able to mutter back was, “Namjoon.”
“Yes, baby?”
You gulped, and you looked up at him again. You didn’t watch as he took his pants and underwear off in the same motion, didn’t budge your gaze as you heard the slap of his hard dick on his abdomen. From the way his arm moved, large bicep popping slightly, you knew he was jerking off, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look down. Couldn’t bring yourself to gaze away from his eyes as they burned on you, searing their mark right on your soul.
“What is it?” he asked again, with a barely concealed warning in his voice.
He wasn’t one to have to repeat, was he? No, you were pretty sure Namjoon was used to being obeyed, with being the leader of a boyband like BTS. Pretty sure he expected to be obeyed, and somehow that turned you from puppet to puppeteer, as your hands rested on his thick, muscular thighs.
“You want me to suck your dick?” you asked, voice sultry as you moved your hands up, never touching him where he so visibly wanted.
His lips parted, though he remained surprisingly silent. He clearly didn’t expect you to take control of the situation, but from the way his features darkened even more, you knew he liked it.
“Want me to suck you dry?” you added. “Want to come down my throat?”
“Fuck,” he cursed, and he grabbed the base of his dick to gently tap it against the corner of your mouth. “Better get to work, baby. You’re a lot of talk for someone that hasn’t touched me yet.”
“Say please,” you teased, and you let one of your hands move between his legs so you could cup his balls. They sat heavy in your palm, seemingly ready to explode.
“Fuck,” he repeated, adding your name at the end. “Who would have thought you had this in you?”
 Emboldened by his words, you licked at his tip, collecting the precum on his slit. “That wasn’t please.”
He clenched his jaw, eyes shutting in frustration before he finally said, “Please, baby. Please suck my dick.”
You sucked on his tip once, tongue swirling around it, before pulling away. “Good boy.”
That was Namjoon’s undoing. He let go of his dick, grabbed your head, aligning his dick with your mouth as he repeatedly cursed under his breath. You liked him like this, liked the power you had over him. So you resisted, just to piss him off further, but it only seemed to turn him into a whiny mess as begging mixed with cursing.
                Only then did you finally start sucking him off, jaw straining from how big he was. It hurt, and your eyes watered as he reached the back of your throat with not even half of him in your mouth. All you could think of was that he was going to be quite a stretch down there, too, as you looked up at his features, casted in the soft silvery glow of the moon outside.
                You pulled almost all the way out, but the hand on the back of your head held you in place, forcing you to keep him in your mouth. You played with the head of his cock with your tongue, swirling it around it, teasing the slit as the salty taste of precum filled your mouth. You moaned, softly, and Namjoon cursed once more, before falling entirely silent as he watched you take as much of him as you could again.
Once he hit the back of your throat, you swallowed, eyes watering again as you tried to hold in your gag reflex. It didn’t really work, and when you choked, Namjoon pulled out of your mouth.
“You okay?” he asked.
“You’re so big,” you praised, and you grabbed his dick with a loose grip, jerking him off slowly. Mostly, you spread your saliva on his length, wanting to make sure he was well-lubricated for what was to come.
“Why don’t you sit?” you told him, letting go of his dick.
He looked conflicted for about a second before he did. You readjusted yourself so you were kneeling between his powerful thighs, and the new position allowed you to bite at the hard muscles of his abdomen. He hissed, hand going to the back of your head as he guided you towards his dick once more.
“Suck me, baby,” he said, still sounding just as whiny.
Feeling like a brat, you replied, “What do I get in exchange?”
His forehead creased as he furrowed his eyebrows, searching for something to reply. Though Namjoon was not a man of many words, always choosing his words carefully, right now, it seemed he was entirely silenced.
“I’ll fuck you good,” he finally answered, voice low. He bent a little, grabbing your face, and his thumbs stroked your cheeks. “I’ll fuck you good until your legs shake and you can’t walk anymore. Is that a good deal?”
You bit your lip as he let go of you, once again grabbing his dick so he could hold it up for you. Not moving towards it, you rested your head on his thigh, before reaching between his legs to cup his balls. They were heavy in your palm, and you gently massaged them, earning you a soft grunt from him.
“Careful with the balls,” he warned you.
You pouted before leaning between his legs. You avoided his waiting cock, instead aiming for the base of his dick, right between his two balls. You then licked a long stripe towards the top, and Namjoon cursed as you swirled your tongue on his frenulum.
“My bad,” you then apologized, letting go of his balls as you made a mental note that they probably were too sensitive for him to enjoy. “Let me make it up to you.”
He cocked an eyebrow in question, but the second your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock and you sucked hard, he threw his head back, cursing out loud. It finally convinced you to get to work, and you replaced his hand on his dick so you could jerk him off in time with the bobbing of your head.
As big as he was, you found you couldn’t keep going for much longer. So instead of taking all of him in – or as much of him as you could – you focused on his tip, jerking him off faster after having spit in your hand. Looking up at him, you noticed his teeth digging into his lower lip, a clear indication that he was enjoying himself, and then you closed your eyes, focusing on the job at hand.
Focusing on pleasuring Kim Namjoon.
You sucked him off for a while, long enough for his dick to turn rock hard under your ministrations. Long enough for him to be a panting and cursing mess, long enough for your jaw to hurt so bad you almost thought it was going to dislocate. When the pain grew too intense, you sat back on your heels, and stroked his dick, twisting your wrist as you reached the tip.
“So big I can’t even suck you properly,” you commented.
“I’ll stretch you wide open, baby,” he said, and he leaned back on his hands as he looked down at you. “I’ll stretch you so wide you’ll cry my name.”
It was so crass your hand slowed on his dick as you clenched your thighs. “Fuck, Namjoon.”
He smirked, dimples dangerously decorating his cheeks, but an expert motion of your hand had him close his eyes, mouth falling open on a low moan.
“Should I ride you?” you asked him. “I want to feel you inside of me.”
“You’ll need me to get you ready,” he answered once he was able to look at you again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
You almost wanted to tell him that you were going to be okay, but he wasn’t wrong. Fucking yourself on him without having been previously fingered would definitely hurt like a bitch.
“Ride my face?” he suggested as you debated what to do.
You wet your lips, desire pumping through your blood before you told him, “Lie down.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, and you quickly climbed on top of him, straddling his face. His large hands cupped your ass, squeezing and parting your cheeks as he licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. He flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves, and you hissed, fingers getting lost in his hair as you pushed it out of his eyes.
You maintained eye contact as you lowered yourself on him until you were properly seated on his pretty features. His tongue parted your folds, dipping in your entrance, and you instinctively grinded. He pushed the wet muscle deep inside of you, as deep as he could before arching it, searching for your sweet spot.
When you let out a soft moan, he flicked at the same spot again, and you grinded into his face once more.
“Fuck,” you told him. “Right there.”
He understood right away, and he started fucking you with his tongue, hitting that same spot again and again, making the corners of your vision blurry. All you could focus on were his eyes between your legs, and you moaned his name as his fingers dug into the skin of your ass. It hurt a little, and you wondered for a time if he was unaware of his strength.
You wouldn’t be surprised – he was a lot stronger than you had imagined he was.
As Namjoon kept working on you, eating you out and lapping your juices, you palmed your breast, rolling the sensitive nipple between your thumb and index. The added sensation had more of your vision turning blurry, making it hard for you to focus on Namjoon. So you closed your eyes, focusing on the pleasure moving through you, and soon enough, a knot started tightening in your core.
Instinctively, you started grinding into his face, following the rhythm of his tongue inside of you, and the knot tightened and tightened, almost painfully so. When Namjoon landed a surprising slap on your ass, you lost it, knot snapping as your orgasm hit you.
You came hard, walls pulsating around Namjoon’s tongue, and he milked all of your orgasm out of you, lapping your juices as you dripped on him. When you started getting oversensitive, you moved to sit next to him instead. Namjoon didn’t move right away, catching his breath, but when he did move, it was to wipe his chin with the back of his hand. He sat up after that, catching your lips in a quick kiss that left you breathless, mind spinning with the taste of yourself.
“Now I’m going to fuck you,” Namjoon promised.
All you could do was moan as one of his large hands moved between your legs. He pushed two fingers in, and they slid right in with all the lubrication your orgasm had just brought out of you. He fingered you for a few seconds as he littered small kisses on your shoulder and up your neck, and he nibbled at your ear once he reached it.
“You’re going to take all of me, mmh?” he asked right in your ear, voice so low and husky your walls clenched around his fingers.
“Yes,” you answered.
He pulled away, smirking in satisfaction before saying, “Get on all fours. I want to look at your ass while I’m fucking you.”
“You’d like that?” you teased him. “You want to see my ass bounce while you pound into me?”
Your two sentences were enough to silence him once more, and all he managed to do in reply was nod. It made you chuckle, and before you got into position, you crawled to your bedside table, fishing a condom out of the half-empty box you owned from a previous relationship.
“Put this on,” you told Namjoon as you handed him the condom.
He looked down at your hand. “What size is that?”
You cocked an eyebrow. “Regular.”
He laughed before shaking his head at you. You were about to argue when he got up, moving to his discarded pants so he could grab his wallet. “I need bigger than that, baby,” he told you as an explanation, and you rolled your eyes playfully as you put the condom back in your bottom drawer.
Namjoon fished an appropriately-sized condom from his wallet, and he was quick to get it out of the wrapper and put it on his hard length. He hissed a little as he rolled it down his dick, but once it was in place he moved back to the bed, kneeling behind you as you propped your ass up, keeping your face down.
“Gosh, you’re so sexy like this,” he praised you. “Ever since he saw you again, I’ve been wanting to see you like this.”
A drop of warning clouded your senses for a few seconds, but when he rubbed his dick between your folds, pushing it against your clit, lust took over once more. You grabbed at the sheets as he teased the sensitive bundle of nerves again and again, and when you had enough, you cursed.
“Fuck me,” you told him. “Fuck me before I change my mind.”
He slapped your ass. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”
Before you could reply, he pushed the fat tip of his cock between your folds, and you moaned at the burning sensation. It was the good kind of burning, the one that left stars dancing behind your eyelids and on the periphery of your vision. It made you clutch the sheets harder, and then Namjoon pushed in, embedding himself deep inside of you.
He grabbed your hips, fingers digging into the supple skin so hard you were pretty sure they were going to leave marks behind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you did was moan loudly, especially as he pulled almost all the way out before slapping his hips forward again.
It was rough, and your body jerked forward from the impact of his pelvis on your ass. You couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything other than the stretch between your legs, and when he started pounding into you, you felt him so deep you cried out his name.
“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you. “You take me so well.”
He slightly slowed down, but his hips still snapped forward in quick and harsh thrusts as he leaned forward, adjusting the position. When he was satisfied by the new angle, he resumed his previous speed, as one of his hands grabbed at your hair, pulling it in a makeshift ponytail so he could keep you in place.
He didn’t pull on your hair harder than that, didn’t force you look back at him, and for a moment, all that could be heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin, and the moans and grunts you two were making. It was loud, and you were glad you lived in a house and not an apartment – you were pretty sure your neighbours would have heard otherwise.
When Namjoon landed another slap on your ass, you cursed loudly, and it made him still halfway out of you. He massaged the spot gently, soothing the skin with his warm fingers. “Do you want to switch position?” he asked.
As much as the current position felt good, you knew this angle would never make you cum. So you nodded your head, and Namjoon pulled out of you, sitting back on his heels. You turned towards him, and your eyes fell to his hardened length. To your juice coating the condom, and you got an idea.
“Lean back on your hands,” you ordered.
He cocked an eyebrow in question, yet he still obeyed. When he was properly positioned, you climbed on top of him, grabbing his cock to guide it towards your entrance. You help onto his shoulder with your other hand, and you slowly sunk on him until his cock hit your cervix. It hurt a little, the angle different from earlier yet making you feel so much more, and you grabbed onto his other shoulder.
“Shit,” you cursed.
“You okay?”
You nodded. “You’re so fucking deep.” And then you leaned back a little, and both of your gazes dropped to the space where your bodies were connected. To the bulge in your tummy as you slightly leaned back. “So fucking big we can see you in me.”
He moaned and threw his head back as you moved up, only to slam back down a second later. He put all of his weight on one hand, and his other settled on your waist, following you as you established a slow and sensual rhythm, rolling your hips whenever he was deep inside of you. It had his big cock rubbing against that sweet spot inside of you, and when the corners of your vision turned white, you started moving faster.
You grabbed onto his neck, not squeezing, and you felt him swallow under your palm. Your pleasure increased tenfold as the hand on your waist moved to cup your breast, and when he squeezed your nipple, you clenched your walls hard against his dick.
“Fuck,” he let out, and he looked at you.
The moment his gaze met yours, you started choking him, increasing your speed to chase your orgasm. His mouth fell open, and his dick reached deep inside of you as you kept going, kept splitting yourself on him.
When your orgasm hit, you wrapped an arm around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. He circled your waist, fucking up into you as much as he could in this position. He rode you through your high, and you were a shaking mess when he finally slowed down, hand rubbing your back soothingly.
“Lie down for me,” he gently said.
You were too lost in ecstasy to argue, and you craved his dick the second it was out of your pussy. He wasn’t out for long, and he kneeled between your legs, holding them to his chest as he pushed in in one powerful thrust. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with the sensation, and you moaned out his name as he established an unforgiving rhythm.
When his teeth sunk into your calf in a clear attempt to muffle his own moans, you clenched hard around him, and it was enough to get him close. To your surprise, he pulled out of you, quickly taking off the condom, and he pumped his dick, emptying his load on your stomach and pelvis. The feeling of every hot spurt on you had you reach between you, and when some landed on your fingers, you quickly brought them to your mouth, getting a taste of him.
Namjoon grunted, and he slowly decreased the rhythm of his jerking off until he was just holding his dick over you, one last drop of cum meeting the rest on your stomach. You didn’t move for a long time, both of you trying to catch your breath. It took a while, but once your pulse had stopped racing, you propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at the white mess on your stomach.
“You made quite a mess,” you teased him.
“Sorry,” he sheepishly said. “Was that okay?”
You nodded. “As long as you clean it up, yes.”
He laughed, bending so he could retrieve some tissues from your nightstand. He first cleaned his fingers, and then your stomach, making sure not to leave a single drop behind. Still, you felt sticky, and when you offered him to take a shower, he agreed right away.
You let the warm water run on your body, taking with it your sweat and Namjoon’s cum, as you ran your hands through your hair. You sighed, opening your eyes to the sight of him as he looked down at you, a fond smile on his lips.
“Can you pass me the shampoo?”
He nodded, but instead of giving it to you, he motioned for you to turn. “I’ll wash your hair.”
The domesticity of the action had your cheeks burning, and all you could do was hope he hadn’t noticed. You still turned, and when he started massaging your head, you shut your eyes, sighing in contentment. When he was done, he made you turn around so he could wash the shampoo out of your hair, making sure you didn’t get any in your eyes. After that, you switched place so he could wash his own hair, while you busied yourself with cleaning your body, erasing what was left of the action that had transpired between you and Kim Namjoon.
You didn’t speak more in the shower, though you did exchange a slow kiss once you were both entirely clean. Namjoon’s lips seemed more hesitant now, but as you wrapped your arms around his waist, it was his turn to sigh in contentment. His kiss grew more affirmative now, as if he was trying to tell you that he, too, felt a certain way with you.
Because right now, you felt like you were floating, like you were an astronaut in zero gravity. It was dizzying, but in a beautiful way as you held onto him, and he held onto you. It was filled with memories of the past, yes, but also of promises of the future.
That was when you remembered what he had said right before you had started having sex. How he had been imagining you like this ever since you had met again, thirteen years after you’d disappeared from his life. The previous wariness returned, and you pulled away from the kiss to rest your forehead on his chest. He let you do it, unaware of the drop of doubt that was solidifying into lead in your stomach.
After the shower, you lied in bed, Namjoon by your side, unable to form a sentence. Unable to breathe your worries into words, unable to share with Namjoon that you were afraid he only wanted you for sex. And you tried, you really tried to speak, but all you could do was slowly breathe in and out, trying to calm your racing heart before it burst inside your chest.
Right when you thought you had gathered enough courage, Namjoon softly snored next to you, and you realized that, after all, it was too late to share your concerns.
*****
                You stared at the scenery out of the window. You hadn’t been to Ilsan in a long time, but when Namjoon had mentioned he was going to visit his family, offering you a ride – a company official ride, considering he couldn’t drive – you hadn’t been able to say no. So you watched Ilsan from the window of your parents’ kitchen, remembering growing up.
Remembering days of childhood innocence, and of teenager crushes. Of teenager fights, and breakups that had shaped who you had turned out to be. It was strange to think that you were going to circle your way back to Namjoon, that you were going to come here to Ilsan, with him.
You hadn’t told your parents. When they had seen you arrive, they had asked how you had gotten here, considering your car was nowhere to be seen. You had lied through your teeth, saying that you had taken the train, and they hadn’t pushed, knowing that you indeed often took the train anyway, in an attempt to clear your head and sketch some ideas for your next art piece.
Instead, you had been at the back of a company car, chatting the ride away with Kim Namjoon as if it wasn’t only the tenth time you had seen him again after your breakup thirteen years ago. It was like you had never parted – complicity between Kim Namjoon and you was easy as breathing, as natural as the sun shining in the sky overhead. And the sun had shone all the way home, as if to tell you that your worries meant nothing.
But your worries were still haunting you. Hadn’t stopped haunting you since you had sex with him, chasing you through your days, taunting you through your nights. You weren’t able to escape them, especially not as he acted the way that he did.
That is, as if you were far closer than you were. As if the years hadn’t come and gone, as if thirteen years had been just the blink of an eye. It was strange to you, stranger still, that whenever you were with him, you tended to forget too. Tended to bask in his warmth, and it was no wonder your relationship was so physical.
Indeed, sometimes you even thought that it was all there was. Because each time you had seen him after your date had been physical, his body on top of yours as he fucked your brains out. As you climbed on top in an attempt to gain control, but you doubted you’d ever have the control when it came to Kim Namjoon.
So you looked outside the kitchen window, trying to remember who you were. Trying to remember what you wanted, and trying to figure out what you should eat for dinner later.
You were here for four days, and though you had brought supplies so you could paint here, hoping your childhood home would bring you inspiration, all you had been able to do was worry about Kim Namjoon and what he meant in your life.
You weren’t sure it mattered. Because even though your relationship was purely physical, it still brought you satisfaction. Always left you swimming in ecstasy, always made you sleep soundly for a few days.
It had been weeks since your date. Almost two months, actually. Namjoon had texted you regularly, though the conversation never really delved into subjects that mattered. He was too busy to hang out often, but he made you feel as if he was making time for you. Yet you couldn’t shake what he had said out of your mind.
Did you want to just be someone Kim Namjoon saw when he needed to fuck? When he needed to paint himself on you, to bring more confusion into the mess of art your mind had been since the date?
The answer was easy. No, you didn’t wish to be just that. You’d never been one to have fuck buddies, and every time you saw Namjoon, the impression was reinforced. Perhaps because he made small comments, about how he was glad he could fuck you, glad you were in his bed.
Glad you moaned out his name whenever you came, and evidently, he made you come plenty enough. But yet you needed more, and you hated yourself for it.
Why complicate something that was so easy? So you remained silent, never said anything, though you did hold onto him as much as you could when you slept in his arms, trying to remind yourself that if he just wanted sex, he wouldn’t sleep over, or ask you to stay.
Would he have offered to drive you to Ilsan if you were nothing to him? You highly doubted so. Especially considering how he had talked to you, how comfortable he was next to you.
You sighed, looking away from the window as you turned towards the living room. Your father was napping on the couch, and your mother had gone to the market, declining your offer to come with as she had claimed you needed to work on your paintings.
You had been staring at the canvas for an hour before you had come to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and you had already finished it as you had watched the world outside the kitchen window, lost in thought. You figured taking a walk would help clear your mind, and you hoped you’d find inspiration by the time you were back home.
Though the weather was warmer outside than it was weeks ago, when you had your date with Namjoon, you still wrapped a thick scarf around your neck, burying yourself in the warm coat you had brought here. You put on your Chelsea boots, and the minute you stepped outside, you loosened the scarf.
The air smelled fresh and hinted at spring. There was no snow, most of it having melted under the peculiar warmth, and by the time you made it to the end of the street, you unzipped your coat too, feeling too hot.
You turned to your left, bowing your head slightly at the older couple that you passed. They reciprocated, but you didn’t pay attention to them more than necessary as you walked towards the park behind your middle school. The middle school where you and Namjoon had first fallen in love when you were dumb and young.
Ten minutes later, the building came into view, and memories swarmed in, chasing Namjoon out of your thoughts. Well, chasing current Namjoon out of your thoughts as you remembered your classes, and the teacher that you had always hated. As you remembered sitting on the bleachers of the soccer field, chatting the evening away when you were supposed to be home.
It was no surprise that you found yourself making your way to those bleachers, and you sat as high as you could, eyeing the empty field. It was the middle of the week, and the soccer field was empty save for birds searching for worms in the wet grass.
You leaned back on your hands so you could look up, gazing at the few clouds in the sky. Wind played with your hair, blowing it in your face, but you ignored it, focusing on the fresh air. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you inhaled deeply.
You were calm and content... until you let out a startled cry as someone said your name. Your eyes flew open to the sight of Kim Namjoon at the bottom of the bleachers, looking up at you.
“You scared the shit out of me,” you told him, hand on your racing heart. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just out on a walk,” he informed you. “Didn’t expect to run into you.”
He walked up the bleachers, sitting next to you before you replied. “Your parents are bothering you?” you teased, gently nudging him.
“Nah,” he said, laughing. “I’ve been songwriting since I got here? Can’t get this song right, so I decided to walk. Thought it’d help clear my mind.”
Of course, he was out and about for the same reason as you. Because you and Kim Namjoon were far more similar than you wanted to believe it. Sometimes, it led you to think that you were two of the same person, and usually, whenever you thought that you had to rein yourself in, reminding yourself that all he did with you was have sex.
“Couldn’t paint,” you admitted.
“Your parents are bothering you?” he asked, repeating your question with a corner smile and a single dimple.
This time, you pushed him, laughing before replying, “You’re annoying.”
He grinned, though you both fell silent as your gazes moved up to the sky, and you enjoyed the afternoon warmth. You knew the night would get cold, but you still had a few more hours of sunlight before the world gave way to darkness.
“You know,” he said as your eyes chased a white cloud on the cerulean expanse of the sky. “I was hoping we could hang out, while we’re here?”
He said it like a question, as if asking for permission, and it had your heart race in your chest. “Aren’t you afraid of your parents asking questions?”
“Not really,” he answered. “They know that you came with me. They want me to invite you over for dinner.”
Your gaze widened as it dropped to him. He was already looking at you, a small, hopeful smile on his lips. “Is that something that we’re supposed to be doing?” you enquired.
It seemed to take him by surprise. “What do you mean?”
You reckoned now was a good time as any to voice your concerns. Perhaps because the scene was familiar, safe, and you couldn’t deal with the concern gnawing at your nerves anymore.
“What are we, exactly?” you said, softly, finally giving voice to the worries.
Namjoon’s eyes went round as blush crept on his cheeks. “What?”
The drop of lead from that first date grew inside of you. “It’s just… we’ve only been hanging out for sex, correct?”
“Is that what it is for you?” he enquired after a few seconds of silence, of him just watching you with a somber expression.
You chuckled awkwardly. “To be entirely honest, I don’t do this. So no, I’d hope it’s not that, but…” you trailed off, eyes falling to the field in front of you. “You haven’t really made me feel like you’re in this for more than just sex.”
He leaned forward as if trying to gain your attention. As your gaze remained stubbornly on the empty field, he said your name once. His voice was soft, gentle, and that, more than anything, made you turn to look at him.
“I thought we were… dating?” he admitted. “I… I’m sorry if I just… assumed?”
It was such a Namjoon thing to do that you couldn’t even blame him. His revelation made the lead melt away to be replaced by a sweet warmth much like the one the sun rays carried. “Oh?”
As you didn’t say anything else, Namjoon straightened, putting a little distance between the two of you. “Unless that’s not what you want?”
In truth, yes, it probably was what you had been wanting since the beginning. Since he had arrived at your house with the flowers before the date, and since his lips had found yours for the first time again after thirteen years apart. You had been wanting him, more than just physically.
“I mean…” You chuckled awkwardly again, shrugging your shoulders. “Yes, that’s what I want.”
He grinned, dimples flashing blindingly, even more so than the sun in the sky up above. “Good. So you’ll come over for dinner?”
This time you laughed, and you cocked an eyebrow. “With just a few hours notice?”
“Yeah?” He shrugged. “My parents already know you, what does it change?”
And when you held his soft gaze, you decided why not? Why not dive in feet first, and not care about the consequences?
You doubted there’d be anything negative to come out of a dinner with Namjoon’s parents. And turned out you were right – both of them were happy to see you, and Namjoon’s mom kept repeating how proud she was that Namjoon had found you again, in Seoul. To Namjoon’s dismay, she told you about just how much Namjoon had cried after your breakup, and about how much it had encouraged him to become a rapper. Namjoon was red up to the tip of his ears as you looked at him, yet he didn’t scold his mother, didn’t tell her to stop.
And this, most of all, was the Namjoon you remembered from thirteen years ago. A shy, sweet boy who was always good to his elders, always polite and ready to help. He did help his mother, doing the dishes along with you after you’d eaten, and when it was time for you to leave, his father scolded him and told him to walk you home.
Namjoon grumbled that he was already going to do so, and you said your goodbyes to his parents before walking out into the night. It was a lot colder than it had been during the day, and you buried your hands in the pockets of your coat as you walked close to Namjoon, his arm brushing yours with every step that you took.
“Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologized.
You glanced up at him, gazing at the aura around his head caused by the streetlight behind him. “About what?”
He shrugged. “The dinner. I didn’t expect my parents to be weird about it.”
“They weren’t,” you reassured him. You walked in silence for a time, eyes moving back to the street in front of you. It was empty, even though it wasn’t particularly late at night. Perhaps it rendered you bolder, because you said, “I’m really happy I said yes. I missed them.”
He smiled, softly. “They missed you too.”
A comfortable silence moved between you, and you basked in it as you made your way home, with your teenage lover by your side. It was hard to believe that he was next to you right now, and just like that, you knew what you were going to paint when you were home.
“The night is beautiful,” Namjoon said softly. “Makes it feel like we never left, you know?”
“Like it hasn’t been thirteen years, right?”
He nodded. “The weight of the years does feel lesser since we’ve reconnected.”
His words had warmth blossom in your chest, heating up your body in the cold early spring night. They had you glance at him, and when you found him already looking at you, you stopped. He stopped just a step ahead of you, turning to look at you.
“Do you think we were just right people, wrong time?” you asked. “I’ve been thinking… it’s been so easy with you, since our date. It’s strange to believe that it would be, no?”
“The years haven’t changed us as much as you’d imagined they would,” he agreed. “Like…” he glanced up at the sky, searching for words to voice his feelings. “BTS came into my life after you. I’d say it changed me, made me grow up far faster than I thought I would. Being the leader and all, I had a lot of responsibilities on me, you know?”
You nodded, not really knowing where he was going.
“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be the leader,” he continued, revealing something you weren’t sure he had said out loud to anyone before. “I wish I didn’t have this weight on me and… in November, when I saw you again, I was going through a hard time. I didn’t entirely recognize you at first, but I was drawn to your gallery again and… I tried to find a reason to visit. To find a reason to talk to you.”
His eyes met yours again, and you almost balked at the intensity of his gaze.
“I felt lighter with you than I’d felt in years. So, when you say right people, wrong time, I think you’re right. I think thirteen years ago was all fucked up for us, but I think we were always meant to find each other again, through all the craziness of the world.”
You didn’t hesitate. You grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulling him down in a kiss. He kissed you back instantly, though his lips were slow against yours. Soft, anchoring you in this moment, in this space that had used to be yours when you were younger. He kissed you like time had slowed for you, like you had all night to stay right here, in this spot.
Your heart found a soothing rhythm in your chest, one echoed in his own ribcage, and his large hands found your waist to pull you closer. When he slipped his tongue in your mouth, you sighed dreamily, the taste of him so heavenly now that the lead in your stomach was gone that you thought you were going to start flying right here, right now.
Namjoon pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, and your breaths moved up in the sky, forming a single cloud over your heads.
“Had I known that you were worried I wasn’t into you like this, I wouldn’t have had sex with you every time we hung out,” he admitted, softly.
That, more than anything else, finished reassuring you.
“Hey,” you let out. “It’s okay. I should have spoken to you about it before.”
He pecked your lips once more before pulling away. He offered you his hand, and you gently took it as he smiled at you, his dimples so familiar on his cheeks that you wanted to drown in him.
“Let’s get you home,” he said. “I wouldn’t want your parents to worry.”
“I’m an adult now,” you reminded him, earning a laugh as he pulled you towards your house.
He shrugged. “They are still your parents; they’ll always worry for you.”
His words held truth, so you didn’t resist as he finished walking you home. You stood in front of the gate, looking at each other, and Namjoon gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers grazed down your face until they rested on your jaw, and he leaned down to press another gentle kiss on your lips, one that had you wish you didn’t have to part with him for the night.
One day, you liked to believe you wouldn’t have to part at all.
*****
                Being in a relationship with Kim Namjoon was easy. The weeks following your trip to Ilsan had you growing ever so closer, and you accompanied him to a dinner with all of his members. There, you saw what it meant for him to be the leader, but you kept your hand in his, bearing the weight of it along with him, even though it wasn’t like he had to keep them in check in private.
You had left early as you needed to go to your studio early in the morning, but had been unable to part with Namjoon, which wasn’t all that surprising to you or him. You both liked sharing a bed, liked the closeness that it allowed you. So you stayed the night, and the next day you made your way to your studio level-headed, ready to paint all day after your meeting with your manager. Your phone was dead, but you knew she wasn’t one to miss a meeting, and you figured you could always charge your phone when you got to the studio.
To your surprise, Sooah wasn’t alone when you got there. There was a suit-clad man, and he bowed his head at you respectfully as you walked in. You threw a curious look to Sooah, and the expression on her face made your heart drop to your ass, if that was possible.
“Hi,” the man politely said. “I’m glad you’ve finally showed up.”
He sounded annoyed, and it grated your nerves right away. You cocked an eyebrow before saying, “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”
“I am Jo Jonghyuk,” he answered, offering his hand for you to shake. “Hybe representative.”
You let out a nervous chuckle. “What’s bringing you here?
Sooah was the one to answer. “There’s been leaked pictures of you and Namjoon,” she informed you carefully. “They are… all over the media this morning.”
A drop of cold sweat rolled down your spine. “Excuse me?”
You hadn’t noticed it before, but the man had a briefcase. He quickly opened it, getting a stack of papers out of it that he handed to you unceremoniously. You looked at them, eyes widening as you saw the series of pictures, all of them of you and Namjoon.
And your face was far too recognizable. You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t you, couldn’t pretend you had no idea what the man was talking about. So when he asked if there was a space where you could sit down to discuss, you let Sooah suggest heading downstairs. You followed them with fear in your gut, and even when you were sitting on the couches downstairs, you still couldn’t stop your heart from racing in your chest.
“So,” the man said. “We’re aware that our artists have lives outside of the company.” He paused, watching you carefully. “But we need to preserve their image. I’m sure you can understand?”
Sooah saved you by replying. “What is that supposed to mean for Y/n?”
“Namjoon is currently in a meeting with other representatives. He will be asked the same thing as you,” the man offered as an explanation.
You cocked an eyebrow. “And what is it that I’m going to be asked?”
“Keep the relationship behind closed doors.” The man motioned around you. “As an artist, I’m sure you understand how one’s image is important. The stocks are going to be impacted if it is said that Kim Namjoon is in a relationship, and not for the better. We are going to release a statement later in the day to refute the rumours.”
It wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, yet you still felt sick, down to your very core. “And this needed an early morning meeting?”
You’d like to think that you sounded arrogant, defiant, but your voice was filled with nerves, shaking pathetically.
The man offered you a polite smile. “No. I’m here to have you sign an NDA.”
That made more sense. And still, it wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be – it wasn’t like you were going to scream about your relationship with Namjoon. After all, it still was fairly new, and you also wanted to preserve your anonymity.
In that instant, as the man pulled out said NDA from his briefcase, you understood something. Your anonymity was gone, gone like the winds of winter as the world outside slowly turned to spring.
Your face was visible in the pictures. People had seen you around the gallery, outside of official events, when you wore your mask.
You signed with a trembling hand, barely recognizing your own name on the paper, and the man offered you a copy of it before saying that he had to go. He thanked you for your cooperation on the way out, and when he was gone, disappearing at the bend in the street, you turned towards Sooah.
“I’m fucked,” you said.
She pursed her lips, concern moving on her features. “You are not. There’s no indication that people will associate you with Maehwa. I don’t think this will affect the gallery.”
You shook your head. “You don’t understand.” You scoffed, gaze dropping to the floor as the lead you had felt after your first date with Namjoon rematerialized, turning into a reality you didn’t think you were ready to gaze at. “It’s just a matter of time. His fandom discovers everything. They will know it’s me.”
“Then we’ll use it as publicity.”
Your eyes widened as you looked at your manager. “You can’t be serious.”
“Your art is beautiful,” she reminded you. “You’ve been building your reputation for years. Why would you being a human, having relationships, impact it?” She paused as if to give weight to her question. “It’s just going to put emphasis to the emotion in your art. People won’t see you as a masked individual anymore, but rather as the person behind the artist.”
You didn’t want to hear her. Knew she was being rational, yet couldn’t bear the truth in her words. Perhaps because you had always loved your anonymity. Always wanted to keep it, to use it to protect yourself from the world of fame, a world you had never wanted for yourself.
No, you just wanted to make art. To enjoy the science behind the pieces, the emotions that made you create. You were afraid it was going to be taken from you now. And who were you to blame? It was just a question of time before people connected the dots between you and Namjoon, thanks to the pictures, yes, but also to the interview that had yet to be released.
“Deep breaths,” Sooah said calmly, cutting through your spiraling. “I promise it’ll be okay.”
“What if it’s not?” you asked. “What if I can’t paint anymore?”
“You’ve been painting your whole life,” she reminded you. “You won’t suddenly stop because of rumours about you.”
See, that was the logical way to think about it. You clung to the words, held them close to your heart and let them replay in your head. It eased the anxiety that was building inside of you, and soon enough, your frantic breathing returned to normal.
“Shit.”
Sooah raised her eyebrows, waiting to make sure your spiraling truly was over. When you didn’t say anything else, she nodded once, patting you on the shoulder. “It’s all going to work out. And besides, congrats on your relationship with Namjoon?”
She said it like a question because, frankly, you hadn’t told Miyoung or Sooah a lot about you and Namjoon, except that you were taking things slow. It was the best you had been able to come up with, back when you thought he was only seeking carnal union with you, and you hadn’t changed the narrative after you and Namjoon had made it official in Ilsan.
And later, as you worked on the painting you had started in Ilsan, you pictured the cold night, when he had kissed you under the streetlamps. When you had realized that you had truly been wrong all along, that life was a cycle bringing you back to him. Back to where it had all started. You remembered his soft lips on yours, and that, most of all, finished calming you down from the anxiety.
Every stroke of your brush on the canvas, every new line, meant a thousand words, as you painted. As you created art from nothing but the memories your art held, as you put them together to form the image that had come to you that cold night. It was beautiful, in a heavy kind of way, because the emotions were heavy. The love, the recognition and the knowledge of life and the cycle of it, all entwined together to form something that only you and Namjoon could understand.
And as you worked, forgetting all about the world outside, all about the threat to your anonymity, you believed everything was going to be alright…
Almost.
*****
                “Thank you,” you thanked the young girls after they were done perusing your gallery.
It had taken all but a few hours for your artist self to be associated with Kim Namjoon and your gallery. On the same day, you had received more visitors than you had ever had, and though you had donned your mask, you knew it was pointless.
Knew from the looks and the whispers that people knew. Still, for the next following days, you kept wearing your mask. Kept trying to ignore how people weren’t here for your art anymore, but rather for you as a person. For your connection to Kim Namjoon, for what you meant to him and what he meant to you.
Namjoon had been understanding when you had told him how anxious the situation was making you. Had suggested avoiding public spaces altogether, and so far, you had only been able to see him once for dinner two days ago.
The dinner had been spent in far more silence than usual, while you both contemplated what this meant for you. You had settled on really taking it slow, letting the rumours die of their own volution instead of doing more about them. Because Hybe had released a statement, and already Dispatch was on the newest rumour, forgetting all about your possible connection with Kim Namjoon.
Except for the fans, that is. Because the fans came to your gallery, complimented your art, though you did see them snickering in your back. Before, you had believed you were above this, above petty gossiping and jealous bullying, especially coming from younger people. After all, younger people were that – young, and youth often held an amount of stupidity that was rarely found elsewhere.
As it had been the case for you and Namjoon, thirteen years ago.
Still, you found you were increasingly anxious, and instead of expecting Namjoon’s next message, his next call, you started dreading them. It was vicious, poisoning your blossoming relationship without him even being aware of it.
How could you blame him? He was used to this life, after all.
You sighed in your mask, hating the way your eyes burned. They burned more now that you wore the mask more often, drying out whenever you breathed out too strongly. You had gotten artificial tears, and you couldn’t wait to be able to lubricate your eyes as you watched the last few people milling about your gallery.
It was almost closing time, and you were looking forward to it more than you usually did. Mostly because you wanted to bask in calmness and silence for a while, if only to be able to get a grip on the anxiety.
Two older women approached you, hands behind their backs, where you stood by the big painting of Ilsan. They bowed politely, and to your relief, asked you if one of the pieces was for sale. Art enthusiasts, then. It was reassuring to see some of them in your gallery, even after all the recent events.
“Yes,” you answered them politely. “It’s currently on auction for the month. You can put in your own bid if you’d like.”
The smallest one pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side. “How expensive was the last bid?”
Even though this was supposed to be Sooah’s job, you still had access to the app where the bidding took place. So you took your phone out of your pocket, heart dropping in your chest when the screen lit up to show you three texts from Namjoon. You ignored them, swiping the phone open before clicking on the app.
As it loaded, you looked up to smile at the women. “Just a moment.”
They nodded in understanding, yet one of them looked over her shoulder as if annoyed. You felt bad, but it wasn’t like you controlled the technology. All you could do was wait, and the second the app opened, you scrolled down to the current bidding.
You hadn’t checked it since the bidding had started. Lowest bid had been set at 5 million won, but right now, the number you were reading on the screen didn’t even make any sense.
“Huh,” you let out, and you looked at the women, chuckling awkwardly. “It seems the bid for this piece has gone out of the roof.”
That was putting it lightly. Because, looking at the amount on your phone, you believed the bid had been sent to outer orbit.
The smaller woman winced. “How high?”
“1.2 billion won,” you replied. You checked your phone to make sure and even showed the screen to them.
“Oh,” she said. “We can’t afford that.”
You offered them an apologetic smile. “I have more pieces that are on sale and not on auction if you want me to show you.”
The one that seemed like she wanted to leave suddenly widened her gaze. “Oh, that would be lovely.”
They ended up buying a smaller drawing, saying that they were sure the value of it would skyrocket if they ever wanted to sell it. You wanted to tell them that it probably was just a bubble caused by the rumour and that it’d soon burst. Evidently, you couldn’t tell them that, both because of the NDA and because you were growing tongue-tied with the praise they were sending your way. Instead, all you did was offer them a wink, saying that you hoped they’d hold onto it dearly, and then you walked them to the door as it was closing time anyway.
When the door was locked behind them, you leaned against it, sighing shakily. With trembling hands, you fished your phone out of your pocket, and you went through the different pieces you had on auction. Half of the profits were going to a charity for abused women, and still, it’d leave you with much more money than you ever thought you’d own.
You called Sooah, but it was her day off. You didn’t expect her to pick up, as she had told you she was going to be busy tonight, and of course, she didn’t. You still sent her a text to tell her to check the auction app, and then you pushed up from the door, heading to your studio downstairs.
You sat cross-legged on the floor, amidst the brushes and pots of paint you had left hanging around, not really caring about cleaning after yourself when you were in the arms of inspiration. But right now, the mess was making you feel like an imposter, like people would soon find out that you weren’t worth it.
It was then that you finally checked what Namjoon had sent you.
I hope all is well, his first message read. It was followed by, I’ll be in the studio until later tonight, but would you like to hang out after? Finally, his last message was, I’m going to come over to your studio after closing hour with take-out
For some reason, the thought of him coming here made you want to disappear through the floor, but it was already too late. Indeed, your phone started vibrating in your hand with an upcoming call, and his name on the screen taunted you, telling you that, yes, you were just an imposter.
You picked up, hands shaking slightly as you brought the phone to your ear.
“Busy night,” Namjoon said as a greeting.
You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. You’re on your way?”
“I’m outside,” he admitted. “Just waiting for some people to walk away before I come in. I assume it’s locked?”
You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll come open for you.”
There was an awkward silence as if he expected you to say something more. When you didn’t, he said, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you lied, and cringed at yourself. You weren’t a liar, hated lying, and lying to him felt like you were eating something foul. “Just tired.”
“Well, I hope you’re excited for some take-out. I got your favourite.”
Now, your heart ached in your chest. Because that was Namjoon. Namjoon would always get your favourite food, would always know what to do to cheer you up. Tonight, it felt wrong, as if you didn’t deserve it.
And really, did you deserve it at all? Did you deserve the attention that he had brought to you? Did you deserve the shine in the spotlight?
You highly doubted so.
Walking upstairs felt like a trek to the top of Mount Everest. You were aware that it was anxiety, that you probably shouldn’t listen to the thoughts right now. But they were taunting you, haunting you, a thousand little ghosts spinning around your head in dizzying circles until all that was left was a broken piece of you.
The sight of Namjoon, hood up and mask on, on the other side of the door wasn’t a relief. It was a hand clutching your throat, choking you up until you were left gasping for air on the ground. You stalled for a few seconds, and you wondered if he could feel your hesitancy. If he knew the spirals you had been going down, if he knew you were questioning everything.
You clenched your jaw, sighed deeply, and somehow a small spark of light split the darkness. Because this was Namjoon. This was the same Namjoon as a decade ago. The first boy you had ever loved – could he still really just be that today?
Finally, you walked over to the door, unlocked it and opened it for him. His dragon eyes were unreadable, but they were questioning. You felt as if they were asking questions to your soul directly and, ever bared in front of him, you were pretty sure your soul was answering.
“Hey baby,” he greeted you as he walked in, and you quickly shut the door and locked it behind him.
“Hi,” you said, voice vulnerable in the midst of your anxiety.
“You’ve been busy?” he asked, the soothing tone of his voice dragging a gentle hand on your back, telling you that maybe, maybe if you could let go of the anxiety, everything would be okay.
But could you, when its talons had sunk so deep into your heart you couldn’t quite tell if it was still beating?
“Yeah,” you answered. “I’ve been working on a piece and… didn’t see the time fly.”
He nodded understandingly. “Of course. That’s why I brought food.”
And that was how you found yourself sitting next to him on the couch in your studio, eyes trailing to your piece of art. You wondered if he could see your anxiety in the swirls of darker colours on the canvas. Could he tell you were haunted?
Could he be the solution?
“I think my album is going to be good,” he said as he swallowed the fried chicken he was eating. “You’re going to love it.”
You pursed your lips, not willing to tell him that you’d always loved whatever he made, even back then. “Of course.”
He flashed you a smile, but you could see that it wasn’t quite reaching his eyes. He didn’t say anything though, and you both finished eating in silence. When you were done, Namjoon sat back in the couch, letting out a long sigh as one of his hands gently landed on your thigh. You immediately tensed, and his hand slid away, fingers flexing as if they wished they could hold onto you, but knew it was best not to.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked, his deep voice surrounding you, echoes reverberating through the fabric of your soul.
Could you tell him? Could you be honest with Kim Namjoon, or would it make him run away?
A scary thought formed in your mind, coming from the dirtiest part of your soul. Would it be better if he ran away?
“A lot,” you admitted, unable to hide the truth from him. “Quite a lot.”
You met his gaze for a few seconds before finding solace in your painting again.
“You know you can talk to me,” he gently said.
“I know.”
But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to have to tell him that this was all too much for you. That it was too quick, that you felt like you were stuck in a train aiming for a wall at top speed.
“I’m sorry,” he said after the silence had stretched so much, you thought it was about to rip the fabric of reality itself.
“What for?” you asked, genuinely wondering.
He leaned his elbows on his knees, pulling at some calluses on his palm that he got from working out without gloves on. “We haven’t really talked about the rumours.”
You hadn’t. Hadn’t even mentioned anything once, preferring to act as if it had never happened. Foolishly, you’d hoped that it would preserve your anonymity, even after it was gone. Even after the first fans stepped foot in your gallery, even after you’d seen articles about you in the press.
“Yeah.”
“Is that what’s on your mind?” he asked, and he turned his head towards you.
From this angle, it was entirely too hard to avoid his gaze. Instead, you latched onto it, hoping it would make everything better.
“It might be,” you said. You sighed, wetting your lips before you added, “It is.”
“How have you been feeling?”
You weren’t sure there was a way to answer the question. Because you didn’t want him to know just how bad the anxiety had gotten, didn’t want him to know that your life changing so much in such a short amount of time was the scariest thing that had ever happened to you.
“Stressed,” you answered, deciding to use a lesser word in the hope that it wouldn’t hurt him too much. “Especially now that the anonymity is gone.”
He nodded. “I was expecting that to happen.”
You cocked an eyebrow, but found yourself unable to say anything else.
“I’m sorry I took that away from you,” he murmured, and a flash of pain in his eyes told you that he really was.
That Kim Namjoon felt guilty when it came to you, more than he had probably ever felt guilty about anything in life.
“You didn’t mean to,” you reassured him. Because it was the truth – you couldn’t be angry at him for what had happened. You had been part of it just as much as him.
“But it’s still my fault,” he added. “It’s because of me if the media has been after you.”
“It’s not because of you.” You paused, searching for the right words to convey the meaning you wanted. “It’s not you as a person, but rather what you mean to the world.”
You slightly winced, convinced that you had somehow landed on the wrong words after all.
“Possibly,” he said. He sighed, before once again sitting back on the couch. His fingers twitched before he clenched them on his thighs, visibly resisting the urge to do something.
To touch you, you assumed.
“Possibly,” he repeated. “But it’s hard to separate the person that I am from the person that I mean to others. To me, it’s just me, both of these.”
You nodded, because you already knew that. Namjoon was authentic through and through, with everything that he did and was. With every single one of his words – he was a cool-minded reflective person, and it was one of the things you liked the most about him. Maybe because it was such a stark contrast from when he was young, blood boiling at any minor inconvenience.
Maybe because it was an anchor in an otherwise stormy life.
“I know,” you said. “And that’s why I don’t believe it’s your fault. You didn’t mean for any of that to happen. And neither did I.”
“Still sucks that it did.”
You’d never heard a truer sentence before. And it was rhetorical, didn’t mean for a reply. All that you could do was nod, gaze escaping from his to find your wriggling fingers in your lap. A new silence stretched between you, still as heavy. Heavier than gravity – was it going to form a black hole between you and him?
“What’s that painting you’ve been working on?” he asked.
You glanced towards the art. Observed the paler backdrop, the painting that you had started in Ilsan. Your anxiety had splashed swirls of darker blue over it, adding melancholy to it that you’d never really visited in your art before.
“Something to get my mind off the edge,” you admitted. “I’ve been trying to pour my thoughts into it. To escape reality for a time.”
Maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. Weeks later, you’d look back on this moment and realize that it was the catalyst to the destruction. But right this instant, you couldn’t even think past the words.
“To escape?” he prodded.
You nodded. “Don’t you use music as an escape?”
“Yeah,” he said, but somehow his voice was flat.
It brought your attention back to him, and you noticed his eyes on you. Noticed the grief that your words had instilled behind his pupils, hiding somewhere in the deep brown of his gaze.
“So I assume you must understand.”
He didn’t answer right away. Held your gaze as if time had stopped, and maybe it should have. Maybe time should have been kind to you and him, in its chronology.
“If you need an escape from this,” he said, motioning vaguely between you and him, “maybe we shouldn’t be doing it at all.”  
Your heart stopped in your chest, turning cold. Anxiety flooded in, washing away everything that you once were. You felt naked, young, as if you’d gone back in time and were watching him walk away again.
“I never said I needed an escape from us,” you said, and the venom in your voice surprised both you and him.
“Are you happy right now?” he enquired. In a whisper, as if it was the scariest thing. And scary words could never be uttered too loud – wouldn’t they just break everything in their wake?
“I’m not sure.” You saw the flash of hurt on his face, and you quickly rushed to add, “I’m just so anxious.”
“I’ve been making you feel anxious?”
You shook your head. “No. Not you. The situation. The sudden fame. The spotlight and my art being sold at crazy prices. The fact that I have to worry about paparazzi, about what I do or say. It’s so sudden.”
Namjoon didn’t reply right away. Instead, he looked at you, gaze heavy with feelings you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Maybe it was understanding – because of course he’d understand what you were going through. He was going through it too, though he’d known this life for years now.
“I’m sorry I brought this to you,” he eventually chose to say, carefully. As if he was aware you were fragile glass right now, one wrong move and you’d explode into a million tiny little shards. “I can take it away easily,” he claimed.
You cocked an eyebrow, because was he offering you salvation? You highly doubted he could.
“How?”
He pursed his lips, features turning apologetic for a time. “We break up. We go our separate ways, I get the rumours off your back. No one’s going to be after you anymore if they think I’m with someone else.”
The loudest sound in the universe was your heartbeat, in that instant. It was so loud even your thoughts became distant little specks, unable to break the wall of sound.
“What?”
He sighed, shrugging. As if he was giving up, as if he’d given up even before he’d gotten here. “If being with me makes you so anxious,” he started. “And by that, I mean not me as a person. What I mean to the world, or whatever it is that you said earlier. If it makes you too anxious, I’m just going to remove myself from the situation.”
Were you stupid, for being unable to reply anything other than ‘what?’ again? Perhaps you were. Especially as he scoffed this time around, and something started aching in your chest, differently than it was before.
“I think it’s better for you if we break up,” Namjoon explained. When you remained silent this time around, he slowly shut his eyes, head hanging low. “I don’t think I could reassure you enough when it comes to your anxiety for us to be able to be together.”
Your heart felt as if it had slowed down in your chest, so much so that the world surrounding you turned silent, soundless. You heard the breath of air that you took in, cringing as it did nothing to ease the slowly rising panic in you.
“I don’t want us to break up,” you said, murmured, though the moment the words crossed the threshold of your lips you realized that perhaps this had been what you were aiming for all along.
“I can’t date someone that gets so anxious just because they’re with me,” he answered, and he looked truly apologetic. Guilty too, as if he had committed the worst crime humanity could witness.
And perhaps breaking a heart truly was the worst crime out there.
It felt unlike Namjoon. You’d gotten the impression that he was someone reliable, someone cool-headed who’d be able to support you, to help you go through your anxiety. But as you stared at him, sitting there on the couch in your studio, you realized that he, too, struggled with his own anxiety. Had probably struggled with a lot of it in the past, so much so that he couldn’t afford to put himself in a situation where he’d only get bad again.
The only solution appeared like a dark cloud looming over the horizon of your conscience. You wished wind could blow it away, wished you were strong enough to manage your anxiety without losing him, but you knew it’d be easier once he was gone. Knew your sleep wouldn’t be as troubled, knew you’d be able to dwindle away into anonymity once more.
You had to let him go. For your sake, mostly, but for his too. Because he deserved someone who could shine with him in his spotlight, someone who’d be able to accept all of him, including his fame. And that just wasn’t you.
“Namjoon…”
“It’s hard for me too, you know?” he added. “To watch the person that I love getting worse every day, knowing that I’m the cause of it. Y/n…” he paused, and this time he was the one to look away. “I haven’t even seen you smile in weeks. Ever since the rumours.” He shook his head. “Even before that. I’m not sure you’ve been happy since we started dating.”
“That’s not true,” you declared, trying to put as much conviction in your words as you possibly could. “I was happy in Ilsan. I was happy when we came back, too. It really is just the sudden fame that’s been throwing me off.”
You were relieved you’d finally found words to explain your anxiety. And somehow, them slowly falling out of your mouth eased the anxiety, eased the fear.
But you knew you were going to let him go.
“Then we take a break,” he continued. “I don’t want to be the source of something negative in someone’s life. We take a break, let the rumours dwindle away, and when it’s safe, we can try again.”
Your eyes blurred with tears. If he saw them, he ignored it, instead focusing on the calluses in his hands again.
“If that is what you want, I’m not going to force you to stay with me,” you said, voice small in the enormity of what was happening.
He scoffed. “What I want is just impossible. This is just second best.”
“Breaking up with me is second best?” you asked, anger and bitterness swirling under the surface of your ache. “It’s that easy for you?”
He frowned, meeting your gaze again. “Who said it was easy?”
“You’re the one that claims it’s a good thing. Second best.”
At that, he rolled his eyes, slowly shaking his head again. “This is not what I meant.”
Maybe your anxiety was winning against you, maybe the knowledge that you had to let him go was stronger than anything else. Because you couldn’t watch him anymore. Couldn’t gaze at his deep brown eyes anymore, knowing that they’d become ghosts in your memory in just a few moments.
A few moments of breaking, of a glass heart dropped to a stone-cold floor.
“Then leave, Joon,” you said, voice unwavering even though you felt like ice was clutching your entire being. “Let’s take this break, let’s see if it’s better for both of us.”
The dark cloud rolled closer, engulfing you. Especially as he didn’t fight more. As he nodded his head, got up and motioned towards the stairs. As if that was enough when he was dropping you, giving up on you.
But weren’t you giving up on him just as much?
That night, you sat cross-legged in front of your canvas, watching the opened paint pots littering the floor around you. When your eyes slid back towards the canvas, a single tear escaped the confines of your eyelids, rolling along your cheek.
Deep brown eyes looked back at you, shining with their own unshed tears, reminders of where you failed in the timeline of your life.
*****
Thirteen years ago
                You were going to kill Kim Namjoon. You would kill him, and be happy about it.
You’d heard from a friend of a friend that he had been hanging out with a certain Jeon Yuri, a beautiful, popular girl that had every reason to be liked by a guy like Namjoon. It was understandable – everyone loved Yuri.
Only, Yuri hated you. Always did, and took to insulting you in that covert way of hers that made people think she was complimenting them. But you saw right through her – you knew she was just a conniving rich girl. So you hated her back, with all the hate your little heart could summon.
To think Namjoon was hanging out with her? You’d kill him for it.
So you waited outside the gates of your childhood home for him to show up. You had been waiting there for a while already – partly because you needed to cool off, but also because you wanted to avoid your parents’ questions. Because obviously they loved Namjoon.
Everyone loved Namjoon, and everyone loved Yuri. You knew you were going to hate the both of them.
Namjoon arrived with a smile on his face, dimples flashing as if they’d get you to fold, to forgive him. To be fair, he did not know about your history with Yuri, as you never spoke about it to anyone. But when he saw your features, his smile immediately crumbled, replaced by worry.
“What’s wrong?” he instantly asked as he stopped in front of you.
“What’s wrong?” you repeated, before scoffing. “Why did I have to hear from Kim Haru that you’re hanging out with Jeon Yuri?”
His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with hanging out with her?”
Your eyes widened and your fists landed on your hips. “Everything? She’s just a bitch.”
“Excuse me, what?” Namjoon let out, and you could tell by the reddening of his cheeks that he was already getting worked up too. “You told me to never call a girl a bitch and now you’re doing it?”
You rolled your eyes so far back you thought you could see your brain. “It’s not the same thing.”
He scoffed, in that condescending way of his that he always used when he wanted to win an argument. And you saw red. You saw blood red, scarlet like you were but a bull attracted to a flag.
“Don’t you fucking condescend me right now.”
“Don’t you fucking curse at me.”
“No seriously,” you continued. “I don’t want a guy who’s only after popular girls.”
“I am not,” Namjoon drawled. “I’m tutoring her and Park Seojin in maths. You already knew this.”
As a matter of fact, you did not. “You never told me.”
“Because you never listen to me,” he spat. “You’re always just drawing your fucking drawings as if that’ll lead you anywhere in life.”
“Kim Namjoon!” you burst. “And you’re always just going on about how you want to be a rapper. You’re a kid, dude, stop chasing after pointless dreams.”
He stepped closer to you, towering over you. You stood your ground, crossing your arms on your chest. “You’ll be sorry you ever said that. Oh, you’ll be so fucking sorry.”
“I don’t think I will. I don’t even think I’ll remember you.”
It was a low blow, and you could tell it hit him right in the gut. “You’re breaking up with me over such a stupid thing?”
“I’m breaking up with you because you’re a liar. You said you were with your friends, and then I learn that you were with Jeon Yuri?”
He sighed for a long time, shaking his head in frustration. “Oh, so this is really what it is about? Maybe there’s a reason why I didn’t want to tell you I was tutoring her.”
You scowled. “Why?”
“Because I knew you’d throw a jealousy fit. You think you’re entitled all of my time.”
“Fuck you,” you growled. “Fuck you. I have all the rights to be jealous when my boyfriend hides stuff like that from me.”
“Boyfriend? I thought you broke up with me.”
Your gaze slightly widened. “What?”
“I’m not your boyfriend anymore,” he said, adding your name like it was an insult. “Get over me already.”
“Do you even love me?” you replied, your anger suddenly dying down to be replaced with gut-wrenching pain.
But you knew better than to expect his anger to ever die down. It took forever for Namjoon to calm down, and you feared you had crossed a line tonight.
“Not when you get mad at me for no valid reason.”
His words hit like a slap to the face. “I just don’t like her. Can’t you tutor someone else?”
“No.”
The simple negation brought back a shade of anger to you, and you said, “Then perhaps we really should break up. Maybe I can find someone that actually respects me.”
“Because I don’t respect you?” he said, hands moving around his frame in anger.
“Clearly not.”
“You’re right then,” he continued. “I don’t respect you. I don’t love you either, apparently, so I’m done.”
“Joon…”
“No, Maehwa,” he said, and this time the nickname broke your heart in two, splitting it right in the middle. “You don’t say my name like that.” He slowly shook his head, seething. “As a matter of fact, I don’t want you to ever speak to me again. To ever look at me. I don’t want someone that acts like a fucking child.”
“You act like a child all the time,” you interrupted, but he ignored you.
He ignored you, in favor of turning around to walk away. You watched his back, before taking a step towards him, yelling his name again. He stopped, but didn’t turn to look at you. Instead, he said, “I’ll kill you if you follow me.”
You scoffed. “Oh please, as if you’d ever hurt me.”
“I’m serious, I’ll fucking kill you if I ever see you again.”
It felt enormous, to say such a thing. And perhaps youth was that – enormous in its drama. So you replied, “I hate you more than I hate anything in this world.”
He shrugged his shoulders, and then he walked away.
He walked away into the October night, and your cleaved heart shattered in a million tiny pieces.
☆☆☆☆☆
Read the rest of the fic here bc tumblr sucks and now we can't write posts longer than 1,000 blocks
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hamletshoeratio · 1 year
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"But no new content 😭!!" that means jack shit. We have several literal decades worth of content we can watch or rewatch. The writers and now the actors too are not only fighting for their livelihoods but for the futures and the soul of their industries.
Fuck new content, fuck the executives and producers and powers that be who make millions upon millions while the people, who create the content that make them rich, can barely make ends meet.
Here's some suggestions to anyone who doesn't know what to watch;
Nostalgia rewatch; watch old favourites, shows and movies you haven't seen in years but that stayed with you, the ones that mattered to you.
Watch the shows your parents didn't let you watch growing up because they thought the show was "too mature" for you.
Watch the shows and movies people have recommended to you that you never found time for before.
Watch indie films!!!
Look at different genres than what you've watched before and give them a go.
Try films and shows from other countries and/or in other languages. There's dubs and subtitles available and these shows and movies can be just as good if not better than their American and/or English speaking counterpart.
And remember when watching shows, that you do not have to binge them all at once, you can have your own personal tv schedule and watch say an episode a week like you would've done when/if they aired before streaming
Look at some older films and shows, why does it matter if it's in black and white or the camera quality is lower than 4k and hd, so long as it's good? And so many of those shows and films, while not perfect, have aged better than shows that have come out in the last decade, like the golden girls for instance has aged so much better than say glee (ok many many many shows aged better than glee but let's be real for a second, music was better when artists were terrified of the Glee cast doing a better version of their song on the show. I do still wish it was a show my mom didn't let me watch tho, lmao glee was fine but no, her twelve year old being obsessed with Les mis and rewatching it religiously was cause for concern 😂😭 I was just as obsessed with glee for seasons 1-4 especially).
It's ok to indulge your inner child and rewatch the classics tm. The shows and movies you grew up with. Rewatch the shows that got you through sick days from school, the tv movies you remember watching premiere, the cartoons that MADE your Saturday mornings, etc.
On the topic of animation, that's literally an unlimited genre you can tap into, which rarely gets the recognition and respect it deserves.
Don't be afraid to watch the one season wonders, the shows that networks and streamers cancelled after one season in spite of strong reviews and good ratings. Or the shows that ended abruptly around the season 3 or 5 mark because networks and streamers cancelled them because they didn't want to negotiate contracts and have to pay the actors and writers more. Get angry, remember what the actors and writers are fighting for.
The privilege of older shows that either concluded naturally or that writers were given a heads up on might be on it's last season is that you get closure, unlike with the above. That might not mean an ending is good but a bad ending is better than a cliffhanger. There's always fix its fics for a bad ending. And if the ending is good, it's typically GOOD in my experience. The fear of a cliffhanger and zero closure has already turned many against watching new content until the show is renewed for another season or is fully wrapped (and fans don't hate the ending).
Watch the shows that were in their day or are popular or critically acclaimed, they usually hold up to the hype.
Watch the old shows and movies your favs were on/in before they were your favs.
Try a soap or a telenovela, they can be entertaining af (holby city my love, Tuesdays have never been the same since the BBC robbed me of you).
If you liked a reboot or a revival of a show, try the original (in certain cases, the og is even better, see boy meets world v girl meets world).
If you like period dramas, try shows and films from other countries based on their history. A lot of times when people are telling their own history it goes far better than when Hollywood tries it (see the many times Hollywood has actors brought in because producers think they're good for box office and they then go on to butcher the accent their character should have, see Cameron Diaz, Julia Roberts, Meryl Streep and so many others who have absolutely butchered the Irish accent over the years for instance. There's also many many instances even recently of just blatant whitewashing see Matt Damon as the last samurai...).
Listen to recommendations, watch the shows and movies you know your family and friends loved but you never got around to watching.
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holmsister · 4 months
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Why I think Kabru was the first child Milsiril took in:
1) it coincided with the Utaya catastrophe and her leaving the Canaries. If she was already in the habit of taking kids in, Idk if she would have been able to still be in the Canaries.
2) it also makes more sense to me in terms of character motivation if leaving the Canaries and taking Kabru in is all one decision. Like. Young Milsiril doesn't seen particularly motherly. Think of how she treats Mithrun - she gives him motivation to live, yes, but she does so by inciting him towards revenge. (This happens BEFORE she takes Kabru in btw im pretty sure its explicitly stated somewhere. I say this because i saw some confusion on the matter). An older, less angry, more disillusioned Milsiril saw what the elves did in Utaya and decided to both stop being an accomplice and try to repair things how she could by helping a victim.
3) ...which also explains why she was so unprepared. Like there's no way around it - it's clear that she is incredibly unprepared to deal with a tallman child, let alone one who is as incredibly traumatised as Kabru was. She also seems to not have a clear idea about tallman growth and maturity rates etc. (She tries to spoonfeed an elementary age kid and thinks Kabru is going thru puberty at 22!) If she had previous experience with short-lived races she would have a clearer idea of such things, if nothing else, thru mere experience. Her lack of knowledge makes a lot more sense if taking Kabru in was an impulsive decision maturated in the context of Utaya, and only after she spent some years with him she was like. Oh actually I like taking care of children. I might want to keep doing it.
4) I know there's the Rin comic in which the other elves seem to imply Milsiril is the go-to for dealing with short-lived races children and also she says she doesn't have space to take anyone else in, but it's possible she started taking in more kids in after she felt like she got her footing with kabru (iirc kabru had already been living with her for a couple years at that point) or, what I'm tending towards, she meant that she couldn't take anyone else *besides Kabru*. Considering the other elves treat Rin as some sort of little wild animal l don't think it would take much for them to consider someone an expert in handling children.
5) there's never any mention of other kids besides Rin in Kabru's memory. It seems weird to me if he spent so much time in the house with those other kids he does not talk/remember them, especially considering how curious and sociable baby kabru was. It might be a facet of elven childcare we don't know, but we see elven families being reasonable sociable in canon at times, i don't see why Kabru wouldnt be allowed to befriend the other kids if they were there.
6) milsiril seemingly dedicates a lot of time to him and only him. This can be explained simply by noting that this is Kabru's memory tho. But still. She keeps track of him in adulthood, has him fully adopted into his family, dedicates personal time to his education and training, and even teaches him some coping mechanisms for his panic and anxiety attacks, like the whole "recite capitals of the world" thing.
I think that Kabru was the first kid she took in, he lived alone with her for a very long time, and only after he was with one foot out of the door (14-16) she started taking in other children, which would be at that point too young to be interesting as friends to a teenager Kabru looking forward to either becoming a Canary or moving out.
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misalpav · 11 months
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ram being in love with the daughter of temple priest and even though he isn't very religious he still went there for sandhya aarti once he saw her one jhumke had fallen and finally able to gather some courage he decided to approach her and they had a talk or something.
also one more request don't use y/n can you pls use the name vaidehi ?
anon!!!! I love this prompt and I hope I did justice to your vision <3 (I'm on a writing high rn so I can actually write fast for once would you look at that?)
yemito ee maya
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Two years after Governor Scott's death
Ram slowly walked away from his house, lost in thought. He could feel the wind in his face, rearranging his carefully styled hair and ruffling the shirt he just finished ironing. The sun, shining brightly in his eyes, slowly began its journey back to the horizon as kids laughed and ran back home from school. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, letting himself relax. There was a time when he didn’t know what the word relax meant, how it felt to feel his heart rate slowing and have time for himself. Now that he did, he never quite knew what to do with it. Sometimes, he would make a beeline to Bheem or Sita’s house to talk to them or have dinner together, other times, when he didn’t feel like socializing, he would sit at home and read a book. On days like today, when he just couldn’t get himself to pay attention to the words on a page, he’d huff and put down his book to go for a walk, thinking about how much his life and his India has changed.
“Ram anna, chai thaaguthara?” (tl. Do you want to drink chai?)
He turned his head and saw a group of kids at a street food stall looking at him eagerly and quickly recognized all of them from his colony. His mouth curved into a smile as he forgot about his earlier thoughts and started walking towards them, his hands checking his pockets to find his wallet.
“Aa thaguthanu. Anna, okka chai isthava?” (tl. Yes, I’ll drink some. Can you give me one chai?)
As the seller made his chai, he pretended to look in his wallet for money while secretly watching the kids, and smiled with a glint in his eyes as the kids’ faces fell, realizing he didn’t get them anything. He pulled out a 100 rupee note from his wallet and handed it to the vendor, who looked at him confused.
“Migilina paisalu tho pillalu ki vallaku ishtam ainadhi edhaina ivvandi, inka mitha meeru pettukondi.” (Give the kids whatever they want with the remaining money, and if there’s anything left you can keep it for yourself.)
The kids’ eyes widened at him in disbelief, and they quickly ran to the vendor before Ram could have second thoughts and asked for bajjis, dosas, lassis, and whatever else they could think of. Ram chuckled and shook his head, taking a seat at one of the tables and enjoying the warm taste of chai. He was completely aware the colony moms would make their displeasure very well known to him when he went home, but he figured he’d take it if it meant upholding his role as every kid’s favorite person.
The kids sat around him and became engrossed in conversations about their classes, the math teacher they despised, the cricket game they played last night, and a few other things and Ram sat back and listened attentively to their stories while tending to his chai, zoning out only once in a while when the conversation was directed away from him. 
At one of these moments, he heard a laugh and the jingling of bangles coming towards them, and he turned his head subconsciously. His jaw dropped as his eyes rested on the source of the laughter: a woman, busy in conversation with a younger girl, walking towards them wearing a beautiful black and yellow saree, her hair tied back in a neat braid, with a book in her hands. As they walked up to her, he suddenly stood up, catching the woman’s attention. When she turned to face him, he held his breath and examined her eyes, bordered with kohl, and the bright red bindi above the bridge of her nose. Silver jhumkas adorned her ears glowing in the sun and the smell of the jasmines in her hair radiated off her, and he was lucky one of the kids pulled on his hand to get his attention. The woman’s face softened as she smiled, turned away from him, and walked away, and he quickly reoriented himself, telling the kids he had other work to do tonight and started in the direction the woman had left towards, promising the kids they’d play cricket together another night. 
Ram speedwalked for a few minutes and finally caught up to them, trailing only a few meters behind, but he couldn’t bring himself to approach her. Internally, he was cursing himself out for making this seem easy to Bheem all those years ago, when he himself was such a mess at it. He wished Bheem, Sita, Jenny, the kids, or literally anyone was with him right now to tell him what to do and how not to embarrass himself. His shoe stepped on something and he tripped over, clasping his mouth to make sure no sound came out. When he turned to see what caused it, he found one of her silver jhumkas lying in the dirt. Ram couldn’t believe his luck and he picked up the jhumka, taking it as a sign from the universe to meet her. He then followed her, his faith in himself somehow reinstated simply by the fact he had something of hers in his pocket.
The women approached a Shiva temple, removed their shoes, and entered, and Ram stopped outside. He hadn’t been inside a temple since his father was killed by the British. Everyone close to him had tried to reinstate his faith in god, but he always shut down the idea by stating that if god was real, his father wouldn’t be dead, and if god is real and let his father be killed, then he had every reason to be extremely angry at that god. Ram almost turned around and left, but then he saw the woman returning outside, and froze, realizing she was staring at him. 
“Intha dhooram vachi lopadiki raara?” (tl. You came this far, won’t you come in?) she asked. Realizing he was stuck, he slowly took off his shoes and stepped into the temple.
Once he was standing next to her, she asked him what his name was and he replied saying his name is Ram. She introduced herself as Vaidehi, and he said the name back to her, appreciating the way it rolled on his tongue. They sat in the back of the temple, and Vaidehi opened her book and started reading while he examined her features, and noticed she had removed the other jhumka. Ram hated being interrupted while reading, but he also needed to close this silence somehow, so he craned his neck to see what book she was reading. 
“Avunu, gudiki vachi em pustakam chaduvuthunnavu? Adhi intlo guda cheyyachu kadha?” (tl. What book are you reading in the temple that you can’t read at home?)
That beautiful laughter that first got him to turn his head towards her escaped her mouth again and she told him his father was the head priest and she enjoyed attending the sandhya aarti whenever she could. She told him about the book she was reading, History of Dharmashastra, and they both fell into an animated conversation about the development of Indian ancient societies and their dreams for a modern and independent India. She said India needed more men like Alluri Ramaraju and he smiled and agreed, hiding the joy in his heart from hearing her say that. He never bothered mentioning that he was Ramaraju because he found it refreshing to talk to people normally without being treated like a savior everywhere he went. 
Suddenly, a man, who he assumed was Vaidehi’s father, stood in front of the garbhagriha and everyone in the temple stood up. They recited bhajans, and while Ramaraju knew all of them from memory from his childhood and his mother, he quietly listened to Vaidehi’s voice. At the end, he took the prasadam from one of the other priests and walked back outside with Vaidehi. She asked him if he didn’t know the bhajans, and he replied saying he did, but he enjoyed listening to them much more than singing them, opting to leave out the truth about his father. They talked more about their interests, exchanged addresses, and talked about meeting again. As the sun finally set, she told him she needed to leave, and that they’d definitely meet again. Ram watched her walk away and put his hand in his pocket, touching the jhumka he never returned, whispering, “I promise we will.”
---
(a/n) should I make this a series lmao I have so many ideas for where this could go. also, I haven't been to india in like 6yrs now (curse the pandemic and then school/work) so idr if 100 rupees is acc a reasonable amount for the chai scene 🗿
open tag list: @obsessedtoafault @rambheem-is-real @lil-stark @manwalaage @contemporarykafka @sinistergooseberries @budugu @the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see @hufhkbgg @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @hissterical-nyaan @how-is-it-in-london @gauri-vishalakshi @sada-siva-sanyaasi @bromance-minus-the-b @darlingletshurttonight @voidsteffy @itsfookingloosah @mad-who-ra @fadedscarlets @justmeand-myinsight @rasnak2 @ghungru @irisesforyoureyes @vijayasena
I copied a rrr tag list I literally haven't used in a year and tried to remember as many old urls as I could. if you want to be added/removed from the list pls lmk <3
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kings-highway · 1 month
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God each quad/poly ship you mention just brings me so much brainworms, all those *dynamics* just leave me foaming at the mouth. Great Stuff
A bit out of the way but any feelings on HinaNoya (Hinata x Nishinoya) both as a duo and maybe as a quad bringing in their popular ships?
sorry on the delay for responding to some of these. it's just who i am as a person. but I love receiving them!! never feel shy about asking my anything ever
mmmmm m mm 🤔
I feel like my first instinct is to just freak out at the sheer ball-lightning that this particular couple would induce. I don't think it's my favourite thing, but the more I think about it, the more I can like... kinda see how they could be really good for each other?
I can imagine them first bonding over the obvious, like volleyball and all their favourite competitions and athletics and they're both loud and energetic but I feel like that would be the, like, pre-relationship friendship stage. And Hinata is 100% volleyball but Noya has such an interest in everything beyond volleyball I can really see him broadening Hinata's worldview. Like... Hinata played soccer before he knew that volleyball was a thing. i really think Hinata and Nishinoya would have a lot of fun playing soccer together. And fishing. and baseball. and horseback riding. or whatever the hell else they can get up to.
I think hinata wouldn't really be able to identify his feelings as romantic for a long, long time, probably because this relationship would feel SO much different from his others? Especially post-timeskip. Like... his go-to best friends, Kageyama, and then his MSBY boys, Bokuto, Atsumu, Sakusa - like, they're all really REALLY volleyball forward. And his whole life is saturated in that. but then he has this OTHER friend, who loves the sport and comes to all his games but also just knows so, so much. Like Nishinoya would talk about every wonder of the world he's been to, all the games he's learned, these interesting little alcoves of culture and society and I think this ship could be really could because when Hinata realizes that he's fallen in love with Noya, I think he might take a break from his hyperfocus in volleyball and go globetrotting with his boyfriend. (noya had been waiting for him to realize for years)
I dont have too much more interesting to say with the addition of the polyship. BUT I actually think this one would work really well as a non-polycule polyship. Like I imagine Noya and Hinata could date each other while also dating Asahi / Kageyama. They'd get very different things oit of their relationships, and I dont this Asahi would mind having a second hyper energetic partner along for some of their trips, especially since it makes Noya so happy. They wouls absolutely both sleep on Asahi's chest tho. romantic or platonic. (Asahi wakes up so overheated and sweating its almost unhealthy)
Overall Rating:
Me, Personal Interest: 0/10
Concept/Potential: 3/10, I'd be willing to hear some arguments.
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xxwhiskeyxx · 2 years
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Love Trope February!  Suddenly Parents: Rain x Reader
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Rain and (Y/N) have had a situationship for about a year and a half. The only reason they haven’t actually bitten the bullet and asked each other to be their partner, is because both are too shy to actually confess (even tho they fuck the shit out of each other and sleep together almost every night) but they basically act like a couple, hugging, kissing, snuggles, the works. One thing to know about the pair is they both have a major breeding kink (along with many others hehe), Rain cums in them nearly every time they fuck (if he doesn’t cum on their face or in their mouth) because they believed that humans and ghouls can’t reproduce together without a ritual and because its hot. BUT PLOT TWIST, turns out humans and ghouls can reproduce with a ritual, but it is VERY rare, but due to how much they pair have fucked it seems to have taken.
5.6k words
So I apologize if it seems I really like to make everyone cry and sad, but I PROMISE there are some happier chapters coming up! Also if you'd like a full headcanon about half-ghoul pregnancies, I will gladly post what I came up with while writing this chapter! Also if it isn't clear basically AFAB reader but no female pronouns are used
- Love Whiskey
It starts randomly, (Y/N) is suddenly feeling very nauseous in the mornings, exhausted all the time, and just overall very icky, they suspect they may just have the flu or something but when they go to the infirmary at Rain’s request, but unfortunately he couldn’t go as Copia said he needed Rain, Dew, and the girls help with paperwork and song writing for a couple hours today to get ready for the tour coming up. (Y/N) entered the infirmary and sat down at the table the nurse directed them too, saying thar the doctor will be with them shortly. (Y/N) is nervously playing with the bracelet they stole from Rain as they try to think of what it could possibly be, ‘It has to be the flu or something, I know these are similar to pregnancy symptoms but I can’t be pregnant…no, absolutely not, it’s not possible without the ritual, thats what Mount and Aether said..’ they wonder, when their mind drifts back to the last time they and Rain had been together, he had been unusually aggressive and dominate after being pissed off by Dew flirting with them all day, snarling, “I’m gonna breed this fucking human cunt, make sure no one touches what’d fucking mine! Fuck you full of my fucking kits, make you a fucking mama, my mama, mine! Your mine, my darling little human, my fucking play toy!”
(Y/N) shivers slightly at the memory, rubbing their thighs together. That had been about 3 weeks ago, both having been too busy and exhausted with chores and practise to have time to fool around. When suddenly the curtain pulls open and the doctor walks in, a slightly older gentleman, he begins the standard of checking their blood pressure and heart rate before asking them what their in for today, “Well I’ve been really nauseous, especially in the mornings, exhausted all the time, I’ve lost my appetite for basically anything, and I’ve basically just feel like crap.” they explain as he nods, writing things down before looking up at them, “Sibling (Y/N), are you sexually active?” he asks, (Y/N) feels their face flush a bright red before nodding. He hums with a slight amused smirk on his face, “Now, when was your last menstrual cycle honey?” (Y/N) feels their face go white, they haven’t had a period in about 6 weeks, they had simply assumed it was from the stress they’d been under of both getting done with all of their chores and getting ready for the tour. They work as Copias assistant and on top of helping him with paperwork, they help with scheduling venues, hotels, and other time management issues; this is how they met Rain in the first place, they had joined during the Prequell era and grown close to the Water ghoul along with all the other ghouls.
“Well, Sibling, just to make sure, I’m going to have you take a pregnancy test and do some bloodwork, if you are pregnant it’ll tell us how far along you are.” he says, standing and beckoning them to follow, they walk to a small storage closet where he rumages for a minute before handing them a pregnancy test box, “The bathroom is down the hall, theres gloves and a urine cup for you to use.” (Y/N) takes them shakily and walks in the designated direction, they can’t possibly be pregnant, it’s not possible. They follow the instructions and wait for the results, biting their nails (after the washed their hands of course) and their knee shaking in anxiety. 5 minutes pass and when they take a peak at the test, they nearly pass out cause it is; ‘Pregnant’ loud and clear on the little screen. They gape at it, their hand falling to their belly, “I..what the fuck! This shouldn’t be possible!” they gasp when theres a knock at the door, “(Y/N)? Are you okay, what was the result?” it was the doctor, (Y/N) shakily walks to the door and opens it, holding out the test. The doctor smiles, “Congratulations, I’m sure the father will be ecstatic.” he says, patting their arm as he offers his arm to lead them to the blood drawing room, “I’m not sure..we’ve never talked about it, we didn’t even think this was possible without a ritual.” (Y/N) says, grasping his arm as he leads them, “Oh, is your partner a ghoul honey?”
(Y/N) nods, “Yes but I wouldn’t say partner exactly, we’re not official sir.” they mumble, as the nurse preps them for the needle, 3 vials sitting nearby, “Oh sweetheart, if I am correct, your the Ghost projects Water ghouls paramore.” the doctor says gently, placing a hand on the arm that doesn’t currently have a needle sticking out of it, “That ghoul seems infatuated with you, I knew you looked familiar. I see the pair of you together all the time, he is such a gentleman and if the way he looks at you says anything, then I’d say he’ll be plenty happy, but tell him that he better put a label on it or else you’ll kick his ass.” he says with a wink making (Y/N) giggle as the nurse finishes up.
“All right sweetheart, come back tomorrow and we’ll go over the results, but for now I think I should go over what a half-ghoul pregnancy is like, would you like to come to my office so we may talk in private?” the doctor offers, reoffering his arm to (Y/N), “Yes please sir, thank you.” they say as they take his arm as they walk back to his office, sitting down in a plush armchair as he sits behind the desk, typing away at something. “Now, I personally have no experience with half-ghoul pregnancies but my mentor took care of several in his career. I had emailed him as soon as you went to take the test and he responded saying that he will come to stay with us until the child is born, but for now he is available for a video call.” the doctor, his name plate saying Dr. Norman Clark, says as he turns the monitor around so (Y/N) is also in view as he clicks to call.
It takes a few seconds but the video is quickly answered, “Dr. Virgel, it is so nice to see you ma’am, this is the young Sibling I told you about, (Y/N) (L/N). They took the test and it came out positive, we’re currently running their bloodwork to see how far along they are.” Dr. Clark explains, Dr. Virgel nods before turning her eyes to the nervous Siblings, “Hello (Y/N), I imagine your quite startled, Dr. Clark said you mentioned not thinking this was possible without the ritual to the Dark Lord? Well while you’re technically not wrong that usually a ritual is needed for it to be possible, it’s not necessary for it to happen in the first place. The ritual is essentially like a way that makes it happens, Satan gives you almost like a boost to ensure it takes. Ghouls and Humans have been reproducing for centuries, even before the ritual was created, but to do it naturally is a very low percentage, about 1/100 chance. So either you and your ghoul happened to get lucky or, to put it bluntly, you had so much sex it was inevitable.” Dr. Virgel says, (Y/N) blushes brightly, the words having left the sweet looking old woman makes it so much worse.
“Now onto business, ghoul and half-ghoul pregnancies aren’t too different from typical human ones, just there tend to be multiples and ghouls grow faster and have a shorter incubation time than the standard 9 months, it is more around 6 for them. But half-ghouls being half human means they don’t go quite as fast so their more around 7-8 months. And you will feel slightly more exhausted and feel things that are related to the ghouls element, such as fire kits make you run hotter along with your temper being more short and crave spicy food; water kits make your skin is much more sensitive, and you’ll feel much colder than normal; earth kits, they kick quite hard and you almost always want to be outside, you’ll also crave veggies more; Air kits your temperature runs cooler, your more susepctiable to cold, you have to pee more and are more nauseous, wish to be in open aired spaces; and Quintessinal kits are possibly the hardest as your emotions & hormones run more rampant, you be able to feel others emotions, and you crave to be in darkness. Now Multi kits are hard in the fact they tend to take whatever elements their parent has and it’s a combo of whatever they are. But I believe Norman said the father is a Water ghoul, am I correct (Y/N)?” Dr. Virgel asks once she finishes explaining, to which (Y/N) nods.
“Good, then it shall be simple. As I said, you’ll more than likely be craving to be in water and have more sensitive skin, along with feeling colder than you usually do. But you’ll also probably crave fish and other seafood, you may feel more clammy and if you don’t drink enough, your more susceptible to dehydration. Other than that, it’s a normal pregnancy, of course when you get closer to the due date, we’ll discuss the birth plan and other things, but otherwise if you have no other questions, I think that is all.” she finishes, (Y/N) smiles at her and nods, “Yes ma’am I understand, thank you so much, I don’t believe I have any other questions, you answered any and all that I could’ve had.” Dr. Clark and Virgel say their goodbyes and he turns back to (Y/N), “Well sweetheart, I think that concludes everything, I’ll perscribe you some prenatal vitamins and some nausea medicine and you’ll be on your way, a messenger will deliver them to your room sometime today.” he says as he stands, opening the door for the Sibling to exit, “Thank you Dr. Clark, you made this seem so much easier.” they say as they leave, he nods and they exit the infirmary, making their way down to the ghoul dens.
While Dr. Clark and Virgel made the whole pregnancy thing more clear and simple, the situation of telling Rain weighs in the back of (Y/N)’s mind, biting their nails in anxiety, ‘How the hell am I going to tell him…Maybe I should ask Aether or Mount, they always have the best advice.’ they decide, texting Aether since they know he had today off since he hadn’t been feeling good last night, ‘Hey Aeth, I gotta talk to you about something important, can I come by your room?’, they shoot the text to him and recieve the pinge as they enter the dens, ‘Yeah, I’m with Mount, he’s helping with my headache, he doesn’t mind you swinging by, what’s up?’, is the reply, ‘I’ll tell you when I get there, be there in a sec.’
They make it to Mountain’s room quickly, knocking softly. A muffled come in is heard and they open the door, the Earth ghoul’s room was possibly the most relaxing, covered in plant life, tapestries, and varies knick-knacks, and always smelling of incense or candles, Aether quietly purring with his head in Mountain’s lap, who is rubbing his temples with one hand and his tail while holding a book with the other and leaning against the pile of pillows against the headboard, “Hey (Y/N), you just get back from the infirmary? Is that what you wanna talk about?” Aether asks, sitting up on his elbows as the human sits on the end of the bed, “Yeah..so I got the news and it wasn’t the flu, it’s actually more serious than that.” they say, playing with their hands nervously. Both Mountain and Aether sit up with serious expressions, “What is it? Is it bad?” Mountain asks, (Y/N) smiles softly and scooches closer, grabbing their hands and places them on their belly, both pairs of eyes widen, “I’m pregnant, the doctor said it’s apparently possible without the ritual just rare.” Both stare for a moment before Aether gently drags them into his lap, purring loudly and nuzzling into their neck, “I can’t believe it, I knew I felt another energy coming from you! Mount we’re gonna be uncles!” he cries to the Earth ghoul whose still staring wide eyed at (Y/N)’s belly. “Did they tell you about the difficulties that come with ghoul pregnancies…” he asks softly, the worried energy coming from him so great that even (Y/N) can feel it. “Yes Mounty, Dr. Clark introduced me to his mentor who has helped with several half-ghoul pregnancies. She told me all about the different things about having a Water ghoul and what half-ghoul pregnancies are like.” they reassure the giant, grabbing his hand and squeezing gently. “Does Rain know yet..” is the next question that makes (Y/N) freeze, growing tense in Aether’s arms, “No..that’s why I came here, I wanted to ask you guys how I should tell him.” they say quietly, both ghouls look at each other and smile, they knew the perfect way.
It was a couple hours later and the plan was set, Mountain and Aether helped (Y/N) cook one of Rain’s favorite dinners, spaghetti with meat sauce with grilled asparagus, and they just so happened to have a jar of Prego sauce, which both (Y/N) and Aether thought would be a funny way to tell him, to which Mountain just shook his head. They agreed they’d stay within earshot incase it went badly, because even though Rain is possibly the sweetest, most caring ghoul they could’ve possibly had for a bab daddy, he still has bad anxiety and has a tendancy to shut-down during intense emotions. “Okay, he just texted he’s on his way with the others, I texted the other’s that I had a surprise for Rain so they know not to stay in here, I wanna tell them once I tell Rain.” (Y/N) says, messing with a stray thread on their pants, “It’s going to be okay sweetheart, I can’t imagine Rain would be upset and if he somehow is stupid enough to hurt you, we’ll hold back Swiss and Sodo.” Aether says, patting their head as he and Mount make their way to his room as its the closest to the common room.
After a few minutes, the door opens and the others pile in amidst a loud conversation about how Copia’s rats apparently escaped and they had to help him catch them. “Hey (Y/N), I see you got all fancy for Water Boy over here, he’s been vibrating with excitement since you texted him. Don’t be too loud later, yeah?” Swiss teases as he pecks them on the cheek before dragging Sodo off to his room, the girls say hello and give quick hugs and kisses of their own before Rain and (Y/N) are left alone. The Water ghoul is standing near the door, indeed nearly vibrating with his tail flicking excitedly, “Hey Rainy, the food ready if your hungry.” (Y/N) says sweetly, getting up to drag him to the kitchen, he presses a happy smooch to their cheek which makes them giggle. Making their plates and sitting at the coffee table decorated with small candles and a few of Rain’s favorite flowers, courtesy of Mountain, they dig in, making small talk as they eat.
Soon they finish, Rain is clinging to their hand with the biggest smile on his face, “So how did it go in the infirmary, your gonna be okay right?” he asks as he takes a sip of water. (Y/N) smiles, “Well, that has to do with the surprise I have for you. It’s in the kitchen, go see.” they say, standing and helping the skinny ghoul to his feet. He scowls slightly, there hadn’t been anything in the kitchen earlier, maybe it’s in the fridge or something, the human leans against the threshold waiting for him to figure it as the Water ghoul searches the entire kitchen including in all the cabinets. “(Y/N), darling theres nothing in here except for this jar of sauce, speaking of did you really use store bought, Copia would have our heads.” he laughs, (Y/N) giggles in return, “Look at the label baby.” they say as the step closer and turn it around. “It just says Prego Tradtional Sauce?” Rain’s brows are furrowed, “Read the first word.” they say as they place a small sticky note adding ‘nant’ next to the name and grabs his hand to gently place it on their abdomen.
His eyes grow wide as he glaces between the jar and his hand, “I..(Y/N)..are you..no?! There’s no way, how?!” he questions, setting the jar on the counter, hands coming up to smooth the hair from his forehead. “Yes, the doctor had me take a test this morning and it was positive. I’m pregnant Rain.” They gently hold his hand, it’s clear the gears are turning in his head. “Whose the father..” he asks suddenly, the smile falls from their face, they know he wouldn’t know it was possible but they didn’t think he’d think they’d sleep with someone else. “It’s yours Rain, your the father. I haven’t and wouldn’t ever slept with anyone else.” they say, his eyes widen and he stutters, “Hu-huh, thats not possible, we didn’t do the ritual, its not possible (YN)..how?!” they grab his shaking hands again, “When I went to the infirmary this morning, I met a doctor whose mentor has worked with half-ghoul pregnancies and they told me that that it is incredibly rare for it to happen without the ritual, the ritual basically makes it easier for it to happen, but it is possible.” Rains face is unreadable, they grow worried when he finally speaks, “I need a minute..I’m sorry but I need to process this by myself darling.” is all he says before he quickly leaves the kitchen
They freeze, they expected him to maybe need an explantation but they didn’t expect him to leave. They drop to the floor, knees to their chest as tears fall down their cheeks. A door opens down the hall and soon Mountain and Aether come running into the kitche, “(YN), what happened, where’s Rain? What did he do?” Aether says, dropping to his knees in front of the crying human, placing his hand on their shoulders, “I..I told him and..he said he needed a minute and ran off..I’m such an idiot, I shouldn’t have told him, I’m sure he doesn’t want to see me ever again.” they sob as the Quintessinal ghoul glances at Mountain, before bringing his crying friend into a hug, “Oh sweet thing, Rain probably just needs to process things, your not an idiot for telling him. Rain is very emotional and probably didn’t want to upset or scare you, I’m so sorry sweetheart.” he whispers to them, petting their hair as they sob into his chest.
Once they calmed slightly, he turns to Mountain who is croached next to them, “Mount, can you stay with them. I need to go check on Rain to make sure he’s okay too.” he whispers to the Earth ghoul who nods, gently picking up the human and moving them to the couch, placing them on his lap and continues to soothe them. Aether smiles slightly at the sight before running to Rain’s room, even through the door he can hear the gasping sobs and whimpers of the Water ghoul. Opening the door, he finds him curled up tightly in a ball in the middle of his bed, rocking back and forth with his fingers buries in his hair, whimpers and quiet insults towards himself coming from under his hair that hides his face.
Aether sighs, quietly approaching the ghoul as to not scare him but not loud enough to startle him. “Rainy, hey, hey, talk to me. What’s wrong Lilypad?” Aether asks softly, sitting next to the curled up whimpering mess, Rain just curls in further on himself. Gently maneuvering the little ghoul between his legs so he’s pressed against his chest, “Raincloud, listen to my voice, I want you to breath with me okay, just follow my breathing, can you do that for me please sweet boy?” Aether whispers into his ear, Rain weakly nods, breathing still panicked gasps. Aether begins to slowly inhale, trailing a claw up Rain’s arm and then down as he exhales, he continues this until Rain’s breathing has calmed and the whimpers and tears have slowed as well. “Rainy, do you think you can tell me what’s wrong now? You know I can’t help unless you tell me what’s wrong.” Aether asks, running his hands up and down Rain’s arms in a grounding motion.
Rain is silent for a minute before a croaky voice answers, “What if this kills them..I haven’t even told them I..love them..I’m scared Aether.” he whimpers out, face burying further into his knees. “Honey, have you ever seen a ghoul pregnancy?” he asks, softly stroking through soft curls, Rain shakes his head, “While yes, they can be dangerous and ghoulettes have died from them, (YN) is carrying a half-ghoul which is not as dangerous as a full ghoul pregnancy, plus they are one of the strongest people we know right?” Aether explains, not stopping his petting, “Remember when they had bronchitis and that double ear infection at the same time, yet they still did double the chores cause their roommate had the flu? They only sat down whenever we forced them into a ghoul pile and then basically locked them in your room til they were better.” Rain laughs slightly at the memory, he had hated how miserable they looked but yet they were running around like a maniac. “Do you really think their gonna let something like some morning sickness and some hormones knock them on their ass? We both know we’re more than likely going to have to force them to sit down, especially with the tour coming up. Speaking of which, before you panic again, their early enough along Papa will have no reason to make them stay back.” Aether says, Rain has now finally raised his head from his knees.
“Now, your going to come with me out to the common room and tell the mother of your child that you love them and fucking mate them within this next week before I take them myself, I hear you guys enough that I know you have wanted this for a long time and I’m not going to leave them by themselves during this type of thing, don’t think I won’t sweep them off their feet.” Aether teases, earning a growl from the Water ghoul, “Fuck you, their mine Aether.” he snarls as he stands up, but when he faces the door Aether watches him freeze again, “But..what if they don’t love me back Aeth..what if (YN) just told me so I know?” he asks, wringing his hands as he turns back to the Quintessinal ghoul. “Oh Rainy, now I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, but me and Mountain found them crying in the kitchen as soon as you left. Their worried you hate them or your angry, they were calling themselves an idiot for telling you.” Aether says, grabbing Rain’s hand, “They love you just as much as you love them, don’t ever think that Cuttlefish. Now come on, I’m sure Mount has them calmed down.”
(YN)’s crying had attracted the girls first, “Oh honey, what happened?” Cumulus asks, sitting next to the pair on the couch as she grasps the human’s trembling hands. “I..I told Rain I’m pregnant and he didn’t take it well..” they whimper out, all their eyes widen, “Your pregnant? Honey that’s amazing, I’m so happy for you!” Cumulus exclaims, hugging (YN) as Cirrus and Sunshine join, one on the other side of Mountain and the other on the floor. “What do you mean he didn’t take it well? With how much I hear him talk about ‘filling you full of kits’ through the door, I’d think he’d be ecstatic?” Cirrus teases, leaning against (YN)’s back, who blushes and shakes their head. “I told him I was pregnant and he immediatly..asked who the dad was and when I said it was him, he needed a minute and ran out..” they explain hiding in Cumulus’ shoulder as they try not to cry again.
“Hold up your pregnant?!” Dew yells from the door, making everyone jump, “And Rain fucking left you alone after you told him?!” Swiss follows, standing behind Dew, “That little bitch, Imma-”
“No, leave him alone guys. It’s not his fault, we didn’t think it was possible and we’re not even together…if he doesn’t want anything to do with me now, then it’s okay. I’m not gonna force him take care of a child he doesn’t want.” (YN) says, even as a tear makes it’s way down their cheek. Dew and Swiss freeze before looking at each other and joining everyone else on the couch. It’s quickly decided everyone move to the floor now since theres not enough couch, Cumulus and Swiss cradle (YN) between them as Dew nuzzles into chest protectively, Sunshine, Cirrus, and Mountain piling around the others. Purrs and happy chirps can be heard as (YN) giggles when Swiss lightly tickles their side, “No more tears, this baby is gonna have a huge pack that cares for them. Rain doesn’t know what he’s missing, I know I’d gladly take the role of Daddy.” he teases, waggling his eyebrows, clearly not meaning in a parental manner. (YN) smacks his chest, “Shut it you horndog, I appreciate it but too many emotions to even think right now.” they laugh as he dramatically gasps, “Me? A horndog? I am the most castable chap you’ll ever meet!” This earns a eyeroll, “Swiss I literally walked in on you with your tongue down a Brother’s throat while a Sibling was sucking you off last week.”
“That was my twin brother, you haven’t met him yet, we can’t be in the same room otherwise we’ll disappear.” he states seriously, “Swiss shut up before I kick you from the pile.” Cirrus growls from behind, “Yes mommy, wait I’m sorry, I think that role goes to (YN) now.” he snarks when he suddenly yelps, “Sorry sorry, I’ll stop!” Cirrus apparently had yanked his tail. Everyone settles into soft small talk and purring when suddenly a door from the hallway opens and everyone looks up to see whose coming into the common room.
“(YN) sweetheart, can you come here for a minute please.” Aether calls from the threshold, (YN) looks around and slowly detangles themselves from a whining Swiss and Sodo while Cumulus follows, “I wanna come with, moral support.” she says as she holds the humans hand. They smile at the small ghoulette as they make their way into the hallway. Aether is standing with his hand in Rain’s, who looks like he’s been crying. “Rain has something he wanted to say.” Aether says, encouraging the ghoul to speak, he glances up from the floor and gasps slightly when he meets (YN)’s equally red and puffy eyes, “I..I really sorry for how I reacted, all I could think about was how scared I was of you possibly getting hurt and then that you were just telling me before you were going to say you didn’t want to see me again..” Rain says, hands wringing his tail in anxiety, “I love you so much (YN), I am really excited that your pregnant,I want this baby so much. But if you don’t want too be with me anymore I understand. If this happened once, who knows if it’d happen again.” he ducks his head in shame.
(YN) stares, frozen in shock until Cumulus squeeze their hand gently, urging them to speak, “Rain..I thought you were mad that I was pregnant, I thought maybe you were upset because you didn’t feel the same for me as I did for you. I love you too, so fucking much. When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified of what would happen, but the doctor talked to me about it and he introduced me to a doctor who has experience with half-ghoul pregnancies and I became ecstatic, I wanted to have this baby with you but then you ran off as soon as I told you. It hurt a lot Rain, watching the father of my child and the person I love more than anything leave me after I told him the best news possible felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest.” (YN) says, Rain’s shoulder slumps further as he whimpers, “But I understand you being scared, I was scared too. I’’ll forgive you as long as you promise to never do something like that again.” Rain’s head shoots up, blue eyes meeting (E/C), “Yo..you mean it?” he stutters to which they nod.
He launches across the corridor, picking them up with a trill and spins them around happily. They squeak, arms wrapping around his neck tightly as he twirls, then puts them down and starts covering their face in kisses. “I’m so sorry, my love, I won’t ever do anything like that again. I promise that if I do anything stupid again, you have full permission to smack me and yank my tail! I love you so much, I want you to be my mate more than anything in the world.” he begs, hiding his head in their shoulder as they giggle, wrapping his arms tightly around them, carefully avoiding their belly, as Aether and Cumulus aww in the background. “I love you too. I will keep this promise in mind whenever the hormones come along.” they tease as he sinks to his knees, wrapping his arms around their hips and buries his face into their abdomen. They gently stroke through his hair when they feel tears soak their shirt, “It’s okay baby, I’m here.” they coo softly.
Cumulus had pulled out her phone and subtly took a few pictures before the new couple finally decide to emergy back into the common room. Swiss growls lowly at the appearance of Rain but stops when he notices him holding hands with (YN) and the happy looks on their faces. “I take it things are good now?” Mountain asks from where he has a purring Dewdrop and Sunshine piled atop him, the new couple nod, “Yeah, Rain apologized and asked me to be his mate!” (YN) says gleefully, Rain wraps his arm around their waist protectively as he nods, “I’m happy for you two, but be grateful they told off Sodo and Swiss before they hunted your ass down Waterlily.” Mountain teases as the new couple along with Cumulus and Aether join the pile.
Rain flushes as he hides in his (soon to be) mates shoulder when suddenly the door opens to reveal Copia, “Hello my tesoros, I know it’s late but I was just informed of good news. Congratulations to the lovely (YN) and Rain, Dr. Virgel just emailed me asks if it was possible to temporarily return to the Ministry in order to help with the pregnancy, of course I said yes, that woman may be vulgar at times but she’s possibly the best doctor this Abbey has ever seen!” Copia says as he leans down to pat the pairs shoulders, ignoring the growl that came from Rain, “Down boy, Papa will not hurt your mate anymore than your pack would. (YN) feel free to take a couple days to relax, I imagine the news was quite exhilarating, you’ve already planned out this entire tour so don’t rush back okay mio bella. That is all, have a good night my lovely ghouls, don’t wear the poor thing out to much!” he calls as he leaves.
Bye Papas come from the pile before the settle down again. Rain had made his way back down and is snuggled against (YN)’s belly again, happily purring as they pet through his hair. He finally has the one he loves and their pregnant with his kit or kits, along with being surrounded by a huge, happy pack that will help them raise however many come along.
They eventually go back into the common room and tell them their officially together and are having the baby together. Cue party, kisses, Copia coming to give congrats (how does he know? because he’s papa and knows everything), and another ghoul pile with Rain snuggled into his soon to be mates belly, purring loudly.
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alexagirlie · 3 months
Text
20 questions for Fic Writers
Thank you for the tag @whitedarkmoonflower @foxyanon @lord-aldhelm and @legitalicat !!
1. how many works do you have on AO3?
...133
2. what's your total AO3 word count?
194,499 words, hoping to hit 200k with my next fic!
3. what fandoms do you write for?
The Last Kingdom, Dune and House of the Dragon primarily but I have dabbled in a few others.
4. top five fics by kudos
1. We share spit like venom and call it a kiss - Feyd/Paul, Dune Fandom
2. Close Your Eyes and Think of Caladan - Duncan/Paul, Dune Fandom
3. Under the Hood - Duncan/Paul, Dune Fandom
4. At the Touch of You - Duncan/Paul, Dune Fandom
5. The One Where Paul Gets Wrecked- Chani/Duncan/Paul, Dune Fandom
5. do you respond to comments?
Yes, I try and respond to as many as I can anyways.
6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Oh fuck, uh that is hard to choose... Song Challenge ... it does end with Sihtric dead so... Song Challenge 2023 Day 23: A song with a color in the title
7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
I can't choose this, most of them have a happy ending haha
8. do you get hate on fics?
Not so far no
9. do you write smut?
The 106/133 fics rated E or M says yes hahaha
10. craziest crossover?
The fic Im working on right now, One Call Away, is a modern au crossover with Sihtric from The Last Kingdom and Masema from Wheel of Time... both characters played by Arnas Fedaravicious 🤣
11. have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I am aware of.
12. have you ever had a fic translated?
No but I would definitely be interested if it was the right fit.
13. have you ever co-written a fic before?
No, I have had offers but I am such a control freak I'm not sure I would make a good partner 🤣
14. all time favorite ship?
.... I think Fintric (Finan/Sihtric TLK) but its followed closely by Atreidaho (Duncan/Paul Dune), Malec (Magnus/Alec Shadowhunters) and Obikin (Obiwan/Anakin Starwars)
15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
Pffft probably We Daren't Go a-Hunting for Fear of Little Men
I have the whole story outlined and I love the lord I've made for it but it's been hard to find the motivation to work on it. It has very little interaction/feedback too which doesnt help 😆 I want to finish it tho! I love the concept and what Ive written for it.
16. what are your writing strengths?
Ive been told my characterizations are good, and I guess smut?
17. what are your writing weaknesses?
Descriptive language, I have a hard time with the showing not telling part of writing, doesnt feel natural to me when writing.
18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?
It really depends. For myself I have included very little dialogue in other languages. If any? I honestly can't think of any of my fics where I did it.
19. first fandom you wrote in?
I wrote a one off fic waaaaay back on ff.net like 15 years ago for an anime I can't remember the name of, but beside that the first fandom i wrote seriously for is Dune.
20. favorite fic you've written?
The Sharpest Lives! I love writing Fintric, and bdsm my beloved.
Uuuh tags
@thelettersfromnoone @sleepstxtic @almostg @cordspaghetti @nights-ofren
@simpfornegan @desert--mouse
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hawthornesbiggestfan · 2 months
Text
the grandest game review (and hot takes)
1. plot
the fact that jlb managed to fit plot twists after plot twists in ONE book just proves how good of a writer she is. i was basically shitting my pants at the end of every chapter, WAITING for a reveal. odette, gray n lyra's games were not as memorable for me (probably because i was more distracted by lyrason whoops) but i loooooveeeddd (100% loved) savannah n rohan's games. it felt so enticing and pulled me in, it had ME trying to solve it. i loved that they solved their games first before opening up their emotions because it allowed me to focus on the main thing before moving onto the next.
2. pov holders
my favourite pov (and im biased LOL) was definitely gigi. i think i enjoyed it most because i really felt IN HER BRAIN. i loved the chaos and the amount of exclamation marks is very appreciated. i also think i liked her most because she really act like an 18 year old girl, so it was more relatable. her emotions n feelings rly spoke to me.
lyra's pov, honestly, was a whole rollercoaster. first we see her with her guard fully up, then suddenly shes slowly softening and then fully becomes vulnerable. its like watching ice melt honestly, and im not sure how to feel abt it. dont take this the wrong way, i LOVED lyra. it was just hard to read from a pov that felt... recycled? reused? reduced? (lol the 3Rs iykyk) i guess its bcs i set my expectations too high for lyra cz i fully thought she'd be a different character. instead she feels like an angrier avery (i feel the need to mention that i love avery) and it made me feel a little... yeah.
rohans pov HAHAHAH BYEEEE IM SO BIASED i LIKED it??? i thought it'd be my least fav bcs i lowkey didnt care much, but now i want MOOREE?? i will say that he was basically jameson 2.0 but hes brown and so am i so yes im allowing it... i was stressed on sav's behalf bcs he lowkey seemed pushy. in a way he was like avery, trying to get grayson to open up and take the mask away, but with savannah instead. he isnt my fav pov holder but i didnt enjoy reading his scenes simply bcs it included savannah (#biggestsavstan)
overall i think i enjoyed gigi's chapters the most because it felt like something new and also something so relatable. i loved that she tries to prove that she deserves her spot in tgg. i do love lyra n rohans pov a lot tho, and i hope they still have chapters in tgg2.
3. important characters
grayson my love was SERVING with his character development. the way he allowed himself to make mistakes, to feel and to LOVE was so heartwarming and relieving after watching him hold it all up since the first book. i will say, he's definitely more likeable in this book, but he still has the elements of who he used to be. he WAS horny, evidently. but i won't say that its all he was the whole book. he was definitely also just acting how anyone would have if put into a room with dearest lyra kane. we understand u, grayson. i too would need a moment after holding lyra thighs.
odette confused me so much HAHAHAH i didnt trust her at all and was fully waiting for her to just betray the others. when she mentioned she worked for mcnamara ortega n jones, i screamed because it clicked immediately that she definitely had smth going on with tobias.
knox n brady were a tennis match going back n forth. i did not trust brady since the start, and i was waiting for a reason to redeem knox. i dont care much abt them aside from the calla thing, but i did love their bond with gigi.
4. relationships
allow me to rate the ships:
1. sav n rohan
2. lyra n gray
3. gigi n whoever the fuck shes supposed to be shipped with.
i will say that i loved sav n rohan the most bcs i also love javery, and they reminded me of the best tig couple sooooo. i also liked the TENSION and the way they opened up to each other like a flower blooming slowly. the truth or dare scene was mental... i was screaming the whole time. grayson and lyra AAAAAAA i agree with ppl who say its rushed but fuck it i love them!!!!!! YEAH OKAY THEY KISSED TOO EARLY BUT WO CARES LET THEM FUCK!!! okay too far but u get it. gigi n slate still confuse me and i dont want this girl to be given stockholm syndrome so im just gonna ship her with ME!
another relationship id like to talk abt is the twins.. broken siblings are always my favourite trope but this hurt since theyre literally twins. the way gigi feels bad for hiding THE SECRET from sav, and sav seems to be distancing herself from gigi. ouch ouch ouch
5. overall
id rate the book a 4/5 bcs as much as i loved it, i still feel a little critical about it. i do stand with everyone who says that jlb might be milking this series, but im not complaining because i dont want any of this to end any time soon. the ending was not what i expected, and i still love savannah even if she might do smth... lol. lyra n grayson feel too perfect hence why im gonna expect something bad even now. im upset knox is out, but i think jlb will fit him in somewhere.
thats all, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE share some of ur thoughts!!!! i need people to talk abt tgg!!!!
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a-little-unsteddie · 10 months
Note
Hiii!! Ok idk if this is something you even want but, I feel like you’ll either like this and know how to write it or have rly good recs. (But like don’t feel pressure to do either of those, I respect your time and interests!)
Have you seen any ‘Steve is tortured + aftermath but it’s Modern AU’ fic around???
Like he stumbles into the wrong scenario at the wrong time and is captured and accused and tortured for information he doesn’t have. And then the feds or whatever finally rescue him but because of how secret the organization is and all that ‘sweep it under the rug’ business, they just make him sign an NDA and send him on his way so he just has to like?? Survive?? In the real world with like no support??
Insert Eddie catching him in a panic attack or something and helping him put his life back together and he gets Robin and the kids to help to and it’s all love and happy endings!
This is a cry for help I’m dying for Steve!Whump rn and that boy deserves for his season 3 trauma to be recognized!!!
!! hello dear one! i have a few recs for you! i am gonna put this under a cut tho because the ask itself is already pretty long.
The Library of Engineering, Mathematics, and Sciences by Eddies_ArtofSuffering
WC: 86k || Rating: M || AO3 Link
Summary: Steve and Robin move out of Hawkins and go to college after the Starcourt Mall incident. For the next three quiet years, Steve and Robin work at the main library - but to Steve’s utter disappointment, they get separated when Steve gets assigned to the newest branch of the school library, built inside the School of Engineering, Mathematics, and Sciences. It’s obviously subpar without Robin by his side, but the range of students that come in isn’t all that much different than the main library, and it’s still the same old boring job for Steve. Until, one day, Eddie Munson comes in.
Or, Steddie college AU that no one asked for.
My Notes: i literally sent @/steddieficfind an ask for this fic because i was looking for it the other day and they were so helpful in finding it for me. this is the closest fic to your ask that i’ve read, the others in this list aren’t modern aus so i hope that’s okay.
A Hedge of Brier Roses by APuckish_Wit
WC: 43k || Rating: T || AO3 Link
Summary: They win.
After months of planning, and skirmishes, and learning to work with and trust (to an extent) the allies that Owens and Stinson swear they can work with and trust, they win. They make it out of the final confrontation with all their people alive and accounted for. Vecna will never hurt anyone again. The Upside Down is sealed away, and they are all free. They win.
And they lose.
Because one of their own didn't make it all the way back. And now it's their turn to take care of the person who's always taken care of them.
My Notes: i read this when jt originally came out and thanks to @sailing-through-hawkins, who reminded me of its’ existence, i am currently rereading it. it’s such a good fic w angst and a happy ending!
the aftermath (as documented by eddie munson) by ikarakie
WC: 20k || Rating: T || AO3 Link
Summary: a look into the effects of the upside down on steve harrington, through the eyes of his boyfriend, eddie munson. (and the one time it has effects on eddie, too.)
5 + 1
My Notes: i’ve read the whole series before, and it’s such a lovely one to read. this part specifically goes into the aftermath (obvi) of what steve specifically goes through. can be read as a standalone, but i definitely recommend reading the whole series! (also thank you to sails for helping find this one)
15 notes · View notes
deltastra · 2 months
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My Thoughts on Tower of God Season 2 Episode 1
Hey guys, I hope to make this a regular thing every week! Before I begin, I want to state that I watched episode 1 and 2 when it first aired, but I didn't have the time to write anything about those episodes. Now I do! At the time of writing this, I have not watched episode 3. Anyway! Let's go!
WEBTOON SPOILERS WAS TEASED BUT NOT OUTRIGHT STATED
Rating: 9/10
Summary: A solid premiere that showcases what this new season will offer with the change in studio and artstyle! Some scenes felt a bit off but it wasn't too much of a bother!
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I like the short recap at the beginning of the episode! It lets us adjust to the new artstyle and direction the show is going while also giving us a bit of a refresher as it has been 4 years!
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This scene is interesting because first, AWWW ENDORSI NOOOOO SHES CRYING, and two, does this mean that they will add in the Bam and Endorsi scenes that were skipped? I sure hope they do their best to add in key scenes for characters that were changed or skipped in season 1!
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OH MY GOD SHE SAID IT SHE SAID THE THING GUYS OMGGGGGGGGG
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Why did Yuri's VA change? It will take some time for me to get used to it, but it's alright.
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I like her look, they made sure to design her as closely to the webtoon as they could.
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KEVIN PENKIN YOU'RE COOKING SO DAMN HARD WITH THIS SOUNDTRACK. THIS SCENE FELT LIKE MADE IN ABYSS FOR A SECOND WITH THAT MUSIC. LOL
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If y'all are curious, I already gave my thoughts on the new OP here.
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Loving the voice acting for him!
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Maybe it's just for Wagnan, but I love the expressions!
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I'm not ready.........
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I love how the inspirational music playing as Wagnan steels his resolve gets cut out with a loud chanting ost when Viole comes into frame.
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Love the details on his eyes. He looks tired. First glimpse of Bam as Viole!
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The start of a beautiful friendship!
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Yup. this scene was funny years ago, and it's still funny now.
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HORYANG HAHSHAHAHAHAHAH
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THE TEAM DAD IS HEREEEEE
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i liked the music here! And love this scene because it shows how nice Wagnan is despite his strong personality.
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OOOOOOOOOOOOOO LETS GOOOOOO
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AND HERE IT IS. THE ROUGHLY 10 SECONDS OF FIGHTING THAT WAS SHOWN CONSTANTLY IN TRAILERS!
Jokes aside, it was VERY well done. I smiled like an idiot watching it and even replayed it many times.
I am unsure if it was done by a solo animator, but I hope they save their resources for this type of animation during very important fights.
Season 1 had very animated fight scenes too but they all felt slow to me. This? I love, the dynamic camera really adds to the action. Music is great too! Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying its better than other popular shows' fight scenes with sakuga animation. I'm just saying that if they maintain this current standard, I will be satisfied!
I do wish it was slightly longer and I am worried that this episode may be the only one with good animation for its fight scenes due to how much it was being used for promotion. However, I will keep my fingers crossed that they are cooking for THAT important fight later in this cour.
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OH THE SHINSU LOOKS BEAUTIFUL HERE
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NAHHH VIOLE WAS TRYNNA CATCH A BODY HERE. HE WASN'T JUST GONNA "FAIL" WAGNAN LMAO
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Istg guys this ability only appeared like once and never again. Maybe I just don't remember. Anyway, close enough. WELCOME BACK TOKYO GHOUL!
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NAH WAGNAN SAW THE REAPER IN THAT SPLIT SECOND. VIOLE WAS DEADASS TRYNNA WIPE THIS GUY OUT OF THE TOWER COMPLETELY LOL.
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:(
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I LOVED the ending to this episode. Viole's flashbacks, and him standing in that elevator with the music playing. It gives you so much regarding Viole's feelings about his life and his surroundings at that moment. And the way the music distorts at the end adds to the tragedy of Viole in my opinion!
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I LOVE THIS ED SO MUCH GUYS. THEY DID IT IN WEBTOON SCROLLING FORMAT!!! THEY EVEN ADDED SIU'S WAY OF CREDITING HIMSELF EVERY CHAPTER (He removed the TUS after coming back from hiatus tho oh no)
To me, this ED not only pays respect to the source material and how many of us read Tower of God. But also a way, in my opinion, of telling the audience that "Yes, we know about the source material, and we will follow it this time." And I like that it will show more every episode. (Also covering up all the events with Jahad's symbol like its "blocking memories" is kind of funny. I doubt the studio did it with that in mind but its still a neat coincidence)
Overall, a fantastic premiere to the new season! If they maintain this quality, we are in for a treat!
6 notes · View notes
oddinary4bts · 11 months
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November Sun | jjk
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☆summary: whenever he breaks, the november sun shines on him. and jungkook chases you across the sky - but you've gone some place he can't reach you now.
☆pairing: Jungkook x reader (I genuinely don't think the gender is ever mentioned? please let me know if it is so I can adjust this here), mentions-ish of Namjoon x reader
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, it deals with heavy themes)
☆genre: grief au/funeral au?, exes au, angst
☆warnings: angst, like. Just angst. OC is dead and Jungkook is grieving her. Curses words, very light mentions of sex, flashbacks of moments when jungkook broke. mentions of christianism (the funerals are held in a church), mentions of alcohol, jealousy. Namjoon is a broken man as well
☆word count: 3.7k
☆a/n: I started writing this tonight because I was sad and then just realized I won't have the strength to look back on it ever again so I'm posting it even tho it hasn't been beta-ed, and even tho the person that makes my moodboards is unavailable rn. Idc. It needed to be out of my system, and now it is.
☆a/n pt2: I know this piece is extremely heavy. If you ever need to speak, please reach out to me. My blog is a safe space for every single one of you <3
☆☆☆☆☆
                The church is a tall building. Grand, elegant in its simplicity, though it cuts against the blue sky up above in stark lines, shaped like a prison.
Jungkook thinks life has become a prison a while ago.
It’s a mystery, why your family chose this space for your funeral. You never believed, never practiced. Is it a betrayal to mark your passing in a space that feels so unlike you?
Jungkook thinks it is.
He sighs, chases the heaviness away the same way the clouds chase themselves in the sky up above. He doesn’t know how the sun is shining in the blue expanse of the sky. It’s November, yet the day is warm, the sun is blindingly glowing. It feels like a crime – how can the sun shine in a world deprived of your existence?
Jungkook doesn’t want to know.
Only knows that he’s watched from afar the people that gathered on the front steps. Chatting, heads hung low and shoulders bent forward. He heard sniffles, he heard laughs, and he just waited for everyone to go in to get closer.
Jungkook doesn’t know why he was invited. Why someone from a distant past figured he would need to be here, to share his grief with people that could understand.
Though Jungkook thinks no one can understand.
He remembers you, in all your glory. His first love, when he had been a stupid college kid who didn’t know what he wanted in life. You were two years older, and now... and now one day he’ll be older than you. Because you've stopped aging, you came and went like a moment in time, when he'll still be here for who fucking knows how long.
He chases the thought away with a long inhale, holds the air in knowing that it’s choking him up before he lets it out on a sigh.
You were beautiful. A star that walked the Earth, only to return to the night sky above far too soon. He had loved you dearly, in his own twisted way. Had tried to be what you sought, what you needed, until he had realized he was never going to be enough.
Would you still be alive today, if he had fought harder?
*****
                “I’m not doing this,” you said. “I’m so fucking done with your indecision, with your fear of commitment.”
Jungkook scoffed. “Please, you graduated and now you think you’re so high above me. Get down from the fucking horse, Y/n, it’s not going to bring us anywhere.”
He’d said the words hoping that they would hurt you. And they did: he saw you physically recoil as if he’d punched you. As if the words had been a physical blow, and not just letters of the alphabets shaped into words and sound, into arrows to pierce that beautiful soul of yours.
“Maybe I don’t want us to go somewhere anymore,” you replied after a quiet moment of breaking hearts.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“I know.” You sighed, slightly shaking your head as your eyes fell to the floor between you and him. “I know, but I mean it.”
“Please,” was all Jungkook thought to reply.
“You say please all the time,” you told him. “You beg me, and for what? We always circle back to fighting, to hurting each other.” You paused, and though you were avoiding his features he could see you blinking back tears. “Maybe we aren’t supposed to be together at all.”
“Don’t say that,” Jungkook warned. “Don’t you fucking say that. I love you. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“I love you too, Jungkook,” you answered. “I’ve loved you since the first day I met you at that stupid party last year.”
Jungkook felt the tear rolling down his cheek, felt the gravity pulling on his heart until it was shattering on the ground.
“Then why stop now?” he asked. “Give me time, Y/n. I’ll graduate, and I’ll be able to move in with you, and to provide for you and give you everything that you need.”
You sighed heavily, finding courage to finally meet his gaze. At the stark finality shining behind your pupils, Jungkook’s knees weakened. His whole fucking body weakened, ready for the blow.
For the end that was coming for you and him like a car barreling down a dead-end street.
“But I’m tired of waiting,” you answered. “I don’t want to spend my life waiting around for someone.”
“I’m still in college, I just can’t move in with you right now…”
“I know, Jungkook. I know.”
He wanted to fight. Wanted to tell you to stay in his dorm tonight, and to never leave again. But he could tell that you were already gone.
So he steeled himself. Readied himself to let you go even though you were the blood in his veins.
“I’m holding you back, aren’t I?”
You wiped a tear on your cheek, blurring behind those in his gaze. “You are.”
He choked on a sob, hiding his eyes behind his hand as if that would stop the breaking. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” you reassured him. “We just aren’t at the same place in life anymore.”
An empty silence surrounded you, so loud Jungkook could hear every beat of his heart in his ears, could feel the walls pressing in.
“I don’t want you to go,” he softly said.
“I know,” you murmured. “I…” You choked on a sob, and it took you a moment before you managed to continue. “I’m sorry.”
He laughed, a sound so devoid of joy he wondered if he’d ever feel happiness again. “Please don’t be. You’re allowed to want more.”
“I wish I didn’t.”
Anger rose up on the horizon of Jungkook’s conscience, and he pushed it away. He refused to be angry at you, refused to put the blame on you when you made it clear that you wanted him to move in so long ago, and he disregarded it without even once thinking about it.
“I’ll find you again,” he promised, voice strained and heavy with emotion. “I’ll graduate and find you.”
You stepped closer to him, gently cupping his cheek. “Go find someone that loves you for what you are, Jungkook.”
“And you don’t?”
“I don’t want you to settle for someone that asks too much for you,” you explained, renewed silver lining your eyes. “Find someone that loves you for who you are, right now.”
“Fuck that,” he choked out, and he pulled you flush against his chest. “Fuck this nonsense. ”
“I’m so sorry,” you cried against him.
“Don’t be,” he reassured you, though he was crying too. “Don’t be. Give me a few years. I’ll have it all figured out in a few years.”
*****
                The priest at the front of the church is going on and on about something that Jungkook doesn’t care to listen to. It’s impersonal, nothing like you, like the vibrant girl he remembers. So he lets his memory guide him to you, where you’re awaiting him. Your lips on his, your hand running through his hair. Your own hair catching in the wind that time you’d gone hiking, and he’d believed being at the top of the mountain with you felt like he had won in life.
Or that time you’d driven on the coast, windows down, screaming the lyrics to a song he can’t listen to anymore. Now the song is haunted by ghosts of a past he never learned to let go, perhaps because for months after the breakup he’d kept the conviction that he’d find his way back to you. He’d believed it the same way he believed the sun would always rise in the morning. A simple truth of nature, that nothing could ever break.
Except a car accident, apparently. Because all it took was a car accident to wipe you off the surface of the Earth, to take your light and shove it into shadows, into darkness and a void so wide he knows he’ll never find you again.
But he’d believed he’d find his way back to you. Never let anyone in after you, for the months and years it took him to graduate because he always knew he’d find his way back to you. You were his silver lining, the finish line at the end of the race. On a November day, just as sunny as today, Jungkook reached that finish line.
He did find you again, only you never knew.
*****
                Jungkook had never felt so light before. Like he had grown wings, like he was soaring in the clouds up above. Though the sun was out, the weather was cold, wind running cold fingers through the lapels of his coat until he found himself shivering as he made his way to the flower store.
He’d get the biggest bouquet for you, and then he’d head to where he knew from a common friend that you lived now. It was Saturday, and he hoped to catch you unaware, to catch you in the middle of cleaning your apartment the same way that you cleaned it back when you were dating.
The image of you, with your hair pulled back in a high ponytail as you danced around instead of sweeping the floor shone in his mind, brighter than the star in the sky above.
He bought the flowers, heart beating fast in his chest. Because it was time. It was finally time to go home, to tell you that he did everything he said he would, that he changed and now had a job that could support what you both wanted. He wanted to ask you out, and in his dreams you had been answering yes every single time since he had decided to go see you.
His heart fluttered as he gently rested the flowers on his passenger seat, careful not to damage them. Memories floated to him, and a smile grew on his lips as he remembered you, screaming out the window that day you had driven along the coast. You had stopped to watch the sunset in the waves, and he’d kissed you stupid on his back seat until every single inch of your skin knew about his love.
He couldn’t wait to create new memories with you.
He drove carefully, enjoying the warmth of the sun now that he was safely hidden from the wind. You actually didn’t live too far from where he did now, and soon enough he parked his car near your building. He got out of the vehicle, almost running to the other side in his excitement to grab the bouquet on the passenger seat. When it was safely tucked in his hand, Jungkook shut the car door, locked it, and started walking to your building.
He didn’t even know which apartment was yours. He believed fate would guide him, and so he crossed the street to your building, trusting the universe for what was to come next.
He heard your laugh before he saw you. Love swelled in his chest, and he wondered if you were laughing because you’d seen him, because you’d known that he’d come back for you.
And then he saw you. The wind was ruffling your hair, which he assumed had prompted the laugh. Your eyes were closed, hands struggling to push the wild strands behind your ears.
You were more beautiful than he remembered. Shone brighter, with the same stuff that stars consisted of. He was struck for a moment, watching you with his bouquet hoping that you’d open your eyes and see him.
The world slowed down to a stop, and time halted, and Jungkook watched you, feeling at home for the first time in years.
The illusion fractured the instant someone else came into view, making him realize that you hadn’t been laughing at the wind. No, perhaps your laughter took root in the dimples gracing the man’s cheeks as he smiled at you, as he pecked your forehead before grabbing your hand.
Jungkook ducked behind a car, clutching the flower bouquet like a lifeline the moment that you turned towards him. Did you hear his heart breaking? Did you hear the mockery in the November sun rays – you’d broken up on a similar day, years ago.
Jungkook couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think around the shattering of his heart, around the blood turning to ice in his veins as he heard you speak to the man – Namjoon, he heard you call him.
He would have rather not known the name.
Still Jungkook drank in the sound of your voice, trying to shape it into the words he was so willing to hear you say today. It didn’t work, and soon enough your voice disappeared, leaving him in a deafening silence of wind and sun and the realization that after all, he had come back too late.
Perhaps he should have known that he'd be too late.
*****
                When Jungkook received the call last week, he’d sat outside in the silence until he thought his eardrums would start bleeding. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t breathed, hadn’t done anything other than to stare at the fading light of the sun.
He wonders, why is it that whenever he breaks, November sun is shining high above? As if the universe takes pleasure in his torment, in undoing him until he barely counts as a human being anymore.
He got pissed out drunk that night. Last time he had been as drunk was when he had found out you were dating someone new, that day he had come to find you.
And now he wonders, if he had approached you that day, would you still be dead today? Would life still have put you on that road with its drunk driver so that you could meet your end?
Or would you be laughing at some dumb comment he’d make, telling him that he’s stupid with eyes so full of love he wouldn’t be able to do anything else but agree with you?
It’s hard to tell. So, he doesn’t try to figure it out – he has an eternity ahead of himself to figure out how to live without you anyway.
Maybe in all his misfortune Jungkook actually had some luck. He’s learned to grieve you a while ago already, and perhaps grieving someone that still lives is harder than grieving someone that’s passed. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he knows anything. Just that, so far back in the past he should have said fuck it and move in with you. It was such a simple request, but he had been too young and dumb, and he’d forever live with the regrets of it.
If someone from your family notices his presence at the funeral, recognizes him from your shared past, they don’t say. Especially not as the end of the ceremony comes before he’s had a chance to really take in the picture of you, smiling, over there next to the urn with your ashes.
You’re ashes now. Everything that made you – your laugh, your smile, the way you carried yourself with that simple elegance – all of it is gone to be replaced with mere ashes.
He doubts they can hold the truth of your essence, but then again he doesn’t think anything can, or anything ever will again.
He blinks away the tears as they come, leaving the ceremony like a whisper in the wind. He doesn’t want to speak to your family, doesn’t want to see them coddling the man that you loved, that survived the accident when he should have been the one to go.
Jealousy and selfishness are ugly, Jungkook realizes. But it’s easier to hate the man that took you away from him, no matter how unknowingly he did it.
And Jungkook tried to hate you once. He tried hard, in the months after that fated November day, when you’d laughed to that man’s joke, smiled when he’d smiled that soft dimpled smile of his. He had tried, because hating you felt like it was the only way he wouldn’t hurt. But he still hurt – he still hurts.
All he’s been able to do in his life since you broke up is hurt, and he highly doubts he’ll ever feel differently again.
Perhaps he’ll grow numb. Perhaps he should have grown numb a while ago.
At least that’s what he’s telling himself days later, when he’s looking at the tombstone they picked out for you. The finality of your name and the dates, the ending, is unnerving. He wishes it was fake, wishes it was a joke, and that he didn’t spend most of his life loving someone that moved on to a new love in just a few years.
It’s been over a decade and he hasn’t moved on even a little bit.
He kicks the ground, mad at the leaves littering the ground where you’re buried, as if they’re sullying you. And as if laughing at him, sun rays pierce through the clouds up above, that dreaded November sun making an appearance when it should stay gone.
He allows himself to cry. To break down, to sit on the ground and curse everything and everyone that’s ever been between you and him. He curses his stupidity, curses the sun and the leaves and the etchings on the stone. He hates everything. Hates himself, hates you, hates the whole fucking universe for taking you away, for not giving him the chance to be with you.
That’s how Namjoon finds him. Jungkook’s tears have receded, and he’s just sitting there, an empty shell that once held love and laughter and your lips on his. He hears the scuffle of Namjoon’s steps, of his cane as he walks up the path.
The man’s features are grave when Jungkook can’t help but glance towards him, sees him ambling up the path with that cane, the only indication that he too was in that car accident. And Jungkook wonders if Namjoon knows about him. If Namjoon knows that he wasn’t the first man whose love for you was a bottomless ocean, one Jungkook has drowned in time and time again since you broke up.
Namjoon remains standing, and Jungkook remains sitting. Like there’s an understanding between them, and silence conveys more than words could. Jungkook doesn’t want to move, and Namjoon clearly doesn’t have anywhere to go.
Jungkook thinks the Earth has revolved around the sun at least once before Namjoon scrapes his throat.
“It’s hard to believe that she’s gone, isn’t it?” he speaks, deep voice carrying the weight of the universe.
Jungkook doesn’t deign reply as his eyes fill with tears, though he refuses to let them out right now.
Especially not in front of the man you loved after him.
“You’re Jungkook, aren’t you?”
The simple sentence makes Jungkook lose it. He hides his face in his hands, his whole soul bleeding out under the November sun.
“She told me about you,” Namjoon continues, and Jungkook is convinced he hears pain, tears and grief laced with Namjoon’s words.
What did you tell him, Jungkook wonders? Did you tell Namjoon that you should have waited for Jungkook, that you should have given him a chance to become what you needed?
“She loved you a lot,” Namjoon adds after a silence, and he chokes on a sob. “She never forgot about you.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Jungkook asks with that broken voice, raspy with disuse.
He hasn’t been able to speak since you died.
“You deserve to grieve. She loved and loved, and I wish it would have been enough for her to live…”
“Stop,” Jungkook begs. “Please.”
Namjoon falls silent, offering salvation to Jungkook, though Jungkook doesn’t know if he deserves it.
Would he have been able to offer salvation to someone in his position if the situation was reversed? He highly doubts it.
“It’s just…” he trails off when he finds words again. “You got fucking years with her. You got years of loving and-“ it breaks on a sob. “And you were fucking engaged.” Jungkook pulls at his hair. “You were engaged, and all I got was months. Not even a full year.”
“I’m sorry man,” Namjoon answers, voice so broken Jungkook wonders who’s suffering the most.
He doesn’t think it’s himself.
“Was she happy?” Jungkook eventually asks, once he can’t stand the silence hanging around. Once he can’t stand the etchings on the stone, the void in the universe that used to be filled with you.
“I made her as happy as I could,” Namjoon replies truthfully, his voice strained but not as pained anymore. As if he’s reached a conclusion, clarity filling his mind.
Not needing to hear more, Jungkook gets up, dusting himself off.
“Good talk,” he says, fighting against the next onslaught of tears, and then he’s storming off.
Storming away from you, from everything that you meant to him. And maybe the sun rays really are mocking him in that beautiful November sky, because Namjoon says, “I don’t think she ever truly was happy after you, though.”
Jungkook stops, convinced someone just stabbed him right in the heart. He doesn’t think the organ can beat anymore, doesn’t think he can live anymore. He just wants to be dust on the wind, to be forgotten, and to stop fucking feeling all the time.
“She was calling off the engagement,” Namjoon continues. “She…” Jungkook turns, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen such agony as the one that graces Namjoon’s features right now. “She said she shouldn’t get married to me when she still loved another.”
Clouds pass in front of the November sun, and Jungkook remembers the smile on your face whenever you’d catch his gaze. He remembers the way you’d lovingly cupped his cheek even when you were breaking up with him. He still feels the ghost of your fingers on his skin as he holds Namjoon’s broken gaze.
He holds Namjoon’s broken gaze, unable to offer the man salvation. It might make him a monster, might make him selfish and jealous and everything that he finds disgusting about humanity. But Jungkook doesn’t care.
Not when he realizes that perhaps, perhaps he’s the one that you’re waiting for on the other side of the veil, so that you can rest in the eternity of afterlife together.
And perhaps, perhaps there’s some sort of beauty in the thought.
☆☆☆☆☆
I am crying and in pain and I am sending everyone that read this whole thing lots of love and if you need to talk just hit me up bc grief is a bitch and we hate her and I just wish I could take everyone's grief away
All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.
381 notes · View notes
zukkacore · 11 days
Text
TAG GAME
Rules: Go to your (current/main) AO3 account and find the following:
Thanks for the tag @billdenbrough this was fun to do!!!
What ratings do you write most of your fics under?
To my surprise! T and E are like. Evenly tied with 7 each.... Genuinely was expecting E to eek out the others bc nearly EVERYTHING i've been writing these days is kind explicit lol (except for Tell Me How) and i've been writing a LOT more than i used to. But i guess in the past i have more like tame stuff, makes sense, some of it is Reddie some of it is DR so...
What are your top three fandoms?
Dimension 20 (7) (wow!! lol!)
IT - Stephen King / It (movies) (3) (i'm lumping them in together)
DanganRonpa (2) (i'm lumping together DR series total and DR: trigger happy havoc)....
there's another thing i've written for that also is tied w two works but... i shan't say
What is the top character you write about?
Jace Stardiamond (7)!
Hysterical, considering how nothing he is, but also. Completely unsurprising considering how much i've been gripped by that piece of sopping wet cardboard of a man and his "I can't, I tried" that has compelled me all summer long..... But also, some of the times im tagging Jace its actually in the place of his clones who are technically canon but do not have personalities or names and therefore do not have ao3 tags.... Porter is second at (6), which does make sense bc.... like.... Jace has superceded him... who is porter... my new hyperfixation LJ3 has practically nothing to do with Porter, no i will not elaborate
What are your top three pairings?
Porter Cliffbreaker / Jace Stardiamond (6), Ben/Hanscom/Beverly Marsh (3) (????? surprising??? i've never written anything that is JUST them but they have taken SOME precedence in a way that isn't completely sidepairing coded in my reddie phase, im thinking specifically in Sky High AU), and Eddie Kaspbrak / Richie Tozier (3)
Unsurprising i guess. Starbreaker has ruined my life (positive). and i did have a good reddie kick. the Benverly feels wrong tho.
Since Benverly feels like a copout i will add. After that we have Kuwata Leon / Sayaka Maizono at 2 bc i love mess, i love the way they love (trying to kill each other with kitchen knives) and.... Jace Stardiamond/Jace Stardiamond at 2. Which is a cypher for LJ3
What are the top three additional tags?
Campaign 01 Season 3: Fantasy High Junior Year (7)
Alternate Universe (6)
Anal Sex (5)
THE LAST ONE.... Anyway. Ok so. The dimension 20 tagging system is weird b/c all the campaigns are lumped together so the additional tags if how you differentiate which campaign. I guess not surprising? I did a sky high AU, i've written a Talent Swap, and i have smaller AUs with smaller divergences... Tbh the whole Porter/cloneverse thing is ALSO an AU so like... those should probably count too but i guess i didn't tag them
If you want an additional Gimme, I have Power Imbalance (4)
Does any of this surprise you?
Not really? Idk i don't think i write enough to have many surprises on my ao3, like i knew Starbreaker was the most i'd written for in a long time and i was right. I was surprised i have the same amount of T and E fics.... but to be fair before this summer most of the things i wrote were like. Ambitious multichap stuff that were full on AUs or sometimes took place in high school so i guess that makes sense.... Its just, in my mind my stupid hornyposting has eclipsed everything else. I WAS surprised abt the benverly thing, that's a total fluke. It feels wrong that I technically have more benverly than LJ3
I really shouldn't be surprised by how Jace Stardiamond is my favorite sopping wet beast. And yet.
TAGGING: hmmm.... @iaus, @hauntedwizardmoment, @delinquentbookworm, @jadeandquartzes @toziers (@ everyone feel free to answer this on main or not.. or not at all!!)
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imustbenuts · 25 days
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gender
watched a video from matt bernstein on youtube titled The Detransitioner Panic and theres this girl who goes by lucy who detrans and hates the shit out of conservative media taking her story as a trans panic prop
basically lucy's story seems to be that she had gender dysphoria as a kid and got extensive evaluation before transitioning, then hit a point in her life where she decided to detrans
and the whole thing got me thinking about my own gender bc some parts of my childhood was similar?
i had features that made me look like a boy and i remember being forced to wear the boys' outfit for a kindergarden play bc apparently i look werid in a dress and they even put lipstick on me at 5 year old (they basically clowned a kid from the reaction i saw). i kept being mistaken for a boy in school when im not wearing the stupid gendered uniform. relatives treated me weird bc of my appearance and the unfortunate 20 year age gap with my cousins
without the concept of trans here i was very much just on my own too lmao. i wasnt a boy but i wasnt a girl either. and then i picked up behaviors that got me seen as a tomboy/boy for like 15 years lol
parents were also very neglectful. couldnt tell you exactly why, like if they were shit or embarassed having me or both but i would rate them a 3/10 either way
anyway. so. i probably had severe gender dysphoria or some form of depression but im not sure if i wanted to be masc or femme. mental evals here are an absolute joke and with neglectful parents i never got it sorted. its complicated
and bc i still dont want to go through the medical psych system bc of a lack of time and gender dysphoria hasnt been kicking my ass as hard, im fine with being... agender? whatever?
im also fine with slamming people spouting anti trans bullshit tho. the amount of idiots sliding up next to me thinking im fully cis both outside and inside. lmao.
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